Secrets & Souls - prequel to The Soul Guide

Mellissa peered over Bertram’s shoulder. She blinked, not quite understanding what she was seeing. “Is that an alleyway?” she asked. She might not have been able to see the door Bertram had described, but she could certainly see what was beyond it. There was the red-brick wall of a building, and lined up along it, an assortment of bins stuffed full of rubbish. A rat scuttled past, oblivious to its observers.

“Looks like it, doesn’t it?” Bertram said.

“Bertram this is….”

“Crazy, unbelievable, frightening? It’s certainly all those things and more.”

“Should we go through?” Mellissa asked. She could feel Bertram’s indecision. He was curious. Yes, she felt that. But she felt his fear too. It rippled through his thoughts. Right now, he was immobilised by it when only seconds before he seemed to be anything but afraid.

“I don’t know. I don’t know what to do now,” he said, mostly to himself.

But really, he did know. He knew he should step through the door. Knew that there was a reason why it had appeared, why he was able to see it even when she couldn’t, even if neither of them understood it. So, she made the decision easy for him and walked through the door.

“Mellissa!” he called out in shock.

She turned to face him, her feet on hard concrete, whilst he stood on soft grass on the other side.

“Well, come on then,” she said.

He gave her a look. “What do you think you’re doing? You should come back, right now. We don’t know where this path leads. You could be anywhere, Mellissa. What if it’s dangerous?” He leant forward thrusting his arm through the open doorway in an attempt to grab her and pull her back. Mellissa stepped out of his reach.

“I’m not coming back. You can come through or not, it’s up to you. But I, for one, need to see where this goes.” She turned her back on him and began walking down the alleyway. She knew she was being unkind and that he only had her safety at heart but she was beginning to realise that, sometimes, all Bertram needed was a gentle shove in the right direction. She told herself that she was doing him a favour.

“Oh, for crying out loud,” she heard Bertram say.

She turned to see him passing through the door, pausing briefly to pull the key from the lock. Mellissa smiled, it had worked. Bertram clipped the key back onto the bunch as Clayhill disappeared from view behind him. There was no going back now.

“Well done for remembering to bring the keys,” she said.

“What good are the ruddy keys, if there’s no sodding door to open?” Bertram grumbled, realising that the door had closed behind him. “Its disappeared, and I have no idea where we are or how we’re supposed to get back to Clayhill. That was a foolish thing to do, Mellissa.”

Mellissa pulled a face. “Probably,” she admitted. “But now that we’re here we should see where this alleyway takes us. There’s a reason why that door appeared and I want to find out why.”

Bertram muttered something cutting under his breath, but she chose to ignore it, heading instead to the end of the alleyway and the street beyond.

Mellissa stepped out of the alleyway, Bertram following closely behind her. They stood side-by-side, not sure what to do next. The first thing Mellissa noticed was the smell. It was the smell of pollution, the stench of bins not emptied for a while, and the different variety of food smells that pervaded the air. Her senses were reeling from the obtrusiveness of it all. And it was so dirty, there was a layer of grime over everything. The street was covered in litter, cigarette butts, and chewing gum long since dried into the concrete. There were a couple of empty shops dotted along the street, the windows boarded up with wood. She could hear the rushing sounds of traffic, of people, and the cacophony of life somewhere in the near distance. She let out a breath, grateful at least for the signs of life close by and with it, hopefully, a way back home to Clayhill.

“Well this is just dandy,” Bertram said sarcastically. “It’s a far cry from Clayhill, that’s for damn sure.”

Mellissa rolled her eyes. “Where’s your sense of adventure, Bertram?”

“Back at Clayhill… with my common sense,” he muttered.

Mellissa laughed. “Come on, let’s see if there’s anyone about.” She looped her arm through his and they hooked a left. He stiffened at her touch, but said nothing as they walked along the deserted street. Bertram remained quiet and uneasy. He certainly wasn’t enjoying her proximity. She didn’t know whether to be offended or pleased by it.

“You alright, Bertram?” she asked.

“Yep, fantastic,” he replied, nodding curtly. Her lipped twitched in amusement but she remained quiet.

Despite the time of day, the street felt dark and dingy. Mellissa looked up between the buildings just to check that the sky was, indeed, still above them. It was, thankfully.

“Do you recognise anywhere, Bertram?” she asked, assuming they were in a town somewhere in Cornwall.

“No, I don’t,” he said. “You?”

“Nope, afraid not. I was hoping, maybe, that we’ve ended up somewhere near Clayhill, like Truro or Newquay. But the lack of seagulls and fresh air has rubbished that idea.”

“Indeed. I’ve visited both, and this isn’t either.”

Mellissa looked at the buildings surrounding them. Bertram was right, wherever they’d ended up, it had ‘inner city’ stamped all over it. The last time she’d been anywhere near somewhere as urban as this she’d been a youngster who’d escaped the orphanage and taken herself into central London. That day, she’d toyed with the idea of running away from the home for good but an empty stomach and the draw of her own bed had her hightailing it back. She’d got the cane that night, and her backside was sore for a good two weeks afterwards. She never did try to run away again, though she had thought about it often.

Mellissa buried the memories, better left in the past where they belonged.

“Any bright ideas?” Bertram said. He was clearly still angry with her, which was funny really as he had wanted to see what was beyond the door even if he did like to deny it to himself.

Mellissa stopped and pulled her arm free from his. He visibly relaxed. She really must remember not to be so touchy-feely with him, it wasn’t fair. She understood his reaction to her because she felt it too. It was difficult to ignore, even though that’s what she’d done every single day since her arrival at Clayhill. They were connected in more ways than one, and it was confusing her. She resolved, there and then, to back off. Bertram didn’t deserve false hope, and she had no right to play with his emotions like she did. She would remain neutral, friendly at most, but that was it.

“We should find a shop or something? Find out where we are. Then we can try to figure out why we’re here and how to get back home.” She glanced down the street, noticing a café that she could’ve sworn hadn’t been there a moment ago. “That looks like a good place to start.” she said, pointing towards the welcoming light.

“I guess.” Bertram said, his voice strained.

“Great. Carlo’s Café it is then.”