Reversal. Chapter six

To those who have read the earlier instalments, I apologise. Due to a name clash, Sally is now Alex; plus some minor changes have been made, again to accommodate this chapter's goings on.

(This whole story is now dedicated to the memory of William Marsden.)

Reversal
Chapter six

Alex arrived home around half past mid-night after being summoned to the TV studio by Angus Murray, a man whom, as far as she was concerned, never looked like he needed sleep, and who, after reading her fake interview with Evans, wasn’t overly convinced she’d captured exactly what he wanted. She agreed to rewrite the whole thing using snippets from the genuine interview, but not so much that Murray would ask too many questions. Eventually, after two more rewrites, he accepted the copy and she left for home.

The taxi from the studios pulled up outside her house, a four bed-roomed, stucco walled detached, with a front lawn bearing a single willow tree growing from its centre. Alex climbed from the taxi to see every light in the house switched on. Samantha had obviously remembered where the spare key was kept. Taking a holdall and a small suitcase from the trunk, she climbed the few steps to her front door and let herself in.

Two and a half days on the road wasn’t very long, but it was long enough for Alex. It felt good to be home, then, the scent of Samantha’s cinnamon joss sticks smouldering on the coffee table reminded her of her previous home, the one she decided to leave two years ago, when the reason for her sister’s illness became all but too apparent.

After switching off the porch light, the hall light, and the overhead living room light, but leaving on two small lamps, Alex removed her coat, hanging it over the banister rail before turning to check her worn-out appearance in the full-length mirror. Then, remembering what Foley said, she didn’t look at the mirror, she looked through it, three dimensionally, like she would a window. She touched it, even pushed on it. Was every reflective surface what he said it was?

Still poking at the mirror, she called to her sister. ‘Samantha? Hey, Sa-man-tha …’

Samantha’s foot-falls trailed across the ceiling. ‘Coming,’ she shouted back. When she reached the second stair from the bottom, she stopped. ‘Hey, sis!’

Alex turned to see her standing in a pair of pink socks and a pink bathrobe, with a white towel wrapped around her head and a few strands of damp, strawberry blonde hair, swinging loose from under the towel, and holding out a cell phone at arms-length.

‘Cut it out,’ Alex said, raising a late hand. ‘I look like shit.’

Samantha continued down. ‘No you don’t, you look like my big sister, the famous news reporter. See?’ she enthused, showing her the cell’s screen.

Alex looked. ‘Yeah,’ then scoffed half a laugh. ‘I don’t think Annie Leibovitz needs to worry too much though, you’ve caught your own reflection in the mirror.’

Samantha pouted, frowned, then turned the cell phone round to view the snapshot, following Alex into the kitchen; she shoved the phone back into the robe’s pocket. ‘I saw your report today, you were great. And that guy … what a weirdo, huh?’

‘All men are weirdoes, Samantha,’ she said, switching on the kettle. ‘Just some are weirder than others, that much, you’ll learn.’

‘Do you have to call me Samantha? All my friends call me Sammi.’

Alex smiled, nodded. ‘Okay, Sammi. So, you saw my report?’

‘Yep, I even recorded it, in case you wanted to watch it when you got back.’

‘You got here that early?’

‘About nine, mom and dad wanted to get over to aunt Alice’s as soon as they could. The doctor told dad she could check-out any time now!’

‘Check-out?’ Alex questioned, taking two cups from a cupboard. ‘I hardly think aunt Alice’s doctor would use a term as cold as that, Saman … Sammi.’

‘No … but dad did, and he said thanks for letting me come over by the way.’

‘There’s no need for anyone to thank me, you know that. Nor does it take a death in the family for you to have an excuse to come see me; you can come over any time you want.’

While Alex filled the cups, a troubled silence fell between them, she felt the tension in the room rising, the question, hanging in the air, waiting to be voiced. She’d have to ask.

‘How’s mom?’ she said.

Sammi didn’t answer at first, choosing to chew her bottom lip instead. ‘Scared,’ she finally said, then, ‘Did you know she insisted on me having an unscheduled check-up last week?’

‘No, why … is everything okay?’

Sammi raised a shoulder, dropped it again. ‘Doctor Lewis reckons so, but you know mom.’ She paused, spoke softer. ‘She really misses you, ya know?’

This was a road Alex had no intention of venturing down. ‘Yes, I know, Sammi.’ Forcing a smile she held out one of the cups. ‘Here,’ she said, changing the subject. ‘Let’s drink our cocoa while we watch that report, eh?’

Taking the cup from her, Sammi followed Alex into the living room where they sat side by side on the sofa. Alex took up the TV remote and pressed the appropriate buttons.

The first news item was how six US soldiers had been killed and five others injured in Basra; their troop carrier taking the full brunt of a road-side bomb. All relatives of the men had been informed.

Second up, an attempted hi-jacking of a French passenger plane at Charles De Gaulle airport, four hi-jackers in total, three of which, chose not to surrender.

Then a piece about senators in session vetoing a vote on test-drilling in an area of the Arctic known as “The Refuge”, a wildlife reserve where there’s thought to be a vast deposit of oil. Finally, and after a short introduction from the newsreader, Alex appeared on screen, with the brand new and highly polished CNN logoed van Leroy thought would make a good backdrop, behind her.

‘There’s you!’

‘God … look at my hair.’

‘Oh, shut up, you look great.’

‘I’ve looked a damn-sight greater.’

They watched the rest of the report in relative silence, both, quietly slurping froth from their cocoa.

‘…and that was how the scene played out just fifteen minutes ago behind these walls.’

Alex looked on as the camera followed her arm, focussing on the prison gates and zooming in on the building’s name-plate. A shot lasting no more than two seconds before the camera panned back as she brought her debut news report to its end.

‘This is Alex Lord for CNN, reporting live from outside the Southern Ohio Correctional Facility in Lucasville.’

‘See … you were fantastic.’

Alex smiled. ‘I was, wasn’t I?’

‘And modest too,’ Sammi said, smiling back.

Alex again took up the remote and started to rewind the recording.

Sammi raised an eyebrow. ‘We’re watching it again?’

‘No, there’s something I …’ she trailed off, hitting pause when she found what she wanted. ‘There!’

Sammi leaned forward, peered at the TV screen, shrugged. ‘There, what? I don’t see anything.’

‘There … in the window of the van!’

Sammi looked a little closer. ‘You mean Leroy's reflection?’

‘Yeah … no, I mean, yes the reflection, but it’s not Leroy's.’

The image reflected in the van’s rear window looked for all intents and purposes like the silhouette of a torso and head.

‘Perhaps it’s a mark on the glass,’ offered Sammi.

‘Perhaps you’re right, but Leroy spent half the morning cleaning that van, he wanted it pristine for the report.’

Sammi shrugged. ‘A cloud, then?’

Alex remembers the sky being a cloudless, aquamarine blue, but what’s more relevant, was again what Foley said to her during the break in transmission. ‘Yeah, you’re probably right,’ she agreed, ‘must be a cloud.’ She then switched off the TV. ‘Come on, time we called it a night,’ she said, taking both cups into the kitchen.

Sammi stood and followed. ‘So what are we doing tomorrow?’

‘You and I, dear sister, are going on a trip.’

‘A trip?’

‘Huh uh.’

‘Where to?

‘Leyton Falls.’

Sammi frowned. ‘Leyton Falls? But isn’t that-?’

‘Yes it is,’ she said, rinsing the cups. ‘It’s my boss, he wants me to do a follow-up for him, reckons he’ll be able to sell the story on.’

‘But you said you won’t be in work for the next two weeks.’

‘I know I did, but this is more of a working vacation. Two days, tops. Then we’ll have the rest of the time to ourselves. Just make sure you pack your Meds.’