Cally

CALLY.
Elizabeth was ten when she first met Cally, although she didn't find
out her name until their second meeting. She could be precise about the
date because it was the grand occasion of her tenth birthday party, and
her mother had made a special cake for her, in the shape of a
ballerina. The cake and Cally were, in fact, the only two things that
she could remember in detail about that day. The cake, most probably
because it played such an integral part in their introduction. Cally
because she was for ever after a part of her.
The cake, bearing ten twinkling, pink candles, had been ceremoniously
brought to the table, to the dubiously melodious accompaniment of ten
children's voices singing 'Happy Birthday To You.' Elizabeth had
clapped her hands in delight when she saw the gossamer folds of the
tutu, decorated with dozens of tiny, pink sugar rosebuds. How clever
her mother was, to have kept it a secret from her! "Make a wish,"
everyone had urged. She knew at once that she would ask for a ticket to
see The Royal Ballet company perform 'Giselle.' With mounting
excitement, she closed her eyes and began to make her wish, but before
she had mentally voiced the third word, a loud whisper rang in her
ears,
"Don't wish THAT, you silly girl! Wish for a guardian angel!"
And that was how she first met Cally. Elizabeth had opened her eyes
when she had heard the voice - but no-one appeared to be mouthing the
words. So, shrugging her shoulders, she wished for a ticket to the
ballet. It was her wish, after all and no-one was going to tell her
what to say. Defiantly, she blew out the candles.
As her mother cut the first slice of the cake, Elizabeth heard the
voice again.
"I've waited years for you to make my idea for a wish, Lizzie. And now
you've gone and spoilt it! But I'll be your guardian angel anyway, if
you like. Although you have hurt my feelings a bit." The voice was
peevish.
This time, Elizabeth had her eyes open - and she was certain that
no-one had spoken. Moreover, the words seemed to be coming from inside
her head. She frowned. Her Aunt Joan had heard voices in her head last
Christmas - and she had had to go into a home for people with mental
illness. Elizabeth had heard her father say that the poor old dear was
quite mad. Her heart sank. Perhaps she was going mad, too!
"No, you're not mad," said the voice. "I'm a real person, not someone
you've made up. They only send you to homes when you invent people and
then pretend they're real." Elizabeth was mystified. She looked around
wildly, and a sense of panic began to overwhelm her. Aloud, she
cried,
"Stop reading my thoughts! Just stop! They're my thoughts - and
they're private!"
Her mother stopped slicing the cake and looked, enquiringly at
her.
"Pardon, dear?" An uneasy silence fell amongst the party guests as
everyone turned to stare at her. Even the voice was silent now, and
Elizabeth felt a hot, embarrassed flush creep uncomfortably over her
face. She was afraid to speak - and even more afraid to think. Shaking
her head, she giggled, nervously, on the verge of hysteria, and her
mother's expression grew even more worried. The voice adopted a tired,
resigned tone.
"Don't worry, Lizzie, I can see that this is an awkward time for you,
so I'll leave you with your friends for a while and let you think in
peace. But when I come back I'll try to explain things to you."
Elizabeth sat quietly through the rest of the party, and her mother,
thinking that she was over-excited, quickly brought it to an end. When
her parents tucked her into bed, she almost told them about the voice -
but then she remembered Aunt Joan&;#8230;.
Two weeks passed before she heard the voice again, during which time
she thought that she must have dreamt the entire 'conversation.' Then,
one balmy night, she lay in bed, her thoughts happily drifting towards
the forthcoming summer holidays. Just as she entered that wonderful,
brief interlude between consciousness and sleep, it came, loud and
clear, into her head.
"Lizzie! Don't go to sleep yet! It's me - Cally. I'm sorry I haven't
come back before, but I've been waiting for you to get over the shock
of our last meeting." Elizabeth sat bolt upright, wide awake now.
"Who are you?" she shouted, crossly. "Why do you keep bursting into my
thoughts?" She heard a deep sigh.
"Look - you don't need to speak, Lizzie. Just think what you want to
say and I'll be able to hear you. People are going to think you're
peculiar if you go around talking to yourself every time we want a
conversation." Elizabeth was growing angry and frustrated now. However,
she thought, rather than said,
"I don't want to think to you. I don't want you in my head any more,
so just go away, will you? And stop calling me 'Lizzie.' My name is
Elizabeth."
"But you prefer 'Lizzie,' don't you? That's what you call yourself in
your head. I've heard you lots of times." Cally was so positive. And so
accurate.
"How long have you been in my head, then?" asked Elizabeth,
curiously.
"I've always been there. But I've waited until now to introduce myself
properly because I didn't think you'd understand before."
"Well, actually, I don't understand now." Elizabeth shook her head in
confusion. "When were you born? Who are your parents? Where exactly do
you live?"
"So many questions! But, I suppose this must seem a bit scary and you
must be really confused. Okay. I'll start at the beginning. I was born
at the same time as you, although I wasn't exactly born - that's our
problem. Anyway, my parents are your parents, except that they don't
know anything about me. I live in your head and I share everything in
your body. For example, I learned how to speak and read through your
experiences. Everything you see, I can see. Everything you can taste,
touch, hear and feel, so can I. Which reminds me, I don't like
cauliflower much, so I'd be grateful if you didn't eat it again."
Elizabeth grinned, in spite of herself. She had eaten cauliflower for
tea and it had made her feel sick!
The idea of someone inside her was becoming so logical, that she
started to believe that it could be true. When she really thought about
it, she had often sensed that she was not entirely alone, even when
no-one was with her. Especially when she had been sad. Like when her
dog, Benji, died. Refusing to be consoled by her parents, she had gone
to her room to be alone. Unlike most children, Elizabeth always wanted
to be on her own when she was upset. Somehow, she received more comfort
from her own company. On this occasion, she had cried and cried - and
she had felt that someone else had been crying with her. Someone
sympathetic, who understood exactly what she was feeling. Could that
have been Cally? she wondered. And what about the other times, when
whispered ideas had just 'popped' into her head from nowhere? She had
asked her father about that once, and he had said that it was the voice
of her conscience. But had that been Cally, too? She had to find out
more about this strange person, (if it was, indeed, a person!)
"Are you a girl or a boy?" she asked.
"A good question! I really don't know. I chose the name 'Cally' myself
from a book you once read about a girl called Sally and a boy called
Callum. I'd like to know, of course - but it's not all that important,
is it? I mean, it won't make any difference to how you feel about me,
will it? I mean, I can tell that you're starting to accept me - and I
just couldn't bear it if you changed your mind&;#8230;" Elizabeth
felt a wave of sorrow wash over her. Then, to her horror, she clearly
heard the heart-rending sound of a child sobbing as though its heart
would break. It was more than she could bear, but, before she could
speak, Cally's voice burst through her mind,.
"Please don't tell me that you don't want me. You're all I've got, you
know .I've been silent for ten years and it's been so lonely. Having
no-one to talk to is the most awful feeling in the world&;#8230;. I
know I've had all the cuddles and love that you've had - but it's not
the same when no-one knows they're cuddling you." Elizabeth was so
upset that she began to cry in sympathy and the noise in her head was
deafening!
Finally, the tears all dried up and she smiled. With the resilience,
tolerance and inherent trust which only the young possess, she had
completely accepted the situation - strange though it was. Someone else
lived in her head - and that was that! God had trusted her enough to
choose her head for Cally to live in, so, who was she to argue? After
all, her heart was big enough for lots of people, so she'd just have to
fit someone else into her body. Satisfied, she nodded her head and
said,
"Right. Well, if you're here to stay - I'll just have to get used to
you, won't I? I'd like to think that you're a girl, because I don't
much like boys. So we'll pretend that you're my sister. Which you are,
actually. Or brother. But, you can be a girl, like me and, because you
know everything about me, it'll be easier for you than for me. So
you'll have to tell me all about yourself, because I can't go on eating
things that you don't like. That must be awful for you! Do you have to
do everything I do? Or can you choose what we both do?" Cally stopped
crying, and paused to consider.
"Well, I can talk to you, but I can't make you do things. And you
can't make me think things, although I do have the same feelings about
most things because of the fact that we share a body. But I sometimes
have different ideas. Like last Friday, when you said that you didn't
want to go to ballet class. I certainly did!" Elizabeth laughed.
"I did want to, actually. I only said I didn't because my (our) mother
told me I had to go. But you probably already know that!" A warm
feeling of euphoria was descending upon Elizabeth, and she hugged her
knees to her chest. Inexplicably, she had never felt so happy. Here was
someone who completely understood her! Never again would she be alone!
She could talk to Cally whenever she wanted. She could ask her advice,
her opinion and her ideas on anything she wished. She settled back,
comfortably on the pillow, a wide grin on her face. She had always
wanted a sister, and now she had one. They talked far into the night
about their parents, their friends, school and everything else that was
important to them. But, fatigue overpowered their exuberance at last
and they both drifted into a contented sleep. When they awoke the
following morning, they greeted each other with the affection of old
friends.
The years passed and, although there were a few quarrels, the love and
trust between Elizabeth and Cally grew stronger and deeper. Elizabeth
came to depend on Cally for many ordinary, day-to-day decisions. Like
what to wear, what to eat or which television programme to watch. Cally
helped her with homework, classwork and tests. Everything they did had
to have joint approval and Elizabeth knew that life without her had
become unthinkable. Unliveable. They had long since agreed that Cally
would remain a secret from the outside world, because, to other people,
even to their parents, the situation would have seemed bizarre, to say
the least! In protecting Cally, Elizabeth was, of course, protecting
herself. But she had to protect herself in order to protect Cally. It
all made perfect sense to both of them. It didn't matter that people
sometimes found Elizabeth's behaviour a little odd. Like when she
drifted off into some strange reverie and became unaware of anyone
else. Or when she would sit silently, her face changing from one
expression to another and her lips moving slightly, as though she was
miming her thoughts. She didn't care what people thought. Lots of folk
were a bit odd. She wasn't the only person in the world to raise a few
eyebrows! Her parents worried about her, naturally - but they put her
odd behaviour down to 'growing up' and 'hormones.' In almost every way,
she was the ideal daughter - caring, affectionate and polite.
Of course, Elizabeth had no close friends, much to the disappointment
of her parents, who felt that she should be going out more and enjoying
herself like other teenagers. Her mother dropped hints about boys and
discos. Her father tried to persuade her to join clubs and societies.
But Elizabeth wanted none of these things and, by the time she was
twenty-four, her parents had accepted that her idea of fun was to spend
the evening alone in her room with a good book or video. It was unusual
- but it wasn't unheard of, they said. One day she would meet the man
of her dreams and he would sweep her off her feet into a normal world
of marriage, home and babies. She was, after all, a healthy, attractive
young woman. All she needed was a little push in the right
direction!
The 'push' happened, quite literally, one dreary Saturday afternoon,
outside the Public Library, where Elizabeth worked as an assistant
librarian. It had proved an ideal choice of employment, as books were
Cally's main source of pleasure. Piled up with books to read over the
weekend, Elizabeth was making her way carefully down the wet, slippery
steps, when an extremely overweight lady, hurried clumsily past her.
The resulting collision caused Elizabeth to lose her balance, so that
she would have fallen, had it not been for the appearance of a
steadying hand, which, obligingly, clamped itself to her arm. She
looked up, gratefully, into the bluest pair of eyes she had ever seen.
They were set in a face that was so handsome that it could have
belonged to a film star - and that same face was looking down at her
with undisguised admiration! Her tongue seemed to swell in her
mouth.
"Say something, you silly girl!" said Cally. Elizabeth tried. She
thought,
"I can't speak! What shall I do?" She heard Cally groan
exasperatedly.
"Just open your mouth and say, 'Thank-you.' That's all you have to do.
He'll do the rest - I can tell by the way he's looking at you."
Elizabeth obeyed.
"Thank-you." It was all she could manage. The young man blinked and
smiled - but he did not let go of her arm.
"Don't I know you?" he asked. He knew it was an unoriginal chat-up
line, but he couldn't think of any other way to engage her in
conversation. And he wanted, very much to do that! She shook her head
and, with an instinct apparent solely in those who are inexperienced
with members of the opposite sex, she replied, with certainty,
"No, I'm sure I would have remembered if I had met you before." The
words bore no trace of coquetterie. This beautiful young woman would
not have known how to flirt, so sincere was her expression.
The young man beamed with pleasure. Such open innocence was refreshing
- and extremely rare. He freed her arm, but then he held out his hand
formally.
"My name is Mark Jameson,." Elizabeth took his hand and shook it, with
equal formality, struggling to curb the excitement that rose in her
breast.
"Pleased to meet you, Mark. I'm Lizzie Adams." Inside her head, she
felt Cally's approval. She was glad, because she couldn't possibly fall
in love with anyone if Cally didn't fall in love with them too. And the
tide of emotion that she was experiencing at that moment most certainly
did suggest that she was, indeed, falling in love with this
stranger!
"Time will tell," said Cally. "But, I agree - I think we have
too!"
They went to a caf? for a cup of coffee and Lizzie found out all about
Mark. He had just qualified from veterinary school and had set up a
practice in the town. He was twenty-five and he had never had a
long-term relationship, preferring the company of his many pets, to
whom he had confided his secret fears and ambitions for as long as he
could remember. He had, he said, always found it difficult to talk to
people, especially about emotions. Lizzie understood. He could see it
in her eyes and he felt comfortable - as though he had found his way
home He always had thought that he was too sensible to believe in fate,
but he sensed that Lizzie was the reason why he had never fallen in
love before. He had never met anyone like her. Everything he said, she
seemed to think about and digest fully before responding. Almost as if
she was seeking some inner response. He felt her appraisal and approval
and he knew that this was the start of something very
special&;#8230;.
They announced their engagement six months later. Cally had suggested
telling Mark the whole truth about herself. But Lizzie was
sceptical.
"What if it puts him off me?" she asked. "What if he thinks I'm mad? I
couldn't bear to lose him now."
"Neither could I," replied Cally. "But I think that, if we're going to
marry him, he should know all about us. After all, I'm a big part of
you and, if he really loves you, then he should accept all of you - not
just the bits he can see."
She was right, of course - she usually was. But still Lizzie
hesitated. It wasn't that she was unsure of Mark's love for her -
no-one but he (and Cally, of course) had ever made her feel so secure,
so wanted and so loved. But the mere idea of losing him made her heart
beat erratically and her stomach churn sickeningly. Eventually, they
decided to wait until the right moment presented itself. It was the
easiest thing to do, even if it was just delaying the inevitable. And,
even though Lizzie sensed that Cally, despite her concurrence, really
wanted her to tell him the truth now.
Several months passed and, waiving Cally's gentle reminders aside with
a dozen different excuses, Lizzie was still unable to broach the
subject with Mark. She knew that it was making Cally very unhappy, but
she, quite simply, couldn't decide on the right words. Mark thought he
knew everything about her, so the sudden appearance of a deep secret
would shatter the foundations of his faith in her. Miserably, though,
she believed that Cally thought that it was because she was ashamed of
her - but nothing, said Lizzie, could be further from the truth. Lizzie
was proud of Cally, she insisted. It was Mark's reaction to the idea of
marrying two people that she was unsure of. She was, in addition, not
convinced that he would even believe her.
The wedding was set for June, which was still three months ahead, and
the next few weeks were a fever of preparation. On the day when Lizzie
and Mark drove to the outskirts of the town to view a house which they
planned to buy, Cally was unusually subdued. Lizzie tried to cheer her
up as she happily ran from one room to another, and, as usual, silently
asked Cally what she thought about everything. When Cally didn't reply,
Lizzie felt the depths of her sorrow as acutely as if it had been her
own. Her own happiness evaporated and she knew that she was ready. The
moment to tell Mark the truth had finally come. Taking a deep breath,
she turned to him and took his hand in her own. He gazed down,
lovingly, at her face and was about to tell her how much he loved her,
when she put her finger on his lips.
"Mark, there's something I've been meaning to tell you," she
said.
He listened silently whilst she told him, and, though his face didn't
betray a flicker of emotion, she sensed that he didn't believe her. She
cried then. She just had to make him understand. After an hour she
thought that she had almost convinced him. He wanted to believe her -
how could he not want to believe the woman he loved? The woman who
would be the mother of his children? The woman with whom he intended to
spend the rest of his life? She had never lied to him about anything
before, for deceit was not a part of her character and he had no reason
to believe that she was lying now. Except that it was so hard to
believe&;#8230;.He sighed. Whether it was true or not, one thing was
clear - Lizzie believed it. And that was good enough for him. Gathering
her in his arms, he stroked her hair and told her that everything would
be all right. She could stop worrying, he said. He loved her just as
she was, and if someone else was a part of her, then he would love that
person as well. He convinced her because it was the truth. And then
they were all three laughing and crying at the same time and they each
knew that it would all work out. Hand in hand, they walked out to the
car. It had been raining when they arrived, but now the sun shone
brightly. That was significant for Lizzie and Cally. The dark days were
over and the future looked bright!
When Lizzie awoke, the first thing she noticed was the brightness.
Initially she thought that the sun was still shining. But then she
realised that the light was unnatural. Electric. Her head throbbed with
pain and she touched her forehead, gingerly. It was swathed in
bandages. She tried to focus on her surroundings but everything was
blurred. All that she could make out were figures in white and blue
moving around her bed. At last, she began to make sense of the smells
and sounds which surrounded her. She was in hospital and her parents
were talking to her. They were shouting for a nurse now - and they
sounded excited. The nurse arrived and began to fiddle with equipment
around her bed. What was she doing? Why was she in hospital? Where was
Mark? Cally would know. She called her in her mind. ' Cally!' She tried
again. 'Cally!' In desperation, aloud she shouted her name again and
again until she was screaming at the top of her lungs and at least five
people were holding her down and trying, desperately, to calm
her.
But Cally didn't come. Not then - and not ever again. Lizzie slipped
into unconsciousness again. When she awoke, a doctor came to her
bedside and explained what had happened to her. She and Mark had been a
road accident and when they had been brought into the Accident and
Emergency Department, Lizzie had been unconscious. The impact with a
lorry had apparently taken place on the passenger side of Mark's car,
so that she had taken virtually the full force of it. Mark, thank God,
had escaped virtually unscathed. But Lizzie had suffered severe head
injuries which had necessitated a brain scan. What the surgeon had
found there had caused sufficient concern to necessitate an immediate
operation to remove a large growth from a front section of her brain.
The doctor said that it had been a miracle that she had survived with
such a large tumour. It was fortunate, in a way, he said, that the
accident had occurred, otherwise they would not have known that it had
been there and may not have been able to save her. It was unclear as to
exactly how long the tumour had been growing inside her - but she would
most probably have been showing symptoms of it for some time. She may
have survived another month at the most, but even that was
unlikely.
Lizzie listened attentively to every word. But she remained silent.
Only her eyes betrayed the agony which was tearing her insides apart.
Nothing could have prepared her for this - and nothing could now make
her want to go on living. If she didn't have Cally, then she had
nothing. Better to have lost all her limbs, or her sight than to have
lost a part of her soul. She had never understood the word 'hate'
before - but at that moment she hated the doctor with such passion that
she could have plunged a knife into him.
"Murderer!" she hissed, finding her voice at last. "I hope you rot in
Hell for what you've done!" The doctor recoiled, visibly shaken by the
vehemence of her words and the expression in her eyes. He cleared his
throat, nervously,
"Er&;#8230;I shall, of course, be recommending that you see our
therapist for counselling later today. I can understand that you've had
a shock&;#8230;&;#8230;" But Lizzie's fury erupted again,
"I don't want a therapist!" she shouted, "I want the tumour you took
out of me to be put back inside me! I want
&;#8230;.Cally&;#8230;" Her voice broke into a strangled wail and
her body began to convulse violently. The doctor was completely at a
loss. Summoning the ward sister, he ordered a strong sedative to be
administered. Then he turned towards the visitors' room, where his
patient's parents and fianc? were waiting. Perhaps they knew what was
going on in that head of hers.
But, if they did, they were reluctant to speak of it. Mark tentatively
suggested that it was possible that Lizzie had had an imaginary
playmate, whom she had now realised did not exist. Lizzie's parents
suggested that the tumour had caused some kind of emotional trauma,
which would explain her sudden change of personality. But the doctor
was unconvinced. He felt that there was more to it than was apparent at
present. Either that, or she was insane - and from what her family had
said, that seemed unlikely. He also felt that Mark was concealing
something, and so arranged to meet with him privately the following
morning. That night, Mark lay awake until dawn, worrying about what he
would say to him. To betray Lizzie's confidence was bad enough - but to
provide the doctor with evidence of mental illness would be something
for which he would never forgive himself. Left alone, he was sure that
he could help Lizzie to come to terms with her grief. He loved her so
much that he would have done everything in his power to help and
protect her. By the time he entered the hospital that morning, he knew
exactly what he was going to say&;#8230;..
Lizzie's recovery was slow and painful. For seventeen weeks she lay in
her hospital bed, a blank, unseeing expression in her eyes. Her
complexion was waxen, as though she was preparing for what she would
look like in death. She refused to speak, to eat, even to drink.
Nourishment was administered through a drip. It was the only way that
she would remain alive, for she had surely given up trying. Every day
Mark would visit her, sometimes staying more than five hours at a time.
And every day she would refuse to acknowledge his presence. He talked
to her about everything that they had done during the time they had
been together. He brought novels from the library and read them to her.
He played her favourite music, read the newspaper to her and told her
what was going on in the outside world. And, all the time, he had no
idea whether or not she could hear him. Nor whether or not she was even
listening.
Summer had come, brightening the ward with its flowers and sunlight,
but Mark's heart was as leaden as a winter sky as he sat, helplessly
watching her fade. Soon, he knew, her light would be extinguished
completely, and she would travel to that unknown place where, it
seemed, she would prefer to exist. Whatever he did now couldn't
possibly make things worse, so, one day, he brought up the only subject
which he had avoided at all costs - Cally.
"Lizzie," he said, gently, "Do you think that Cally would want you to
lie here and die? She loved you so much that I know she would have
wanted you to get better. If you won't do it for me - then do it for
her&;#8230;..Please, Lizzie&;#8230;..please!" His voice broke,
and for a moment he thought he saw a slight tremor flick over her face,
but it was just a trick of the light and the illusion vanished. Then -
as he bowed his head in defeat - she suddenly spoke.
"What do you know about what Cally would want? You didn't even believe
she existed." He hardly dared to look up, in case he had dreamt it.
Still looking at his feet, he continued,
"Then, convince me, Lizzie - tell me what she was like." He looked up.
She had turned her face towards him and the light had returned to her
eyes. As he signalled to the approaching nurses to go away, he knew
that everything was going to be all right.

END
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