I Know What I Saw

She laughed at that point and lifted her head. ‘Not worthy – wordy. Nobody can have that much to say.’

Now I laugh. She was right of course. And nobody ever had that much to say ever again: 4,215 pages.

But as I stare at these pages, something else comes back.

It’s there, in shadow, ready to trigger a memory. All it needs is a gentle pull and a deluge of these somethings stored will be waiting to consume me. I grasp around the edges in frustration. Something wants me. Not a smell. Not a taste. Something else is there tapping at my head. Or digging. Perhaps a sound.

‘Xander?’

I look up and see Amit’s face, in smooth innocence.

‘Do you never go home?’ I say, smiling.

He flushes momentarily at this and I remember that he has the librarian, Hazel, on standby to call him when I appear.

‘I prefer it here,’ he says, shrugging. ‘Anyway, I kind of come in to check on you. How did it go with the lawyers?’ His voice is low, not quite conspiratorial, but self-conscious – on my behalf.

‘Hard to say,’ I say, after thinking it through. ‘I’m afraid I need your help again, if it’s not too much trouble?’

He nods and without being asked, straightens his bag over his shoulder and makes a beeline for the computer terminals. I follow him in a way that makes me feel like a child. He sits, his face underlit by the glow of the screen. He tilts his head slightly.

‘I need to find a person. Not missing this time at least.’

‘Sure. Name?’

‘Ariel.’ I spell it out. He types it in and looks at me expectantly.

‘Surname?’ he says.

‘I don’t know it. But I thought since the name is quite unusual?’

He spins in his chair and gives me a deflated look. ‘It’s quite hard with a full name but with only the first name it’s impossible. Look,’ he says, pressing return, ‘262 million results.’

‘He’s a yoga teacher if that helps. Or he was, at any rate.’

He types in ‘yoga’ and sends the information into the machine. ‘Still 36 million. And if I put in London, it’s still 6.8 million.’

‘Well, you at least managed to narrow it down,’ I say.

He laughs for a second before becoming serious again.

‘I’m sorry. You really need a second name or a date of birth maybe.’

‘Thanks anyway,’ I say. I hesitate, not wanting to impose on his time longer than I have to. ‘You couldn’t do one more thing for me, could you? I promise it won’t take you long.’

He agrees and I tell him what I need. Within a minute he has given me the answer. ‘Thanks, Amit. I appreciate it.’

He gets up and shoulders his bag again. ‘No probs,’ he says, and then stops in his tracks. ‘Oh, just remembered.’

‘What?’ But he simply rummages in his bag.

After a moment he produces a book – the one I gave him. I am about to protest his returning it, but instead of handing it to me, he opens the covers and fishes out something from the pages.

‘Here,’ he says, ‘I found this.’ There’s a folded sheet of letter paper in his hand. ‘It was in the book. Thought you might want it back.’ He hands me the yin and yang patterned sheet. I open it and begin to read.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says sheepishly. ‘I read it. Wasn’t sure if you’d want it back.’

In a daze I walk to the door, expecting him to have followed me, but he has already sat himself down at a desk and started to arrange his books. I look across to say goodbye properly. And then as I stand on the threshold, half in, half out, I look down to read.

My heart is thumping.

Dear Xander

I do hope that you will take advantage of the house while I’m away. It’s going to be empty, after all, and I hate the idea of you being out in the cold.

Although you probably won’t believe me when I say that I still love you and that I always will, it’s true. In a way, we grew up together. I did so much of my growing with you, even if you didn’t. You always seemed to me to have arrived fully-formed into the world.

I skip the next few paragraphs because what is in them makes me so desperate that I can’t read them without feeling tears in my eyes.