What did you mean when you said my husband’s death wasn’t an accident?
Harry didn’t fall. I can sense that you will cross paths with a young woman today in the park. Be there at 3 pm. She will start you on your quest and help you.
I didn’t know what to make of his message; it was vague, but there was some specific information in there, at least. I still thought he was a charlatan, trying to reel me into some kind of swindle, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious. There was another explanation, of course, that he was indeed psychic, but the odds of that were slim to impossible. In truth, it felt good to have some direction in my life for the first time in weeks. I still didn’t believe he truly knew anything about Harry’s death, but I would dip my toe in the water and see what came of it.
Harry and I would often take walks in the park, which was a rare green space in the city. Also, an exceedingly popular spot for dog walkers and parents, we used to wander amongst the trees and flowers, imagining what it would be like when we had children of our own. I hadn’t been here since Harry’s death; I’d rarely left the house. Being around so much happiness and glee when you feel nothing but dread and anxiety doesn’t help. It makes the profound sadness more concentrated if anything. I sat on a bench overlooking the playground, and a young couple were playing with their daughter on some swings. It made me smile for a brief second before I remembered it would never be us. James was wrong, and he was proven a fraud. I waited until almost ten past the hour, and I still hadn’t met anyone.
I rose to my feet, satisfied that James didn’t ‘know’ anything but admittedly disappointed it didn’t lead somewhere. My little foray to the park had only made me feel worse. I briskly started to make my way back home. The couple’s laughter and children’s gleeful screams felt like needles being inserted into my ears. I needed to get away from it, and I quickened my pace. I pulled my phone out to start composing a scathing message to James but collided with another parkgoer.
“Watch where you’re walking!” I snapped, retrieving my phone from the dirt.
“Amelia?” They asked.
I looked up to see a young woman wearing exercise clothes and holding a yoga mat. Her curly blonde hair was tied up in a messy bun, the loose hairs being splayed out of her face by her glasses. We both stood there, staring at each other, with a scrunched-up facial expression you can only reproduce when you vaguely recognise someone. It clicked who she was, and I stood up.
“It’s… Kim, isn’t it?” I asked.
“Yes, oh god, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention,” Kim apologised.
“Me either, don’t worry about it,” I replied, returning to my feet, “what are you doing here?”
“They do yoga in the park on Fridays.”
“No, I mean in Manchester.”
“I live here.”
“Oh, for some reason, I thought you lived in Filey.”
“No, I moved here a few months ago.”
Kim looked extremely awkward, obviously not expecting to bump into me again. Was Kim the woman that James was speaking about? It must have been a coincidence, surely, but if it were, it would have been a pretty far-fetched one. It made me feel quite strange being told that I would meet someone in the future, and then, voilà, there she was. The whole thing made me feel really anxious, but I’d gone that far, and I needed to explore it.
“Listen, you are clearly on a bit of a health kick, but do you fancy going for a drink?” I asked.
“Er, sure. When?” Kim uttered anxiously.
“Now. I could use somebody to talk to.”
“Of course. I’d… love to,” Kim answered awkwardly.
We made our way through the park to a small bar on the opposite side of the road. I had been there once or twice with Harry after a previous long walk in the park before. It was typical for a bar in Manchester. It was very trendy and sold incredibly overpriced drinks. Overhead were exposed steel vents and lots of mood lighting, giving the place a very industrial yet modern feel. It was filled to the brim with hipsters and people in suits having working lunches. We sat at a table near the window, and Kim nervously looked at the drink’s menu.
“What can I get you, ladies?” The waiter asked.
“I’ll have a glass of Merlot, please. Kim?” I replied.
“An orange juice, please,” Kim requested.
“Yoga? Fruit juice? You really are on a health kick,” I jested.
“Alcohol doesn’t really agree with me.”
“That’s the point, isn’t it?”
I didn’t fancy myself as a body language expert, but never before had I seen someone look so awkward in my company. Kim had her arms folded tightly across her stomach and could barely look me in the eyes. I stared at her intently, but she remained looking down at the table. The drinks arrived, and she took a single sip when I caught her eye.
“You don’t look too comfortable, Kim. Is something bothering you?” I asked.
“No, I’m just like this.”
“Fair enough. How did you know Harry again?”
“An old friend.”
“From where?”
“Filey.”
I was starting to get a tad annoyed at Kim’s inability to hold a conversation, and her drip-feeding of information was starting to exhaust my patience. It was glaringly obvious that she holding something back. If James wasn’t a fraud, there was a reason he had led me here. I gripped my glass so hard that I thought it might shatter in my hand, but I kept the painted-on smile across my face so as not to scare her off.
“Do you want to elaborate on that?” I added hastily.
“We were friends back in the day, but we lost touch. That’s about it, really.”
“Sorry, but you seemed very upset at the funeral, way too distressed to just be an old, out-of-touch friend.”
I don’t know whether it was the content of what I said or the constant barrage of questions, but Kim stopped looking down at the table, and her eyes met mine with unexpected intensely. I could see she was finding the courage to say something. My patience returned, and I maintained eye contact until she was ready to speak.
