The Sister(145)

‘You think I saw a phantom of someone who is still alive?’

‘Yes, I do. Despite the fact you say it was a dream. Questions have been raised about whether a person needs to be sleeping for dreaming to occur.’ Ryan shook his head. ‘I don’t know if I should tell you this, but visions such as you had, are often seen as harbingers of doom. Statistically, there’s a one in fifty chance of a death occurring, following a vision of the kind you experienced.’

‘Well, those odds are a long shot, and to me it’s just a coincidence. Anyway, why do you place such value in what I’ve told you? As far as you’re concerned, it was only a dream after all.’

‘True, but the chances of your turning up here at all, are remote after so many years. The fact you turned up right after I opened The Sister’s prediction envelope...I’m not even going to try to work the odds out.’

Miller twisted his bracelet around, thinking about his grandfather. Ryan, too, was deep in thought.

Finally, Miller broke the silence. ‘Can I just ask you something? Do you believe in ghosts?’ Miller guessed, as a psychiatrist, he’d say it was all in the mind.

The doctor answered without hesitation. ‘I never did, until I met her. I realised without a God, how would she be possible? Now I believe in God and the Devil. I believe in ghosts, and I believe in life after death. After all is said and done, there must be something.’ He glanced at his bedside portrait of Grace. ‘I have to believe it, or else what has it all been for, these last few years. I believe there’s a place for those who believe and a place for those who don’t.’ He searched Miller’s face for a reaction, before continuing. ‘Throughout my life, I’ve noticed the bleaker life is, the more religious the person experiencing it is likely to be, but don’t get me started, we haven’t got all day!’ It occurred to him he might have blown his chances by opening the envelope too soon. She wasn’t going to come and knock on the door or drift past on a cloud heralded by trumpets. He’d blown it. Maybe he should try to contact her, he wondered if Brenda Flynn was still alive and contactable on her old telephone number.

Ryan’s earlier words suddenly registered with Miller. No, Bruce, you have a purpose here.

‘What purpose?’

‘Sorry?’ the doctor said.

The telephone rang.

‘Pass the phone to me, please.’

Miller obliged.

Wriggling himself upright, he said, ‘Doctor Ryan here.’ He opened his mouth as if to say something, holding its shape as he listened instead, with his eyes on his former patient, he nodded. ‘Mm-m, I’ll tell him. Can we speak again soon? I'd like that.’ He put the receiver down. ‘She wants to meet you. You’ll go I assume?’

His curiosity aroused; there was only one answer. ‘Yes.’

‘Rosetta will meet you at 8:30 p.m.’

Miller checked his watch. ‘That’s plenty of time.’

‘No, it isn’t. She’s assumed you won’t fly; apparently, you’ve developed a phobia. You’re to meet her at Waverley railway station.’

‘In Edinburgh? That’s ridiculous, what if I change my mind?’

Ryan ignored him. ‘She sensed you were here, all the way from Scotland. Remarkable.’ His face lit with a beatific smile. ‘That wasn’t her, it was her daughter.’ For a moment he thought the doctor was going to say something else, but he was merely moistening his lips.

‘I’ll get you more water.’

‘Thank you,’ the doctor whispered. He closed his bad eye with his fingertip.

He headed for the door and yawned, the sight of tired people had that effect on him.

‘Bruce?’

He turned back. Ryan had his good eye fixed on him.

‘What is it?’

The old man rocked his head from side to side. ‘Bruce...Mil…Milwaukee! Is that how you say it? I can’t remember.’

‘It’s close enough, it will do. Are you all right?’ he said, showing concern.

‘Bruce, Miller – Milwaukee, whatever your name is. Help Stella get a job for me, she’s a good girl. And one other thing. Tell her I don’t want her to call a doctor under any circumstances. If I am to go, I want it to be on my terms. I don’t want to be kept alive. Do you understand? It’s important to my beliefs.’ His eye beseeching.

Miller turned back from the door and crossing the room, squeezed the old man’s shoulder. ‘Of course I’ll tell her.’





Downstairs, Stella busied herself tidying old files into boxes. At the sight of Miller, she raised her eyebrows and said, ‘Well, how is he?’

‘He’s resting.’

‘I think we should call a doctor.’

‘He doesn’t want that.’

She looked confused. ‘What?’ she said. ‘What do you mean?’

He explained Ryan’s wishes; he said it was important to his beliefs.

‘He’s going to die.’ She picked a piece of fluff from her sleeve. ‘What did you talk about? I suppose you won’t tell me.’

‘Stella, I have to go to Edinburgh. I can’t explain, I don’t know myself yet. Will you be okay?’ Although she didn’t answer, he knew from her return into his life that she was a part of whatever was going on.