Shared Skies

By Josephine O Brien

Gaiah has always been able to influence people with her thoughts but when her hair grows to her waist overnight on her eighteenth birthday, her shock and frustration are released on a gang of bullies at school, with unimaginable repercussions.

She is forced to confront and deal with worlds she never knew existed; a trinity of parallel worlds, of which Earth is one. With her father, obliviously in one world, and her grandparents a shimmer away in a parallel existence, Gaiah faces the horror of a dying world driven by greed and a lust for power preparing to conquer all. How can she possibly become the saviour she's expected to be when she can't even control her own thoughts?

"Unless you're one of those people who prefer your food a little bit on the charred side, don't sit down to read this book and try to cook at the same time. Shared Skies hooks you in and holds your attention from page one."

" The author creates a believable conjunction of our world with others both beautiful and threatening."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Josephine O Brien
• Release date: Jul 29, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310039959

Book preview

SHARED SKIES

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Book One

Josephine O'Brien

Shared Skies: Book one Copyright © 2014

By: Josephine O'Brien

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission.

For more information contact: [e-mail] or visit the author's website at

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Editing by: Helen Williams

Dedication

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This book would never have seen the light of day if it weren’t for the support and encouragement of my wonderful daughters.

Rachel, Heather, and Hazel.

Three of the best things in my life.

SHARED SKIES

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Book One

Josephine O'Brien

Prologue

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London 2002

Pick me. Pick me. Pick me. You want to pick me.

The little girl stood to the side, fists tightly clenched in her pinafore pockets. Her shining blue eyes never left the face of the figure skipping over every thwack of the rope on the playground cement. Sing-song words kept time with bouncing hair and the scuff of shoes.

"I’ve jumped my jumps and now it’s time.

I’m going to call a friend of mine."

The skipping girl smiled as she looked around the hopeful faces.

I’m going to call… her voice faltered. I’m going to call… to call… Gaiah

Gaiah’s fists un-furled and she bounded forward. Her cheeks were pink with excitement and her floppy blonde curls couldn’t hide her grin. She bounced on her toes, face to face with the caller, ready to join in.

An indignant wail stopped the game and one end of the rope hit the ground.

Jane Stack! I’m your best friend! It’s my turn. You’re supposed to pick me! Why’d you pick her?

Jane shuffled back from Gaiah and looked around at the voice’s red-faced owner.

Umm… I… dunno... She looked back at Gaiah and away again quickly. I didn’t mean to pick her. Anyway, this is a stupid game. I don’t want to play. C’mon, I’ll share my lunch with you.

Mollified, her friend allowed herself to be led away. The other girls silently followed their lead. Gaiah stood kicking at the limp rope; fists clenched again, tears, a blink away from overflowing.

London 2007

The kittens were used to her by this time, and purred in furry bundles on her lap. Being out of junior school meant nobody noticed where she was at lunchtime. When the mewing had led her to the cat and her kittens, there’d been no problem bringing an old jumper and a feeding bowl into school. Now, this was the high point of the day, slipping out into the back yard to sit with them in the shed, between the stacks of folding chairs and old desks. The kittens didn’t care that she was awkward and lonely. They were always pleased to see her, and this was a new experience.

Their soft claws snagged on her skin as they played with her fingers. The door banged open. Though she was definitely out of sight, she froze and silently urged the kittens to be quiet.

The voices carried clearly. It’s not that I’ve ever had any trouble with her, really. There was a pause while a match was struck.

I know what you mean. A second voice answered and Gaiah recognized the voice of her year head. The smell of cigarettes wafted down to her.

It sounds daft, but you know the way we let the older girls volunteer to help with the junior school outings? Well, I keep a strict rota so everyone gets a turn, but last night when I was making it out for this year, I realized that Gaiah had been a volunteer on every single one and I can’t explain it! I don’t remember putting her name down.

Smoke curled around the corner. I know what you mean, she’s very disconcerting. I find I try to avoid her and I’m never too sure why, she makes me uncomfortable. She’s a straight A student but honestly, I’m not sure I’ve ever asked her to work something out in class for me.

Don’t get me wrong, but I’ll be glad when she moves up out of my class. Those eyes of hers… Maybe it’s just the fact that she’s older than the others? She started school later than most. Have you ever met her father?

A shoe scrubbed around on the flagstones, putting out a cigarette, and the door slammed on the answer.

Gaiah’s tightening scowl saw off the urge to cry. I don’t care, I don’t like any of them anyway. She whispered to the kittens, and they batted at her hair as she buried her face in her arms. Who cares what they think.

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Chapter One

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The faces just didn't match.

The folder lay open on the head’s desk; her eyes flicked from the photo of the beaming child with blonde curls to the sullen, shuttered face of the teenager opposite her, and back again. If the situation hadn’t been so serious, it might have been amusing to watch her trying to reconcile them, but Gaiah looked away. The policewoman sitting across from her was making her nervous.

Sunlight forced its way off the London streets through the Venetian blinds, painting the room with dull, yellow bands of dancing dust. While she waited for someone to say something, Gaiah stared at the tiny motes; she tracked the particles as they floated down onto the large, battered desk towered with files, forms, report books and copies. Mrs. Thompson, the headmistress, sat behind this desk. She pushed her lank, grey hair out of her eyes, ignored the other people in the room, and focused on the opened file.

Gaiah sighed; it wasn't the first time she'd been called to this office, but it was the first time there had been so many other people involved. She could almost read the questions writing their way across the principal’s tired face. How had all this happened? When did Gaiah's 'punk' haircut and attitude appear? The file was thick with accounts of truancy, lack of respect and intimidation. Yet it didn’t contain one record of a home visit or one interview with her father, the only relative listed.

Of course, the file contained numerous recommendations for home visits, made by many teachers over the years. Gaiah had just made sure they never happened, that was all. This time though, things had gotten out of hand.

Jane Stack had a lump the size of an egg on her head, and her friends’ nosebleeds had been so severe the school nurse had sent them home. Their parents had made a complaint to the police, and they had sent Officer Bryant, a representative from their 'Police Safe School Co-ordination Scheme' to investigate. Bryant made the first move. Her voice, clear and authoritative, broke the silence in the dimly lit room.

I have interviewed the alleged victims. There’s a lot of confusion surrounding this incident. The girls can’t agree on the sequence of events, not even who was attacked first. The complaints are vague. Jane said the attack was completely unprovoked, and that her friends, rushing to her rescue, had been viciously beaten by Gaiah.

The head opened her mouth, but Bryant held up her hand and continued, However, I also interviewed the caretaker, who was emptying bins in the corridor at the time. He said Jane and her friends elbowed past Gaiah, knocked her sandwich from her hands and walked on it. He thought that there was some malfunction with the lights then, because he couldn't see clearly, but next thing, those girls were on the floor shouting and bleeding while Gaiah still appeared to be scraping up her lunch. She paused.

Gaiah glanced up at her from her position on one of the mis-matched chairs around the desk. There was no way to make eye contact. The policewoman wasn’t looking at her. She was pushing her dark hair back behind her ears while reading her notes. Her hair, coming loose from a French plait, fell around a face which, seemed naturally inclined to smiling, but it definitely wasn’t smiling now.

Bryant continued, But clearly, some violent outburst occurred in this school on Monday morning. Looking through these files, the pattern developing over the last few years suggests Gaiah Hansfort could indeed be capable of this loss of control. I am amazed at the inaction of the school with regard to Gaiah, and I am personally taking charge of the situation. As she spoke, she turned to Gaiah, and studied her.

Okay, now’s the time to get this thing over with. There was no guarantee it would work, but it was worth a try. Gaiah raised her eyes from the study of her fingernails and looked up at Bryant, but the policewoman’s close scrutiny was disconcerting. Seeing herself through Bryant’s eyes was not pleasant. The savagely shorn hair and bitten nails, deliberately blank and distant blue eyes, and her wide mouth tightened into a thin line. Gaiah didn't like the view and she lost the opportunity to fix things.

Bryant returned to her notes, and while she initialed the pages, she said, Listen, Gaiah, I would very much like to speak to your father. I’m sure he’d want to help, wouldn’t he?

Gaiah shrugged.

I’m sorry, but this has to be dealt with. You seem determined to say nothing, not even to give your side of things. Please realize I’m here to help in any way I can. You’re over eighteen, This could potentially be an assault case, let’s try and keep it within the Safe School’s remit, shall we?

Gaiah stared at the policewoman, waiting for the moment when she could make all this go away. Damn, damn, damn, this isn’t going right. She bit shreds of nail from the thumb of her tightly clenched fist.

Eyes down, Bryant turned another page. The school has agreed to my request that you stay at home for a day or two. So please, tell your father I’ll be around at ten o’ clock tomorrow morning to discuss this with both of you. I have to warn you though, if you don’t help us sort this situation out, this report, and she waved the Manila file in her hand, could go a lot further than my desk. She looked at Gaiah, waiting for agreement.

Gaiah held her gaze, You must forget- The thought wasn’t even formed when a pager on Bryan’s belt emitted three insistent beeps. The police officer glanced down at it and got to her feet. Excuse me, I have to deal with this, she said and strode out of the room.

Mrs. Thompson, sighed deeply, Gaiah, dear, are you sure there’s nothing you want to say, to help yourself, to help us?

There was nothing to say. I can’t believe it. I can’t believe I haven’t even tried yet.

A knock on the door forestalled any more pleas from Mrs. Thompson. The secretary opened the door enough to peer in and say, Police officer Bryant asked me to apologize for her and to tell you she'd been called away urgently. She said to confirm that she’d be seeing you, she nodded towards Gaiah, tomorrow at ten. The click of the closing door behind her, echoed in the silence.

Can I go home now? The muttered question was barely audible.

Mrs. Thompson stood. Yes, yes. I’ll ring your father now to inform him about tomorrow.

No phone, another shrug.

Mrs. Thompson nodded. Of course, I remember now, no phone. Well, in that case, yes, go straight home. She walked around the desk and stood in front of her student.

The chair scraped loudly on the wooden floor as Gaiah stood. She was a full head taller than the principal who patted her awkwardly on the arm. Don’t worry Gaiah. I'm sure things will be fine, we’ll work something out.

Gaiah forced a small, thin-lipped smile to accompany the nod of her head, before she slouched out of the office. Her drab, brown school-jumper fell in loose folds from her hunched shoulders. Her hands were still fists, deep in her jeans pockets, ready to defend herself from the world.

Outside, on the steps of the school, Gaiah drew a deep breath. The bright September sky was high, and the trees on Notting Hill still rustled their summer greenery, yet, for all their impact, it might as well have been the dullest, dampest day in February. She scuffed her boots along the grey, gum-circled pavements, in no hurry to get home.

Almost obliviously, she walked through the gushes of warm, stale air from the underground and past the ribbon of travel agencies and food shops.

Oh, for God’s sake! Now what am I going to do?

Automatically slowing to allow a red double decker bus to turn from Kensington Church Street, she crossed to the white brick maze of Linden Gardens. This park with its sheltering trees and reflected light was usually the favourite part of her walk home. Home to the huge, old house, her father had brought her to eleven years ago. Where he'd knocked the top two floors into a massive, airy studio, and left the remainder of the echoing house, with its endless nooks and crannies, for Gaiah to explore alone.

Her dark eyebrows furrowed towards each other. She’s going to call tomorrow and I can’t stop her. Once she meets Dad, I won’t be able to do a damn thing. She’ll tell him everything.

A horrifying prospect. Anyone in her father’s vicinity was as impervious to her suggesting abilities as he was. She tugged the sleeves of her jumper down and curled her fingers into the cuffs to prevent herself from chewing her nails, while she tried to think her way out of this disaster.

There’d been no chance with Bryant, no moment of eye contact to 'suggest' to her, that calling tomorrow was an idea to forget.

The only thing to do was to wait at the door tomorrow morning and catch that woman before she met Dad. Suggest to her that there had been a successful meeting and everything was satisfactorily in hand.

‘Suggesting’ such a major change was a new concept. But ever since her seventeenth birthday, this ability had been getting stronger. The scary thing was that it was getting beyond her control. It’s stupid that I don’t even know if Dad has this ability too, though I suppose if he had, he’d be making people flock to buy his sculptures, and Oh God, if he didn’t have it and I told him about me…The thought of his panic and confusion always stopped her seeking his help.

Godamn it! Louder than intended, the outburst caused an elderly lady to frown in her direction and hasten her steps as she passed by.

Bloody hell, it’s always bloody Jane Stack. Can’t believe all I wanted in junior school was to be her friend. Silly cow always got me into trouble. And now, I can’t bloody believe it… the police!

That reaction to the bullies on Monday and its strength had been so shocking, she hadn’t pulled herself together fast enough to smooth things over. Even worse, none of it had been consciously planned. As usual, Jane and her gang had used her as the butt of yet another of their infantile jokes. They’d giggled and high fived as they left Converse prints on her food. The red heat filling her face had contrasted with an icy calm in her head. How she’d hated them, just desperately wishing they’d leave. She’d glared at them, eyes hot with anger. Those girls sure screeched as they’d slammed themselves into the far wall. Despite the trouble it had caused, the memory of it gave her a dark satisfaction.

How the hell had all that happened? All this, and it’s only the start of the year. I’ll have to get a grip.

Head down, she walked through the wavering puddles of sunlight created by the huge trees lining their street. God, I’m sick and tired of all this. Yeah, she’d seen the photo in the Principal’s office too, and could hardly believe that once, in Scotland, and in what seemed like someone else’s life, she had been that girl, full of joy and confidence, sure of the world and of her place in it. And that hair! She remembered the feel of the silky curls.

Unbidden, her hands went to her head. Her scalp prickled and hairs tickled at her ears. The growth that always began imperceptibly mid-afternoon had started. It grew to her waist every night, every single, God damn night. Hacking it almost to the roots every day before school, and bringing scissors for the days she had extra classes, seemed to be the only way to prevent people from noticing what was happening to her.

A whole year of wishing it would stop as suddenly as it started, of dumping bags full of hair in wheelie-bins. A whole, endless, awful year since her seventeenth birthday.

The terror of that night had never left; the night when she was woken by something soft and dry brushing slowly across her face and neck. Even here, walking along in the safe sunshine, her heart sped up at that sickening memory. How she had leapt out of bed, frantically groping for the light switch. How she had stared transfixed at her reflection. Her hair, which had been barely to her shoulders, now curling down her back.

Despite good intentions, she was picking at the sides of her nails. Most of that day had been spent sitting on her bed, stomach clenched