The Past Emotions

Saffron looked out of the window and saw the man - he never even gave his name, and she was too upset to ask for it. It looked as if he was talking to someone. His hands were expressively waving around as he spoke. She couldn't see whom he was chatting to, but she imagined - knew it was her grandmother. She curled up on the sofa. There was something wrong, not that living with the ghost of your grandmother was in any way right, but Saffy had just realised that she couldn't feel him. Saffy wondered why she had not felt that man's emotions. 

Why? Had her empathic ability gone? Vanished in a puff of smoke, had her granny waved her magic wand? 

It was a relief if they had gone, for most of the time. Saffy wouldn't know how worried her married neighbour was over his girlfriend's pregnancy test or whether he could win his son's school fees back at the casino before next week when they were due. Or even the young guy who was taking the tube to a bridge where he was determined to throw himself off because he had lost his job and his girlfriend was a cow. 

It sounded a bit odd, but she didn't mind those suicidal emotions if she could do something about it. Somehow she had managed to talk to the boy, talk him out of jumping. He just needed someone to talk to, someone with a different perspective of what he was going through. The boy was lucky, and he understood Saffy. They remained friends, and he was now married to a lovely girl, and he had a good job. She knew it wasn't that easy for many people.

Saffy was concerned that her ability was gone, and there was only one way to find out. She grabbed her keys and purse and headed out to the car. The supermarket was the place to go, lots of people with lots of emotions. She would know immediately she stepped inside. She drove into the car park and opened the door. 

It felt like a wind whooshing around her. Happiness, indifference, fright, and joy, not that there were many of those knocking around. This time it was different. She could see colours not only around the people of whose emotions she could see, but the colours swirled around her too. There were many greyish tones, some blue, pink and a tiny gold cloud around a little girl whose birthday it was. Well, it seems that she hadn't lost her abilities, which begged the question, why couldn't she feel... whatsisname? "What the hell is his name?" she asked the hula lady standing on top of the dashboard.

"Jack, his name is Jack Goldsmith," Said a gentle voice in her head. Saffy looked around, "That wasn't you, Hula lady, was it?  

The Hula Lady remained silent as always. Saffron drove back to the cottage, and on the way, she passed a large house that she didn't remember seeing on the way. It was a massive old house, Georgian or Victorian she didn't know which and Saffy glimpsed lovely gardens, except the hedges gave way to a tall brick wall, and she could no longer see the building. She wondered if that was Jack's house, then she came to the gates, and a sign on the wall announcing it to be Goldsmith Manor.

"Pretentious pillock." She muttered. Just because he was good looking, and she knew he was fit. Saffron smirked, she knew that every single part of him was fit. It didn't mean to say that she was going to fall for him. Yes, he had lovely thick dark hair, and oh my goodness, his eyes. She wasn't one for romantic descriptions, but, oh boy, those cobalt eyes drilled into you, noticing every tiny thing about you. They seemed to see the inside of you as well as what was on the outside. She would have to keep her distance. Though the thought of even having someone around that she couldn't feel their emotions was so appealing. She could live a more normal life, but she had become used to knowing that other people thought she was weird.

When Saffron pulled up outside the cottage, she decided that she would call out to her grandmother. Would she get a reply? Who knows? Perhaps she could go in and pretend she was there, even make her a cup of tea. It sounded stupid to Saffy, but if Jack and maybe other people could see her, she could at least make an effort. 

"Ok, here goes," Saffy put the key in the door and took a breath as she swung it open.

"Hey Granny, I'm home. Would you like a cup of tea?" Saffron stood in the hall and listened intently to... Complete silence. 

"Bollocks," she muttered and went to put the kettle on. She even looked around for a note, but there was nothing in any of the rooms. Saffy sat down on the sofa with her cup of tea and let herself relax, breathing deep and clearing her mind. Her eyes closed, she concentrated on her breathing. There were noises, crackling, logs falling in the fire, and a stirring noise. Slowly Saffron opened her eyes. The room was different, but the same. The fireplace was more significant, and there was a fire in the grate. There was a pan, a cauldron hanging from a hook over the flames. 

Slowly Saffron turned her head a tiny bit, and a woman was stirring a pot on the table. Oh. My. God. Saffy mouthed. Despite the long dress, all her long dark curly hair was under a white mob cap, and along white apron covered her brown dress. It was her. It was like looking in a mirror. The sound of the fire and her stirring faded out. Then the door burst open, and a group of men strode in. Some wore armoured breastplates and helmets, and they surrounded the girl who was screaming as they grabbed her arms and tied them behind her. One man, the one in charge, she thought, stood very close to the girl. He was tormenting her, that was obvious, as he touched her breast and whispered in her ear. Then he grabbed her between her legs. Saffron couldn't bear it, and she picked up her mug of tea and threw it at the man, and the vision vanished.  

Saffron stared at the spot where the vision of the past had been. Instead of the big table, there was just the window, and of course, spilt tea on the carpet, which had splashed up the cream wall. 

The tears ran down her face. That poor girl, what happened to her? She had looked so contented stirring her concoction, and then those men had been brutal, and the one in charge small and vicious looking. There was no doubt he had 'small man syndrome," She had come across some of these men's emotions, who blamed their violent behaviour because they were small in height and were pushy, arrogant, and sometimes downright nasty. These men thought they were inadequate. Men in magazines were at least six feet tall, and just like girls who were desperate to be model thin and weren't, they didn't believe they were worth knowing because of these inadequacies. Saffy knew she had felt those emotions in other people. It was crazy, but she could hardly walk around with a sign that said 'Be Yourself' not that anyone would take much notice. 

Bringing her senses back to the modern-day, Saffy wiped her tears and put the television on. Gordon Ramsey was bouncing around an American restaurant giving the chef a good telling off. That was undoubtedly grounding. She washed the carpet of tea and wiped the wall down. Thankfully there was no mark. She had already had a note telling off from Granny about making a mess. 

The evening was quiet, and the television was still on, and some girl in a soap opera told her friend that she had left a note. 

"Bloody hell Saffy! What are you like? She ran into the kitchen and grabbed the notepad stuck to the fridge. She hoped this would work if granny could send her a note; maybe she could send one back.

Hi Gran, 

Sorry about the mess with the bottle. Seeing your 'pharmacy'? was a bit of a shock. 

I am so glad to be here, and I hope that we can communicate with these notes. I think you already know about the vision of the past I had today, and it terrified me. Please help me. I don't want to have any more like that. 

Thank you for letting me live here. I wish we had met earlier. 

Your loving Granddaughter 

Saffron. X

P.S. Why can't I feel Jack's emotions?

Saffy left it on the table weighed down with a brass 1oz weight. She wondered if she would get a result in the morning. It had been a long day, and Saffy made some hot chocolate and went to bed with her romance novel. Saffron never even read the first line of her book, and her hot chocolate was cold the next time she looked at it. 

She awoke when her book fell to the floor with a bump. Her breathing was fast, and she had been dreaming of Jack, who seemed to have a huge dog, which was running around him as he held her in his arms. Jack's lips were a hairsbreadth away from hers and about to kiss her when the animal barked, and she woke up.