Dark Night of the Soul

Chapter 13

Seamus is struggling to clear his head. His soul feels troubled but he can't quite put his finger on what's wrong. Over the years he has found ways to clear his manic mind. In Anna's Hampstead days she had attempted to teach him meditation and yoga and although he had mocked her at the time, he now finds great solace in the techniques.

He rises at dawn and shuffles out into the weak light, a yoga mat rolled under his arm. He stands tall and takes a few deep breaths before laying the mat on the patio outside his little rented cottage.

He runs through his usual routine and is in his sun salutation pose when he hears footsteps on the hill above. Squinting into the sun he sees two figures. Hands stuffed deep into pockets trying to keep warm. He stands up straight from his pose, peering forward to make them out more clearly. A boy and a girl, he thinks. Maybe 12, 13 years old. 'What could they be doing out by themselves at this time in the morning,' he ponders. He puts his hands to his mouth ready to shout up to them but then stops himself. They would only ask him questions, and he is in no mood for questions.

Watching the two children he moves into warrior pose, as the girl glances behind her. After a quick nudge of the boy they turn and point. Suddenly feeling self-conscious, Seamus bends down with a grunt to pick up the yoga mat and stomps back to his cottage. 'Bloody kids,' he spits through his teeth.

He makes himself a health-boosting green smoothie and stares out of the kitchen window. He can just make out the two children as they reach civilisation. He can't shake the feeling that he has seen them before, felt the same eyes watching him. He shudders and picks out a Brian Eno playlist to obliterate the weird feelings in his head.

As the ethereal music washes through him he takes two big gulps of smoothie, winces a little, and sits himself down on the wobbly stool at the breakfast bar. The sun is still dolefully rising as he sees a robin loop down to perch on the rotary washing line, singing lustily. Listening with a smile, Seamus muses to himself. 'It can't be his autumn song already? It's only...' He looks down at his watch. 'Agh, it's the end of August already, isn't it? So, the Autumn song's about right.' He puts down his glass and concentrates on the robin's mellifluous song. 'What was it in Blue Velvet? Ah yes, "There is trouble until the robins come."'

Anna had always hated David Lynch. The more Seamus tried to persuade her of Lynch's genius, the more she refused to listen. At one point he took to leaving his right shoelace undone in homage to Lynch. He also ordered a chocolate shake every day at 2.30pm on the dot.

With her obsession with neatness, the untied shoelace infuriated Anna. Seamus thinks back to how much fun he had had winding her up. Theirs had most definitely been a love–hate relationship. Or perhaps more love–irritation.

During their filming days together, Seamus had always played tricks on Anna, jumping out at her or dressing in a different character's costume. Without exception, Jonathan had failed to see the funny side of Seamus' jokes, which is probably what drove him on. At one point, Jonathan had taken him to one side and asked if he still wanted to work on set. 'You are obviously bored. Did you have trouble concentrating at school?' he had asked in an intentionally patronising tone.

Looking back, it had all been fun. If only he had known at the time that being on set with the In the Night Garden crew would be the highlight of his career.

With a sigh, Seamus feels his shoulders sink as he thinks back to the previous day. He wonders where Anna is now. Since finding out about 'the task', he had often wondered whether the three of them would be back together again, or at least him and Anna, but had tried not to hope.

Now Seamus catches himself staring into the green gloop of his smoothie. 'Come on. This is no way to start the day.' He gives himself a shake and sits up straight. Palms flat on the kitchen counter in front of him. 'So then. Let's make some sense of this.' He gently closes his eyes and takes a long, deep breath in... and out... 'I remember... nothing!' Seamus steps down from the stool and moves to the main room of the cottage. Sitting cross-legged on the sheepskin rug laid out in front of the little wood-burning stove, he tries again. Eyes closed. Deep breaths. Hoping that a clear mind will bring clarity. 'What was it guru Mooji used to say at the meditation retreat in Portugal? Ah yes. "Picture an exquisite picture frame and put all your thoughts in it. Then place the picture frame high on a shelf, out of reach. You can recover the thoughts after the practice."'

He remembers the journey over from Ireland well enough, but it's hazy from when he got out of the car. It's as if he'd been drugged. But, as he starts to meditate, shards of colour start to appear. His mind starts to fill with a murky fog, slowly clearing now, as if he's floating over a field. As Seamus relaxes deeper the images gradually come into focus. Figures below him wave up in glee as he floats gently over their heads. Seamus feels a glow of warmth course through him as he sees their innocent faces so full of joy. But then... they disappear.

He goes back to the beginning and tries to find the fragments of colour again but his brain is too active now, whirring with words and images. He has to go back. He takes more deep breaths and stares hard into his 'third eye'. After an eternity, the colours return. This time he has a fleeting image of two children sitting motionless on a wall. Could they be the kids from this morning? Surely not. He doesn't have time to find out. His brain flickers and that's it, he is thrown back to reality. Back to the stove and the rug.

He picks up his coat and takes a battered red notebook from his pocket. Filled with doodles, poems and thoughts, this little book is his life. He turns to the back to make sparse notes on the images he has just seen: floating through the sky; gleeful children; and two intense teenagers sitting on a wall.