Perfectly Reflected by S. C. Ransom Page A

in London. Previously Callum had been able to ensure that there was maintenance going on, which kept the tourists away. I had no idea how he managed it, but it meant that our visits had been reasonably private, apart from all the otherDirges. Kissing an invisible man in a crowd of people would be interesting.
    The bus slowly worked its way down Fleet Street, but came to a standstill at the bottom of Ludgate Hill. I could see the queue of traffic snaking up towards the cathedral. I checked that my headphones were secure and was about to pretend to make a call to speak to Callum when the phone rang, making me jump. It was Rob. I debated ignoring it, but curiosity got the better of me.
    “What do you want?” I said, abruptly.
    “And good morning to you, you gorgeous creature! What are you doing today?”
    “I’m going out, actually. Not that it’s any of your business.”
    “Well, how about I join you? Keep you company while that boyfriend of yours is away?”
    “Are you mad? Why would I want to spend the day with you?”
    “Now, don’t be like that, Alex. We had one little misunderstanding, that’s all. Can’t a guy get a second chance? Let me show you what it’s like to have a boyfriend who isn’t away all the time.” His voice was smooth and oozed confidence, which irritated me even more.
    “I’m not going to listen to this, Rob. Don’t call me again!” As I angrily snapped my phone shut I became horribly aware of how loud I had become. The people around me on the bus were all obviously listening. Ignoring them I stabbed quickly at the keys on the phone.
    “Callum, hi. I’m stuck on a bus.” I tried to keep my voice low and unemotional. “The Tube was shut. Do you want to meet me on the steps? I’ll call you back in a minute to check and see if you got the message.”
    I waited for a few seconds, knowing that it would take him almost no time to run from the Tube station to where I was on the bus. Very quickly I felt the tingle in my arm, and automatically started to relax. I picked up the phone again.
    “Hi. I seem to be stuck. I’m going to see if the driver will let me off.”
    “OK. There’s a massive queue all round St Paul’s so if you can get off, you should.”
    No one took any notice of me at all as I made my way down the stairs and joined the group of people pleading with the bus driver to open the doors. He kept protesting that we weren’t at a stop, but eventually gave in and we all piled out.
    As I approached the building I looked at the two long queues of people waiting to get inside the cathedral. “This could take a while,” I murmured as I headed towards the back of one of the lines, digging my season ticket out of my bag. “Which of these will go faster, can you see?”
    “Oh, you don’t have to wait there, not if you have your ticket. Nip down to the café and go into the entrance in the crypt.”
    “Really? OK, let me know if I’m heading in the wrong direction.”
    The café was noisy and packed, and a strong smell of toast wafted across the long, low space. It seemed odd that such a busy café should be nestled right underneath the main part of the cathedral, and not at all in keeping with the hushed silence just above. I worked my way round the tables and chairs towards the far end of the vast room where there was a fancy iron grille. At the far side was a bored-looking attendant. I quickly flashed my ticket at him and was soon through to the rest of the crypt.
    Callum and I walked towards Nelson’s monument on our way to the stairs. As we passed I stole a quick glance at him. Ever since he’d restored my memories, I could always see him inside the building – properly see him, not just a reflection in a mirror – and he got more solid the higher up we went. I wondered what he would be like down here. The glimpse I got stopped me in my tracks.
    “Callum!” I called after him, remembering just in time to talk into my phone mouthpiece. We were right by the big