Page 37 of Giving Up The Ghost
Ezra wordlessly laid his hand over mine, giving it a squeeze.
“Grandmere found out after a while and had a strop over it. I think Grandfather came back on his own after that, but I’m not sure. I do know she put me in violin lessons that took up most of my Tuesday afternoons around the time she had her fit over the whole thing.” I shrugged, feigning indifference. “Ah, here’s our food.”
The server set our plates down before zooming off to the next table. I started in on my ham and cheese mostly to shut myself up.
“You miss it here,” Julian observed quietly.
“It’s home. Or was.”
“Do you want to move back?” Julian asked, all seriousness as he poked at his sandwich. “Is this cress?”
“It’s sad lettuce,” Ezra said.
“Same thing.”
They fussed over their lunches good-naturedly and I just listened, letting it wash over me. I hadn’t answered Julian, and he was letting it go for now. I knew that, at some point in the near future, he’d ask again, and I’d need an answer. But for now, I had a bit of a respite from the thought. For the first time in days, I realized, I was feelingwhole. And I wasn’t sure how much of it was to do with the company, and how much was just being away from the house. My face felt like it did something complicated, and I tried to smooth things out, so I looked interested and not introspective, but I must’ve failed because Julian cocked his head and regarded me with his seriousdon’t lie to meexpression. “What is it?”
“Ah. Just…” I gestured at the café around us, shrugging helplessly. “Three ghosts. Two don’t register our presence. They’re dressed like they’re in, oh, I’d say the early Regency period. A couple. Holding hands. They’re looping.”
Ezra sat back. Quietly, he asked, “And the third?”
“A teenager. Maybe early twenties. Young-looking. She’s afraid. She knows we’re here. She knows I can see her, but she’s acting like she doesn’t notice.”
The young woman sat at a table near the ladies’, her hands spread on the faux-wood surface with her fingers spread wide. She wore a damp-looking jacket and sopping-wet jeans, one shoe off and one shoe on, unlaced and grubby, dangling from her foot where she’d crossed it over her opposite leg. Her clothes put her anywhere from the eighties to just last week: dark and inexpensive, something she could’ve picked up from a thrift store or a lower-end shop, her coat hung heavily on her shoulders, jeans tight and dark but whether it was with water, blood, or just the color of the fabric I wasn’t sure. Colorful plastic earrings swung from her lobes, just a cluster of tiny primary-colored balls on cheap chains but reminding me of the sort girls in school wore when they were feeling grown-up or wanting to look flash. She glanced up and caught my eye before she flickered out of sight, reappearing at another table almost instantly. I relayed this to Ezra and Julian as it happened, keeping my voice down as I narrated. Ezra’s gaze flickered towards the table I’d indicated, and he made a soft, sad sound in his throat. “Can you feel her?” I asked softly.
He nodded. “Just a little, though.”
When she glanced our way again, I gave her a little wave, just a wiggle of my fingers near my chest, and she looked scared, then resigned, rising to her feet and giving me a sharp nod, motioning for the door.“I think she wants me to follow her.”
Julian’s brows drew down as he tried to see who I was seeing. She was waiting impatiently now, traces of her apprehension gone now that she’d made up her mind. “All of us or just you?”
“Just me,” I said. “Wait here. I won’t be long.”
“Oscar,” Ezra called out, but I followed the ghost out onto the pavement. She turned left and down an arrow alley where the shops were dusty and forgotten but soldiering on, selling stale tobacco, sketchy magazines, and magnets mass-produced overseas and emblazoned with Union Jacks. I lost sight of her in the shadows, her form flickering in and out of sight as she passed through puddles of weak sunshine and oversaturated shop lights.
“Hey.”
She didn’t turn at the sound of my voice, but her steps slowed.
“Where are we going?”
Wordlessly, she pointed ahead of us down the alley. Towards where the storefronts were dark, and an overflowing skip blocked the end of the alley. It looked like one of those places that’s on Julian’s true crime shows, where the victim is found after being missing for three days.
“If you’re looking for another ghost to keep you company, there’re easier ways to do that than trying to make me one.”
She made a soft, rough sound that might’ve been a laugh and kept walking. As we neared the skip, she swerved into one of the closed storefronts and I found myself alone on the pavement, staring up at what used to beBenny’s Fish and Chips Plus.
From the looks of things, theplusmight’ve been murder.
“I can’t go in there,” I called. “Hello?”
There was a rattle, something clunking inside, and she reappeared, scowling. “I can’t unlock it,” she complained. “I can unlock the door at home but not here! Why?”
“Ah. Well, I don’t know for certain. Sometimes, it’s easier if it’s a place where you have strong ties. Home, a favorite place, even a car.”
At the wordcar, she rippled. A reflection on water struck by stone. Then she was steady again, scowling at me. “I worked here, didn’t I? For four years before the accident, I worked here. I used to serve your dad and mum their takeaway every Friday.” With a sly smile, she added, “Your grandda knew about me. Never spoke to me though, but he knew I was there waiting on him in that café.” Her smile fell. “Never did talk to me. Not that I blame him.”
I took a step back, startled, nearly tripping over my own feet. “I’m sorry, what?”She knew my parents? She met them, talked to them!I had an inkling of how some of my clients must feel, I realized, when I relayed a message for them. It was sharper and bloodier than I imagined before, this sensation of having something I desired almost more than anything held just out of reach. “You knew them.”
