Blurred Lines: A box-set of reality bending supernatural fiction (Paranormal Tales from Wales Book 9)

by Michael Christopher Carter

  Neil began. “I’m sure she needs our help,” he suggested. “I felt her presence even before everyone else knew about her. Before Auntie Sylvie’s séance.” Matthew nodded, but was distracted by the huge Nacho cheese mountain he was halfway through devouring. Neil hadn’t started his sandwich yet. He was keen to get down to business.

  “I tried to research girls who might have died in the house and came up with Jacqui, remember?” Matthew managed a grunt to accompany the nod this time. Neil finally took a bite of his lunch and carried on talking, happily letting his manners go in the face of sudden hunger.

  “That was incorrect. Auntie Sylvie said her name was Elin, not Jacqui. We’ll need her help. But I need you to convince her with me it’s worth doing. Will you corroborate my story? Confirm to Auntie Sylvie and the others you saw her too?”

  Matthew’s chewing slowed for the first time since the waitress plonked their food in front of them.

  “I don’t know.” Sitting back and dabbing his mouth with a paper napkin. “I can’t see there’s anything we can do. If she doesn’t want to leave?”

  “I’ve been thinking about that. I don’t think she can go. She needs our help first. It makes sense, doesn’t it? There must be something tying her to the house. She didn’t die there, it would have come up in obituaries on Google.”

  “I suppose,” Matthew grudgingly agreed, resuming the destruction of his food. “We could do some research. We have a name. You’re the I.T. geek. Why don’t you start now?”

  “Software engineering. Not I.T.,” Neil corrected.

  “Whatever.”

  Neil fetched his laptop from his bag and began utilising the free Wi-Fi offered in the café. They justified their stay by ordering coffees. Matthew further pleased the establishment and requested a large slice of cake as well.

  “We know where she lived. We know what she looks like and so her approximate age when she died. She might have been a student. We should check the uni database.

  Surprisingly, only one Elin popped up on file, and it seemed to be her. Both boys recognised her photo and blushed at how pretty she looked. Elin Treharne had been at Swansea University only recently. Last year, which fact made her passing even more poignant.

  “We should have heard about her death, shouldn’t we?” Matthew sighed. “If it’s that recent, wouldn’t it be the talk of the town?”

  But Elin Treharne brought no results for obituaries or any other searches for Swansea away from the University database.

  “Do you think she was killed somewhere else but loved Swansea, and that’s why she stayed?” Neil offered excitedly.

  “Why would she love it in student digs?”

  “Maybe her home life was bad and Swansea felt like home!”

  “Perhaps. But it doesn’t sound likely to me.” Neil frowned, disappointed at Matthew’s lack of enthusiasm before another idea struck him.

  “When I researched the other girl, Jacqui, she hadn’t lived in the house either, but her boyfriend had or something. Elin could have had a love interest who lived there?”

  Matthew nodded, wiping crumbs from his lips “That makes more sense. What do you think she wants us to do, then?” Neil opened and closed his mouth, but he had no answer. “Do more investigation on your laptop. We must be missing something,” Matthew griped.

  Neil beavered away, trying every search he could think of for Elin Treharne and going through dozens of pages for each one. Surely there must be some clue somewhere why her ghost was haunting 24 Rhondda Street Swansea. There just had to be.

  Whether it was the espressos or just spending more time on the problem, Neil didn’t know, but one search provided a most unexpected result.

  “Shit! Oh my G…” is all Neil managed to say whilst turning the laptop towards Matthew for him to read for himself. Matthew was tucking into some chips and ketchup he’d ordered when the time had dragged on. He peered at the screen through squinting eyes as though it might be hieroglyphics, but he soon cottoned on.

  Local girl in coma. Doctors mystified.

  The headline was eye catching, but Matthew didn’t know why his friend had reacted to it until he read further.

  Former Swansea University student, Elin Treharne slipped into a coma on Tuesday night after suffering from a bout of glandular fever…

  Doctors are unsure of her prognosis, but are encouraged by scans and tests… Our thoughts and prayers are with her family…

  “Shit,” Matthew echoed. “But, what does it mean? Our ghost isn’t the same Elin? She just looks like her?”

  Neil shook his head vigorously. “No. It means we performed an exorcism on Elin and put her in a coma!”

  “How can that be possible?”

  “I don’t know, Matthew. But what if I’m right? She was really ill with glandular fever.” Matthew’s eyebrows raised in incredulity. “Stay with me,” Neil encouraged.

  “What if she was close to death and left her body? She came to our house because of some connection to it, and then when we exorcised her, that’s when she went into a coma? Look at the date in the newspaper story… it all fits. I’m right! I know it.”

  A second, more thorough read led Matthew to reconsider his initial scepticism. “The dates do fit. And I can’t deny there is a ghost who looks remarkably like this girl, Elin, who tapped on my window. So, I may as well go the whole hog. It’s no more preposterous than any other explanation, I suppose.”

  “More than that. It makes perfect sense.”

  “You’re just hoping you’re right and we can be the heroes to revive her from her coma. You think you’re a fairy-tale prince about to give the kiss of true love to the beautiful sleeping beauty!”

  “Kiss of true love? Don’t be stupid.” Neil laughed a little too hard.

  “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you mention ‘Elin this’ and ‘Elin the other’ a hundred times since lunch. If you’re wrong, then you’re in love with a ghost!”

  Neil reddened even more. “I’m not in love with her,” he said unpersuasively. “She is pretty though,” his cheeks beetroot as he exposed his true feelings.

  Matthew’s eyebrows curved into another position, perfectly expressing ‘I knew it’. Neil decided he would practice his own eyebrow techniques in the mirror. Matthew’s were so effective. The benefits of being a drama student, he supposed.

  “What on earth do we do about it, though?”

  “Well, I think time is of the essence. She’s been in a coma for weeks. How long do they keep you on life support?”

  Matthew spat out his hot chocolate and marshmallows in a swell of alarm. “Shit. I don’t know. We might have killed her! ”

  Neil turned the laptop towards his friend again, displaying from the University database Elin’s address.

  “We should go there. There might be something they can do.”

  “What if she has died? They wouldn’t want to hear how we might have been involved. And we don’t know really if our hypothesis has any truth to it. Shouldn’t we call your aunt? Or the priest?”

  “Maybe. But what would they do? They probably won’t even believe us, and if she is still alive in a coma, a psychic and a priest might not be who we need. Don’t be a coward. Come on lets go. We can be there in a couple of hours.”

  Neil made sure he entered the address into Google before they left, not drive in the general direction and then look, as he’d foolishly done on the way to Matthew’s.

  “Are you sure you’re okay to drive? You’ve already driven a long way today.”

  “Come on. I’ll be fine, but we have to get there ASAP!” Matthew desperately rushed his hot chocolate and Neil paid as he’d promised he would. He hadn’t planned on staying for quite so long and buying quite so much, though. He’d make sure Matthew paid for something else. It was only fair.

  “It’s closer than Swansea. We shouldn’t make bad time if the M4 isn’t too busy. Here, you can be the navigator,” Neil said, passing over his phone with the map on the screen.

>   The motorway, when they joined it, appeared quiet as they had hoped. They crossed the Second Severn Crossing back into Wales a little after six o’clock. They were making good time when the traffic approaching Cardiff slowed dramatically.

  An accident involving a jack-knifed car transporter spread over both carriageways, according to Google.

  “It doesn’t matter. We’ll get there when we get there,” Neil resigned.

  “We should’ve come over the Severn Bridge on the M48.”

  “You’re the navigator. It’s no good saying that now. Chill out and find something on the radio.”

  “I’m hungry.”

  “We’ll get food after our mission. It’s important.”

  “But I’m really starving. I can’t wait ‘til then!”

  Matthew agreed stopping at services en route would have to do.

  They’d been stationary for at least half an hour before the traffic moved an inch. A bing-bong warning sound coincided with an amber symbol of a petrol pump flashing on the dash. Neil glanced nervously at it.

  “Shit.”

  “At least I know you’ll definitely stop at the nearest garage now,” Matthew chortled.

  “If we make it to one in time.” Shaking his head, Neil decided on a more positive outlook. “I’m sure there’ll be plenty as soon as we get moving,” he declared.

  Another half an hour went by before they managed to pull off the motorway and limped into the nearest filling station.

  “I’ll need some fuel money. I spent most of mine on your lunch!”

  “I’ll go inside and get some snacks while you fill up. I’ll pay for it all if you like.”

  Neil wasn’t sure if Matthew had meant ‘fill up,’ so he played it safe with twenty quid’s worth. Matthew came out before Neil made it inside the shop, carrying a bulging carrier bag.

  “Don’t worry. I bought enough for you, too,” he announced.

  “No thank you!” Neil exclaimed to the umpteenth offer of food from his passenger as he opened a family pack of pasties.

  “You sure? They’re really yummy.” Neil tried not to be annoyed. He was sure Matthew hadn’t been this much of a pig at Uni. When all this was over, maybe he’d come back to his studies. He probably needed the distraction.

  The house was difficult to find. After a few cross words and stopping to ask several strangers for directions, they were both surprised when they were suddenly very close.

  “Here it is,” they declared in unison as Neil pulled into the driveway. “Do you think anyone’s home?”

  “There’s a car in the drive so I guess so. But there’s only one way to find out.” Matthew brushed crumbs from his clothes, easing himself from the little car. Neil’s keys rattled against the door as his shaking hand struggled to find the keyhole and lock the car. “No-one will steal it,” Matthew teased. “You okay, mate?”

  Neil nodded, attempting a reassuring smile which displayed as a grimace on his pale green features. “Mm hmm,” he managed, unconvincingly.

  “Come on, dude,” Matthew encouraged. “You have a damsel in distress to save.”

  Suddenly, the gravitas of confronting Elin’s distraught parents and admitting culpability in their daughter’s dismal plight was too much.

  “Will you do the talking? I don’t think I can.”

  “Sure, buddy. No problem.”

  With a pang of regret at his previous antipathy towards his bombastic companion, he decided Matthew was now his favourite person. His super-confidence was a real asset.

  With the pressure off, Neil was happy to walk behind his friend. The few steps to the door took forever. Neil felt like his namesake, Neil Armstrong, taking a giant leap for mankind. He couldn’t have felt more out of his depth if he was on the moon. Gripping onto Matthew’s sleeve for balance, he felt an overwhelming giddiness of expectation when the door was knocked.

  Several hours, or seconds, passed before they detected movement and someone was heard shuffling towards the door. It opened a crack and was halted abruptly by a chain. Eyes peered out at them from the four inch gap between door and frame. Encased within pale, lined skin, they shone with acuity and vigour.

  “Oh, good evening. Mrs Treharne?” Matthew began with his inimitable charm. “My name is Matthew, and this is Neil,” he indicated behind him with a nod in Neil’s direction.

  “We are students from the same university as your daughter. There are some things we’d like to discuss with you; something we need to tell you.”

  Through the crack, her eyes expressed concern and disbelief. The door closed abruptly.

  The pair stood on the doorstep, not sure what to do next. Matthew considered knocking again, wondering how he could without seeming pushy, when it opened again. This time, it wasn’t prohibited by the chain and opened fully to reveal the owner of the twinkly eyes.

  She was older than either of them had expected. Older than their own mums, certainly. She looked them up and down a couple of times, deciding if they were telling the truth, but why wouldn’t they be?

  “You’d better come in, then,” she said, finally.

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  They followed her into a large reception hall. She walked along the hallway and disappeared. Neil expected he should close the door, then headed after her. In the room she’d ducked into, she sat behind a table, staring into the distance.

  She didn’t look up when they entered. Neither did she invite them to sit. After a minute nervously fiddling with the ends of his shirt, Matthew asked if it was okay to take a seat. Neil, who’s own fiddling with his shirt, pockets, and hair had reached psychotic proportions, followed his lead and pulled out a chair.

  The lady turned towards them, startling them with the suddenness of movement. Slapping her hands, palm down on the table, with a friendly, but ‘don’t suffer fools gladly’ look on her face, she spoke.

  “Now, what is it you two boys have to tell me?”

  Using the word ‘boys’ seemed deliberate; so they’d understand that was how she saw them. The put-down was hardly necessary. They felt far less than men themselves. Even Matthew’s confidence struggled with the tension. How would she react to hearing what they had to say? They had a duty to Elin regardless.

  “I’ll start at the beginning if that’s okay?”

  “That’s usually the best place to start, I always find,” the lady replied, as though Matthew was already testing her patience. He stuttered slightly when he resumed speaking, his edginess shattering what was left of Neil’s poise.

  “I… It all began before Christmas. There’d been some strange goings on in our student house: Weird noises in the middle of the night, things being moved from where we’d left them. Not being able to find Uni-work and stuff.

  “Then it got worse—cups and plates smashed on the floor, washing thrown everywhere.” The lady sat, taking it all in with an unblinking stare.

  “I blamed the other students being careless with other people’s things. Neil, here, wondered if we might have a poltergeist. A house meeting was called and we decided we probably had a rat problem instead.

  “We cleaned meticulously so we could stop attracting them. I should say at this point, there were no other signs. No droppings, no chewing or anything. Anyway,” Matthew was getting into his stride now. The woman’s expression had softened, and he’d felt assured to carry on with more of his drama-student verve.

  “When I went home for Christmas, something obviously happened because Neil phoned me early in the New Year saying we were to have a séance. What happened, Neil?” Neil’s eyes widened. Gulping, he couldn’t believe he was required to speak, but with the expectant eyes of Matthew and the lady of the house baring down upon him, he felt himself succumb to the pressure. He cleared his throat before telling his part.

  “I was going home for Christmas too, a couple of days after Matthew. My dad and my little sister, Emma, came to collect me. After the long trip, they stopped for coffee, well Dad did. Emma had a milkshake or somethi
ng. But anyway, when we left, Emma asked me who the girl was in our lounge… not Bronwyn, she’s our housemate, but someone else.

  “We know now, she was describing your daughter. We saw pictures of her in uni records, and in the story relating to her being in a coma…” Neil flinched at his tactlessness. The lady’s eyes moistened, but she said nothing. “Sorry,” Neil offered, feebly.

  Matthew, concerned at his friend’s ineptness, took over the telling again.

  “Neil called all the housemates together for this séance where his Auntie Sylvie—who’s psychic—confirmed we did have a poltergeist. It was pretty compelling,” he said with a glint in his eye as though admitting it for the first time.

  “Plates rattled, plants flew across the room. When we heard a disembodied voice scream at us to get out, we did. Rapidly. That’s when Neil’s auntie said we needed a priest.” He stopped, breathless. The memory of it disturbing him.

  “We have a poltergeist,” the lady announced, surprising them both. “She moves the curtains. It’s the lady who used to live here. I don’t know why. I didn’t know she’d died, but I suppose she must have.” Matthew and Neil gasped. Maybe their incredible story wouldn’t be so difficult to accept.

  “She doesn’t want me here. I’m sure of it. You can feel her. Not all the time. My husband thinks I’m mad.”

  “Well we don’t, obviously. To be honest, it’s a relief to hear you talk like this. I was worried you wouldn’t believe us.” The lady returned to her staring silence. Matthew took it as permission to continue.

  “A priest came and performed an exorcism. It was quiet after that. For weeks, anyway. But then one night I saw her. Tapping on my window with a stick. A very faint apparition, but that made it more chilling.

  “I regret to say, it was too much for me and I went back home to my parents.” Guilt at Elin’s predicament tweaked his conscience. “I didn’t know it was your daughter then, of course.” It was his turn to offer a feeble, “Sorry.”

  “I saw her too. Tapping on Matthew’s window. Last night. I knew then why Matthew had left in such a hurry. I couldn’t blame him,” Neil piped up, suddenly full of confidence. They were about to get to the important bit: how Elin might wake up thanks to his brilliant deductions. Feeling like the hero of the hour, he filled her in on how he’d gone straight to Matthew’s house and, together, they’d pieced it all together.