Paranormal Investigations

by EH Walter

  Chapter 4: Paranormal Investigations

  Jez had lovely soft, plump lips and it was a shame to part from them. My whole body was screaming at me to not let him go. Parts of my body very much wanted him to continue, but unfortunately the kiss was as brief as it was accidental.

  "Hello you," he said, as if it hadn't been over two and a half long years since we had last seen each other.

  "Do I get to ask you for your autograph?" I responded wittily.

  He laughed, "If you ever asked me for an autograph I'd be worried. Shall we eat? I've just finished rehearsing a scene full of food and I couldn't eat any - I'm bloody starving!"

  "I just so happen to be rather famished myself."

  I had forgotten just how at ease Jez put me when I was in his company. Our walk to the stretch of south bank eateries was not over filled with conversation, but it was not filled with awkward silence either. I'd also forgotten how self-depreciating he could be and how funny.

  "Trying to prove yourself?" I asked, gesturing to the National Theatre.

  "Oh yeah," he said, "it's amazing how much more seriously people take you when you do a bit of theatre. Do you remember a couple of years ago when all the film companies were going bust because of the credit crunch and the West End was full of American film stars? They got so much kudos for doing that."

  "You after kudos then?" I asked as he held the door open to one of the bankside eateries to allow me to enter first.

  "You know me Leo - always after a bit of kudos. Even if the critics hate me I'll have kudos - and all for Equity minimum."

  Two years ago both of us would've killed to work at Equity minimum rates, hell - I still would. Two years ago our lives had been running along the same routes, now he was Mr Hollywood and I was Mrs Weirdo. It makes you feel unified against the world when you were as poor as we were, we had only moved in with each other because it had been cheaper, or at least that's what I told myself. We had been poor together, compared notes about rude directors with each other and consoled ourselves with thoughts of better days. Now - he was wearing clothes worth more than my annual pittance of a wage.

  Although it was officially an autumn day and a little cold it was mild enough to sit outside so we did so. Jez kept the collar of his coat up and the peak of his hat down which I thought, at the time, was because he was cold - later I realised it was to avoid being noticed. It was hard for me to remember that someone I knew had a face so recognisable he needed to actively avoid notice. I suppose I still saw that Jez - the one on the side of buses - as a separate person from the one I had cuddled up with under the duvet to keep warm in winter in a cramped Camden bedsit.

  As we ate our conversation consisted mainly of old friends and shared memories of times gone past. It was surprisingly easy for me not to be a gibbering wreck and I must have given a passable performance as a sane human being. My outward behaviour may have appeared quite normal, but my eyes and mind were taking in every gorgeous detail: the way his eyes had that sexy crinkle at the corners, the way his hands gripped his tea cup... Although it was chilly my cheeks were red with the memories of what those hands could do to a girl. I took a deep breath to steady myself.

  After we had exhausted conversation about the past we had to turn to the present.

  "You've done really well Jez."

  He shrugged. "It's mainly luck, being in the right place at the right time. You know how I only got that first job in Los Angeles because someone dropped out at the last minute."

  I certainly did. Jez had done a small part in a film made at Elstree (also in north London and not far from Barnet). The director had been an old friend of his and the budget minimal - favours were called in left right and centre to get it off the ground in the first place. When it was released it did surprisingly well for a low budget British film and gained something of a cult following. As a result, all of the actors (whether they deserved it or not) became hot property. As Jez said - luck. If he hadn't done that favour for a friend he might still be keeping my bed warm in Camden.

  The night he came home to tell me about the job offer in the States is one of those etched in finite detail on my memory - one of those moments of deep despair that you revisit when stricken with fever or lying awake in the middle of the night.

  He couldn't sit down and couldn't speak. I could see there was something on his mind as he paced around our bedsit in Camden. It was like part of him was unbelievably excited about something and another part was immensely sad. I let him pace around and busy himself first with the washing up and then the hoovering. I had not imagined for one second how enormous his revelation was going to be.

  Finally he sat down, turned off the TV and told me he had been offered the biggest opportunity of his life and he had to leave the next day if he was going to take it. He had to phone them by 6pm - this was twenty minutes away at the time. I don't remember the words he used - he didn't elaborate in great detail for the matter was quite a simple one - go or stay.

  I said: "Do you need me to drop you at the airport?" and that was the matter somehow decided. It's amazing how practical you can be when your heart has just been pulled out of your chest and someone is using it as a tennis ball in a very vigorous and fast paced match.

  In speaking those words I had ended our relationship, I had made it okay for him to leave with a clear conscience. As he packed it was like he was already gone, we barely spoke and we didn't say good bye. I went to bed early and left him arranging what to take and what to get his brother to come and collect for him later. When he did come to bed I lay there like a statue, pretending to be asleep. And in the morning I had dropped him at the airport and walked out of his life. I can't stand protracted and dramatic farewells so I just walked away.

  Now, two and a half years later, Jez laid a hand on mine. "And you Leo, how are you?"

  He said it as if he might have some vague idea of the six months of hell I went through without him - the six months that reduced me to such a shadow of a human being my friends no longer recognised me. The only job I got in that time was background work in a Holocaust TV programme. Then GA Mildred had set me on a new path.

  Underneath his, my hand began to sweat in that way that women never want men to know is possible in our sex and as much as I loved the feel of his skin and the fact he was touching me, part of me wanted to wrench it out and stop the complexities of feeling that were overwhelming me.

  "You know what Jez, I'm really good. My Great Aunt Mildred finally suckered me into working for her and now I'm managing partner. I get to set my own hours and do my own thing."

  "That's good."

  "Not the path I had imagined - true, but perhaps I was just too... intense to make it as an actor. I used to get too much into character. It's a relief to be myself for a change."

  Dear god, I think the man bought it. I hated PI, I hated my life, I was sick with jealousy towards every single actress out there (except for Gemma Arterton who I thought worthy of a girl crush). I told you I was good.

  "I'm relieved," he said, "I worried when I couldn't get hold of you."

  I had ignored all his messages from Los Angeles. "You were busy, you didn't have time to worry about me!"

  "And then you wouldn't return my calls."

  "I was busy." Busy watching Jeremy Kyle and feeling sorry for myself.

  "Well, anyway - I'm back now and it looks like the third part of the trilogy will be filmed in Europe so I can base myself here for the most part."

  I was unsure what to say to this - did he mean he was back and we could hang out as friends or he was back and he wanted to resume where we had left, but without the freezing-cold-because-we-can't-afford-heating bit?

  I managed to reclaim my hand under the pretence of organising the rubbish into one easy to dispose pile. All other conversation between us was suspended by the arrival of two teenage girls, the bolder of the two was nudging her friend with an elbow.

  "Told you it was
'im," she said in a rough London accent.

  A magical change almost came over Jez - a fan had spotted him and now he needed to go into business mode. He smiled at the girls and this gave them enough confidence to approach. Their entire body of energy was directed straight at him - me they ignored.

  "It is you, innit?" the bolder one said, "Jeremy whassisname?"

  Jez smiled patiently. "Busted."

  "Can I 'ave an autograff?" She supplied a paper napkin, luckily Jez had his own pen. I'm not sure she was the type of girl to own one.

  "What's your name?" he asked her.

  She said something like 'Shannicka' so Jez asked her to spell it.

  "S H thingy A N I Q U A."

  The 'thingy', when she drew it to explain, turned out to be an apostrophe.

  Patiently Jez signed her napkin and then, when a camera phone was thrust at me without a word, he posed for a photo with the two of them (I later saw it in HEAT magazine, but funnily enough I didn't get a credit as photographer). When Sh'aniqua asked for a kiss I decided it was time to intervene.

  "Sorry girls," I said trying to sound business like, "Mr Flynt has a strict no under eighteens kissing rule."

  The pair gave me what my teenage self would have described as dirty looks and scampered off giggling. Sh'aniqua was on her phone straight away loudly asking her mum to guess who she'd just met. Her mum, from what I overheard of the loud one sided conversation, didn't guess correctly.

  "So I guess you're pretty busy." Jez said, trying to ignore the loud teenager.

  "You couldn't imagine!" I said as I tucked a wrapper into a cup.

  "I hope you're not too busy to come to my first night, I'd like you there - as my guest."

  My tummy did a flip, honestly - it did. A genuine smile lit up my face until a man passed my eye line as he entered the eatery. Then I frowned.

  "You can make it Leo?"

  "Wouldn't miss it!"

  "Good, they can be quite posh affairs, all the angels come and the critics. I'd appreciate a friendly face out there."

  For those of you not wholly consumed by the business that is show, angels are financial backers. They put their money into producing theatre and got a set of tickets to first night out of it. Very rarely they got some money back too.

  "Text me all the details and I'll add you to my diary." I said with a smile.

  "Yes Mum!" Sh'aniqua said, "He's here now! Tell Aunty Katie and the girls to come down!"

  It was time to leave so we both rose. He made to go one way, I made to go the other.

  "I'm going the other way Jez, so I'll say goodbye."

  He slipped an arm around me. Damn feminism to hell, that made me feel secure. This time when he kissed me I managed not to fidget and he did get my cheek although that produced no less amount of electricity pounding through my body. I watched as his dark figure walked away, then - when he was out of sight - I headed back into the eatery.

  Inside I sat down at a table. The man already sitting there looked up.

  "Hello Dad," I said.

  Dad looked up. He didn't look any different although it had to be at least a year since I saw him last. He smiled at me, but I detected some concern trying to hide behind it.

  "Good afternoon Leo," he said.

  With Dad there was never any point of berating him for missed birthdays or Christmases - he always gave off this air that suggested there was a good reason for his not being there at the key moments of your life. Already he was looking at his watch nervously.

  Dad didn't like time wasters so I wasted no time.

  "Dad - why did you send me Bob?"

  "Bob?"

  "You know - the small guy with the goatee beard and the... oh, I don't know - goaty hooves?"

  "Ah, he has a name now does he?"

  "Why did you send him to me?"

  "It's your job."

  "My job is to investigate for clients who pay me to do so. Clients who are a little more..." I lowered my voice to a whisper as one of the uniformed employees walked past, "human!"

  "Well you can't talk."

  "Dad you sent me a man who looks like a goat who made me get him a troll for protection!"

  "Ah," Dad smiled, "he got a troll then. I told him a troll would be his best bet, I'm glad he listened."

  "You know about trolls?"

  "Of course I do. You didn't?"

  "Hmm, well - that kind of stuff is not supposed to exist!"

  "But sweetie, you're almost twenty five and you run a business called Paranormal Investigations. What did you think the paranormal bit stood for?"

  "Great Aunt Mildred's insanity? Anyway - why does it matter that I'm almost twenty-five?"

  "Well it's by that age that it's clear whether you have the skill or not."

  "What skill?"

  "Seeing. If you haven't started seeing and believing by that age you never will. Your mother started seeing properly at twenty-two and that was quite late."

  "Seeing?" My head spun, "You've lost me Dad."

  "You are a Seer, from a long line of Seers."

  "A Seer?"

  "It's exactly as it sounds. I'm sorry to be blunt Leo, but I don't have time to talk in anything other than direct terms. You see things other people don't, you can see beyond the projections of the supernatural - see things that other people never know are there."

  "Oh right - okay, sure. And if this is true - why on earth didn't you tell me any of this before?" It was lucky there was nothing weighty to hand as I would gladly have pummelled his head in at that instant.

  "It sometimes skips a generation. If someone without the gift was told about the supernatural world they might very well lose their sanity. I was more concerned that you were one of those who had the gift but was also too grounded in logic to accept it. You are much more... modern than any of the Seers who have come before you. I feared you would be one of those who would never acknowledge what was in front of your eyes. I've been trying to help you see the truth."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Well, like that cat I made you look after when you were twelve - you called it Tiddles."

  Ah yes, another of Dad's charity projects. Tiddles had been a brown tom cat as vicious as hell. I had looked after it for two weeks before it did a bunk over a neighbour's fence and was never seen again.

  "Sweetie, it wasn't a cat - it was a baby griffin."

  I narrowed my eyes. A baby griffin?

  He continued: "I had to provoke you into seeing and Bob, as he is now known, really does need your help. The fairies are a tough bunch and when they want something done it gets done."

  "But Dad, I already have a job - at PI."

  "This is the job of PI," he said, "your job is to facilitate the smooth existence of two worlds side by side just as your mother and great aunt did before you. PI is your job, seeing is your job. That's why PI exists. As a cover for the Seer. You have to help Bob - it is your duty."

  Arse.