Breach of Faith

by Andrea Hughes

  “Well, how about walking through a wall or two,” I replied sarcastically, that’s what ghosts do, isn’t it?”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “No, I’m sure it’s not. Funny that.”

  Angus sighed and I could sense his exasperation, “Kate, I only exist because of you. I use your energy to manifest myself into something seemingly real, with presence and form. For all intents and purposes, to you, I am real. As the energy diminishes then so do I but I can’t just turn it on and off at will. And, before you ask, no, I can’t levitate.”

  “Mind reader, are you?” I muttered.

  Angus chuckled and gestured towards a nearby bench, “can we sit down?”

  “I don’t know, can you?” I asked sarcastically. “I didn’t realise ghosts got tired.”

  Angus shook his head impatiently, “not tired, but I do use up less energy when I sit down. Don’t ask me why.”

  “Which means what?”

  “Which means that I have more time with you. More time to explain.”

  Following Angus over to the bench, I sat down beside him, careful not to touch him. I was feeling confused, it was so surreal, so bizarre. Was he really a ghost? The rational side of my brain laughed this idea off at once.

  There’s no such thing as ghosts.

  Well, if not then who is he? There was no doubting the validity of Angus’s death, the proof was staring me in the face. I glanced towards the gravestone with his name on it, where a bunch of slightly wilted flowers coloured the dull grey and brown site, and a tear trickled down my cheek.

  Pointedly ignoring the man seated beside me, I continued my attempt to unravel the situation. It wasn’t just his identity that puzzled me, what about his motives? What was in it for him? Looking at him out of the corner of my eye, I contemplated my next move.

  “Well,” I ventured at last, turning to face Angus, “the way I see it, I don’t think you’re going to hurt me so I’ve got a few options open to me.”

  Angus nodded, visibly relaxing, “of course I won’t hurt you, Kate. If I wanted to hurt you, don’t you think I would have done it by now?”

  I shrugged, “what would I know?”

  Angus reached out, his fingers stopping just short of my arm, “talk to me, Kate. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  I took a deep breath, “option one; I could believe every word you’re telling me. Although, why you’ve chosen to haunt me, I don’t know.” I held up my hand, cutting off what he was about to say. “Option two; what if I don’t believe, what then? You haven’t shown me any proof and as you say, to me you are real, I’ve touched you, hugged you, so if you’re not Angus’s ghost, who the bloody hell are you? And why are you pretending to be him? It doesn’t make any sense.”

  Angus gave me a little half smile but didn’t try to speak this time.

  I sighed, “or I could just forget this ever happened. Walk away right now.”

  I looked away but I could still feel Angus’s gaze boring into the side of my head.

  “What are you going to do, Kate?”

  I closed my eyes, tired and dejected. “I wouldn’t have a bloody clue.”

  Chapter forty

  13 January

  I was silent for a time. I could feel Angus’s presence beside me, which confused me even more. Did ghosts really have a presence? My eyes were drawn towards the small copse of trees at the far end where I was sure I had seen Clarkie. But Clarkie was long dead, one of the many victims of World War One. So how could that be?

  And why is it that I could believe in the ghost of a soldier but not in the ghost of an old friend?

  “Let’s say that I believe you.” I waggled my finger in Angus’s face. “That doesn’t mean I really do believe you; it’s just hypothetical, you understand?”

  Angus nodded.

  “Tell me why,” I demanded.

  Angus scratched his head, “why what?”

  Exasperated, I scowled, “Why me? And why are you here and not …” I shrugged then gestured towards the sky, “… up there?”

  Angus tilted his head back and I could see his eyes following the passage of the clouds, scudding across the winter blue background. Resisting the urge to gaze up there too, I cleared my throat impatiently, “well?”

  Not taking his eyes from the fluffy, grey and white clouds, Angus hesitated. “To be honest, I don’t have the faintest idea why I’m not … up there.” He turned back to me, obviously confused. “I assumed I was here to help you.”

  “Help me? How?”

  Again, he paused. I could tell it wasn’t just a delaying tactic and waited while he collected his thoughts. “I died almost instantly, you know,” he began, choosing his words carefully. “But the pain … the pain seemed to last forever. And then … BANG!” he clapped his hands together sharply making me jump, “it was gone and I knew I was dead.”

  He stared down at the nearby gravestone, the stark writing standing out against the pale background. Gesturing towards the wilting flowers he turned back to me. “Mum brought those a couple of days ago. My sister wrote the inscription.”

  “It’s beautiful,” I whispered.

  Angus nodded. “She took my death really bad. I don’t know if you remember but we were really close.” He shook his head and smiled grimly, “sorry, I’m getting side-tracked. Where was I? Oh yes … BANG!” He clapped his hands again.

  “Stop doing that.”

  Angus looked apologetic but confusion was still hovering. “After that, well, I expected something to happen; a long tunnel filled with angels, or a staircase leading to heaven. There has to be something, doesn’t there? Some kind of sign?”

  “So what did you see?”

  Angus shrugged, “nothing at all, except no-one could see me anymore. I felt lost and just sort of drifted around. The days would merge into one another, sometimes never-ending, like time had stopped. Other times a whole week would go by in the blink of an eye. I never had to eat or drink … I haven’t changed my clothes or had a shower in months.”

  I turned my nose up, “pooh, stinky.”

  Angus grinned, “it was all starting to piss me off and I was worried this was it, my final existence; Limbo. Not a nice thought.”

  “I can imagine.”

  “Anyway, one day in December I woke up.”

  “Woke up? I didn’t realise ghosts slept.”

  “I don’t really think I was asleep, as such, it just felt like that. You know how sometimes you can wake up really suddenly and you go from asleep to wide awake in an instant? Well, it was like that. One second I’d been drifting aimlessly the next second I felt like I’d woken from a deep sleep, refreshed, raring to go.”

  I frowned, “what’s that got to do with me?”

  “Before I awoke, I had a dream, a vision. I remember it distinctly, even after all this time. It was about you and you looked just like you do now. It was perfect in every detail, even down to that little kink in your hair.” His fingers rose towards my head, stopping just shy of touching my hair, before dropping back to his lap. “In this dream you were in a park and I knew you were waiting for me. It was funny, I just wanted to turn and run away but you drew me in, even before you knew I was there.” Suddenly, he laughed, “I remember now, you were feeding the ducks.”

  My eyes opened wide in shock. This dream was sounding remarkably familiar. “Then what?” I croaked.

  “I told you I loved you and you asked me what would happen next.”

  I felt the blood drain from my face. “What … what did you say?” I whispered.

  Looking directly into my eyes, Angus reached out and put his hand gently on top of mine. “I told you that it’s all up to you, Kate. It’s your dream after all.”

  *

  I couldn’t remember standing up, although in some distant corner of my mind I realised I’d shot out of my seat like my knickers were on fire. I did remember the strangled shriek as I stared at Angus in horror, my legs trembling uncontrollably. “That was my drea
m,” I croaked. “Mine.”

  “Are you all right, love?”

  The elderly voice cut through my shock, and I swung around pointing vaguely in the direction of the seat where Angus was sitting, a small smile on his face.

  “Over there … he … I,” I spluttered.

  “There, there, love,” the old man patted my arm, looking at me the way a doting grandparent might look at a young child. “These places get me a bit like that, too. Don’t you worry yourself, now, ain’t no such thing as ghosts.”

  “There. Seat.” I demanded.

  Bemused apprehension crossed the man’s face, the deep lines creasing as he took a small step away from me. Suddenly, like a ray of sunlight shooting through a gap in the clouds, his face cleared. “Spider!” he exclaimed joyfully.

  Startled, I gave another small scream and turned to look at the bench. Angus had crossed his arms over his chest, a huge grin splitting his face as the elderly man stepped gingerly over to the seat. “’Tis all right, love, I’ll get rid of the little bugger for you.” Leaning forwards, the man peered short-sightedly directly into Angus’s crotch. “Should ha’ brought me glasses,” he mumbled.

  I took a small step towards the bench, my eyes never leaving Angus who was still seated and as I stared in horror, he walked his fingers quickly up the man’s arm; just like a spider, I supposed.

  Without a flinch the elderly man straightened up, pressing firmly on the small of his back. “It must ha’ gone, love,” he announced.

  “Oh no,” grinned Angus, “I’m still here.”

  I glared at Angus and frowned. “Well, thanks for trying,” I replied brightly, thrusting my cold, shaking hands deep into my coat pockets.

  Angus stood up, his face close to the old man’s cheek and smiled sweetly. “BOO!”

  I screamed, a breathless whistle of a sound as the elderly man pulled his jacket tightly around his shoulders.

  “Getting a bit chilly, love, might be time to chuff off home.” He looked at me as if he was studying an interesting scientific specimen, then took a step away; just in case my problems were catching, I suppose.

  Smiling just a little too brightly, I nodded eagerly. “Yes, of course. I’m sure the spider is miles away by now, doing all those things that spiders just love to do.”

  The old man wandered off, throwing one or two confused glances over his shoulder at me. I waved merrily, “have a lovely day.”

  Angus snorted in amusement.

  Whirling back to face him, I scowled. “You be quiet,” I snapped, “and sit down. You’d better save your energy because you still have a lot of talking to do and you can start by telling me how the bloody hell we had the same dream.”

  Chapter forty one

  13 January

  We were both seated back on the bench, me keeping a wary eye out for any other intruders, Angus grinning from ear to ear. Finally, I turned back to him and scowled. “You can take that stupid look off your face.”

  Angus immediately put on a seriously apologetic face but the twinkle in his eye gave him away and before long he was grinning once more. “I’m sorry, Kate, but you have to agree that was funny.”

  “I’ll agree to no such thing,” I steamed, but amusement was already turning up the corner of my mouth and I snorted. “That poor old bloke had no idea.”

  Glancing towards his crotch, Angus grimaced wryly. “He’s the first person to get that close to my privates in months.”

  Quickly sobering up, I looked sadly at my old friend. “Well, unless you orchestrated that whole situation just to fool me, I guess I’ll have to believe you, however bizarre this all seems.”

  Angus gave me a half smile. “Kate, if this was a prank, I sure as hell wouldn’t have chosen some old codger to stick his nose down there. Not when there are any number of gorgeous women –”

  “Okay, point taken.” I gave him the other half of his smile then brought the meeting formally to order. “What now? You said you’re here so you can help me. What with?”

  Angus looked at me blankly, “well, that’s what I don’t understand. You see, when I had the dream about you, everything changed. It wasn’t all confusing anymore and instinctively, I knew you were why I was still here. I just assumed it was to help you.”

  “Well, I’ve told you everything that’s going on with me at the moment,” I grimaced, “it may not be pretty but there’s not really anything you can do to help. Unless you can turn back time?”

  Angus chuckled and shook his head. “If I could turn back time, I sure as hell wouldn’t be doing it for you, I. I think I’d have a go at saving my own life first.”

  This was bizarre, sitting in a graveyard of all places, talking to an old boyfriend who just happened to be buried just a few metres away. God only knows what the average bystander would think, seeing me perched on this seat, casually talking to myself.

  “How come I can see you? Obviously that man couldn’t, otherwise he wouldn’t have thought you were a spider. And then there was Frank. When I was in hospital and you came to see me, you left just before Frank came back but he reckoned he hadn’t seen anyone leave. Why am I the only one?”

  “You’re not the only one. What people see depends on their beliefs.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Angus sighed, “okay, here’s the sciency bit. You can see me because I’m using small amounts of your energy to appear. You may’ve noticed yourself getting tired soon after we’ve parted company in the last few weeks?”

  I nodded, “but what about everyone else?”

  “Like I said, it’s all a measure of their belief. People fall into one of three categories; those who believe implicitly, those who don’t believe at all, and those who are somewhere in between.”

  I frowned, “believe in what?”

  “Life after death. And ghosts.” He looked directly into my eyes, “you believe in ghosts. You also believe in reincarnation as well?”

  After a short pause I nodded slowly. “I can’t believe that the … spirit, that thing that makes a person who they are, just disappears after they die. What is it that they say in science, energy can’t be created or lost, only converted to a different form? So how can the energy that makes a person who they are just vanish?”

  Angus nodded, “and your friend? Frank? He doesn’t believe.”

  I shrugged, “I don’t know, we’ve never talked about that. Why?”

  “Spirits are the most visible to people who believe implicitly, appearing as distinct forms. Believers also see the spirit in the form that it had when it was alive.”

  “Okay, so what do non-believers see? Nothing?”

  “That’s right. Like that old man,” Angus grinned, “and your friend. Nothing.”

  I frowned, rubbing my hand hard across my face and shook my head in exasperation. “But what about those times I spoke to you, hugged you? Don’t tell me half the population now think I’m crazy?”

  Angus chuckled, “don’t panic. The percentage of people who have a totally closed mind is very small. Most people do believe in something, even if they won’t admit it.”

  “So what do they see, these partial believers?”

  “I like your terminology; partial believers. Well, like I said, what they see is dependant upon how much they believe.”

  “So the ones who believe the most, see the most.”

  “Exactly. Mild partial believers might just see a hazy indistinct shape, a bit like you get when you see something at the edge of your peripheral vision but by the time you turn your head it’s gone. They generally convince themselves that the shape they saw was just what they expected to see. So, if they saw you talking to me, they wouldn’t think you were talking to yourself but they wouldn’t really see me very clearly.

  “People with a stronger belief tend to see much more distinct shapes and forms but they often don’t see the spirit in the form it held when it was alive. Again, they see what they expect or want to see so, when you hug me, some people would see you with
a man, some with a woman. Some people may have even seen you embrace a large dog.”

  “So, what you’re saying is that, as a believer, not all I see is necessarily there? I could be seeing spirits everywhere?”

  “In theory, but most spirits only appear at certain times. Like I said, they need to use energy from a living person to manifest.”

  I put my head in my hands, “it’s all so confusing.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” Angus groaned. “Meanwhile, I still have to work out why I’m stuck here and that brings me back to you.”

  I rubbed my belly thoughtfully. “I agree there’s a connection between us, how else explain that dream we shared. I was on the plane at the time, coming over here. But like I said, I can’t think why you’d be here to help me. Anyway, I’m going back to Australia soon.” I giggled, “hey, maybe I’m here to help you.”

  Angus frowned, “help me? How?”

  Excitedly I stood up, “do you have a message for someone? Maybe you hid the family jewels under the floorboards or a safety deposit box somewhere that no-one knows about? There must be something.”

  Angus was shaking his head, his face strangely blank. Suddenly, he pushed himself off the bench and grasped my hand.

  “Angus?” I shivered, still amazed at the solid feel of him.

  “My daughter,” he whispered, “Oh, Kate, my daughter probably doesn’t even know I’m dead. You’ve got to find her, you’ve got to tell her.”

  PART THREE

  Chapter forty two

  1 February

  I sipped my coffee, wincing as it burnt my tongue. I glanced at the woman opposite and smiled. “Close your mouth, you look like a fish.”

  Martha stuck her tongue out at me instead. “Come on, you can’t keep me in suspense. What happened next?”

  “Well, Angus explained to me just how he could be dead for three months without his daughter being aware of it.”

  Martha groaned, “I honestly can’t tell whether you’re pulling my leg or not. What did he say?”

  I grinned. “While Angus was at university he got in with a bad crowd. Apparently they were heavily into drugs and Angus got involved too. He also fell for one of the girls in the group, Heather.”