by EH Walter
"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.
“Tiddles was not a nice cat.”
"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 Paranormal Investigations."
"This is the job of Paranormal Investigations," 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. Paranormal Investigations is your job, Seeing is your job. That's why Paranormal Investigations exists. To make the Seer accessible to both worlds, the natural and the supernatural. You have to help Bob - it is your duty."
My head was filling with questions that my mouth did not have time to process before my father's watch beeped and he stood up to leave.
"Hold on..." I said, "you can't just say these things and leave!"
He looked at his watch. "Sorry Leo, but I have somewhere else I need to be. You'll understand one day."
"What - why my own father swans in and out of my life at will? Tells me I have to help strange goat men because it's my duty and then leaves before actually telling me anything? Some chance."
He looked at his watch again and shrugged his shoulders. "See you soon Leo."
"Huh!" I replied and slumped into my chair as he moved rapidly out of the restaurant. Bugger him, I'd do what I liked. I didn't have a duty to anyone but myself - never had. If he wanted a daughter who was bound by duty he ought to have raised one.
CHAPTER FOUR
Seer
I walked back to Waterloo and then had the whole forty minute journey to think. Not about what Dad had told me, but about how not to be crushed in a commuter’s sweaty armpit. When the train became overground after Highgate the carriage began to empty out and I managed to get a seat. Then I began thinking about what Dad had told me.
Seer.
What was that?
"You are a Seer, from a long line of Seers."
Mum had been a Seer? She had seen goat men and trolls? If it was true, what else had she seen?
I knew so little about my mother. She had died when I was six and my memories were all mixed up. I never knew what was real and what was imagined because I had no one around to ask.
Sitting on the train, I squinted and tried to look at everything differently. Nothing changed. The man in the suit reading his paper was still a man in a suit reading his paper. The woman who looked like she regretted her choice of killer heels that morning was still rubbing the sole of her foot. No ghosts or ghouls appeared. Nothing spooky. Nothing paranormal or supernatural.
And yet, that very morning I had seen not one, but two trolls and was currently flat sharing with a man who was not entirely human.
I thought back to what Great Aunt Mildred had told me when I started at Paranormal Investigations, not that I paid her much attention in my heart-broken and self-neglected state.
“You can start on the missing pets,” she had said, “I’ll deal with the roguish husbands until you find your feet. Everything else goes through me…” then she had looked at me as only wizened old women can: “…for now…”
Was that why she was so singularly obsessed with my twenty-fifth birthday? If I didn’t See by then what would happen? And did seeing a goat man and two trolls count as Seeing?
*
I got home in the dark and was crossing my flat building's car park when I thought I had better check in on Trevor and see if there had been any trouble. It was a couple of paces to the brook side. I leant over, trying to touch as little of the sap-rotten, peeling-red-paint railings as I could. I peered into what Trevor had disdainfully called a 'culvert'.
"Trevor," I called, "it's Leo - has there been any bother?"
I expected his rasping voice to respond or his knobbly green fi
gure to appear. Nothing. The young black cat that lived in the flats behind the Chinese take-away came to investigate and gave a sniff as if she could sense something new and unusual. Then she looked up at me.
"It's a troll," I told her, "and hopefully he won't be here long. I wouldn’t get too close. Trolls look pretty hungry to me."
She gave me what could be described as a nod and turned on her heel, sashaying off through the car park.
"Trevor!" I called louder. Still no response.
Perhaps I should have been alarmed that Bob's body guard was not at his post, but I still had trouble imagining Tinkerbell being capable of murder. And until I saw a fairy I would not be convinced that they even existed.
All was well until I climbed the stairs and turned the key in the lock of my flat door. Immediately I heard unfamiliar sounds and was on high alert. I had no weapons to hand, so I slipped my key between my knuckles, ready to poke anyone should the need arise. Cautiously, I slipped down the small hallway and burst through the living room slash kitchen door. A riot of noise greeted me - I had not known my TV had such a loud setting.
"I think you could make a handsome profit with this ewer," came a voice from the TV, "It could easily sell at auction for more than..."
In surprise at the sight that greeted my eyes, I dropped my keys and stared open mouthed for a second before logical thought came back to me.
Sitting side by side on the sofa nearest the window were Bob and Trevor. This would sound fairly normal to most people but when you remember Bob was at least half goat and Trevor was a short, ugly troll it painted a very different picture. It was a twisted sitcom that not even Channel 4 would pay to produce.
Bob had his feet up on a box of my books and Trevor was desperately trying to copy but his legs were too short so instead he had seated himself on a cushion and was resting one leg on the arm of the sofa and the other one was dangling over the edge of the seat. Between them was a bowl of popcorn and almost as much as was in the bowl was scattered over the sofa and floor.
Trevor made a growling sound and tossed a piece of popcorn at the TV. This was evidently not a new idea, as there was a sprinkling of popcorn around the base of the TV as well. The popcorn hit Tim Wonnacott on the nose, right between the silly glasses on a chain. They were watching Bargain Hunt. Of course they were watching Bargain Hunt, what else would two impossible beings choose to watch?
"That'll never make a profit dumb ass!" Trevor rasped at the presenter who was holding a glass and silver ewer, "go for the coffee pot!"
Bob threw a hand full of popcorn in his mouth and then chose to speak. Particles of half masticated pop corn danced out of his mouth as he enunciated. "He should get the sparkly thing."
They hadn't noticed me so I had a chance to survey my previously fairly clean and tidy room. One day had wreaked havoc on my personal space. At the kitchen end used crockery and pots were piled over all the surfaces and the sink, there was also a strange collection of smells wafting towards me and I tried not to think about what these could be. It seemed Bob had tried washing socks, although they couldn't be his as he didn't wear any, and said socks were drying at various inappropriate places in my flat - along the edge of my bookshelves, the kitchen counter and one even lay over the lamp. Mud and straw had been trodden into my carpet. It looked like a barnyard and nothing like the lovely little flat it had been the day before. I could have cried, instead I stomped into the room, gathered a handful of damp and smelly socks and threw them at Bob's face. Even he didn't like that. Then I grabbed the remote and turned off the TV. They both had the gall to groan before they registered the fury on my face.
"Look at this mess!" I shouted at them, "it's disgusting!"
They were even worse than the Northern Irish boys I had shared a flat with in my first year at drama school and that really was saying something.
Bob blinked and looked around hopelessly. Trevor leapt off the sofa and tried to jump up and wrest the remote from me, I held my hand higher and he jumped like a toad to try and grasp it.
"Why don't you get a cleaner?" Bob asked innocently.
My response was part growl, part scream. "I can't afford a cleaner! And if you hadn't noticed - before you arrived I didn't need one!"
He shrugged. "Get Brownies."
"The UK has very strict child labour laws."
"Not children," he blinked, "Brownies, helpful sprites who enjoy cleaning. They like to keep things clean and tidy."
"I wish you were part Brownie!" I said, "I am going out for a very long walk and when I get back this place had better be tidy!"
I slipped the remote control in my pocket and then pulled the TV's plug socket out of the wall. I prised the back off and removed the fuse. Let them figure that one out.
*
Although it was late, I went to the park to clear my head, steering clear of any bridges because I really had had enough of trolls. It was dark and cold and pretty miserable. At least it made me want to return to the warmth of my flat even if it did now smell and look like a home for cattle.
I didn't see anything unusual in the park, so much for being a 'Seer'. Perhaps my dad had it wrong.
What did it mean to be a Seer anyway? I suppose the one person I could have asked was GA Mildred, but if it was true - why hadn’t she told me? And if it wasn’t true I would appear to be as crazy as she was. If being a Seer meant being like her, screw it - I could find something else to do. No one could make me be something I didn't want to be. I could always go back to acting, Jez would help me. Jez...
I sighed. He wouldn't want anything to do with me if this stupid story got out. I needed Bob out of my life and quick. I sighed. The only way to get Bob out of my life was to sort out his problem and send him on his way. Okay, I told myself, I'll sort out Bob - and then that's it, Paranormal Investigations and I would part company. It was time I found my own way again. I was my own person and no one told me what to do, least of all an absent parent.
*
Back in my flat they had made an effort. Bob was wearing my cat apron and had tied a hand towel around Trevor. The kitchen was full of soap suds and the socks were now in a mouldering pile on the sofa. That was about the extent of the tidying, although it clearly wasn't for want of effort. They both looked harangued, although only Bob looked apologetic.
Bob looked at me with sorrowful eyes. "I cooked you supper," he said and I felt like a complete shit as all this kitchen mess had been for my benefit.
I looked at the plate he indicated. Something was definitely burnt - to ashes - and the rest seemed to resemble a raw potato with a side of chocolate ice cream.
"Lovely," I said, using all my acting skills, "yum yum! It looks just delicious.”
“Try some,” Bob said, offering me a fork.
“In a minute. Let me get settled.”
Something tugged at my leg and I looked down. Trevor looked up wide eyed and pleading.
"Hey lady, can I have the magic box? I need to know what happened, whether the ewer or the coffee pot went fa’ more."
"No," I said, "I happen to have a good relationship with my neighbours. I don't want to piss them off with loud noises and I also don't want them coming round here and seeing...” the two looked at me pathetically and I bit back the words you two: “…seeing I am subletting."
Trevor crossed his over-long arms and pouted, which had the effect of making his overbite look even more pronounced. Sulking didn't look good on a troll. Did any expression look good on a troll?
"Is it time for you to eat now?" Bob asked.
"Later," I said, "Now sit down - both of you."
Obediently Bob trotted to his sofa and sat down. Trevor remained where he was, arms crossed, face scowling. I think he may have been muttering under his breath as well, something that sounded a little like 'stoopid dame'. Fine, I thought - of that's the way you want to play it. I turned my back on him.
“Have it your way Trevor, I am suddenly feeling less generous with mangoes.”
&nbs
p; “Stoopid dame,” he muttered and kicked the floor with his toes.
“That’s it! I don’t want either of you in my life or my home. I am very, very tired and I am going to bed and I am going to sleep very well, for a very long time. When I wake up I am going to find a way to help you Bob and then you and your your little green muscle man with the crappy attitude can get out of my life.” I turned to Trevor, then Bob. “Until then I suggest warty over there returns to his culvert and Bob, you settle down quietly on the sofa. If I hear any noise above the level of a whisper in the night I will have no problem in tossing you out into the street and the fairies can do what they wish to you."
As Bob gave a shudder, I left the room.
"Stoopid dame," muttered Trevor under his breath.
CHAPTER FIVE
Lost Pets and Errant Spouses
Over the next couple of days I saw nothing of Trevor, which was something of a relief as he wasn't the most aesthetically pleasing being in my life. Every morning I left Bob at the flat and drove to the Paranormal Investigations office as normal. I kept Rose in biscuits and shuffled papers until my heart was content.
From the door I could hear Rose talking to Great Aunt Mildred on the phone, it was difficult not to with her voice.
“Well yes dear, she is making bit of a hash of it.” Rose was saying as I opened the door.
Great Aunt Mildred had retired to Torquay, the British version of Florida but with slightly less palm trees, however that did not stop her interfering with business in Barnet.
“I’ll take it from here,” I told Rose and put my hand out for the phone.
Rose pushed her glasses up her nose and blinked at me.
“Bourbon?” Rose asked, proffering a plate of biscuits with one hand and passing me the phone with the other. Honestly, sometimes I think she only worked at here for the biscuits. I shook my head.
“Hello Auntie,” I said with little enthusiasm into the phone.
“Is it your birthday yet?” Great Aunt Mildred barked, cutting right to the point. Where some elderly female relations obsessed about potential husbands and the pitter patter of tiny feet, Great Aunt Mildred was singularly obsessed with my twenty-fifth birthday. And now, thanks to my father, I had an idea why.
