Aggie sighed. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Just the way she goes out of her way to be feminine. Wearing high heels to work when one day she’s obviously going to trip on the stairs and break her neck. And the way she tries to trick you into pretending she was born like that. “Oh, I’ve got such broad shoulders, I’ve got such big hands.” And you’re meant to go, “Oh, no, you haven’t,” when the correct answer is, “Yes, of course you have, because you were born a man.”’
‘She’s not harming anyone. It really doesn’t matter.’
‘But she’s pretty much lying!’
‘It’s true to her.’
‘But believing something doesn’t make it true. You’ve got to be able to prove it.’
‘Why?’
‘Because proving things were true got us to the Moon, and cured diseases and stopped us drowning women to see if they were a witch. Just believing things for the sake of it got us quack medicines and the Holocaust.’
‘I don’t think Rosa’s going to do anything that bad.’
‘No, but if people tolerate a little lie, then how do you know they won’t do the same for a bigger, more dangerous one?’
‘Maybe you just need a little faith in people.’
‘The evidence tells me I shouldn’t.’
‘You just don’t like it when people are different.’
‘Have you listened to anything I just said?’
‘No, because it was rubbish.’
‘You should be on a debating team. You’re so good at rational argument.’
‘Yeah, well. I didn’t go to university, did I?’
‘There’s still time. You’re the same age as me, aren’t you? Twenty-two, twenty-three? You’d hardly even be a mature student.’
Aggie shook her head.
‘Don’t fancy it.’
‘Why not?’
‘Just don’t.’
‘You prefer this? Being on the dole, working in a charity shop?’
‘Maybe,’ said Aggie, placing a pile of children’s hardbacks on the outskirts of Max’s circle. ‘Anyway, what’s the point? You went to university and you’re doing exactly the same thing.’
Max lay back on a bed of records.
‘Hang on a minute, you’re right. Not only have I not any advantage at all, I also owe a shitload of money. It’s been a complete waste of time.’
‘I didn’t mean that…’
‘It’s cool. Harsh, but factual. Anyway, what have you been up to over the weekend, anything good?’
‘Oh, nothing much.’
‘Just stay in?’
‘Yeah. Pretty much. I dunno, went out a bit, I guess.’
‘Really, where?’
‘I’m not going to tell you. You’ll laugh.’
‘Yeah, probably, but tell me anyway.’
‘I’m not telling you.’
‘Go on.’
‘You have to promise not to laugh.’
‘But what if it’s funny?’
‘Actually, forget it.’
‘No, wait. I promise. Where did you go?’
‘I went… I went on a ghost hunt.’
‘You what?’
‘I went on a ghost hunt. We do it every month or so. You said you wouldn’t laugh.’
‘I’m not laughing.’
‘You look like you want to.’
‘No, really, I’m interested. What does it involve?’
‘Well, we go to a place that’s haunted and do a vigil for a few hours. We call out to the ghosts, and we have equipment that tells you when a ghost is there. It’s quite scientific.’
‘Really? And have you seen anything? I mean, like an actual ghost?’
‘Not seen one, but you feel them. They make their presence known, put it that way.’
‘How?’
‘Weird noises, cold spots, throwing things, sometimes they touch you – You’re laughing. You are laughing at me.’
Max giggled on his vinyl bed. ‘Yes, all right. I’m laughing. But just – I dunno. It’s funny that you believe in this.’
‘Why is it funny? I know what I see and hear and feel. It’s real.’
‘But is it though? I mean, old buildings make noises, don’t they? And they have draughts. And maybe someone’s just playing a trick on you, throwing stuff about.’
‘I’m not going to talk to you about this anymore. All I’m going to say is, our team leader is a very clever man, he’s a professor, and if anyone was playing a trick on us he’d know about it. So there. End of discussion.’
‘Professor? What of?’
‘I said “end of discussion”.’
‘So not a proper professor, then? Bought-it-off-the-internet sort of thing.’
Aggie sighed. ‘All I know is, his name’s Professor Tricklebank. I didn’t know there were different types of professor. I thought it just meant you were generally clever.’
Max sat up. ‘Wait. Professor Tricklebank. Rodney Tricklebank?’
‘Yes. You know him?’
‘Rodney Tricklebank. The historian. He runs your ghost-hunting club?’
‘I guess so. Why?’
Max shook his head. ‘It doesn’t make any sense. I studied him at university. I wrote my dissertation on him. He’s a scientific socialist, the most rational man on the planet. What’s he doing messing about in haunted houses?’
‘Dunno. Maybe he wants to see a ghost?’
Max peeled himself off the records and crouched next to Aggie.
‘I thought he taught up north,’ he said. ‘Is he local, then?’
‘Yeah, he lives in a cottage out on the Downs. Him and Annabel moved there a couple of years ago. He did used to be away a lot but I think that’s stopped now.’
Max looked down at the pricing gun in contemplation for a moment, before his eyes fixed Aggie in their gaze.
‘Aggie, I need to go on one of your ghost hunts.’
Aggie shook her head. ‘I don’t think they’d like that. It’s a small, private thing. I mean, there’s only six of us. It’s not like we’re open to anybody.’
‘Can you ask the Professor? Please? This is just crazy. I need to know what’s going on. He’s, like, my intellectual hero. This is like finding out your mum’s secretly a prostitute or something.’
‘Not sure saying that helped.’
‘Please?’
‘Alright,’ said Aggie. ‘I’ll ask.’
* * *
Aggie wove the flower stem through the slats of the bench. She looked out at the pond and tilted her head, as if listening. She smiled. Presently, she looked at her watch, and sat forward, as if to leave, but settled back down, and listened again.
* * *
‘You’re on time.’
‘Don’t take the piss,’ said Aggie, hanging her coat up. ‘What’s that smell? Besides you.’
Max was arranging a new circle of vinyl.
‘Massive donation,’ he said. ‘Someone died, I guess. Looks like it’s been sat in a shed for twenty years. Covered in crap. Most of it’s easy listening Woolworths records. But some of it looks interesting. I’m going to price it up anyway.’
Max reached for his pricing gun and paused.
‘You’re not moving,’ said Aggie.
‘I was thinking, that’s all.’
‘About?’
‘Nothing.’
‘No, go on. I promise not to laugh.’
‘Ha, ha. I dunno, I was just thinking, that this… around me, is a life, kind of. All these records. Some bloke, or some woman, has bought them over time. And they’re each a little marker, saying this person lived and bought this record and it was part of their lives. Maybe they only listened to it once, but it was there, in the same house as them. And now they’re dead, and the records are still here. They’re gone, but the choices they made, when it comes to music anyway, are still here. It makes them very precious, in a way.’
Max picked up a batch of LPs and fired the pricing gun.
‘Oh, did you ask h
im, by the way? Rodney Tricklebank, about the ghost hunt?’
‘Hmm?’ Aggie looked up as if waking and shook her head. ‘I haven’t had a chance. I dunno if…’
High heels clicked on the staircase.
‘Hi, gang,’ said Rosa, a sack of fresh donations slung over her shoulder. ‘How are people?’
‘We’re good, I think,’ said Max.
‘Hi Rosa,’ said Aggie. ‘Sorry I was late. Again.’
‘That’s OK,’ said Rosa. ‘I’m not paying you to be here, am I? Look at this. We tell people we can’t do videos or cassettes anymore because nobody uses them, but they still keep leaving them on the doorstep. Anyway, this is all going straight in the bins out back. How are you getting on there, Max?’
‘OK,’ said Max. ‘I’m just pricing up these records from the new donation.’
Rosa bent down and picked up a handful.
‘Oh, these are just crap,’ she said, throwing them in her bag of tapes. ‘I can’t sell any of these. Chuck ’em. Anyway, I’ll be downstairs if you need me. Andy’s on the till again. Can’t be too careful. Make yourself some drinks if you want them.’
Max stared at the records on the floor as the high heel clicks got fainter. Wearily, he pulled a black rubbish sack from a roll, and dropped them in.
He felt Aggie’s hand on his shoulder for a second as she passed.
* * *
‘Guess what?’ said Aggie, arriving nearly on time, the next morning.
‘What?’ said Max.
‘I’ve got something to tell you.’
‘Yeah, what?’
She took her time sliding her coat off and hanging it up.
‘What?’ repeated Max.
‘Oh, you probably wouldn’t be interested.’
‘It’s him, isn’t it? You asked Rodney. What did he say?’
‘The thing is, I didn’t have much breakfast, and I’m a bit too hungry to tell you. Tell you what, you nip down the newsagents and get me a Snickers, and then I’ll tell you.’
‘I can’t do that. Nut allergy.’
‘What?’
‘I have a nut allergy. If I handle a Snickers it could kill me.’
‘It’s in a wrapper, you weirdo.’
‘It could still seep through. Come on, just tell me, please, and then I promise I’ll buy you as many nut-free snacks as you want. With my own money.’
‘Oh, OK. He said… he wants to meet you.’
‘Oh, right, OK. Like an audition?’
‘Dunno, maybe. I think he just wants to make sure you don’t want to take the piss.’
‘Why would he think that?’
‘Well… I told him what you’re like.’
‘But I’m not like that.’
‘Yeah. You are. But I also told him you’re in love with him so that might help.’
There was the soft pad of silk slippers. Rosa appeared between the bookcases.
‘Hi, Aggie. Max, there’s a man downstairs to see you. Robert Tricklebrick?’
‘Oh, right.’
‘Can I go down as well?’ said Aggie. ‘He’s my friend, really, not Max’s. He doesn’t have any.’
Rosa nodded and smiled. ‘Course you can. Watch the till while you’re down there, will you? I’m going on the fire escape for a ciggy.’
They went down into the shop. An older, balding version of the handsome man Max knew from the back cover of a university textbook stood in the sociology section, reading an old Pelican intently.
‘Professor?’ said Aggie, to no reaction. ‘Um, Rodney?’
Rodney Tricklebank looked up.
‘Is this the young man you told me about?’ he said.
Aggie nodded. Max held out his hand.
‘Hello, Professor Tricklebank. I just want to say it’s an honour to meet you. I studied your work at university and it had a massive impact on my own thinking, not that that matters… My name is Max, by the way.’
Tricklebank looked at him intently.
‘Max,’ he said, finally.
Max waited. There was no more. ‘Yes,’ he said.
‘Do you believe in ghosts?’ said Tricklebank.
‘Well, I guess I think that there’s maybe some phenomena… that might need investigating…’
‘But you don’t believe, do you? In spirits, coming back, haunting a place. Giving us a sign of the continuation of life after death. You think it’s nonsense. Just sad little fairy stories people tell themselves because the thought that their loved ones have stopped existing and one day the same thing will happen to them terrifies them beyond the point of reason.’
‘Um. Well, I mean, something along those lines, I suppose, but—’
‘Yes?’
‘Yes.’
Tricklebank grabbed him by the shoulders.
‘Then you’re just the man I need,’ he said. ‘We need a healthy dose of scepticism on our team.’
‘That’s – that’s great, Professor Tricklebank.’
‘Please, call me Rodney. “Professor” is all very well when intimidating undergraduates but has little use when dealing with the paranormal. Ghosts have no respect for titles.’
‘No, I guess not,’ said Max, as the Professor finally released him. ‘So, when is the next… hunt?’
‘Hunt, yes. Hunt is accurate. We’re up at the old courthouse in a fortnight. Should be lots of spirits there, what with the cells, and the hangings. Aggie will give you the details.’
‘Oh, yes,’ said Aggie. ‘If Jenny emails me, I can forward—’
‘Max,’ said Tricklebank, his face closer, his gaze still firmer. ‘Don’t let me down now. We must be scientific at all times. We are men.’
‘Bye, Professor!’ Aggie shouted after him, as he turned and headed out the door, book in hand.
‘Oh, he forgot to pay,’ she muttered, once he had disappeared from sight.
‘Christ,’ said Max, ‘I’ve just met Rodney Tricklebank!’
* * *
‘So how come you got involved in Rodney’s group, then?’ said Max, back up in the storeroom, lying on a vinyl bed he had made for himself.
‘Oh, I know Jenny from school,’ said Aggie, resting her back on it. ‘She’s mates with Annabel, his girlfriend.’
‘Girlfriend?’
‘Yeah, she’s quite a lot younger than him. Quite a lot younger.’
‘I see.’
‘Yeah, he left his wife for her a couple of years ago. They’re very sweet together, actually. He’s like a little puppy, running after her. Although sometimes their PDEs get too much.’
‘PDEs.’
‘Public Displays of Affect— ah, I did it wrong.’
‘And this is why you didn’t go to university.’
Aggie hit him in the leg.
‘Ow! GBH in the workplace! Or is it GBZ?’
‘You’re such a… knob.’
‘A knob? Now you’re verbally assaulting me.’
‘Yeah, well. You were asking for it.’
‘That defence doesn’t stand up in court.’
‘You would know.’
‘What? What sort of accusation is that?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. Just some words but I did it wrong because I’m so stupid. A stupid girl who stayed at home doing nothing and didn’t go to university. I’m obviously not worth talking to, so just leave me alone, OK?’
Aggie ran down the aisle between the bookcases and down the steps. Max hit his head against the vinyl.
‘Idiot!’ he said.
* * *
Aggie sat in the back row of the church hall, waiting for the service to begin. She smiled at the woman in front of her, and nodded as familiar faces took their seats. People used to speak to her when she first started going but they didn’t anymore. There were quite a few people like her, although most were older. On their own, waiting for the messages to come.
The church secretary stood at the lectern. The murmur of conversation ceased.
Welcome. Prayer to a vaguer god than the one the v
icar talked about in school assembly. Lighten the mood with a joke. Turn to no. 51 in your songbooks.
* * *
Max was behind the till when Aggie arrived, late again.
‘They let you downstairs?’ she said.
‘Yeah. They’ll end up regretting it, I’m sure.’
‘No they won’t. You’ll get the hang of it in minutes. It’s easy.’
‘You done it?’
‘Yeah, but I didn’t like it so I stopped.’
‘Why?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. Just don’t want to be around so many people when it gets busy.’
‘Listen,’ said Max, ‘I’m sorry I was such a moron the other day. You were right. I was being a knob. I just get frustrated that I spent all that time on that degree, I’m stuck back home with my parents, nowhere near my friends… I haven’t had a girlfriend for a year because I can’t afford to even go out, and I owe so much money…’
‘I know,’ said Aggie. ‘I get it. Don’t worry. This isn’t where I thought I’d be when I was twenty-four either.’
‘Twenty-four? I thought you were twenty-two.’
‘I keep myself young by never doing anything with my life, remember? Oh, I got an email from Jenny with the details of the next ghost hunt, by the way. I’d have sent it to you, but I don’t have your address.’
‘Great. But look, if you don’t want me to come, if you think I’ll just ruin it by taking the piss, I won’t go. You know, it’s your thing, and I don’t want to mess about with it.’
‘No,’ said Aggie, looking at her phone. ‘The Professor wants you to come. He thinks you’re, how did Jenny put it, a “vital new member”, it says here. In fact, there is a meeting about the hunt at his house on Friday evening. You’re invited.’
‘But do you want me to come?’
Aggie tilted her head to one side and put her finger to her mouth.
‘Hmm…’
* * *
Aggie and Rosa sat on the storeroom floor, drinking their mugs of tea.
‘Going to have my tattoo re-inked,’ said Rosa. ‘It’s fading.’
‘Which one?’ said Aggie.
‘The big one. The rose on my back. Can’t believe it’s been five years. Do you have any tattoos, Aggie?’
Erotic Nightmares Page 12
