Jack laughed at her bubbly enthusiasm. “I’m really glad you’re enjoying it, it’s good to see you so happy.”
“I’ve got a lot to be happy about,” she smiled, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze, “I’ve got you and now I’ve got a job that I love. I just wish Jemma was still here. Then everything would be perfect.”
“Have you thought any more about the EVP recording?”
“I can hardly stop thinking about it. Do you know what puzzles me the most though? Not that Jemma left a message for me from the spirit world, but what the hell was she doing at the Marling Hotel?”
Jack took a sip of his coffee, and looked at Alice thoughtfully, “I think it means she’s following you. You said you’ve sensed her at my house, and there was that incident with the bracelet at your flat, remember? She must have heard us discussing the ghost hunting vigil, and followed us there. Maybe she thought there might be a way for her to communicate with you there. I think she wants to talk to you.”
“That’s what Maggie thinks as well. I just wish I was better in tune with my psychic abilities. I’m obviously not as gifted as I first thought I was.”
“Hey, you’re very gifted. There’s no doubt about that, but it takes most mediums years before they’re able to communicate directly with spirits. They may see and hear them, but it’s a whole new skill to interpret messages and actually converse with them.”
Alice sighed, “Yeah, I guess. Maggie said she would help so I’m going to call her when she gets back from her yoga retreat. Jack? Do you think that the boy I keep seeing is anything to do with Jemma?”
“It’s possible they’re linked, after all, he didn’t appear until after Jemma died. Did she have a brother or something that no-one knew about?”
Alice shook her head, “No, there’s no way Jemma could have kept something like that a secret.”
“Maybe she didn’t know herself?”
“No, I knew Jemma’s mum. She didn’t have any other kids, I’m sure about that. I know what you’re thinking, but I’m absolutely certain that this boy isn’t the ghost of a long lost brother.”
They continued to chat quietly whilst finishing their coffee, but when Alice picked up her bag and got up to leave, Jack gestured for her to sit back down.
“Erm, Alice?” Jack shifted in his seat and unconsciously fiddled with a teaspoon, as he searched for the right words. “Look, I was just wondering – erm, well, it’s just...” He cleared his throat, nervously, as he saw Alice waiting expectantly for him to say whatever it was that was on his mind. “Well, it occurred to me that you’re staying with me at the house practically all the time these days.”
“Oh,” said Alice, looking mortified, “I’m sorry, am I crowding you? Look, if you need some space, that’s fine. Honestly. I can go back to my flat whenever you want, it’s not a problem.”
“No, that’s not what I’m trying to say.” Jack reached over and picked up her hand, “I love you, and I definitely don’t need space away from you. But doesn’t it seem a bit silly for you to pay rent when you could move in with me?” He held his breath as he waited for her response.
“Really? Are you sure?”
“Nah, only joking! Of course I’m sure, you silly thing. Well? What do you think?”
Alice could barely contain her excitement as she imagined her and Jack, living together in that beautiful house with Casper and the ghosts, one of them possibly being Jemma. Christmas was only a couple of weeks away, they could get a real Christmas tree, one that reached right up to the ceiling, and they would put it up in the bay window of the living room. It would be decorated with lots of tiny little white fairy lights, and her and Jack would go to John Lewis to buy all the decorations.....
“Well?” Jack interrupted her thoughts.
“Yes. Yes, I’d love to.”
*****
“Good on you, girl,” exclaimed Jemma, as Alice and Jack arrived home, excitedly discussing their plans for Alice to move in.
“She’s going to put a bloody great big Christmas tree up in the window,” grumbled Max, from his corner. “She’ll put lights up everywhere, and the whole bloody house will look ridiculous.”
“Oh for god’s sake, Max. It’s Christmas, the house will look great.” Tom threw Max an impatient glance. He turned to Jemma, “Jack’s never really bothered with Christmas before, this house hasn’t had a Christmas tree since his grandparents lived here and I, for one, will be really pleased to see a bit of Christmas cheer back here. Alice is going to bring some life back into this old place.”
“Waste of bloody time and money, if you ask me.”
“Well Max, we’re not asking you,” snapped Jemma. “Where’s Susie?” she asked, turning back to Tom.
“Gone to see your friend, Claire,” he answered. “It’s nice to see them getting on so well, although I wouldn’t have thought they’d have very much in common.”
“I think she sees Claire as a mother figure,” said Jemma, thoughtfully. “She really misses her mum.”
“Hmm. The sooner we get her back home, the better.”
Jemma glanced across the room and caught a look in Max’s eye that instantly brought back her feelings of unease. She couldn’t forget his hateful words when he swore that, one day, he would get his revenge, and Tom was the only one left who would give him the satisfaction he so desperately craved. This hatred had been festering for so long that it seemed to have poisoned Max’s mind, and there was no knowing what he was capable of. However, Tom was adamant that Max would have done something a long time ago if he really had intended him any harm, but then he hadn’t seen the uncontrollable hatred in Max’s eyes when he had sworn that he would get his revenge, hatred that was still as strong now as it had been when he had first died. With a growing sense of urgency, Jemma decided that she had to get Tom and Susie to leave as soon as possible, because if Max guessed what they were up to, it may just prompt him to carry out his threat sooner rather than later.
“Tom? Shall we go to the beach? I need to get away from here,” she said, with a nervous glance in Max’s direction.
“Good idea. Come on, let’s go.”
As they arrived at the beach, they were greeted with a very different scene from their last visit. The high, white crested waves were crashing angrily onto the shore, their deafening sound drowning out all other sounds, except for the howling wind. Wishing she could feel the wind blowing through her hair, Jemma looked round for Sandy and his owners, but the beach was deserted. No living person would be daft enough to go to the beach on such a stormy day, she thought.
“I bet this beach gets packed out in the summer,” she shouted, as they walked over to their dune. The tall dune sheltered them from the wind which made it easier to hear Tom’s reply.
“Actually, it doesn’t really, it isn’t a tourist attraction because there’s no amusement arcades, funfairs, hotels – stuff like that. It’s just the beach and nothing else. If it gets busy in the summer, it’s mostly local people who want to get away from the tourist areas. When I was a child, I assumed that all seasides were like this because this was all I knew.
Tom put his arm around Jemma’s shoulders as they sat down, and she snuggled closer to him, one minute overcome with happiness at the intensity of her feelings for him, but the next, feeling overwhelmed with dread, as she remembered that she was about to persuade him to leave her forever.
“Tom?”
“Jemma?” They both spoke at the same time.
“You first,” smiled Jemma, wanting to put off her speech for as long as possible.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been open with you about what happened when I died.” Tom hesitated as he looked into Jemma’s eyes but, reassured by the unconditional love he saw from them, he continued. “It’s not that I don’t trust you. I do, more than I trust anyone, but it’s really hard for me to talk about it. But you’ve become very important to me and it’s about time I told you what happened.”
“Are you sure? You don
’t have to tell me right now. It can wait.” Did she really just say that?
“No, it can’t.” He sighed, as he stared out at the vastness of the ocean. “Oh god, where do I start? My family were always high achievers. My father and grandfather were both doctors, and my brother followed in their footsteps. My mother was a successful writer before she married, and it was always assumed that I would be successful too. And I was. I graduated from university with a first in business accounting, and landed a job in a top city firm, working my way up to risk analyst for one of our biggest clients.”
“Your parents must have been very proud,” Jemma smiled.
“Yes, they were, but it was expected of me, there was never any doubt that I would do well. So their pride was a bit misplaced, as they made it perfectly clear that failure was not an option. When my father died, I had just been promoted, and I knew he went to his grave knowing that both his sons hadn’t let him down – he was proud of us. But then a few months later, I went in to work as usual one morning, and was called to a meeting with the CEO, which wasn’t unusual so I wasn’t concerned. It turned out though, that I had made a mistake, a big mistake which had cost our client millions as a result. I had misvalued a derivative transaction, a genuine mistake, one that anyone could make, but that was beside the point, the client demanded that I was fired, and that was that.” He shook his head, as he remembered the awful day that his life had changed forever.
“But you were successful and well established in your career, surely you got another job quickly?” asked Jemma.
“No, the city is a very small place and word gets around quickly. The headhunters who had been banging on my door trying to offer me bigger and better jobs, suddenly slammed the same door in my face. They didn’t want to know. Anyway, I was devastated, I had lost my job through my own negligence, and I had lost our client millions. Apart from the guilt and shame I felt at work, I was really worried about telling my mother. How on earth was I going to explain it to her? I knew she was going to be disappointed in me.”
As Tom was about to continue, he was interrupted by a dog barking in the distance. Moments later, Sandy came bounding over, his wet tail wagging excitedly, and clearly delighted to see his two invisible friends. As his owners dragged him away, once again, baffled by their dog’s bizarre behaviour, Jemma stood up and held her hand out to Tom.
“Come on,” she said, softly, “the wind’s died down a bit, let’s walk and you can tell me what happened next.”
As they started walking slowly along the beach, hand in hand, Tom sighed as he summoned up the courage to tell Jemma the rest of
his story, which was about to get a whole lot worse.
Chapter 13
Jemma watched Sandy disappear into the distance and turned her attention back to Tom. “Is that why your mother disowned you?” she asked, gently prompting him to continue with his story. “Because you got fired?”
“No, she was actually very supportive,” said Tom, with a half hearted laugh. “She told me that she understood that it was an honest mistake and that she was confident that I’d get another job in time. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her that I was already finished in the city and that no-one would employ me. That’s when I started to fall apart.” He spoke so quietly that she could hardly hear what he said over the howling wind. “I started drinking heavily. I stopped applying for jobs, because I couldn’t face any more rejections, and I cut myself off more and more from my friends and family. In the end, it got so bad that I couldn’t even be bothered to shave or get dressed in the mornings, I just rolled off the sofa and reached for the bottle, until one day my mother turned up to find out why I hadn’t returned any of her calls.”
A bitter smile played on his lips briefly, as he remembered his mother’s disgust at the state her son was in. The smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared, and he quickly composed himself again before continuing.
“My mother was furious when she saw me. Honestly, she went mad. She yelled at me, poured the booze down the sink, yelled some more. We had a massive row, but I was too pissed to realise what I was saying and I said some horrible things. She ended up storming out, calling me a loser and saying that she was ashamed of me.” As Tom rubbed his brow, Jemma could see that his hand was shaking. She reached out and took it, holding on to it tightly as he continued.
“After she left, I felt awful, but instead of her anger bringing me to my senses, I decided to go into Soho and get even more drunk. I grabbed my car keys and made my way down to the car. It was only after I’d started the engine, that I thought about what I was about to do, and realised that, whatever my problems, I wasn’t going to drive while I was still pissed. So instead, I got out again and staggered down to the corner shop, and bought another bottle of whiskey, which I planned to drink back at my flat.”
Jemma found it hard to imagine Tom as such a bitter and broken man. It was as if he were describing a stranger.
“The next thing I knew, the police were knocking at my door, accusing me of killing someone in a hit and run accident,” he continued.
“Why did they think it was you?” Jemma pressed gently.
“Well, I was so pissed that when I’d got out of the car, I’d left the key in the ignition, and some kid, who happened to be passing, saw it, stole my car and went for a joy ride. He was drunk, or high on drugs or something, several witnesses confirmed that he was driving like a maniac. He ran over a girl who was crossing with her mum at a zebra crossing – who was Susie, by the way – and he must have panicked, because he abandoned the car and ran off. The mum survived, but Susie died and when the witnesses confirmed the description off a seemingly drunk driver along with my abandoned car, it didn’t take them long to trace me.” He ran his hand shakily through his hair as he remembered the horrendous events that happened next.
“The police had been banging on my door, but I had drunk myself into oblivion and didn’t hear anything, so they broke the door down and found me, pissed out of my head and unable to remember anything. I knew it couldn’t have been me, I would never drive when I’d been drinking, and I would certainly never have left the scene of an accident. But no-one believed me. Not even my family.” His eyes were filled with tears now, as he struggled to regain his composure.
“I was found guilty of manslaughter and sent to prison, and it was there, a couple of months later, that I was diagnosed with a brain tumour. My mother refused to visit me, even when I was on my deathbed, and I died alone and disgraced.” His head was bowed, his shoulders hunched forward, as the pain of his story weighed him down. “After I died, Susie told me that it wasn’t me who had killed her, and it was only then that I was able to piece it all together.”
Jemma was stunned. She had imagined many stories of what could have happened to Tom, but she could never have imagined such an horrendous story. No wonder Tom had been so reluctant to talk about it.
“I know I didn’t actually kill Susie,” he said, quietly, “but that doesn’t stop the guilt eating away at me every time I look at her. If I hadn’t left the keys in my car that day, it wouldn’t have been stolen, and Susie wouldn’t have been killed.”
Jemma knew that, no matter how hard she tried to tell him that leaving his keys in the car wasn’t a crime, it wasn’t going to change the way he felt. He blamed himself, and the only way that would ever change, was for Susie to go back to her family.
“Tom,” she said gently, “you have to leave. You know that, don’t you?”
“But Jemma, I don’t know how. You and Susie weren’t meant to die, remember? But I was. I died of a brain tumour, so I’m not here for the same reasons as you. I’m sure it’s because I’m not buried next to my father, which was my dying wish. Even if I did manage to come to terms with that and was able to move on, it still wouldn’t help Susie. What would happen to her if I left? I’m not leaving her here.”
“We’ll have to find a way of helping you both leave. We’ll get as much information about these wormholes and fi
nd out how to use them. Would you go?”
“But that would mean you’d be left here on your own.”
“I know,” she whispered, only too aware of this fact. “But you have to try. And you never know, maybe I could find a way out too. After all, that was always the intention when I first got here.”
They looked at each other silently, both aware of the sacrifice they would have to make, in order to make things right. It seemed so cruel that they should finally have found love, even in death, and to then lose each other again so soon.
Jemma felt a tear roll down her cheek, as she imagined her existence without Tom. She had been so happy the last time they were at the beach, how could everything change so quickly?
“Hey, don’t cry,” Tom pulled her into his arms and held her tightly. She clung to him, terrified that if she let go, he would vanish in front of her eyes. After a few moments though, they pulled apart and slowly continued their walk along the beach, neither of them wanting to think about what lay ahead.
“Tom? How often do you visit your grave?” asked Jemma, finally breaking the silence.
“My grave?” he said bitterly. “What grave?”
“You mean you don’t know where you’re buried?”
“No, my loving mother got rid of my ashes. Have you been to yours since your funeral?”
“No, but I’ve been thinking about it.” Jemma had been close to going several times, but every time she tried, she changed her mind at the last minute. She knew she should go, felt that it might somehow offer some sort of comfort, especially as she was buried near to her mother. Unlike Tom and his father, she thought, sadly. “Have you visited your mother since you died?” she asked.
“I saw her once when I went to visit my father’s grave. She was hunched over it, pulling weeds and arranging some fresh flowers. I turned and left again.”
Love In The Wrong Dimension (Romantic Ghost Story) Page 13
