Chasing Ghosts

by Dean Cole

  ‘You always were an inquisitive bugger,’ a familiar voice said.

  Every hair covering my body stood on end. The scrapbook closed with a snap and I twirled to find Elliot standing behind me. Not the flesh and blood version he used to be, but an almost translucent version, with a silver light gilding his outline. I lost speech and thought. The scrapbook slipped from my fingers and hit the floorboards with a dull thud. All I could do was stare in disbelief at the face that I remembered so well. The longish sandy hair tucked behind his ears. The kind grey eyes, the same ones that belonged to his sister Amy. The dusting of freckles across his nose.

  This was no misty figure, no smoky cloud floating in midair, no barely visible wispy shape that could be mistaken for a smear on a camera lens or water vapour rising from the ground. I was looking at a real ghost.

  I opened my mouth and nothing came out. Elliot smiled. It was a sage smile. The smile of someone who had been to another world, garnered secret knowledge and returned to share it.

  ‘Don’t be afraid,’ he said.

  His voice sounded different. It was still the sweet voice that had stayed in my memory all these years. But like the smile it held the weight of a being far advanced in knowledge and understanding. And it delivered a calming effect that made me feel relaxed, and warm, like I was being bathed in sunlight.

  ‘Are you real?’ I said, surprised to hear my own voice working again.

  Elliot shrugged. ‘You can see me, can’t you? What’s more real than that?’

  ‘Are you my imagination?

  ‘I’m whatever you want or need me to be.’

  I shook my head. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘You will. One day.’

  I blinked. Maybe I was trying to blink him away. But he didn’t disappear, remaining exactly where he stood, moonlight and dust dancing through his ethereal body.

  ‘It’s so peaceful here, Quentin.’ He inhaled slowly and a smile tugged his lips. ‘There’s no fear. No pain. No regret. No anger. Just love.’

  ‘Where are you?’

  ‘I’m everywhere and I am everything.’

  I always thought that if I ever saw him again I’d have so much to say, questions, things I had left unsaid. But now he was standing here, it felt like none of that mattered, that nothing needed to be explained.

  ‘I can’t stay for long,’ he said.

  I felt a sharp tug in my gut. I didn’t want him to leave. Didn’t want this warm feeling to go.

  ‘I thought you were trying to warn me,’ I said. ‘But it wasn’t you. I got it wrong.’

  ‘You don’t need me to protect you. You have all the guidance within you if you trust and listen.’

  ‘Then why did you come back?’

  ‘To give you a gift.’

  ‘A gift?’

  ‘The permission to let me go.’

  I continued to stare at him intently.

  ‘Don’t let the ghosts from your past steal the joy from your future, Quentin.’

  ‘But … I don’t want to let you go. You were the only thing that made life worth living.’ My lip trembled. A tear trickled down my cheek.

  Elliot was shaking his head. ‘It wasn’t me that made life worth living. It was what you imagined we could be. But that story wasn’t meant to be. Let go of the dream. And you’ll realise everything is worth living for.’

  More tears leaked down my cheeks. A pain, so familiar, ached inside my gut. ‘But it hurts, Elliot.’

  ‘You let the pain overshadow your love, you let it dampen your flame. But love didn’t disappear when I died. You suffer because you think I only exist if I’m alive. But I exist in your heart. I exist here right now, in your head. I exist when you see a robin. When you see a butterfly. We exist together, all the time, no matter where we are. And we’ll exist together when you join me. Find the place inside your heart that sees that greater love. Letting me go doesn’t change a thing. I’m already gone and yet I’m still here. All you have to do is light your flame again and you’ll see that.’

  I blinked through the blurriness of my tears. Elliot’s brow knitted with sadness. And yet the smile remained on his lips. This was the message he had returned to give me, just like Esther had predicted. And now he had delivered it, it was time for the final goodbye.

  He became less visible suddenly. The same expression, a mixture of love and yearning, remained on his face. But he was fading. Fading fast.

  ‘No!’ I cried. ‘I need to know that you forgive me! Elliot!’

  I lunged forward, reaching out my arm to stop him leaving, and it went right through him just as he vanished. But not before I heard his voice, distant but clear enough to hear him say the words, ‘There is nothing to forgive.’

  I blinked at the cold emptiness in front of me. I knew I would never see him again. Because now that he’d given me his message there would be no need for him to return.

  I crumpled to the dusty boards and curled into a pathetic ball inside the beam of moonlight. I wailed like I was five years old again, when life seemed unbearably unfair. I let all the pain that had welled inside me over the years — the longing, the guilt, the resentment — bleed out until I was wrung dry.

  - CHAPTER NINETEEN -

  Chasing Ghosts

  BIRDS SANG A chorus of trills and chirrups high in the trees of the garden on our final morning. An approaching wind rustled the canopies and fleeting forks of sunlight came through the scudding clouds, illuminating patches of lawn, the neatly-trimmed hedges, the water fountain. You could see how well Stan had been looking after the garden in recent weeks, despite the leaves that were falling off the trees by the second, creating orange and gold crunchy beds wherever you looked. It was easier now to see how much the garden meant to him, that he remained so conscientious of his duties with everything else that had been bothering him. I wondered who would mow its lawns and tend to its flower beds now. Who might take up home in the caretaker’s cottage.

  Lost in thought as I stood in front of the weeping cherry, I barely registered the sound of Kat’s footsteps drawing up beside me. She looked like an insect in an angular black coat and enormous sunglasses that reflected the autumn hues of the garden. Her hair and makeup, as usual, was impeccable, but her pallor indicated she was feeling the unwanted after-effects of her alcoholic binge.

  ‘Funeral’s over,’ she said. ‘It’s time to go.’

  ‘Just a couple more minutes.’

  It felt disrespectful to leave Joe Maguire’s graveside so soon. He’d lain here decades with only one person to visit him. There hadn’t been any of the customary posthumous proceedings. No procession of mourners to show how much he had meant to people during his short life. No gravestone to mark his existence. No flowers laid by reverential relatives. I felt he deserved at least some formality before the police showed up and taped off the area to declare it a crime scene, before the forensics started digging until they had recovered every last piece of what remained of him.

  Kat lit a Marlboro Light, folded her arms and blew out the smoke as she stared down at the leaf-strewn grass. ‘So ghost boy’s somewhere under there, is he?’

  ‘Around about here, yeah.’

  Her nostrils flared at the thought. ‘It’s going to be a big story.’

  ‘I imagine it will be.’

  ‘We’re really lucky, you know, getting the scoop before the nationals hear about it.’

  I feigned interest. ‘Yeah. Looks like you’ll get those readers after all.’

  ‘Well, you could sound a little enthusiastic.’

  ‘I’ll be enthusiastic when I hear Joe Maguire is being laid to rest inside a proper grave and Stan Crouch is locked inside a cell for the rest of his days.’

  Kat said nothing more. Perhaps my retort could have been a little less thorny. Kat wasn’t being entirely insensitive. She hadn’t, like I had, seen Joe’s memories, felt his fear, his sadness, before a bullet was put through his head. She hadn’t listened in detail to the story of what he had endured
at the hands of Billy Crowley, heard his anguished sobs in that grimy cellar. These things were going to stay with me for a long time to come.

  A sudden gale coming from the direction of the woods behind the cottage shook the drooping branches of the weeping cherry, scattering more leaves over the dewy grass. A magpie swooped down from the sky, hopped across the ground and began pecking at the moist soil for worms. Kat lifted a finger to her temple and winced.

  ‘Hangover?’ I asked.

  She nodded.

  ‘I hear water helps.’

  I couldn’t see her reaction behind the sunglasses, but I spotted her scarlet lips twitch. We continued to stand there in front of the tree, like two mourning relatives in a graveyard. Water trickled in the fountain. A car door slammed at the front of the building. The magpie flew off, looking for somewhere else to find food.

  ‘I owe you one,’ Kat said. ‘Will filled me in on what happened last night. You were brave. And I wasn’t. I almost ruined it, acting like a coward. There wouldn’t be a story if it wasn’t for you.’

  I lifted one corner of my mouth. ‘Wouldn’t say I was brave. I was bricking it under those covers, waiting for the maniac to come and off me. Will was the brave one.’

  ‘But he isn’t my partner.’

  I glanced up at the lenses of the sunglasses. The only eyes staring back at me were my own bespectacled ones mirrored in their reflection. But I had heard the sincerity in her voice. Did it mean we were official partners now?

  She winced again. ‘I need painkillers. And coffee. Be quick, yeah? When we get back to Cricklewood, I’m going straight back to bed.’

  She walked off, her step a little unsteady on the gravel. I watched her walk past the fountain until she reached the steps. She turned around and shouted, ‘Oh, and I’ll make sure Josh knows how well you did.’

  I smiled a thanks before she turned around and began ascending the steps. But as I glanced back at the weeping cherry again, those words “if it wasn’t for you there wouldn’t be a story” lingered like a dark prophecy. Was this my life from now on? Seeing and hearing the dead, their memories, the horrible ways their lives were taken from them. I wasn’t sure I wanted to carry such a burden.

  I blinked at the dewy ground. It was time to say goodbye to Joe. I looked around for something I could leave as a gift. Considered some nearby flowers, but realised that would just be moving one part of his resting place to another. I touched the amethyst necklace on my chest. Debated giving away such a precious gift. Decided I would own more stones in my life. And I had a feeling Esther wouldn’t mind, given my intent. I unfastened the necklace from around my neck then bent down and left it on the grass. ‘It might not be much,’ I said. ‘But it helped me.’

  The birdsong had ceased. The wind rustled the trees again. It could have been a whisper of a thank you. But that could have been wishful thinking.

  * * * * *

  Every ending has a new beginning, so they say. I was wondering what new beginning might be in store for Hilderley Manor after everyone had poured out of its front door, bags packed, coats wrapped tight to ward off the windy weather. The crows were nowhere to be seen around the front grounds. The birds are a symbol of mystery, not just death and bad luck as most people believe — another one of those little facts Elliot loved to share. Perhaps they would find somewhere new to go now the mystery that haunted this house had been solved.

  The ghost hunters, hauling their cases and boxes of equipment over to where their Range Rover was parked, waved their goodbyes. Ash and Matt, dressed like a celebrity couple in designer winter wear, followed them, Ash hurrying Cottonball into the passenger seat of Matt’s sleek black Mercedes before the wind had chance to carry the mischievous fluff ball away.

  I heard the wheels of Kat’s suitcase being dragged over the doorstep. The sound was followed by a loud groan. ‘Oh bugger. I left my watch upstairs.’ With an exaggerated sigh she headed back inside. I unburdened myself of my rucksack and rubbed my arms against the breeze as I waited for her to return.

  The boot of the Range Rover slammed shut and the Freaky Foursome, as Kat liked to call them, climbed inside. Matt’s car sped across the gravel, Ash operating Cottonball’s paw so it looked like the pooch was waving at me. Distracted, I didn’t notice that a figure had materialised beside me. I sprang back, peering down to see Esther Hill, resplendent in a mustard-coloured wool coat, gazing up at me.

  ‘A pity we must part,’ she said. The shamrock green eyes looked more of an olive shade in the stark light.

  I returned a genuine smile. ‘Yeah. It was great to meet you.’

  ‘Indeed it was.’ She waved to Giles and the other ghost hunters as the Range Rover drove away. ‘Even under the macabre circumstances.’

  ‘You heard about Stan, then?’

  ‘Of course I heard. I’m psychic, darling.’ Her eyes roved cheekily up to mine and she winked. ‘When I’m not being a nosy beggar, that is.’

  She took a step back and gazed thoughtfully at the building that towered over us. I did the same, hoping I wasn’t going to see some phantom there she had suddenly spotted. ‘A mercy killing,’ she said with a mournful shake of her head. ‘What a bittersweet finale to such a pleasant weekend. But the young man’s soul can now rest. It was the resolution it was after. Mr Crouch, too, will find that releasing his burden will bring an unexpected peace, whatever happens to the poor chap.’

  ‘You don’t think he should be repenting his sins for the rest of his days, then?’ I said, still cynical. I was finding it much harder than Esther to muster sympathy for the man who had cut young Joe’s life short, no matter how ‘merciful’ his reasoning.

  ‘Wishing suffering on those who have caused suffering never got anyone anywhere good. All it does is keep the wheels of karma turning. There is nothing stronger than a belief. And people do the most shocking things believing it is for the greater good. They are guilty of not knowing a better way if anything.’

  Wind whipped at Esther’s hair as her wise words hung in the breezy air. But she had so much lacquer on the halo it hardly shifted, just sort of trembled like a topiary bush. I tried to share the view, but it wasn’t happening. Maybe it would come later, when the events of the weekend weren’t so raw.

  ‘I wanted to let you know you were right,’ I said. ‘I was looking for more than just evidence that ghosts existed. And I got the answers in the end.’

  Esther’s magenta lips widened into that beaming smile that refused to be diminished. ‘And now you have them?’

  ‘I’ve been lost, confused and afraid. I wasted my time punishing myself for something I thought I should have done, but in the end it didn’t even matter. I can’t keep living in the shadows, too scared to come out into the light because of what might happen.’ I cocked a brow at the manor, thinking of more than just my own past and the things I had learned over my short but eventful stay. ‘Chasing the ghosts of our past is a waste of time. They just end up chasing us until we’ve got nowhere else to look but the future. That’s where I’m putting my focus from now on, on the future.’

  Esther’s smile almost reached her ears. I felt like blushing under her gaze. The wise woman who had picked me out of the group on that first afternoon and read me like a book looked proud of me. And yet, oddly, I sensed from a glint in her eyes she had known all along that my visit here would bring me such insights.

  ‘Life’s ups and downs are our greatest teachers, Quentin. I learnt a lesson myself during my stay here. I remembered that it isn’t my job to interfere when fate has clearly decided its course. If we had returned young Joe’s spirit to its place of rest, the events of last night wouldn’t have unfolded. You wouldn’t have had such a realisation. You or your companions. Never underestimate how many lives can be changed by a single seemingly insignificant event.’

  I smiled once again in fondness at the endless wisdom that poured out of the very colourful woman.

  ‘Well, I must be off,’ she said. ‘They have the most delicious f
ish and chips in these parts. I’ve been salivating all morning thinking about stopping off at this delightful little establishment I discovered on the journey up here. Do take care, precious. And don’t hesitate to look me up should you ever feel the need. I am never far away.’

  With a wink she drifted towards the Audi Hatchback that had crystals dangling from the rear-view mirror and a dream catcher in the back, glancing admiringly at a flock of noisy birds soaring high in the bright sky.

  A familiar concoction of aftershave and smoke blowing on the breeze let me know that Will was standing behind me. I turned and saw a man fresh out of the shower, as late leaving the manor as he had been arriving, the motorbike helmet in his hand.

  ‘Interesting weekend,’ he said, dragging on his cigarette.

  ‘Don’t suppose you managed to find that inspiration in the end?’

  He shrugged. ‘A couple of things have given me a few ideas.’

  I nodded, pleased for him. Then I felt the nerves that rose up in me whenever I was around him. The sound of Esther’s tires driving away brought a brief but welcome distraction. We watched the car turn and head towards the gates. Cyndi Lauper’s ‘Girls Just Want To Have Fun’ was playing from the car’s speakers at full blast.

  ‘Well, I guess it’s goodbye then,’ I said.

  Will nodded. ‘Later, squire.’

  He walked past me, heading towards the shiny black motorbike parked with the handful of vehicles left in the parking area. A sudden rush of butterflies flooded my stomach as I watched him go. It was now or never.

  ‘Will?’

  He stopped and turned around. I cleared my throat. But the thing I was going to say didn’t seem to want to come out now those blue eyes of his were looking at me.

  He nodded at my blazer. ‘Check your contacts,’ he said, before turning around and continuing towards the motorbike.

  I delved inside my pocket and pulled out my phone. I scrolled through the list of contacts. A new name and number had been added: Will the Great. I glanced up as he was fixing the helmet on his head and laughed lightly.