by Cross, Amy
And then, suddenly, she saw a woman's face reflected in the glass next to her own, just behind her shoulder.
Not daring to turn, convinced that she had to be imagining what she was seeing, she stared at a pair of dark eyes, and the eyes stared straight back at her. Casey's heart was racing again, pounding in her chest, and her mouth hung open as if she was on the verge of saying something. She told herself that the face in the glass was just a figment of her imagination, that it couldn't possibly be real, but still she couldn't force it to disappear.
“The human mind is a powerful thing,” she said out loud, her voice trembling with fear as she tried to remind herself of Tom's words from earlier. “It can make you think that you're seeing something that's not really there.”
The words didn't help.
“You're not real,” she stammered. “I know you're not real. You can't be real. I refuse to hallucinate.”
And still the reflected face stared back at her.
“You're not real!” Casey hissed. “Leave me alone!”
Finally, just as all the color began to drain from her face, she turned to look straight at the woman.
“Leave me alone!” she shouted again. “Stop -”
And then she paused, as she found herself staring at the woman's face. A moment later, as she began to realize the truth, she looked at the large words next to the woman's shoulder.
DO YOU HAVE THE PENSION THAT'S RIGHT FOR YOU?
ARE YOU READY TO ENJOY YOUR RETIREMENT?
YOU MIGHT HAVE MORE OPTIONS THAN YOU REALIZE!
DARE TO DREAM, AND CALL ONE OF OUR FRIENDLY OPERATORS TODAY!
Casey stared at the advertising board, and at the image of a life-size smiling woman. A moment later, the image changed to one showing a new type of car, and this image remained for a short while before changing again, this time going back to the three-for-two Bahamas flight offer. And then finally, after a few minutes had passed, the pension provider's advert returned, and Casey found herself face-to-face once more with the woman.
Turning, she looked at the window and saw that it was the woman from the advert that had spooked her. The woman had looked so real, as if she was standing in the corridor, but Casey stared at the reflection and saw now that it was just the poster.
And then the image changed, to the car advert again, and Casey let out a sigh of relief as she turned and looked both ways along the corridor. Finally, leaning back against the window, she couldn't help laughing at herself.
***
“I told you it'd turn out to be nothing,” Tom said, with a hint of satisfaction in his voice as he sat counting teabags in the office. “A bleedin' advert, huh? All that faffing and fussing over a ghost, and it was just a bleedin' advertising hoarding that freaked you out.”
“It must have been,” she replied, sitting on her swivel chair and looking up at the monitors, before turning back to him. “I must have built myself up into such a mess last night, I saw the woman in the poster and then I somehow imagined her speaking to me. I imagined her looking all burned and dead.” She paused for a moment, lost in thought. “I mean, I still don't quite understand that part, but it's the only thing that makes sense. Isn't it?”
“The human brain is an immensely powerful and mysterious organ,” Tom muttered. “We don't understand half of the stuff it gets up to. You're not one of those marijuana people, are you?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Maybe you take prescription meds? Something that made you very susceptible to suggestion?”
She shook her head.
“Well, then,” he continued, “we'll just have to put it down to the human mind. Still, I'm glad you've seen sense. I was starting to worry that you were gonna be some kind of amateur ghost-buster. That would have become very tiring very fast. The last thing I need is someone who keeps bringing up ghosts and all that paranormal stuff.”
“But you're the one who -”
She caught herself just in time, figuring that maybe she should just let sleeping dogs lie.
“The woman I thought I saw before that,” she continued cautiously, “the one I saw sitting in the departure area near gate fourteen... That can't have been an advertising hoarding.”
“You imagined it.”
“But -”
“There are two types of people who work here,” he added. “There are those who think they see ghosts and go on about all that stuff. They never last long. And then there are those who keep a level head and don't let themselves start hallucinating, and just knuckle down to the job. They're the ones who stick around and get promoted. They're the ones who get ahead in life, and that's a rule that applies not only to this airport but also to the rest of the world out there. Which of those types do you want to be, Casey?”
“I want to stick around.”
“Then I think you know what you have to do.” With that, he mimed zipping his mouth shut, and then he looked back down at the teabags. “Focus on the important things. Like how seven of my teabags went missing during the day. Do I have to put a bleedin' padlock on these things?”
“So I shouldn't mention any of the weirdness in this log, should I?” Casey asked, looking down at the logbook that Tom had charged her with filling out for their shift.
“That's your choice. I know what I'd do, but I'm not going to stand in your way.”
“What about Derek, though?”
“What about him?”
“Well, technically he wasn't supposed to be here, not after his shift was over. Shouldn't we mention that he managed to get through the sensors without setting off an alarm?”
“There's no point causing trouble.”
“But -”
“If it was someone else, I'd agree it should go in there,” Tom continued, “but not Derek. You'll only get him in trouble, and Derek's a good egg. Trust me, I've known him a long time, and there's no-one finer. Mention what happened if you have to, but I'd really rather you didn't. Derek's harmless. A little eccentric, but harmless. And you can take that as gospel.”
Casey hesitated for a moment, before taking a pen from the desk and writing a brief note in the logbook, to the effect that she and Tom had completed all their duties as normal, and that nothing unusual or out-of-the-ordinary had occurred. She paused, before signing her name at the bottom and then placing the logbook back on the desk. Turning, she looked up at the monitors and saw that all the images showed calm, empty scenes from around the terminal building as well as the airport's external areas. One of the images showed a view of the horizon, with the first rays of morning sun starting to break. The second night shift was almost over.
“I guess I learned my lesson,” Casey said finally. “There's no such thing as ghosts.”
Chapter Eight
“Suzie! Suzie, wait! Stop!”
Turning as she was about to get onto the bus, Suzie furrowed her brow as she saw David hurrying toward her along the street. Nearby, a group of children lingered near the corner, waiting for the morning bus to school.
“What the hell do you want?” Suzie asked.
“Can I talk to you?” David replied. “It's important.”
“I don't know anything about your car. I didn't scratch anything into the paint, and I didn't put anything in the locks, and I certainly didn't cut your fuel line. And if I had, you'd have deserved it!”
“It's not about the car.”
“I'm not paying for any damage!”
“It's really not about the car.”
“I'm on my way to the job center,” she told him cautiously. “In case you forgot, I got fired yesterday. Turns out my boss at the duty free was a complete asshole, so now I've got to go and talk to those idiots and sign on and jump through a load of hoops.”
“Are you coming, love?” the bus driver asked her.
“I'll take the next one,” she muttered, stepping away as the bus's door slid shut. Eyeing David with a distinctly unimpressed expression, she set her hands on her hips. “Well? I'm waiting, loser. Y
ou'd better have a good reason to come chasing after me in the street. I could report you for harassment, you know. Or did you reconsider my offer?”
“Was it you?”
“I thought you said this wasn't about -”
“In the forest,” he continued, interrupting her. “Near the stone, near the memorial for the crash. Were you and maybe one of your children trying to mess with my head yesterday evening?”
“What the hell are you on about?”
“Was it you?”
“I don't...” She hesitated, before shaking her head. “I don't have a clue what you're rambling on about, Dave, but I hope you didn't make me miss my bus just so you could make a bunch of wild accusations. I didn't touch your car, and I didn't do anything to you in a forest, so cut it out, alright?”
“You said people have seen Old Eve.”
Again, she furrowed her brow.
“The ghost,” he continued. “The woman, the one who's seen sometimes at the airport. People -”
“I know what you mean,” she replied, interrupting her. “Why do you care?”
“You said people have been talking. Yesterday, you said that you've heard of a few people who think they've seen her in recent weeks.”
“You don't believe in that bullshit, do you?” she said with a faint smile. “Not boring old Davey boy. No freakin' way. I thought you had your head screwed on straight.”
“I just want to know what people have been saying,” he explained, reaching into his pocket and taking out his wallet. Producing a £20 note, he held it out to her.
“What's that for?”
“Information.”
She laughed. “You what?”
He took out another note and added it to the first. “Please,” he continued. “I'll pay you, if that's what it takes, but I need to know what you've heard. I know Old Eve is supposed to watch over the airport, and I know she's supposed to appear more frequently when there's a chance of something terrible happening. I need to know if people have started seeing her lately.”
“Yesterday, you said -”
“Yesterday was a long time ago,” he added. “Please, Suzie. This is important.”
She eyed the money for a moment. “A hundred,” she said finally.
“I can't -”
“You can afford it. And you're the one who fired me, remember? All over a few poxy bottles of cheap perfume that'd been marked up about 500% anyway. You make enough, you can afford to give me a hundred quid if you wanna know what I've heard. Take it or leave it, but let me remind you that I had my ear to the ground at that airport. I know what was going on.”
He hesitated, before rifling through his wallet and pulling out the rest of the notes.
“I have ninety,” he told her. “Please, isn't that enough?”
Snatching the money from his hand, she counted it before slipping it into her pocket.
“Katy at the bookstore saw Old Eve about two weeks ago,” she told him, ignoring another bus as it rumbled past. “She told me she was stacking something near the front of their unit, and she looked out across the departure lounge and saw Old Eve near gate seven. Or was it seventeen? I don't remember, but she was certain she saw her. Said she was staring at her, too. And then a bunch of Japanese tourists wandered past, and when they were gone there was no sign of Eve anymore. Put the willies up her well good, though. She had to have an extra gin and tonic at lunchtime. Her hands were all trembling.”
“Is that it?” he asked. “Is that the only sighing?”
“Same day, Lou from the donut counter saw her. Later, though, closer to closing time. I don't remember where she said she was, exactly, but it must've been somewhere near the donut place. Just like Katy, she said they made eye contact for a few seconds, and then she was gone. That's pretty much always how it goes when she's seen. Not that I've ever seen her myself. I mean, I'm not completely crazy.” She paused. “Have you seen her, Dave? Is that why you look like you've been given a wedgie?”
“I...”
He hesitated for a moment.
“Do you know Mark Naylor?” she continued. “Guy who runs the deicing pad?”
He nodded.
“Smart guy, wouldn't you say?” she asked. “Straight up. Not the kind of guy who tolerates nonsense.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because the other day, he reckoned he saw her, down on the deicing pad. I overheard him telling some of the other blokes about it over lunch. He had all the deicers stop while he went down to take a look. Apparently he held up all the traffic leaving the airport for ten minutes while he made sure there was no-one in the danger zone, but the way he was telling it, I reckon he already knew it was Old Eve. Sad, really. As soon as he nipped to the loo, all the other blokes were ripping the piss out of him behind his back.”
“So that's three sightings in two weeks?”
“I think there've been a couple more, too, but I don't know the details.”
“That's a lot,” he pointed out. “It's almost as if she's appearing more and more often.”
“To warn about something bad that's gonna happen?”
“That's what people say, isn't it? That she tries to warn about possible disasters?”
“Then why doesn't she just come out and say it?” Suzie asked. “Why does she stand around, staring at people, when she could just tap one of 'em on the shoulders and be all, like, open about it? Or if she can't do that, why doesn't she just write a note?”
“I have no idea.”
“You don't believe in her, do you?”
“I didn't,” he replied, “not until last night.”
“What happened last night?”
“I saw...”
His voice trailed off, and for the hundredth time that morning he thought back to the sight of the plane crashing just short of the runway. The images had barely left his mind.
“I heard screams in the forest,” he continued. “Terrible, agonized screams. Screams of people dying. I saw flames, too, even though there were no flames. It was as if I was seeing the accident from ten years ago, but maybe that's not what it was. Maybe I was seeing another accident, one that's going to happen.”
“Have you lost it?” Suzie asked. “You sound like a right nutter.”
“I need you to call me if you hear of any more sightings,” he replied, reaching into his pocket and taking out one of his business cards. “If you hear anything at all, I have to know! I'll pay you again, if that's what it takes, but I have to know!”
“I'm not calling you!” she told him. “I don't want anything to do with you!”
“Please!”
Taking his card, she dropped it straight into the bin.
“You're as bad as that old wanker Jimmy Clarke from fuels,” she muttered, as another bus stopped next to her and a couple of passengers stepped off.
“Who?” David asked.
“He was always going on about Old Eve,” she continued, stepping past him and looking along the street, watching for any sign of an approaching bus. “I heard that's why he got fired in the end. He was wearing everyone out, always going on about her.”
“Where can I find him?”
Without looking back, she raised her left hand and gave him the finger, while using her other hand to hold her phone to the side of her face.
“Yeah, Janey?” she said. “I'm skipping the Job Center today. I just got a hundred quid off some tosser. Wanna go get a drink in town?”
“Where can I find this Jimmy Clarke guy?” David called after her, but he sighed as he realized that he'd never get a straight answer. Reaching into his pocket, he took out his phone and began to search. His mind was racing, and he knew he should head back to work, but at the same time he felt certain that he wouldn't be able to focus until he got some answers. Even as he tried to find some trace of a man named Jimmy Clarke living in Hexley, his mind was already filling once again with images of a plane burning in the dark forest.
***
“Lizzie,
calm down!” Doctor Natasha Douglas said, switching the phone to her other ear as she took a pile of folders from her desk. “Lizzie, you're having another episode. You need to focus on the three M's I taught you about in our last session. Do you remember those?”
As she carried the folders out of her office and into the corridor, Natasha heard nothing on the other end of the line except a faint, sniffing whimper.
“Lizzie?” she continued. “The first M stands for Management. Do you remember?”
“I think so,” a sobbing voice replied.
“And the second M?”
Using her shoulder to push a set of double doors open, Natasha headed into the reception area and set the folders down, before switching the phone back to her other ear. She checked her watch, realizing that she was running late for another meeting, but at the same time she also knew she couldn't just put the phone down and leave one of her patients to deal with a meltdown alone.
“Motivation, Lizzie,” she said finally. “The second M stands for Motivation. And the third...”
She waited.
All she heard, still, was a series of heavy, gulping sobs.
“The third M is for Mindfulness,” she added. “Lizzie -”
“I keep thinking about that night!” the woman on the phone stammered suddenly. “I keep thinking about when the plane came down, and all the flames, and about the forest burning and then the tree falling and -”
“Lizzie...”
“I keep thinking about their screams!”
“That doesn't help you,” Natasha pointed out, checking her watch again. “It's natural to think about these things, but you need to remember the techniques I taught you during our last session. Lizzie, are you going to come to the meeting tonight?”
“I don't know. I don't know if I need to.”
“I think it'd be a really good idea if you attended. Phone consultations are one thing, but the group therapy sessions are extremely important. I don't want to pressure you, but will you think very hard and see if you can manage to come? As your grief counselor, I'd really like to see you there.”
