Chasing Ghosts

by Nicola Pierce

  I did not want to tell tales, but I could tell her something just as I had with them, enough to satisfy her. ‘They might have been a while ago but then they stopped.’

  Mrs Lee pursed her lips while her companion beamed at me in delight. How friendly she was. ‘Are you a new girl?’ I asked her. She laughed but made no sound. ‘My name is Ann,’ I said. She seemed much nicer than any of my old classmates so I was determined to secure her friendship before the others could turn her against me. The book in my hand slid to the floor and I made to grab it once more. ‘Who are you talking to?’ asked Mrs Lee, a peculiar expression on her face.

  ‘Oh,’ I said. ‘She is gone. Is she coming back?’

  Mrs Lee took up her pencil and readied to continue writing. ‘Is who coming back?’

  ‘Why, the girl who was just beside you. Did you not know she was there?’

  ‘Describe her!’

  Surprised at the urgency in Mrs Lee’s tone, I replied, ‘She had long, brown hair with a red bow … navy dress with yellow trimmings and … Mrs Lee?’

  My teacher seemed to be near tears but she shook her head to silence me, asking, ‘Did she look alright? Happy? Sad? How did she look to you?’

  ‘Well,’ I gulped, feeling confused. ‘She looked happy. She was smiling. I mean, really smiling.’

  Gathering herself together, Mrs Lee nodded as if tremendously relieved. ‘Good girl, Ann. Good girl.’ Wiping her nose with her handkerchief, she said, ‘When you are finished sorting out the books, you may go and tell the class to come back inside. We have a lot of work to do today.’

  ‘Yes, Mrs Lee.’

  ***

  ‘Ann, are you asleep?’

  William was standing in my doorway and he had not exactly whispered. He had not woken me up, but I felt bound to protest all the same, whispering, ‘I was fast asleep! And keep your voice down, for goodness sake. What do you want?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  I sat up and peered through the darkness, just about able to make him out as he hung back from me. Something was wrong. ‘What is it? Did you have a bad dream?’

  Again, he replied, ‘I don’t know.’

  Sighing heavily, I reached out until I found my box of matches and struck one in order to locate my bedside lamp. Lighting the tallow, I kept the flame low, and said, ‘Come in and shut the door quietly. You can stay for a little while but then you are going back to your own room.’

  ‘Thank you, Ann.’

  Well, I could not fault his manners.

  He shut the door very slowly but still managed to make more noise than he should have. It was a struggle but I managed not to complain.

  ‘Where can I sit?’

  I looked around my room but then accepted that there was only one place for this nocturnal visit. ‘Here, just sit on the end of my bed.’

  He trotted over and heaved himself up until he was sitting, his back to the end post, facing me while I moved my pillow so that it supported me better. It felt foolish, the two of us propped up, staring at one another. ‘So,’ I began, ‘would you like me to read to you?’

  ‘No, thank you.’

  ‘Oh,’ I said, surprised, as I had assumed that was how we would spend the time until I could get rid of him. Now what? ‘So, was it a bad dream, is that why you are here?’

  His eyes flickered as he considered his answer and he shivered, nicely distracting himself from having to answer me by asking me, in turn, ‘Can I put my feet under your blankets?’

  Stifling a grumble, I nodded. ‘Just keep them away from mine. Why are you not wearing your slippers?’

  He gazed at me as if I was the strange one who had burst into his bedroom in the middle of the night. ‘There was no time to put them on.’

  ‘Whatever do you mean, there was no time?

  He smiled shyly. I glanced at the door and, for some reason, leant over to turn up the flame in my lamp. We watched its flickering light spread itself out across the floor, stretching across the top of my desk. To my surprise, two of William’s model ships were sitting there, atop my sketchbook which was open, providing a pristine white surface for the light to bounce off. William rushed to defend himself. ‘I didn’t leave them there. I know I am not allowed in your room.’

  ‘I know, I know,’ I said, before adding, ‘and I didn’t leave my sketchbook open either.’

  We were quiet again, satisfied that the other was telling the truth. Just then, there was a sound, a gasp, a giggle, that barely registered but we both heard it and whispered together, ‘Weesy!’

  As if our saying her name aloud created a sudden gust of wind, the flame in my lamp went out.

  ‘Ann!’ cried William.

  Trying to disguise my own fright, I whispered, ‘It is alright, I am still here.’

  I was about to tell him to come up beside me when he did just that, his arms almost stopping my breath as he fastened them around my waist, plunging his legs beneath the blankets. ‘What’s that?’ asked William, burying his head in my side. ‘Is someone there?’

  ‘Where?’ I asked, swivelling my head from left to right, doing my utmost to penetrate the darkness. I thought I could see shadows but could not be sure. The dark can reveal what is concealed deep inside you: your fears, be they real or imagined.

  ‘Look, William, it is just Weesy.’ I persevered in trying to convince both him and myself. ‘She is bored and is making mischief with us.’

  ‘Call Papa!’ My brother was pleading with me, but I could not bring myself to do it. Because it began to feel familiar. The temperature had dropped, my feet were numb and the sheets felt damp, even wet. Suddenly William exclaimed, ‘It is the place from my dream.’

  I saw ‘the place’ take shape around us as the darkness slowly receded, leaving behind a mist of silvery grey. Maybe William and I were having the same dream? Anything was possible now and I was so cold that it was hard to tell if I was awake or still sleeping. Thanks to the peculiar light, I could make out the pattern of the wallpaper on the wall opposite but I could swear to also seeing what looked like mountains, monstrous craggy peaks doused in bluey white.

  ‘Can you see it too?’ asked William.

  ‘You dreamt about this place before?’

  William nodded, his skull jutting into my side. We could see one another now which helped to keep him calm. Clouds of our own breath hung in the air. ‘Look, William, your ships are standing up.’

  And, indeed, they looked like proper ships, proud and purposeful, waiting to be released into the sea.

  ‘The ice is melting,’ said William.

  Tiny fissures jutted their way through what I had assumed to be solid ground, fracturing it in half and then into more and more pieces that dislodged and broke away from one another. Meanwhile, something most precious was surging beneath, sparkling like Mama’s jewellery when she was out in the sunshine, and reminding me how she used to laugh before we had any notion of death and white coffins. The palest blue water gurgled up between the cracks, full of promise, lapping over the ice, gently pushing it aside as if waving it on its way.

  William and I looked at one another and grinned, glad we were in this together, whatever it was. Although, we were not alone. A blue oval shadow, far richer in shade than the water, hovered around my desk, the masts of William’s ships appearing to support it.

  ‘Weesy, we know you are here.’ I also felt bound to add, ‘Don’t worry, I am not angry at you anymore.’

  William was perplexed. ‘Why are you angry at her?’

  ‘I am not angry now,’ I replied, somewhat huffily.

  Much to my annoyance, he persisted, adopting a tone of arch accusation. ‘But that is not fair. Why do you have to make her sad?’

  I was suddenly reminded how irritating it can be to have a baby brother, and a baby sister, for that matter. ‘For goodness sake, Will—’

  A dog’s bark silenced me, making us both jump. Relieved to change the subject, I asked, ‘Is that Bobby? Mama will be cross. Why isn’t he outs
ide?’

  But William only whispered, ‘They are coming!’

  The light in the room shimmered like ripples in the water that, by now, had seen off the jigsaw pieces of ice. It was a scene of tranquillity, a cloudless sky mirrored in a serene blue sea. Even the mountains shed their cragginess, their sharp edges and crevices now resembling the lightest strokes of grey charcoal made against the white page, easily rubbed out in order to begin again. Everything was changing.

  I saw what William meant. As if bursting through a veil, a shroud of finest lace, a large group of men were walking towards us. There were maybe ten or twenty abreast.

  We sat like two statues, watching their approach, which was framed by my bedroom door. As they crunched their way through the snow, it squeaked and groaned beneath their weight.

  ‘Where are they going to?’ asked William.

  I shrugged for an answer.

  Typically, he immediately asked another question, ‘Can they see us?’

  Before I could reply, he said, ‘Look, there is the dog!’

  The dog was huge, reminding me of a wolf, and appeared to be smiling broadly. His lower jaw hung open, with his tongue draped over the side. He sneezed once and twice in his excitement, earning himself a fierce rub on the head from the man beside him. This man stood out because he was the tallest man in his line. An older man, who beamed in delight, linked arms with the tall man. His smile was contagious and, whether they could see us or not, I smiled in dawning recognition. I had seen their pictures in Grandfather’s newspaper.

  All their faces were coming into focus now. They were handsome, in that their eyes and cheeks glowed with good health. I could find no traces of the tiredness or anxiety that I was used to seeing in the faces of my parents. They looked so happy to see us. In fact, their welcoming smiles reminded me of the girl that had stood behind Mrs Lee today. Awestruck, I quietly asked William, ‘Do you know who they are?’

  My little brother actually had the nerve to roll his eyes in front of all these gentlemen. ‘Of course I do! It is Captain Franklin and his crew. See, they are wearing their navy uniforms and this …’ He flung out his arms as if to uphold all that he could see. ‘This is the Arctic.’

  William was speaking quickly. ‘This was my dream. They are lost and need our help.’

  Weesy reminded us that she was near; the sails of William’s model ships trembled as she flitted over them, her spirited performance bringing them to life. The air around us crackled with expectation on all sides. Suddenly, I found myself remembering a line from a book I had read. I no longer remembered its title or anything else beyond this one short sentence: ‘Home. There is magic in that little word.’

  ‘HOME!’

  I blurted it out, causing my brother to put his finger to his lips, shocked at my loudness. I felt warm all over, and Weesy renewed her gleeful ballet above our heads. ‘You are right, William. We have to help them. That is why Weesy is here; she is going to help us. They are stuck, like she is stuck here with us.’

  To my immense joy, the tall one briefly lifted his hat from his head, saluting my efforts. I stared into his eyes and, in that instant, I knew exactly who he was. He held my gaze and I felt chilled and distraught by the loneliness that had consumed him during his final days.

  Just then, I saw him as he was: Captain Crozier, a solitary figure, stumbling onwards, blinded by the glare of the snow. His tangled, wildly overgrown beard was a glistening mass of frozen teardrops. His cheeks, nose and lips were rubbed raw by the howling gales. His teeth were black and broken while his feet were swollen and bleeding, all his nails torn and gone. Hunger and thirst taunted him while his mouth was a mess of open sores. Yet, even though he was filled with remorse for his lost crew, he kept going, determined, even now, to master his fate. Eventually, however, he could walk no more. I felt his heart petering out and watched him fall to his knees, arms outstretched as the snow rushed to cover him, begging God above for help and, then, for His forgiveness. His last breath, a bitter testament to a life that he believed was only half lived.

  ‘Look,’ said William.

  It was raining paper. Pages upon pages flitted about the men, like doves looking for a place to settle. Some were larger than others, the writing an assorted mix of loops and dotted ‘i’s, all in black ink that helped them stand out from the snow but not for long. Here and there were doodles, some more elaborate in detail, that captured life onboard the ships. I recognised a Christmas tree along with a cooked goose, sprawled across a massive plate, so good that I could almost taste it. I could not help smiling as another sheet displayed a shaky effort at reproducing, I think, two men playing chess.

  Every single sheet, following its short flight in the sun, began to fall, the ink – that is, the words and the pictures – fading away, leaving the page clean before it dropped into the snow, no longer visible.

  ‘What is happening?’ asked William.

  ‘I think it is their journals and, maybe, the letters that they never got to send.’

  A bell rang out in the distance, reminding me how late it was. Assuming it belonged to St Columb’s Cathedral, I counted off the chimes out of habit, not used to hearing more than nine or ten. By the looks of it, the men could hear the bell too.

  ‘Is it the ship’s bell?’ asked William.

  It was almost funny how we ignored Weesy, not on purpose, of course. Up to tonight, her presence had been the most important thing in our lives. She had always been the centre of attention. Her sickness had dominated our house when she was alive and her death left our parents adrift. I understood now that they would always miss her.

  Thus inspired, I heard myself assure the men, ‘I know you did not leave any words behind but you left people, your family and friends, who will always miss you. And, well, I think that is much more important.’

  I was rewarded with the warmest smiles, including from my brother, who seemed to radiate pride in his sister.

  I felt that time was speeding up now. Lights flashed around me like stars bursting across the night sky; years were racing by with lessons being learnt all over again. Everything was going around and around but always falling a little forward. It was something to rely on. Distance was forming between the men and us. They were growing hazy, as if I was seeing them through tears.

  The light was ship-shaped. It appeared behind them and shone brighter than the ice and snow. Captain Crozier, Captain Franklin, their officers and their crew stared in fascination, uncertain about what to do next. Only Captain Crozier looked back to me. I nodded. ‘Yes, it is for you, all of you. It is going to take you where you need to go.’

  A line was formed and they were off, one following the other, disappearing from sight as they passed through the light. Captain Crozier and his dog were the last ones to leave. Just before he took that final step, he raised his arm in thanks and farewell. We raised ours in reply and, in an instant, they were gone. Snow began to fall once more, filling in their footsteps, wiping the surface clean just like the pages of their letters and journals.

  I was exhausted and closed my eyes for just a moment, savouring those last seconds when I felt that I knew everything that was important.

  ‘No, Weesy, not you!’

  William’s cry shattered my smugness.

  My heart cracked when I saw the figure of my little sister edging towards that light. Why was it still there? It had what it came for.

  She suddenly appeared to us as clearly as the men did. There she was with her brown hair in ringlets, her snub nose, her freckles, her crooked front tooth. After all these months of resenting her, I was suddenly terrified of losing her. Oh, it wasn’t like the first time. Silly little coffin. Everyone dressed in black, young and old, grim and monotonous. Lengthy sermon in a draughty church. Vulgar wreaths that were too perfumed and heavy to lift. Candles in daylight, an empty comfort. No, that had never been real. Not like this.

  ‘Weesy … I …’ I could hardly speak. ‘No, please don’t leave us. Stay. Why can’t
you stay?’

  But she looked so happy, her joy banishing the cold temperatures, allowing us to bask in what felt like the gold of the setting sun. William reached out for her, but she turned towards the light as if hearing someone calling her name and then she smiled at me and nodded, needing me to finally let her go.

  24

  New beginnings

  We never told anyone what happened that night. William fretted that our parents should know, but I disagreed, telling him, ‘There is no point upsetting them all over again.’

  He harrumphed a little bit before promising to keep it a secret between us.

  In any case, I had had an idea and was so pleased with myself that I boasted to my brother, ‘I know what I am going to do. Actually, it is the most wonderful idea!’

  William waited politely to hear it but failed to look much impressed when I declared, ‘I am going to paint Weesy’s portrait for Mama.’

  Of course, he is far too young to understand.

  Sitting myself down in front of a large blank sheet of paper, I faltered immediately. The sheet was so empty and the picture that I wanted to paint, which was tucked away in the safety of my mind, was flawless.

  I had realised that my mother’s grief was made unbearable when she failed to see Weesy after she died. That was why Papa rejected his own sighting, that time he had returned from his trip. All Mama had was that moment of confusion and horror as Papa pulled down the lid of the coffin, shutting away Weesy’s face forevermore.

  Well, I would capture her for Mama. I would bring her back. There were no paintings of Weesy so it was up to me. Oh, if this painting was what I wanted it to be, Papa would have it framed and hang it in the front room, alongside our ancestors. ‘There,’ Mama would say, to her visitors, with pride and affection. ‘There was my little daughter who died but is now here again thanks to her sister Ann.’