Mortal Ghost

by Lowe, L. Lee

  ‘Well, there was my great-aunt Gerd, who didn’t make it past seventy-three. But I think being eaten by a lion while on safari in Africa doesn’t quite count as diet-related.’

  ‘You’re dubbing me,’ protested Jesse.

  ‘Not at all. Like I’ve said, I come from a long line of Norse adventurers. Now eat up while I tell you what I’ve got planned for the rest of the afternoon.’

  Jesse applied himself to his steak, which the waiter had just served with a straight face and a little flourish. His eyes twinkled, though.

  After a few minutes of silence, Finn emptied the wine bottle into his glass, drank, and hid his belch somewhere between a cough and a snort, followed by a sheepish grin. ‘Too long in the wilderness.’ The chunk of baguette remaining on his plate slowly crumbled under his fingertips.

  ‘You’re not going back, you know,’ Finn said at last.

  ‘Back?’ asked Jesse. ‘Back where?’ He had a pretty good idea what Finn meant, however.

  ‘Back to the street. It’s no solution.’

  Jesse put down his fork and knife, took a long drink of his coke; with a forefinger began to connect the dots of condensation on his glass till he caught sight of Finn’s pursed lips and tapping fingers. There were few pictures concealed from Finn’s eye.

  ‘If I found a full-time job, I could afford a room somewhere.’

  ‘Just how old are you, Jesse? Last time I asked, you hedged.’

  ‘Nearly seventeen.’

  ‘You belong in school.’

  ‘I’d have to register with the authorities. I’m never going to let social services get hold of me again. Never.’

  ‘It might not be that bad, if someone like Meg were involved. You’re entitled to support and an education, you know.’

  ‘The public library will do fine for an education. They can keep their money.’

  ‘Easy to say when you’re sixteen. Not so easy when you’re thirty and still sweeping someone’s yard for a fiver.’

  ‘Better that than their mind-fucks and lockups.’

  ‘Come off it, you’re way too smart to spout that rubbish. The very worst would be shared accommodation, but there are other options. And not all social workers are incompetent. Or sadists. We’re not talking concentration camp here.’

  Jesse snorted. ‘You’ve got no bloody idea.’

  An expression that Jesse had not seen before crossed Finn’s face. Jesse felt ashamed of himself. He had no right to talk to Finn like that. What did he really know about Finn’s life? He’d lost a son, hadn’t he? Jesse had no patent on suffering.

  ‘Look, I’m sorry. It’s just that I’ve had my fill of fostering. There are some really screwed-up people in on the game.’

  ‘No, don’t apologise. You’re right. I was being officious, condescending. I can’t possibly know what you’ve gone through. You’d think I’d have learned my lesson.’ A pause. ‘With Peter, Sarah’s brother.’

  Jesse picked at his leftover chips, now cold and unappealing, before blurting out, ‘What happened to him?’

  Finn raised his wineglass and tilted it against the light, studying it for so long that Jesse thought he wouldn’t answer. But the answer, when it came, came all at once, like a bottle shaken, then uncorked.

  ‘Peter was one of those bright and charismatic kids who seemed destined to sail through life without a squall—good at school, even better at sport, popular, nice-looking, girls, a talented artist. I was away a lot, took it all for granted.’ A few drops of wine dripped onto the tablecloth, and Finn set the glass down. ‘Expected too much from him, too, I suppose.’

  It seemed impossible for Finn to have been a bad father. What could have gone wrong?

  Finn blinked a few times and continued, ‘I’m not sure exactly when it began to fall apart. He started staying out later and later, missing school, becoming surly and uncommunicative, sleeping for hours at a time during the day. Often not coming home at all. We kept hoping we could cope on our own. It got worse, then much worse. Meg and I—well, no marriage is that impregnable. In the end we knew we needed help. We tried to insist on counselling. There were huge bloodcurdling fights. He broke things. Stole things. One half-term when he’d just turned seventeen he left. We never saw him again.’ Finn took a long draught of his wine.

  Jesse spoke softly. ‘How did he die?’

  ‘I don’t know if you want to hear this. You’ve got more in common with us than you realise.’

  ‘I want to hear.’

  ‘Peter was found burnt to death in a squat, along with several bodies. We don’t know exactly what happened, but they were able to identify him through DNA sequencing, though not all of the others.’ Finn was quiet for a moment, his pain louder than words. ‘So tell me, is that what you want? From day to day not knowing where you’ll sleep, what you’ll eat, whether you’ll be beaten or raped or worse by morning?’

  The minutes passed as they stared at each other. Jesse dropped his eyes first.

  ‘No,’ Jesse muttered. ‘No, that’s not what I want.’

  ~~~

  ‘What happened?’ Jesse asked, crouching down to look at Nubi’s leg.

  Nubi was lying on a blanket in the kitchen, his rear left leg splinted and bandaged, his pelvis taped. The vet had administered a painkiller and sedative, so Nubi soon dropped his head back onto his paws. Jesse stroked his bony head, then behind his ears, and murmured ‘good boy’ over and over again.

  ‘It was my fault,’ Sarah said. ‘I hadn’t bothered with the lead, and he tore across the street just as a car was coming. We were lucky that the driver saw him and braked so fast.’ She took an uneven breath, and Jesse could tell that she was still shaken by the accident. ‘I never realised an animal could scream like that, Jesse. I was so scared.’

  There was no point in accusing her of carelessness. She felt guilty enough as it was. Who was he to cast stones anyway? He remembered how he’d tried to drive Nubi off that first morning.

  ‘Look, it’s going to be OK, isn’t it?’ he said, looking up from Nubi’s side. ‘It’s only a broken leg.’

  Sarah shook her head. ‘The vet said it’s a nasty break, and she’s not sure if it’ll heal properly. The bone’s in several pieces.’ Her voice roughened on the last words, and she paused for a short while before continuing. ‘She wants to see Nubi tomorrow, after I talk with my parents. They have to agree. Surgery’s needed to put in a metal plate and screws, and it’s going to be expensive.’

  Jesse tightened his lips. More debts.

  ‘Which bone is it?’ he asked.

  ‘The thigh bone,’ she said. ‘The vet showed me the x-rays.’

  ‘The distal femur.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s what she called it.’

  ‘Any other injuries?’

  ‘No. In that way we’re lucky. No ruptures, no internal bleeding, no head trauma to speak of. Just a lot of bruising, some superficial cuts.’

  Jesse ran his hand lightly over Nubi’s fur while he considered. He didn’t like the tranquillisers, which often had an unpredictable effect on him. But it couldn’t be helped. Since he’d have to wait until they were alone, with no chance of interference, some of the drugs might have worn off by then, or at least diminished in potency. And this time he’d make sure he had something sweet on hand.

  Jesse rose. ‘When’s your dance class?’

  ‘Maybe I’d best skip it.’

  ‘Go. I’ll stay with Nubi.’

  Sarah bit a fingernail. ‘Are you really OK with that?’

  ‘Yeah. But will you do me a favour? Buy some chocolate on the way back?’ He grinned. ‘Lots of chocolate.’

  ‘There’s plenty left from Finn’s trip.’ Some of the tension left her face. ‘He won‘t mind.’

  ‘The ordinary stuff will do. Please.’

  Sarah stopped biting her fingernails, a smile flirting with her lips. She was standing like a stork, one leg tucked up behind the other. Jesse didn’t understand how she could remain so utterly still without los
ing her balance. He thought it must have something to do with inner calm, though she was anything but tranquil at the moment. A dancer’s trick, then. He had a momentary urge to touch her, not roughly, just enough to see how well she could maintain the position. He must have made a small movement with his hand, because her eyes flitted towards it, then away again. She turned her head but not before he saw her smile widen, and a flash of pleasure—triumph?—ignite behind her eyes.

  He remembered Mick.

  ‘Where did you go with Mick?’ he slashed, his voice like a jagged bottle. And then drawing blood. ‘Too busy to look after Nubi?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Mick. You do remember Mick, don’t you?’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Her raised leg thumped to the floor.

  ‘You met Mick this afternoon, didn’t you?’

  ‘What is this with you about Mick? I told you that I’m not going out with him any longer, didn’t I? Not that it’s any of your business.’

  ‘Yeah, you told me all right.’

  ‘And just what is that supposed to mean?’

  ‘I don’t like being lied to.’

  ‘I don’t think I heard you right. Try saying that again.’

  Jesse felt a flimmer of doubt but it was too late to retract his words.

  ‘You don’t need to lie to me.’

  The contempt on her face hurt, impossible to pretend it didn’t. His suspicion that he might have made a mistake deepened. Tondi had her own agenda, plus a good measure of cunning.

  ‘Sarah—’ he said, but she didn’t give him a chance to finish. Without a word, she turned on her heel and stomped from the room. He was left with Nubi and the feeling that he needed a very long tiring swim—or a couple of aspirins. Neither of which he’d be able to get if he wanted to help Nubi.

  Chapter 14

  Jesse raised his head, but it took him a few moments to bring the room into focus, the place and time. He was kneeling at Nubi’s side. From the doorway Meg was watching them, her face pale and shadowed in the light spilling from the hallway. He remembered now. He’d turned off the kitchen lights to make it easier to concentrate. He laid his head on Nubi’s flank and breathed. He breathed.

  ‘You’re a healer, aren’t you?’ Meg asked.

  He was unable to speak.

  Meg crossed the room and crouched at his side, waiting quietly until his face had lost its mottled, watery green tinge. Then she rose again, switched on the overhead lights, and pulled out a chair for him.

  ‘Come, you need some tea.’ She gazed at him. ‘Some sugar.’

  ‘Is there any chocolate?’

  ‘I’ll fetch a box of the Swiss pralines.’

  Jesse shook his head. ‘Leave them. It’d be a shame, I’d eat the lot without even tasting them.’

  She smiled. ‘I’ve got a small stash of my own.’ She put the kettle on to boil and left the room.

  Jesse looked over at Nubi, who was dozing on his blanket. A more complicated break than the kestrel’s, so he was likely to sleep for a while yet. Jesse sighed; he abhorred sedatives. Not even Matthew’s medication had affected him like this. Then he grinned to himself—maybe an allergy?

  While he ate and drank, Meg sat with her own thoughts till he’d recovered enough for the trembling in his muscles to cease.

  ‘Have you done any healing?’ he asked.

  ‘My gift is different.’ She paused and broke off a piece of chocolate for herself, then pushed the chocolate bar back across the table. ‘There’s not much left. Eat it all,’ she said. ‘I was going to do spaghetti for supper, but if you can’t wait, I’ll make you something now.’

  Jesse grimaced. The thought of food made him queasy.

  ‘No, just this. Sarah’s promised to bring me some chocolate,’ then added in an undertone, ‘I think.’

  ‘So she knows?’

  He shook his head. ‘Only that I had a craving for chocolate.’

  A few coarse grains of demerara were scattered near the sugar bowl. Jesse prodded them with a fingertip. An ant would see what? Large craggy chunks of grit? A gift of the Great God Ant? An ecstatic chance? He brought his finger close and stared at the crystals clinging to his skin. He tried to imagine what it would be like not to wonder, not to have a life in his head. It was a damned lonely business, this noisy shuttered skulling. Yet without it . . . He licked his finger.

  ‘How did you know I can heal?’ he asked.

  ‘Because I can follow you in a bit.’

  ‘You’re always talking in riddles!’ he said crossly.

  ‘Would you prefer an equation? You, of all people?’

  He shrugged.

  ‘Empathy is not always a gift, you know. Sometimes it’s overwhelming . . . terrifying. And mostly it’s just frustrating.’

  ‘Are you warning me off?’ Jesse asked with an edge to his voice. Then he ducked his head and muttered, ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Don’t apologise, I’ve been known to throw things after some of my worst—well, Finn likes to call them trips to provoke me.’

  ‘Yeah, I’ve been wondering whether you use any of the hallucinogens in your little black bag.’

  Nonplussed, she stared at him for a moment. Then she chuckled.

  ‘Compared to you, I’m something like an ant asked to follow Shakespeare. It can crawl between the pages. It can trace the path of the printer’s ink. And it can certainly be crushed if you slam the book shut.’ With the edge of her hand she swept the sugar together into her palm, a movement as sweet and cruel as a sonnet. ‘But it will still find its way to the sugar from far off, won’t it?’ She brushed the crystals off into the sugar bowl.

  Jesse felt a crawling sensation along his skin. To hide his disquiet, he broke up the rest of the chocolate and ate it piece by piece, in between sipping his tea. Psychiatrists’ tricks, he tried to tell himself, but wasn’t reassured.

  Meg went to the back door and opened it, letting in a gust of cool air. It was still drizzling. The sky was grey and dull and featureless, hours from nightfall. The lights in the kitchen emphasised rather than dispelled the gloom.

  ‘I’ll cut some sweet peas,’ Meg said. ‘Their scent’s best at evening. The kitchen needs cheering.’

  ‘Would you like me to do it?’ Jesse asked.

  ‘No, it’s fine. I like to get out in the garden as often as I can, among things that are growing.’ She smiled. ‘As you are.’

  He raised a sardonic eyebrow, but she didn’t seem to mind. If anything, she was amused—quietly appreciative, as though they were sharing a good joke.

  ‘Give it time, Jesse. You’ll grow into it. The mind has many rooms, and strangely painted doors, which my straighter colleagues think of as mere synapses. Some are bound to be dead ends. And others . . . who knows?’

  She opened a drawer and took out a pair of scissors.

  ‘I’ll be very interested to see how you develop. You might not want to hear this, but yours is the most powerful mind I’ve ever come across.’

  ‘There are lots of smart people out there.’

  ‘You know that’s not what I’m talking about.’

  He ran his hands through his hair, once, then a second time. When he spoke, his tone was convincingly offhand. ‘Will you tell Finn?’

  ‘About the healing?’ Meg regarded him for a long moment. ‘I give you my word, only if it’s ever absolutely necessary.’

  She took down an old, drab olive rain cape from a hook behind the door and shrugged it over her head, then kicked off her shoes. Another person who liked to walk barefoot in the rain. She picked up a basket that had seen years of good use, laid the scissors inside, and hooked it into the crook of her arm. At the threshold she turned back to look at him.

  ‘Never doubt that the mind is real, Jesse.’

  She closed the door with a soft click and walked out into the rain.

  ~~~

  ‘How touching,’ said Sarah from the doorway.

  Seated at the table, Jesse was handing Meg flowers one by
one, which she was arranging in a vase. A pot of tea steamed gently in front of him, a book lay open to his left. The kitchen was filled with the rich smell of garlic and tomato and oregano.

  Sarah sauntered across the kitchen to lift the saucepan lid, releasing an even greater assault on her empty stomach so that it gave a plaintive growl, and with a wooden spoon stirred the sauce, prolonging the activity with just the right dramatic timing—not too short to go unnoticed, not too long to become absurd—then stomped over to Jesse and tossed her fistful of Cadbury bars onto the table, not caring if they broke into pieces—wanting them to break.

  Nubi had raised his head when Sarah came into the kitchen. He seemed much more alert. Still without another word she went to stroke him. To her astonishment he rose to all fours and shook himself. Not only had the sedative worn off, but he was paying no more heed to his injured leg than to his leather collar. She set her chin. She’d be damned if she’d ask him. It would be easy enough to tackle her mother on her own afterwards.

  ‘How was your class?’ Meg asked.

  ‘Fine.’

  ‘Was Thomas there?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘We’ll be eating in fifteen minutes.’

  ‘Not hungry.’

  Meg dealt with schizophrenia and severe depression and bipolar disorder and autism on a daily basis. A little temper tantrum didn’t even register on her radar screen.

  ‘No problem.’ Meg turned to Jesse. ‘Would you mind fetching Finn up from the office?’ She was careful not to look at the intercom.

  But Sarah also knew a thing or two about mothers. ‘I’ll do it. I’m going anyway.’

  She turned on her heel and left, closing the door behind her. Not slamming it, just letting it make a nice loud statement.

  ~~~

  Jesse thought he’d have a look at the games on the laptop before going to check on Nubi. He loaded the chess program and played a few games. Despite his fatigue, he trawled easily through the advanced level but left grandmaster for another time. No matter how much he ridiculed himself, he remained stubbornly loathe to lose to a machine. He had a rapid look at the other games, all pretty much standard fare. He’d have a go at them eventually—he enjoyed a good cop chase as much as the next bloke, so long as it stayed virtual. Smart people didn’t tangle with the police, ever.