Mortal Ghost

by Lowe, L. Lee

  ‘The abstracts in the sitting room were photographed near the waterfall,’ he said. ‘There’s a lot that can be done just within a three-kilometre radius of the cottage.’

  ‘You didn’t bring a camera,’ Matthew said.

  ‘Not today. This trip is for Jesse.’ He glanced out the window. ‘I’m introducing him to biking. If it doesn’t start to rain again, I’d like to let him have a go on his own.’ He turned to Jesse. ‘There are kilometres of private road throughout the woodland. It’s a very extensive property.’

  ‘My uncle’s been having the track near the ancient quarry cleared and widened. There’s a good-sized flattish bit where Jesse could practise,’ Matthew said.

  ‘Good idea,’ Finn said.

  ‘Are you going to light that thing?’ Matthew asked, pointing at the pipe. ‘If so, I’ll fetch an ashtray.’

  ‘Maybe later.’ Finn poured himself another cup of tea from the pot. ‘Driving back tonight?’

  ‘Tomorrow morning. Or did you want some privacy?’

  ‘You don’t live here all the time?’ Jesse asked.

  Matthew shook his head.

  ‘Matthew often stays in the city, at his uncle’s boathouse, when he’s not—’ Finn looked down into his mug.

  ‘When I’m not in hospital.’

  They were silent for a few minutes, listening to the low crackling of the fire.

  ‘Mind if I smoke?’ Jesse asked when the smell of the burning wood became insistent, and uncomfortable.

  ‘Only in so far as I know what cancer’s like,’ Matthew said. ‘There are faster—and less painful—ways to kill yourself. Pills, for one. Or jumping off the Old Bridge, which would be a touch more melodramatic. And add to the legends whispered about the bridge.’

  ‘Don’t be so bloody morbid, Matthew,’ Finn said.

  ‘Morbid? Me? Because I’ve got my pills hoarded? I call it being a good boy scout. Suicide is a perfectly legitimate option . . . sometimes.’

  Jesse hesitated. He’d forgotten how blunt Matthew could be. But Matthew picked up Finn’s lighter and tossed it across to Jesse.

  ‘Go on, then,’ he said. ‘If you must.’

  But Jesse left his cigarettes in his pocket. He was not stopped by the prospect of cancer in some far distant future. Nor was he intimidated by Matthew. It was the flash of grief that he’d seen in Matthew’s eyes, perhaps not for himself, but for all the stupid and senseless and destructive things people do to themselves with the little time they’re given.

  And Finn in those few minutes of shared silence had watched Peter sawing planks of wood for Matthew, loping off with his sketchbook towards the lake, throwing a stick to a golden-coated dog.

  ‘Where’s Daisy?’ Finn asked.

  ‘Out chasing lemmings,’ Matthew said.

  ‘Forgot to buy dog food again, have you?’ Finn asked.

  They laughed, and Jesse helped himself to another biscuit.

  ‘Those are Peter’s things, aren’t they?’ Matthew asked. ‘It’s about time they were used.’ Mortality was a fact of life for him, not a nasty little secret to be kept hidden in a cupboard.

  ~~~

  Jesse managed not to overturn the motorcycle, and he only stalled the engine twice. Finn had him practise starting till he could do it smoothly; the first few times he forgot about the kill switch, then tried to start the engine while in gear. He had some trouble coordinating clutch and throttle. Eventually he was able to drive in a wide circle without wobbling, though he still didn’t trust himself entirely with the gear shifter. Leaning to make a turn and braking seemed to come naturally to him, but smooth throttle operations were less successful.

  Jesse removed his helmet and flicked back his hair. There was a line of sweat along his brow. He’d forgotten what it was like for someone to believe in you.

  ‘That’s enough for now,’ Finn said. ‘It’s a big bike, and it would have been easier to start out on a scooter or at least a lighter machine. We’ll work on changing gears, then swerving and emergency braking the next couple of times I take you out, before you try to get up any speed.’

  Jesse mopped his face with his hand.

  ‘You did fine, Jesse. Remind me someday to tell you about my first afternoon on a motorbike.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘Not now. I have to be very drunk to recount the story. Hop on, and we’ll go back to the cottage.’

  ‘Do you mind if I make my own way back? I’d like to walk through the wood, maybe go down to the lake.’

  Finn glanced at his watch. ‘I can’t be away for too long. How about if I run you down to a path that leads to the waterfall, and you walk back along the lake by yourself? Will that do for today?’

  Jesse nodded.

  ‘Good,’ said Finn. ‘There are some things I need to go over with Matthew.’

  ‘He’s a very unusual man.’

  ‘How much has he told you about himself?’

  ‘Very little. We don’t talk much while we work.’

  ‘That’s like him. He’s as open as can be about his illness, but there’s a lot he leaves out. He was studying architecture when they discovered his cancer. It changed everything for him. His father was devastated. Matthew’s an only child, and his mother died when he was eleven. Of a brain tumour,’ Finn said.

  ‘Shit.’

  ‘There’s more. Aside from the arm, I mean. He was living with a woman. It had been a few years, they’d talked about getting married, kids were being mentioned. Within six weeks of the diagnosis, she was gone. Packed her clothes and her books and her cat and moved in with someone else. She couldn’t deal with illness, not serious illness. Fatal illness. In a way I could understand her. When I didn’t feel like throttling her.’ He gave a small flat laugh. ‘Her name was Daisy. To this day I can’t figure out whether it was longing or bitterness that made Matthew name his dog after her.’

  ‘Or masochism.’

  ‘Know something about that, do you?’

  There was an uncomfortable silence. After a moment Jesse turned and looked towards the open face of the quarry. Not once had he thought to ask Matthew about his life. It would be easy for Jesse to pretend that it was out of delicacy, but he’d be fooling himself. He’d been too preoccupied with his own thoughts, his own issues. He swallowed, his mouth tasted sour. He thought of Mal, who had needed those model ships; the glass bottles had contained a message for Jesse that he’d refused to decrypt.

  ‘But Matthew adopted Daisy—most people underestimate a husky’s needs, and she’d been turned over to the RSPCA—and started work on the narrowboat. He’s got a little family money and probably not a whole lot of time, but he’s one of the sanest men I know. Dying teaches you how to live, he always says.’ Finn paused for a moment, examining Jesse’s profile, then braved, ‘If I were trapped in a burning building, there’s no one I’d rather have trying to reach me, one arm and all.’

  Without a word Jesse strapped on his helmet and went to stand by the Harley until Finn joined him.

  ~~~

  It was a struggle not to go for a swim—a struggle which Jesse quickly lost. Ten minutes, he told himself, no more. He looked round, but of course there was no one in sight. He stripped, debating whether to leave anything on, then decided for once against it. He didn’t mind if a trout or badger caught a glimpse of him.

  He’d picked a spot where he wouldn’t have to fight his way through a thicket of reeds or clamber over rocky ground to reach the water’s edge. Tossing back his hair, he stepped quickly through the coarse grass at the bank, scanned for underwater hazards, and pushed off from the gently sloping shelf. The lake was cold, but no colder than he was used to.

  Jesse struck out for the centre of the lake. He’d have to leave the waterfall for another time. If he swam the circumference of the lake, he could probably locate the outlet, unless it were far underwater. The lake must flow into the river, eventually into the sea. As his arms parted the water with his unhurried stroke, strong and true as an eleg
ant theorem, he pictured the cells his body was right now giving up to the water—a little skin, some sweat, a hair or two, his spit, his pee—and which would in time arrive at the coast. How strange that he might encounter part of himself there, when he finally reached it. And part of how many others, too? He’d never thought of it that way before. What had Sarah said? Some places carry an imprint. Who knew what complex codes were still to be deciphered in the most ordinary stuff?

  He rolled over onto his back. Idly he flicked the water with his fingers. What am I doing here? he asked himself. What are any of us? A few raindrops sprinkled his face, scribbled on the surface of the lake. He laughed: getting wet. The universe’s answer to our frantic scrabble for meaning. He wished Sarah were here to share the joke with him. Then he remembered her scorn—her hurt. He flipped over and slid beneath the surface of the water. Apologise, you fool. The resounding silence of the lake offered no rebuke—but no absolution either.

  On the bank Jesse rubbed his hands along his limbs to warm and dry them. He squeezed out the excess water from his hair, combed it back with his fingers. He’d pulled on his pants, though his skin was still a little damp, and was reaching for his T-shirt when he heard a soft footfall behind him. Quickly he turned to hide his back from view.

  ‘Cold?’ Finn asked.

  ‘Not too bad.’

  Neither spoke for a moment.

  ‘I reckon you’ve seen them,’ Jesse said. ‘The scars on my back.’

  ‘From the fire?’

  Jesse nodded.

  And that was that.

  Finn picked up a stone and skipped it neatly across the surface of the lake. Quickly Jesse donned his clothing, leaving the leather jacket unzipped. He checked for the top, then searched the ground. At the water’s edge he found a handful of smooth pebbles.

  ‘Challenge?’ he asked.

  Finn broke into a wide grin. ‘Loser gets to climb up on the roof.’

  ‘Even as a forfeit that’s rather extreme.’

  ‘I’m serious, there’s a broken tile to replace before we leave. I don’t want Matthew doing it on his own. That’s why I came to fetch you. One of us needs to hold the ladder.’ He hiked his leather trousers, then rubbed his hands together gleefully. ‘I hope you’re not afraid of heights. Years ago I was Olympic gold medallist in ducks and drakes.’ He looked up at the clouds. ‘Come on, it looks as if the sky has got a bellyache.’

  ‘Prepare for your ignominious defeat,’ Jesse said. He divided up the stones and let Finn choose the pile he preferred.

  ~~~

  ‘You won’t beat me next time,’ Jesse said.

  ‘Is that so? Then perhaps a little timely practice might be in order,’ Finn said.

  They smiled amicably at each other as they went to fetch the ladder.

  ~~~

  ‘Matthew! What are you doing up there?’

  Matthew jerked at the sound of Finn’s voice, and the ladder on which he was standing wobbled. Then, in excruciating slow motion, exactly as in a film, it began to tilt. There’s one single instant when it seems the fall could be prevented. Loki peers at the board, cradles the dice—he loves to play Snakes and Ladders. And what better chance? Matthew, suspended in mid-air, carried by the sudden breathless silence, the silent breath of wind. Jesse sees the tiny figure clinging with one arm to the Lego ladder. Hovering far above, he sees the toy dog, the bearded man with wide staring eyes and a round O of a mouth, and the blond boy. His merciless vision tells him that even with his speed he cannot reach the man soon enough to pluck him safely from the ladder—from the game. All he can do is adjust, fractionally, the trajectory. And so he flaps his wings, once, and tugs at the air, rises in a fierce steep climb, and is gone.

  Matthew landed unharmed in the bales of straw. Once he’d recovered his breath, he stared at Jesse. ‘Just before I fell, I saw you enter the kestrel,’ he whispered.

  ~~~

  Jesse closed his book and stretched. Time for a jog in the park, maybe along the river. As soon as Nubi could run properly, they’d go after dark; even better, after midnight. Jesse missed the deep solitude of night, its timelessness; its spatial singularity.

  There was a faint but enticing smell seeping under the door. Could Meg be home already? She’d said that she was taking on extra duty in order to have a few days off next week to clear out the attic. A daunting task. He’d stay that long, certainly.

  There was still the road, and the sea.

  Jesse glanced at Nubi, who was stretched out theatrically with his broken leg on display, and snorted. Another performer. The bandage was past its best by date: grubby and starting to unravel. Nubi wouldn’t leave off tearing at it with his teeth. Finn was taking them by car to the vet day after tomorrow.

  There was still the sea.

  Nubi would be a good travelling companion. It wouldn’t always be easy to feed him, but people trusted you more readily with a dog—or left you alone.

  There was still the sea.

  Jesse rubbed a hand across his eyes. Matthew’s face had begun to flesh out already, and to lose its telltale translucence, if not the deep lines of pain. And he was paying Jesse more than he should. It was time to look for a second job, a room (though Finn would be hurt). At least until the primary tumour deep inside Matthew’s head had shrunk.

  There was still the sea.

  He’d promised himself to swim the lake. Just as Sarah had promised to tell him what Peter had been like. Promises . . .

  And there was still the sea.

  Someone knocked, a quiet and tentative sound.

  ‘Come in,’ Jesse called out.

  Sarah opened the door, a plate in her hands.

  ‘I’ve baked some brownies,’ she said with a hesitant smile. ‘Want to try them?’

  She was dressed in her usual jeans and T-shirt, but she looked different somehow—softer, more troubled. There were dark rings under her eyes, and her freckles stood out. She had very long feathery eyelashes, he noticed. Like Nubi’s. He grinned to himself at the comparison. But Nubi had very pretty eyes.

  ‘What is it?’ she asked, seeing his lips twitch.

  ‘I was just thinking about your eyes,’ Jesse answered. Immediately he wanted to thwack himself on the forehead. What a stupid thing to say.

  Sarah didn’t seem to find it so bad. She coloured some, but her smile became less hesitant, and she prodded his chest with the plate. ‘Come on, try one. They’re good.’

  ‘Mm,’ he said, chewing slowly and luxuriously, his mouth having decided it had arrived at the garden of Eden. Apple? Adam hadn’t had a clue.

  ‘What did you call them?’ Jesse asked.

  ‘Brownies,’ Sarah repeated. ‘They’re American.’

  ‘No,’ he said as he reached for another, ‘they’re Divine.’

  They settled on Jesse’s bed, eating without saying much. Very soon the brownies were finished. Jesse picked up the last crumbs from the plate with a fingertip. He sighed and lay back with his arms under his head, his eyelids heavy. Just now he would tell her he was sorry. And maybe he’d wait until later to go out. He was full and warm and a bit sleepy. He could feel his mind slip its moorings, adrift on the wavelets lapping against their old dock. A gentle breeze ruffled his hair. Thistle-light it brushed his skin. He opened his eyes just as Sarah touched her lips to his. Her long hair swung across his face like a fresh gust of wind.

  Her eyes were wide, liquid. With one arm Jesse reached up and buried his hand in her hair, pulled her into the kiss. The scent of chocolate lingered on her breath. He felt his body stirring. Her small breasts nestled against his chest. He tightened his hand in her hair. She shifted against him, and a line of heat raced from his mouth to his groin. Her heart drumming. A sound like tearing silk in his throat. Could she feel his erection, how did you tell with a girl, if he touched her, would it be springy like Liam’s or more like fine new grass, soft and full and lush they must be to call them lips, warm too, moist there where she’d let Mick . . . his mind buckled like a meta
l girder being torn from its rivets.

  ‘No,’ he cried. ‘No.’

  Jesse pushed her away and sat up. His face was blotched, his breathing uneven.

  Sarah rolled onto her side, her face hidden from him. Neither of them said a word. Jesse became aware that her shoulders were trembling. He waited till he could lever himself upright, sat for a moment with his hands between his knees, then rose and went to the window. He gripped the sill, looking out. A few smudges of blue were leaking into the clouds. Briefly a finger of sunlight poked its way through the canvas, gilding everything it touched before being swallowed up again by greyness. He leaned his head against the windowpane, the glass cool on his forehead.

  Only when Jesse heard the door shut softly did he realise Sarah had left the room.

  Chapter 16

  Pleased by Nubi’s quick recuperation, the vet removed the splint.

  ‘What a clever lad. He’s broken all the rules,’ she said, scratching Nubi behind his ears and feeding him a handful of treats. ‘If it weren’t patently impossible, I’d swear he’s grown younger as well.’

  Finn was about to joke about Jesse’s magic touch when he got a glimpse of Jesse’s face.

  ‘Let’s not bother cooking just for the two of us,’ Finn said as they left the surgery. Sarah had another evening class and Meg was on duty at the hospital. ‘There’s a place near the boatyards I think you’ll like. We’ll see if Matthew’s around. He can join us.’

  ‘What about Nubi? He’s not allowed in a restaurant, is he?’

  ‘Don’t worry about it.’

  ~~~

  ‘Hairy Spider’s place?’ Matthew asked when they removed the scraper forcibly from his hand. ‘OK, why not? I suppose my ears can take it for once.’ He went to clean himself up.

  ‘Hairy Spider?’ Jesse asked.

  ‘That’s just our nickname for Siggy. The owner.’ Finn grinned but refused to elaborate.

  Matthew left Daisy in the boathouse. ‘She’s used to it. Terrific deterrent. Nobody likes to tangle with a wolf. They’ve got no idea that she’s really a marshmallow, do they, sweetheart?’ he said, addressing the last to Daisy.