The Write Dream (Storage Ghosts)

by Gillian Larkin

  Grace shoved his hand away. “Haven’t you got anything else to do? I can handle unpacking on my own.”

  “You don’t even look as if you’re fully awake. Why do you keep looking around the shop? If you’re looking for that old teapot it’s in the kitchen.”

  “I wasn’t looking for it.” Grace remembered something. “Have you put your new video clip online yet? The one with Sylvester Sylver?”

  Frankie dropped a box on the floor. “I’d completely forgotten about that! Did Sylvester look good? What am I saying? He always looks good.”

  Grace decided to add a little lie to speed up Frankie’s exit. “He seemed very interested in what you were doing. I think he might like to see the video. You could email him a link to your site. He might even become one of your followers.”

  Frankie left the shop so quickly that Grace thought she could see speed lines behind him. She heard him thunder up the stairs as he raced towards his room. He was still living in the stock room even though he now had enough money to pay rent somewhere. He’d told Grace that he’d got used to the short commune to work. Grace knew he just couldn’t be bothered moving his things to somewhere new.

  Grace carried on unpacking Marie’s things.

  She had a lovely collection of clothes and jewellery. Grace didn’t want to put them on the shelves in case they found Marie’s son. Perhaps she could take the items home with her and tell Frankie that they needed repairing before they could sell them. She could keep them safe then.

  Grace came to the box with Andrew’s notebooks in. She opened up the first one. A child’s higgledy piggledy writing covered the first page. Grace could just make out the words ‘teddy bear’. A sudden chill shot through her. How old was Andrew? It wouldn’t be easy to track down a child, and then speak to him.

  “That was his first story.” Marie appeared at Grace’s side. “He was determined to learn how to write. He used to practise his letters over and over. I think the teddy bear in this story was called Fred and he loved jam sandwiches.”

  “How old is Andrew?” Grace asked.

  Marie gave her a sad smile. “He’ll be 19 now. He was 14 when I died. It was cancer. Came on too quick to do anything about it.”

  Grace could see that it was hurting Marie to talk about her own death. She wondered when it became easier for ghosts to talk about such things.

  Grace turned the page of the book. Her eyes widened. “Wow! He was good at drawing, he’s even put the fur on Fred.”

  “That was me. I was his official illustrator. He wrote the stories and insisted that I drew the pictures. Teddy bears were easy, you should see some of his later work! I had to draw imaginary worlds.”

  Grace flicked through the book. She nodded as Andrew’s writing became clearer. Fred, the teddy bear, was soon joined by fellow teddy bears. They went on adventures together, including a trip to Space.

  Marie pointed to an illustration. “Fred went into Space to visit Bramble Planet, it had the best strawberry jam in the Universe. Fred had to use all his teddy bear cunning to get some jam from there.”

  Grace laughed. “It sounds like he had a great imagination. Are your thoughts becoming clearer yet about him? Do you know why he needs help?”

  Marie tapped the notebook. Her finger went straight through. “It’s something to do with his writing. If we could find him then I might have a better idea. He should be at university by now. He’d already made a list of the ones he wanted to go to, the ones with the best creative writing courses. He knew he was going to be a writer. Maybe he’s already had some work published! Can we check online, I’m sure we’ll find his name somewhere.”

  “Okay, that’s a good idea.” Grace closed the notebook and put it back in the box. She walked over to the counter and reached underneath. “I’ve got a new laptop. Frankie, my brother, got this for me. For some reason he didn’t want me to use his.”

  Grace gave Marie a quick grin and then powered up the laptop. “I’ve been on his laptop before. I know what he looks at, I always feel the need to wash my hands afterwards. Does Andrew have the same surname as you? Does he live nearby?”

  Marie joined Grace at the counter. “He has the same surname. My brother, Brian, was going to look after him. We’d arranged everything before I ... left.”

  Marie gave Grace Brian’s surname and address. Grace typed everything in.

  Marie smiled. “If I had any breath to hold I’d be holding it! I can’t wait to see how he’s doing with his writing.”

  Grace said, “I think I’ve found something.”

  She clicked an image. It flooded the screen.

  “No!” Marie shouted. “No! It can’t be!”

  Chapter 5

  The picture showed a smiling Andrew Braithwaite standing outside a shop. To his left were an older couple, also smiling. The name of the shop was ‘Thompson’s Security’.

  “What’s he doing there? Is this some sort of joke?” Marie said.

  Grace looked closer at the image, she clicked on a website link. It brought a smaller image up, along with some text. “This is a security business, his name is listed as an employee. Didn’t you say your brother’s name was Brian Thompson? Is that him in the picture?”

  Marie pressed her lips together tightly and nodded.

  Grace said, “Looks like the company belongs to him and his wife. Andrew seems to be working for them.”

  “It can’t be. He’s supposed to be at university. He’s going to be a writer. Why is working for Brian? And how did Brian manage to start his own business?”

  Grace said, “That’s a lot of questions. Things change in five years, perhaps Andrew is happy working with his uncle.”

  Marie shook her head vehemently. “Can’t you see it? The dark grey cloud around Andrew? It’s carrying his sadness. He might be smiling but he’s not happy.”

  Grace peered at the picture. She admitted that his smile did seem a little forced. “I can’t see any grey cloud.”

  “It’s there. Something’s wrong. Something has happened to him. Where has his dream of being a writer gone?”

  Grace looked at Marie. She said as gently as she could, “Maybe he doesn’t want to be a writer any more.”

  “No! He was born to be a writer. You haven’t read his newer stories, he has an amazing imagination. Read those notebooks! Please, you’ll know what I mean then.”

  Marie had such an insistent look on her face that Grace said, “Okay, but you need to know that losing a parent, or parents, can change a person’s life. They don’t think about things the same way.”

  Marie gave her a searching look. In a softer voice she said, “Oh, Grace, I’m sorry. You lost your mum and dad, didn’t you? I can see the sadness surrounding you now.”

  Grace waved a hand and tried to smile. “I’m dealing with it. Let’s look at those notebooks again.”

  Grace laid the notebooks out on a table. “Which one should I look at?”

  Marie put her hand on a purple book. Grace put her hand on top of Marie’s, hoping that something would happen. Something had happened before when she’d touched something at the same time as a ghost.

  Grace’s hand sunk through Marie’s and rested on the book.

  Marie’s eyes widened. “Grace, what’s happening? Where has your shop gone? Where are we?”

  Grace looked around at her new surroundings. “It looks like we’ve gone inside Andrew’s book. Don’t worry, it’s just a vision. I’ve helped ghosts before and this is what happens. Nobody can see or hear us. We can move our hands off the book now.”

  Grace and Marie gazed in wonder at the scenery surrounding them.

  “We’re in your picture,” Grace said.

  Marie nodded. “I can’t believe it! That castle took me forever to draw. And over there is the cave where the Dragon Lord sleeps. What’s happening now? I can hear a voice. Oh! It’s Andrew’s!”

  Grace listened for a moment. “He’s narrating the story. Are you okay? You’re shaking.”

&nb
sp; Marie clutched her hands together. “It’s the shock of hearing his voice again. I’d forgotten about this story. Are we moving?”

  Grace nodded. The painted path beneath their feet seemed to be carrying them forward in the story.

  They listened as Andrew told the tale of a brave knight and his battle against the Dragon Lord. There were evil princesses, beautiful witches, talking owls and even dancing gnomes. Andrew made the story tie together beautifully. Grace gasped as the hero came up against yet another challenge, convinced this time that it was the end for him. But Andrew thought of a clever twist and the hero was soon on his way again.

  Marie stood taller as she listened to her son’s voice. Her chest seemed to be expanding as more pride was absorbed with the long forgotten words.

  The drama heated up and the hero had to face his biggest foe, the Dragon Lord.

  The story abruptly ended and Grace and Marie found themselves thrust back into the shop. It was so sudden that Grace fell to the floor, as if she’d been flung off a merry go round.

  She looked up at Marie. “What happened? Where did the story go?”

  Marie’s forehead wrinkled. “I don’t know. Unless... let me look at that story again. Andrew always put a date on them.”

  Marie inspected the book. She looked back at Grace, her face seemed to shimmer. In a quiet voice she said, “He wrote it just before I died. He never finished it.”

  Grace stood up and walked closer to Marie. Even though her arm hung in mid air Grace put it around Marie’s shoulder anyway. “I’m so sorry. He must have been overcome with grief.”

  “But he can’t just stop writing! I died 5 years ago. What if he’s never written anything else? What if his heart is dying because he’s doing a job he hates? Grace, what can we do?”

  “I need to speak to him. I don’t know what I’m going to say but I’ll think of something,” Grace said.

  “How will you get to speak to him? Will you ask him to come here?” Marie asked.

  Grace indicated her head towards the laptop. “I’ve got an idea.”

  Chapter 6

  At Grace’s home the next morning Marie paced up and down. She said, “Are you sure he’ll turn up? What if they send Brian?”

  Grace said, “I asked for the name of the person they were sending round. I told them I was worried about security and I didn’t want to let just anyone into my home. I must have sounded paranoid.”

  Marie stopped pacing. “What are you going to say to him? Are you going to tell him that you can see me?”

  Grace quickly shook her head. “I haven’t told anyone that I can see ghosts, and I’m not going to start now. I’ll think of something. I’ve got his story notebooks, maybe I can steer the conversation towards them. I’m glad you’re here. The other ghosts that I’ve talked to were attached to their items and were able to travel with them. I wasn’t sure if you would be attached to the notebooks.”

  Marie gave a little smile. “Must be my amazing pictures. Oh! I feel nervous!”

  There was a knock at the door.

  Grace gave Marie a reassuring look. “I’ll do what I can.”

  Grace opened the door to a smartly dressed young man, he had the same nose and eyes as Marie. Grace noted that the suit he was wearing seemed too big for him. Was he supposed to grow into it?

  He held his hand out. “Ms Abrahams? I’m Andrew Braithwaite. You called Thompson’s Security for a free security check?”

  Grace took his hand and shook it. “Yes! Thank you for fitting me in so soon. Do come in!”

  Andrew stepped through the door and wiped his feet. “Did the lady on the phone explain that I can only give you a quick security check? We’re inundated with work at the moment.”

  “Yes! Yes! A quickie should be fine!” Grace said in a voice that was far too high.

  Andrew gave her a searching look. He quickly glanced back at the closed door.

  Marie was at Grace’s side. She said, “Grace, you need to calm down, you’re scaring him.”

  I’m scaring myself, Grace thought.

  Marie said, “Look at him, so tall and grown up. He looks more like his dad than ever. But look at his eyes, there’s a sadness there.”

  Andrew gave a little cough. He said, “Where shall we start? With the survey. The front door perhaps?”

  “Yes, good place to start,” Grace said with a bright smile.

  Andrew turned his back to her and began to examine the door. He opened it to check the lock.

  Grace had a sudden fear that he would take off running down the street.

  She took a deep breath to calm herself down. She’d let him get on with the survey and chat to him in a general way, like normal people did.

  “Have you been doing this job long?” Grace asked in what she hoped was a normal voice.

  Andrew didn’t look up from his clip board. “About a year. I work for my auntie and uncle. It’s a family business. How long have you had this 3 lever mortice lock? It’s not the strongest one, I’d recommend a 5 or 7 lever.”

  “Oh, right, thank you,” Grace said. She waited a moment and said, “Didn’t you want to go to university? I thought most young people went these days.”

  Andrew wrote something down then closed the door. He turned back to Grace and said, “What’s the point? I knew I was going to end up working in the family business. And, as my Auntie Sharon says, university is for layabouts, people who can’t be bothered to get jobs. I might as well start working and earning money. Have you got another exit door? At the back or side?”

  Grace looked at Marie. She had a face like thunder. She seethed, “Those are not his words! He always wanted to go to university. I can’t believe Sharon would say that to him.”

  Grace showed Andrew the back door. He opened it and began his inspection. She said, “I went to university, I had the best time of my life. I made lots of friends and learnt so much. I certainly didn’t feel like a layabout!”

  She gave a forced laugh but Andrew didn’t join in. He closed the door and said, “The security on your doors is appalling, someone could easily kick them and gain entrance. I’ll put down recommendations on the survey for you. Can I look at your windows?”

  “Yes, follow me. As I was saying, university life was wonderful. Didn’t you ever consider going?”

  She stopped and looked at Andrew. He lowered his clipboard and gazed into the distance for a moment. The corner of his mouth raised slightly. He said, “I did have a dream of going a long time ago. I even knew which ones I wanted to try for.” He brought his look abruptly

  back to Grace and raised his board. “But, as Auntie Sharon says, dreams are for dreamers, there’s no place for them in the real world. Do you have key operated locks on your windows?”

  Grace was starting to hate Auntie Sharon with her negative words. She was obviously having a bad influence on Andrew.

  She took him into the living room, flicking a glance at his writing notebooks that she’d placed on the table in front of the sofa.

  Andrew looked at the windows, shaking his head slightly. Marie followed him everywhere, love shining out of her eyes. Grace’s heart twisted to see the love there, the love that Andrew would never see again.

  She quickly pushed away thoughts of her own parents, she didn’t have time to dwell on them and feel sorry for herself.

  Grace sat down on the sofa. She was determined to help Marie and Andrew somehow. But what if he was happy with his work? Could Marie accept that?

  Andrew put his pen in his pocket. He checked his watch. “I’ve finished the survey. I’ve got a couple of minutes to go through it, if you like?”

  “Please, and do sit down,” Grace said. She looked at the notebooks again. They were beginning to feel like unexploded bombs. Would Andrew notice them?

  Andrew sat down on the sofa and put the clipboard on the table, right in front of the books.

  Grace held her breath.

  Andrew said, “If I can draw your attention to the first line of the
survey.” He indicated towards the form on the clipboard.

  Grace gave a pretend squint and said, “Can you point to it? I haven’t got my glasses with me.”

  Andrew moved forward slightly and moved his pointed finger towards the form.

  Grace watched his eyes. They flicked off the form and towards the notebooks. Andrew’s pointed finger began to shake. His face turned as white as his mother’s.

  Chapter 7

  “What ... where did you get those?” Andrew asked, his eyes never leaving the notebooks.

  Grace hated lying to him but she could hardly tell him the truth. She’d just have to be as frugal with the truth as she could.

  “I found them in a storage unit. My brother’s been buying units and stocking the items in his shop. Well, it’s our shop really. Well, it used to be belong to ...”

  “I don’t understand it,” Andrew interrupted. He snatched the top notebook up. “It’s not possible, these can’t be mine.”

  Grace kept quiet as Andrew flicked through the pages. He finally looked at Grace. “These are mine. Where did you say you got them from?”

  “From a storage locker. There were other items in there too, personal things like clothes and jewellery. Do you know who they could belong to?”

  Andrew picked up another notebook and flicked through it. A small smile grew on his face. “I’d forgotten about these characters.”

  “I’ve had a look through them, you’re a talented writer. I love the illustrations.”

  The small smile died, Andrew put the notebook back. “Yeah, they are good.” He looked at his watch. “I have to go, I’ll leave this survey for you, my number’s at the top along with our office address. Thank you for contacting Thompson’s Security.”

  He stood up and fastened his suit jacket.

  Marie was at his side. “No! Don’t let him leave. Ask him about his writing!”

  Grace stood up too. “I love the story about the Dragon Lord but it isn’t finished. What happened? Did the hero win?”

  Andrew pursed his lips as if considering the matter. “I know what happens, I never got round to writing it.”