Like Father

by Nick Gifford

  “She’s not. She’s worse.”

  “Not possible.” A man stood in the doorway, short and thin, a Daily Mail in his hands. “Surely,” he added.

  “Hi, Dad,” said Cassie, staring at Danny with narrowed eyes. “You’re home early.”

  Out in the garden a few minutes later, they sat in the summer house, cans of Pepsi and their maths books spread out on a picnic table in front of them.

  “So your dad’s visiting, is he?” asked Danny. “He doesn’t look–”

  “What? Bent as a nine pound note?”

  “You said your parents had split up.” She was staring down at her exercise book, but he knew she wasn’t reading her work. He’d upset her. He’d messed things up.

  “Okay,” she said softly. “You found me out. My big dark secret. Every family has to have one, don’t they? A skeleton in the cupboard. You know what mine is? My big secret that I try to hide? It’s that I’m the ordinary, dull one. I’m an only child, with happily married parents, in a comfortable little picturebook cottage in a commuter village. Mum and Dad love me. We go on holiday every August, and every October half-term we stay with Nan in Prestatyn. It’s such an ordinary life. And then ... then I meet you and I’m like, how can I make myself seem interesting?”

  She looked away again. After a few seconds, she said, “Forgive me?”

  He shrugged. She confused him all the time, whether she was telling the truth or not. It didn’t make that much difference. “Maybe,” he said.

  “You can kiss me again later, if you want. Not now, though. Not here. Dad’d brain you. See him there in the window?” She waved at her father, who turned away from the window instantly.

  “I’ll think about it,” said Danny.

  “D’you believe in ghosts?” she said, sparking off in a completely new direction in that way of hers.

  “Hmm?”

  “Life after death, that kind of thing.”

  Rattled, he struggled for an answer.

  “There’s this cool website, that’s all. Do you have a computer at home?”

  “There’s one I use,” he said.

  “Cool. I’ll text you later. So: what’s yours?”

  Another change of tack. “My what?”

  “Dark secret. Everyone has one, like I say.”

  “You wouldn’t want to know.”

  “Go on,” she said, pushing him on the arm. “Tell me what it is. Give me a clue.”

  He shook his head. “Really,” he said. “You wouldn’t want to know.”

  ~

  Later, she walked with him from the house. At the top of Swiss Lane they came to the gap in the hedge where she had hidden from him last week. She stepped into the gap and he followed.

  She reached up, pulled his head down, kissed him. Longer this time and, briefly, their teeth scraped together.

  “I’ll text you,” she said.

  He left her in the hedge, and walked home, his head full of Cassie Lomax. Somehow, she had a way of breaking through all his carefully-constructed barriers. He didn’t know if that was a good thing or not.

  ~

  Back at home, Val was red-eyed with recent tears.

  She sat at the kitchen table with a glass of wine that was almost the same shade as her recently-hennaed hair.

  “Danny,” she said, brightening up as he came into the room. “Did you get your work done?”

  He nodded. “What’s up?” he said.

  She hesitated, and then slid her newspaper across the table towards him. It was the Echo, folded open to the National News page.

  He spotted the single paragraph instantly.

  Killer Appeals

  Anthony Smith, found guilty in 2001 of five murders, is to appeal against his conviction. Smith claims new evidence shows psychiatric reports used in his trial were misleading. His five mutilated victims, killed on a single night in April 2001, included Smith’s aunt and a close friend. No date has been set for the hearing.

  “It’s all opening up again,” said Val, sloshing the wine briskly around her glass. “I don’t want to lose all this.” She flicked her head, indicating the flat, the Hall, Hope Springs, their new life, in that single gesture. “I don’t want us to have to go through all that again.”

  “Nobody here knows,” said Danny. “Smith’s a common enough name. We’ll be okay.”

  As ever, it was Danny being calm, Danny taking control, Danny keeping things together. He always had to be the strong one.

  10 Spirit Talk

  Later, after they had eaten, Danny felt a vibration against his leg. He was in his room, in the window seat, looking out over the near-empty car park to where Sharmila and Luke and some of the others were helping a team put up the marquee on the lawn.

  He took the phone out. He had a message.

  Www.spirit-talking.co.uk CU there 2 chat? 6.30? ...C

  He had ten minutes.

  Ok. See you. D.

  He pulled his trainers on, and went out to the top of the stairs. He took the office key and headed down.

  He let himself in through the front doors of Wishbourne Hall. The polished tiles, the grand sweep of a staircase before him and the high ceiling always made him feel that he had stepped into some kind of stately home.

  There was a heavy wooden door to his right. He could see through the reception window that the office was empty. Although it was still sunny outside this evening, the office itself was in gloom, with only a little light slipping in through the narrow leaded windows.

  He turned the key in the lock and went inside. He often came in here to do his homework. The computer was handy for printing, scanning and its internet connection, but more than anything it was just ... not the flat.

  He pressed the power switch on the PC tower under the desk, and sat back in the swivel chair. No need to switch the light on. He looked around the office while the computer powered up.

  A short time later, he typed “www.spirit-talking.co.uk” into the address bar and pressed Enter.

  The site was slow to load over the Trust’s dial-up connection. A banner ad leapt into life first of all: “GENUINE PSYCHIC READINGS! AS SEEN ON TV”. Below the banner, an ornate stone-effect frame was revealing itself, and a photograph of a smiling man who looked like a dentist. “A big welcome to Spirit Talking, from your host, Dr Bob Walczinski,” it said under the smiling photograph.

  While the page was still loading, Danny clicked on the Frequently Asked Questions link. “What is a talk board?” the list of questions read. “How do the talk boards work? Is it safe? Who are the spirit hosts? Can using the talk boards help you develop your psychic abilities? Can I have a talk board on my website? What kinds of questions can I ask? Can the spirit hosts predict my future?”

  Danny checked his watch. He had a couple of minutes yet. He clicked on the first question, and it jumped down the page to where the question was repeated with a long paragraph of text below it. A talk board, according to the answer, was some kind of online cross between a ouija board, tarot cards and a chatroom. Log onto a talk board and you can talk directly to the inhabitants of the spirit world, and also to other people dumb enough to believe in all this garbage. That wasn’t exactly how it described it in the FAQ, though...

  He clicked Back, which returned him to the top of the page, and then clicked on “Is it safe?”

  It’s important to stress here that Talk Boards aren’t right for everyone (click here to arrange a consultation with one of our Qualified Practitioners). Approached with a Positive Attitude, our Boards are a good way for those new to Spirit Communication to get Involved. Remember: even if the Other Side does not call, our resident Spirit Hosts are there to interact with you so remember that your approach is vital - your Mental Energies set the tone. If your Energies are Negative you are sending an invitation to Bad or Mischievous Spirits. Any fears you have will be reflected right back at you if you are not Careful. It is a good idea to visit our Talk Boards with an experienced friend at first (we also provide this service
: click here for our Accompanied Chat option). So enter with Positivity and with a Friend and we wish you Well on your Spiritual Journey.

  LEGAL NOTICE: spirit-talking.co.uk and its sponsors take no responsibility for this site’s use or misuse or for any actions taken as a consequence.

  Danny’s phone buzzed against his thigh. Another message.

  Whr RU?! ...C

  He called her back.

  “Where are you?” she said, straight away. “I’ve been here for ages and I’m like, where is he?”

  “This website... what is it? What are you doing there?”

  “It’s cool,” said Cassie. “It’s got loads of chatrooms – what it calls talk boards. Have you ever used a chatroom?”

  No. But before he could answer, she had moved on.

  “So you can hang out with all kinds of people. But the cool thing is that even when you’re alone there, the talk boards have what they call spirit hosts. They’re like those smart characters built into games, programmed to give what seem like wise answers to anything you ask. They’re a gas.”

  “But why?”

  “It’s fun. That’s why. And sometimes you can find out things about yourself, if you’re up for it. It’s the questions you ask that matter, not the answers. I know you’re not into all this stuff – I’ve seen your looks! Just humour me, okay? It’s somewhere we can get together and have a chat. And I mean chat, Danny Schmidt. It’s no good giving me your mysterious silences when we’re online. Do that in a chatroom and you might as well not be there. You have to put something in.”

  “Okay,” he said. He would humour her. She was trying to find ways to open him up, he realised. He still didn’t understand why she would want to try. “I’m there now,” he said. “On the Frequently Asked Questions. What do I do?”

  “Back to the home page, then ‘Talk Boards’. I’m in number seven. Look out for the duckling.”

  And she hung up.

  He did as she said.

  On the home page he paused. There was a big link in the centre which urged him to pick today’s card. He clicked and an image of a kind of playing card appeared on the screen. It was a picture card, showing a great wheel and what was presumably the Roman numeral, X. “X. Wheel of Fortune,” the text below the card read. “Make a wish and maybe you will be lucky.”

  More superstitious nonsense. He clicked Back, and then followed the link to the talk boards.

  It took him to a page where he was invited to sign in again, create a new log-in or enter as a guest. He chose the last option and was given the name Guest03. He chose “Talk Board #7” from the list, and waited while the chat software kicked in.

  It took him a few seconds to orientate himself. The main frame showed a list of the exchanges taking place in the room. According to the times listed, the last comment had been made three minutes ago: Dahlia telling Moondog that fools may well rush in but that means they get there first. Danny guessed that Dahlia must be one of the spirit hosts, and this one of its pre-programmed nuggets of wisdom.

  At the foot of the screen, there was an input form where Danny could type in his own contributions to the chatroom. And on the right there was a list of the room’s occupants: Dahlia, Moondog, Duckling and Guest03. On the main screen it said:

  Guest03 enters at 18.36BST

  Dahlia says: Welcome, Guest03.

  He typed a response, clicked Send and watched it appear on the screen.

  Guest03 says: hello

  Then he added:

  Guest03 says: hi, ducklng

  A pause, then a response.

  Duckling says: RU from this side or th Other?

  He realised his mistake. As he’d entered the chatroom as a guest she didn’t know who he was. Assuming, of course, that “Duckling” was Cassie.

  Then she followed up:

  [Duckling says to Guest03: its U DS isnt it? ...C]

  He looked more closely at the screen and saw that there was the option to reply to Duckling only, so no-one else would see his response. He chose this and sent:

  [Guest03 says to Duckling: it’s me. DS]

  FirstLady enters at 18.39BST

  Dahlia says: Welcome, FirstLady.

  On the righthand side, he saw that there were now five of them in the room. He typed a message.

  [Guest03 says to Duckling: how do u know if they’re real people or spirit hosts?]

  [Duckling says to Guest03: real ppl chose stpd namz like Guest03 ;-P ]

  [Duckling says to Guest03: U cant. U lrn 2 spot em. They spell well!]

  FirstLady says: what is this place?

  Moondog says: 1st time here G03? (yr logins a giveaway)

  Moondog says: NE1 here frm th utha side?

  Dizzee enters at 18.41BST

  Dahlia says: Welcome, Dizzee.

  [Duckling says to Guest03: busy 2nite! look 4 nutha rm? jus u&i?]

  Dahlia says: Does anyone have a question?

  Moondog says: NE1 here frm th utha side?

  Dizzee says: I have made the journey to be with you.

  Moondog says: Nutha question.

  FirstLady says: i think i am lost

  Moondog says: i thnk my grlz 2 timing. i need 2 no.

  Danny sat back from the screen. His head was whirling with trying to keep up with the rapid exchange of messages. It was like talking to Cassie, only more so, he realised.

  Outside, the sun had shifted behind the trees. The office was now submerged in a heavy gloom, so that the glare from the screen was dazzling when he looked back at it.

  The flurry of messages had continued.

  Near the top, he spotted a private one to him from Cassie. It was about to scroll off the screen – a few seconds later and he would have missed it.

  [Duckling says to Guest03: i told u no moody silencs!! ask a q]

  He thought.

  Guest03 says: My card said to make a wish. What for?

  FirstLady says: Hinzelmannchen? Is that you?

  Moondog says: corny

  Danny’s head spun. He looked at the long list on the right. The virtual room had become crowded. Lots of conversations going on at the same time, all on the screen before him.

  Headkin says: Wish for what you desire, but be prepared for the consequences.

  FirstLady says: It has been long.

  [Headkin says to Guest03: So what do you want, Danny?]

  [Duckling says to Guest03: make a wish D - go on. i will 2.]

  [Guest03 says to Headkin: I wish some things had never hapened. wish it could be liek before.]

  Then he stopped. He stared at the screen. This “Headkin” had been talking directly to him.

  And he or she had used Danny’s real name.

  He looked at the times of the messages.

  [Guest03 says to Duckling: What’s going on?! What have you said to heakdin?]

  At first he thought Cassie must have been playing games, but her message had been sent only a second after Headkin’s so she couldn’t have entered the chatroom under two names and sent both.

  Headkin says: Guest03 wants to change the past. Can’t do that.

  [Duckling says to Guest03: ??? ]

  Moondog leaves at 18.47BST

  [Guest03 says to Duckling: HK knows who I am! did u tell him my name?]

  [Duckling says to Guest03: i sed zilch - u kidding me?]

  FirstLady says: Make your wish, Danny. You can’t change the past.

  [Duckling says to Guest03: hey! 1st L did 2!]

  Dahlia says: Does anyone have a question?

  Guest03 says: Whats going on?

  Dahlia says: Everyone sees a different slice of reality. The wise see more.

  Headkin says: I can help you, Danny. We can do it together.

  Guest03 says: This isn’t funny. Im off.

  [Duckling says to Guest03: whats happneing? D I don’t like ths. What RU doing? ]

  FirstLady says: Stop teasing him, Hinzelmannchen.

  Guest07 says: how duz this wrk?

  [Headkin says to Guest0
3: You want things back to how they were, don’t you, Danny? I can help you.]

  FirstLady says: Poor boy. His daddy’s locked away and his mummy’s got a new boyfriend. We have to stop this, don’t we? We have to make things how they were, don’t we?

  [Headkin says to Guest03: Let me help you. We can fix things together.]

  Guest07 leaves at 18.52BST

  [Duckling says to Guest03: answer me!!! ]

  “What is it? What are you doing in here in the dark, Danny?”

  Danny looked across at the doorway. Someone coming in. Short. Pony-tail. It was hard to see as his eyes adjusted from the glare of the screen to the dim interior of the HoST office.

  It was Little Rick.

  “I...”

  His hand felt locked in position, but he managed to shift it, move the mouse, click.

  Guest03 leaves at 18.53BST

  The screen paused for a few seconds with his farewell message, and then jumped back to the list of Talk Board options.

  Little Rick had come to stand just behind Danny.

  “So you’re a secret chatroom addict, are you?

  Danny shook his head. “First time,” he said. His mind was racing, struggling to grasp what had just happened. He looked at Rick, but could make out little in the gloom. He wondered how much he had been able to read before the screen changed.

  “Occult stuff,” said Rick now, looking at the web page. “I didn’t know you were into all that crap.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Okay, okay. Whatever. Just don’t let it get out of hand, okay? You need to be careful when you’re doing this stuff.”

  Rick left.

  Danny shut down the computer. He sat in the darkness. He wanted to go and turn the light on. More than almost anything, he wanted that light on.

  But he didn’t dare move.

  11 Opening up

  He was stirred into action by a buzzing against his leg.

  The phone’s LCD screen glowed in the murky room. Cassie’s number.

  “What are you playing at, Danny? What’s going on? What was that all about?”

  “I...”

  “It’s not funny. You freaked me out for a minute there. I don’t know how–”