Tamsyn Murray-My So-Called Haunting

by Tamsyn Murray

  Dontay thrust his hands into his pockets, staring down at the patchy white touchline peeping through the muddy grass at our feet. ‘Loads of stuff,’ he said, his voice subdued. ‘My mates, my family. Krispy Kreme doughnuts.’ His eyes met mine and behind the resentment, I saw misery etched there. ‘Everything, really.’

  I swallowed my sympathy and forced myself to push on. ‘Why do you think you’re still here?’

  His gaze flickered briefly towards the pitch. ‘Dunno. Maybe you can figure that out.’

  I opened my mouth to reply, but a crunching tackle right in front of us had me leaping backwards to avoid a jumble of legs. By the time the referee had waved the yellow card at one of the players, Dontay had moved away from me and it was clear he wasn’t in a talking mood.

  ‘How’s things?’ Jeremy handed me a steaming cup of blackcurrant juiciness and eyed me meaningfully. ‘Everything OK?’

  I guessed he meant how were things going with Dontay. I cast an uneasy glance towards him, not sure he was far enough away for me to give Jeremy an honest answer. But his attention was fixed on the game. Now that I came to think of it, it had to be a bit weird for Jeremy, knowing that there were ghosts nearby but not being able to see or hear them. No wonder he got the wrong end of the stick so often when he heard Celestine or me bickering with Mary.

  ‘Not great,’ I replied. ‘All things being equal, I’d rather be in bed. And it was a bit weird having him turn up at school yesterday. He didn’t seem to get why I couldn’t talk to him.’

  ‘Believe me, I know that feeling,’ Jeremy said in a heartfelt voice. ‘Lucy got me into all kinds of sticky situations when other people were around. I’m amazed I wasn’t locked up, actually.’

  Something else was bothering me. ‘The way he spoke, it sounded like he almost resented me.’

  ‘He probably does, a bit. Think about it, you have everything he doesn’t.’

  Not everything, I thought, as an image of Nico flashed into my mind. I could see what Jeremy was getting at, and Dontay’s attitude kind of made sense, but my life was a long way from perfect. ‘What, like double maths first thing on a Monday morning, you mean?’

  ‘Cut him some slack,’ Jeremy advised. ‘From what you and Celestine have said, he seems like a good kid.’

  Annoyingly, he was right. ‘That’s why I can’t feel my toes right now.’

  Jeremy nodded in sympathy. ‘Look on the bright side. You might be watching a future Premiership footballer among this lot.’

  I pulled a face and watched in thoughtful silence as Nelson made another dart forwards. Maybe Jeremy wasn’t talking complete rubbish; Dontay might not know for sure why he hadn’t passed across, but I was willing to bet my glittery eyeliner it had something to do with his younger brother. Who was to say that Dontay wasn’t destined to help Nelson make something of his life? One thing I did know: if I had any hope at all of helping Dontay, I had to find a way to fully earn his trust and that wouldn’t happen if he still resented me. As the referee blew his whistle and Nelson’s team gave each other congratulatory thumps on the arm, an idea popped into my head. Should I run it past Dontay first? I decided not to; he’d only try to stop me.

  ‘Wait here,’ I told Jeremy, passing him my half-drunk cup of Ribena and hobbling on to the pitch.

  Dontay’s narrowed gaze drilled into my back as I approached Nelson. I squared my shoulders and ignored him.

  ‘Hi,’ I called as soon as I was near enough. ‘Great goal.’

  Nelson stopped mid calf stretch to look up. ‘Thanks.’

  Taking a deep breath, I ploughed on. ‘You’re Nelson Ambrose, right?’

  Frowning, he straightened slowly. ‘Yeah. Do I know you?’

  OK, this was it, I told myself. Don’t freak him out. ‘Not exactly, but I know your brother.’

  He stared at me and I realised what I’d said.

  ‘Knew,’ I amended hastily, aware that Dontay had followed me on to the pitch and was listening to every word. ‘I meant I knew him. Before, you know . . .’

  Nelson watched me, his forehead creased into a suspicious frown. ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Skye Thackery,’ I replied, my palms starting to sweat as I realised I hadn’t thought this through.

  His frown deepened. ‘He never mentioned you. Where d’you know him from?’

  I froze. I had approximately three seconds to come up with a likely location where I might have met Dontay, and my brain had gone completely blank. I could hardly say the Church of the Dearly Departed, could I?

  ‘Tell him we met at the snooker hall down Homerton High Street.’ Dontay sounded like he was trying not to laugh as he took pity on me. ‘It’s over-sixteens only so Mum never let him go there.’

  I jumped on the words gratefully. ‘We played snooker.’

  Nelson looked me up and down in disbelief. ‘No offence, but you don’t look old enough. Or tall enough to reach the table.’

  ‘I’m sixteen,’ I lied. ‘And if you must know, I stood on a box.’

  Dontay and Nelson snorted at exactly the same moment, their laughter ringing across the chilly field in stereo.

  ‘He would have told me about something like that,’ Nelson said, his amusement subsiding. ‘Who sent you? Are you one of the Marsh Street Massive? Cos if you are —’

  ‘No!’ I cut in, stung. ‘I don’t even know who they are. I just knew Dontay, that’s all.’ My gaze flickered over my shoulder. ‘We were mates.’

  Nelson’s expression was still distrustful. ‘Yeah, well can’t be too careful. Shank said they’d be trying to get to me and it’d be just like the Marsh Street arseholes to send a girl to stitch me up.’

  I didn’t have the faintest idea what he was going on about or who Shank was, but it wasn’t the right time to ask. Clenching my hands into fists by my side, I pushed on. ‘You must miss him. Dontay, I mean.’

  Instantly, his expression became shuttered and he stared at his feet. ‘Of course I do. He was my brother.’

  ‘Nelson!’ A middle-aged man in a crimson tracksuit bellowed and waved an arm. ‘Stop chatting up the birds and get over here for cool-down.’

  Nelson glanced around and I thought I caught a hint of relief on his dark face. ‘I have to go. See ya.’

  He jogged towards the rest of the team and didn’t look back. Seeing him go, Jeremy headed my way.

  ‘See you around,’ I called after Nelson, not sure if I’d actually achieved anything. It wasn’t until I turned to look at Dontay that I got my answer. His eyes glittered with something indefinable as he watched his brother.

  ‘He seems like a good kid,’ I offered. ‘Who are the Marsh Street Massive? And who’s Skank?’

  Jeremy’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Skank? Isn’t that an illegal substance?’

  My jaw dropped. Who’d have thought Jeremy was so well up on his drug-related slang?

  ‘Keep it down,’ Dontay muttered, glancing around to see if any of the footballers had heard. When he saw no one was listening, he went on. ‘It’s Shank, not Skank. He’s the main man in the London Fields Posse and he’s like a god in Hackney. If anyone hears you so much as breathing wrong around him, you’ll end up like me.’

  ‘That’s your gang, right?’ I said tentatively, recalling our first ever conversation outside the Dearly D.’

  The same strange look as last time crossed his face; half proud, half disdainful. ‘Sort of. I wasn’t really a proper member, just sort of hung around with them. The Marsh Street Massive is a rival gang, not as big but twice as vicious.’ He focused on his brother stretching some distance away, and his voice tightened with anger. ‘I warned Nelson not to get involved with any of them. He’s destined for better things than petty fights over stupid crap.’

  In a flash, I knew why Dontay was still here. His brother was getting sucked into gang culture and it was his job to stop it happening. From the look on his face, he knew it too. The question was, what could I do to help? I blew on my chilled fingers ruefully. More importantly, how ma
ny Saturday morning lie-ins would it cost me to do it?

  My ankle was much better by Monday, but that didn’t stop me accepting Jeremy’s offer of a lift to school. His car might have less street-cred than Noddy’s, but it did have a wicked sound system and I amused myself on the journey by channel hopping between radio stations in search of a thumping bass-line.

  Jeremy frowned in disapproval. ‘Pick a station and stick with it,’ he said, watching me stab one little button after another. ‘What’s wrong with Radio Two?’

  ‘Nothing, if you’re eighty,’ I responded, pausing to listen to a few bars of music before pressing the buttons once more. ‘Why do you have such an awesome sound system if all you listen to is Radio Oldster?’

  ‘Just because it plays the classics instead of head-banging mash-downs doesn’t make it worthless,’ Jeremy argued. ‘Have you even heard of Pink Floyd?’

  I had a vague idea he was a celebrity chef, but at that moment I found a tune I’d been longing to hear and sat back to enjoy it, my eyes shut so I couldn’t see the look of pained incomprehension on Jeremy’s face. So I didn’t notice we’d reached Hornsey Lane Bridge until Jeremy slammed on the brakes. My eyes flew open as I jerked forwards in my seat.

  ‘What is it?’ I gasped, expecting to see a startled pedestrian in the road ahead of us. Instead, I saw the receding bumper of the car in front.

  Jeremy’s face was white. ‘I saw a woman on the bridge.’

  My gaze skittered towards the pavement. There were plenty of people crossing the bridge and some of them were women. It didn’t explain why Jeremy had stopped. Then I realised what he meant and my eyes narrowed. ‘On the bridge? Or jumping off it?’

  He passed a shaking hand over his features. ‘She jumped, just like you said.’

  We stared at the parapet of the bridge; there was no sign that anything out of the ordinary had happened. The sudden blare of a car horn made us both jump. Jeremy shook himself and turned to face the front. Fumbling with the gear stick, he eased the car forwards. Neither of us spoke for a minute, then I said, ‘What just happened? You don’t see ghosts.’

  Jeremy looked as confused as I felt. ‘Apart from Lucy, you mean? That definitely wasn’t her.’

  I battled not to roll my eyes. Lucy had passed across; she wasn’t going to be throwing herself off a bridge in North London, unless the astral plane really sucked.

  ‘You’re sure the woman jumped?’ I asked, but even as the words left my mouth I knew it was a stupid question. Jeremy was part psychic, and what were the chances of making a mistake like that in the exact same spot I’d seen someone jump the week before?

  He peered in the rear-view mirror at the bridge behind us. ‘I think so. One minute she was there, balancing on the edge, and the next minute she’d disappeared. Where else could she have gone?’

  Questions jostled for my attention. How psychic was Jeremy? And why could he see this ghost, but not Mary? I thought back over what he’d told me about Lucy. ‘Maybe you only see suicides.’

  Jeremy shook his head. ‘Lucy was murdered. Her friend, Hep, killed herself and I never saw her.’

  I glanced out of the window. Murder and suicide were tragic in any circumstances, but when the victims were around my age I found them even harder to contemplate. ‘I don’t know, then. Celestine might be able to explain.’

  He cast a weak smile my way. ‘Let’s hope so.’

  I didn’t have the heart to insist he dropped me off where no one could see. As he pulled up outside the school gates, I reached across and gave him an awkward hug. ‘Thanks for the lift. Sorry about the, um, scenery.’

  Nodding, he said, ‘You’re welcome.’

  Opening the door, I started to get out.

  ‘Skye?’ Jeremy said, as I slammed the door.

  I ducked my head through the open window, expecting to be told to treat the car with more respect. ‘Yeah?’

  ‘We don’t see many friends of yours, apart from Dontay.’ He hesitated, then carried on. ‘Make sure you spend some time with the living ones too. Dontay might not be around forever.’

  I nodded. ‘OK.’

  Standing back, I watched him drive away and then walked thoughtfully into school. I spotted Dr Bailey in the middle of the hordes of students, bellowing ineffectually, and I ducked behind a group of hulking Year Elevens. I wasn’t about to bring any of my schoolmates home. As I’d learned the hard way on Friday afternoon, the living and the dead don’t mix.

  I didn’t tell Megan I’d turned Nico down; she’d have only beaten me to a pulp with her statistics book, and it had at least three hundred pages. But by Tuesday morning my reluctance to discuss him was making her suspicious.

  ‘You were touching all the way from the field to the nurse’s office. You must have talked about something,’ she insisted as we sat on the boulders by the rock garden.

  ‘Yeah, we did.’

  ‘And?’

  I lifted my shoulders. ‘And then I saw the nurse.’

  She swatted me with her open hand. ‘Didn’t he ask you out?’

  ‘No,’ I said, crossing my fingers in my blazer pocket. ‘I don’t think he’s interested.’

  Squinting at me, she looked like she didn’t believe me. ‘Really?’

  ‘Yep. It’s fine. I don’t fancy him anyway.’

  It was just as well I wasn’t related to Pinocchio or my nose would have been ten centimetres long. Megan sniffed. ‘So you won’t care that he’s coming over here right now, then?’

  My head jolted up. Sure enough, Nico was crossing the playground towards me.

  Megan stood up. ‘Tell me everything,’ she whispered, before hurrying away.

  Nico’s shadow fell over me. ‘Hi.’

  I shaded my eyes with one hand. ‘Hello.’

  ‘Can I sit down?’

  ‘Yeah.’ I waved at the boulder beside me. ‘Although I warn you, they’re not the most comfortable seats in the world.’

  Nico arranged himself on the rock next to me. I couldn’t help noticing how close his legs were to mine. Memories of Friday afternoon came flooding back, when he’d practically had his arm around me. I concentrated very hard on a ladybird crawling along the floor and didn’t look at him.

  ‘How’s the ankle?’ he asked.

  Flexing it gingerly, I said, ‘It’s OK. Unless Mrs Robertson is asking in which case I’m in agony.’

  ‘I get you.’ Nico smiled and my heart bumped against my ribs. ‘I didn’t mean to freak you out on Friday. Sorry if I came on a bit strong.’

  He’d come on exactly the way I’d hoped he would and if Dontay hadn’t turned up, I’d have said yes. I lowered my ankle, wishing I could be honest with him. ‘You didn’t.’

  There was a pause, then he said, ‘So you don’t hate me, then?’

  I looked up. He was grinning, but his eyes were studying me. I swallowed, feeling suddenly lightheaded; hate was the exact polar opposite of what I felt. ‘I definitely don’t hate you.’

  ‘Maybe we could go for a drink or something, then?’

  I hesitated. He was by far the coolest boy I’d ever met and this was the second time he’d asked me out. If I said no this time, I didn’t think he’d ask again. But how could I risk anyone finding out the truth about me? I stared at Nico as he waited for me to answer, caught up in the dilemma. Then Jeremy’s words came back to me, reminding me I needed living friends too, and I came to a sudden decision. I couldn’t let my psychic ability rule my life; it wouldn’t be easy, but I’d find a way to keep my secret safe.

  Over Nico’s shoulder, I suddenly caught sight of Megan, hiding behind a bush and grinning like a chimpanzee. The moment she saw me looking, she began twisting her hand wildly between thumbs up and thumbs down and looked so ridiculous that I couldn’t help smiling.

  Blotting Megan out, I focused on Nico. ‘Actually, I’m free on Saturday if you’ve still got the ticket?’

  He threw me a pleased but surprised look. ‘Really? You’re up for the gig?’

  �
��Yeah, I – uh – thought I was busy but I’m not,’ I said, trying to sound as casual as I could. ‘I love The Droids.’

  He nodded, looking pleased. ‘I’ll check what time it starts and we can arrange where we’re going to meet. Or I can pick you up if you like?’

  I gulped. Er – how about no? I might be ready to take a few risks, but Celestine’s house was a minefield of potential weirdness; there was no way I was letting him see how freakish I really was. Coming across as a little bit kooky was one thing; having him think I was certifiably insane was quite another.

  ‘Let’s meet somewhere,’ I said and then I realised how far away Saturday actually was. Could I really wait that long? ‘But we could go for a drink before then, if you wanted? There’s a new juice bar in Highgate Village.’

  His face split into a grin. ‘Cool. We should swap mobile numbers, then.’

  My heart abandoned its happy dance and went all out for a full-on trapeze act. I grinned back at him, then realised he had his phone out and was waiting for my number. Hurriedly, I reeled off the numbers and he pressed the call button. Seconds later, my mobile vibrated in my blazer. I pulled it out and saved his number.

  ‘So I’ll meet you after school?’ I said, hoping he wasn’t the type to be put off by enthusiasm.

  His face clouded. ‘I can’t do tonight. I kind of work for my dad sometimes and he’s got a job for me later. How about tomorrow?’

  I could wait one more day. ‘Yeah, OK.’

  When he was completely out of sight I punched the air in Megan’s direction. I had a date with the boy every girl in Heath Park wanted to get to know. I was starting to feel I’d done the right thing by moving down from Scotland. It looked like things were finally on the up.

  We’d arranged to meet on Saturday outside Chalk Farm tube station. I’d been quite restrained with the text messaging and had resisted the urge to drop him flirty little texts asking what he was doing every half an hour. I hadn’t even been tempted by Megan’s suggestion to tap his mobile number into a website to track his location by GPS. I wanted to be his girlfriend, not his stalker.