Tamsyn Murray-My So-Called Haunting

by Tamsyn Murray

  I thought that was a bit melodramatic, but Jeremy hurried forwards. ‘Look, we only want to talk to you for a few minutes. If you still want to jump at the end, you can.’ He stopped at the edge of the pavement. ‘What have you got to lose?’

  Isobel seemed to be considering his words. Then she clambered down. ‘No one’s ever tried to stop me before,’ she said, turning to face us. ‘In fact, I don’t think anyone knows I’m here.’

  ‘We’re psychic,’ I explained. ‘We see ghosts all the time. Or at least I do. Jeremy only sees one or two.’

  Isobel looked at him. ‘And I’m one of them?’

  Nodding, he said, ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘But I do want to try to help you, if I can. Why do you jump off this bridge every day?’

  She sniffed. ‘I don’t have anything better to do.’

  Jeremy and I exchanged glances. It looked like Isobel was going to be hard work.

  ‘Yes, but why are you doing it over and over again? Are you angry? Sad? Both of those things?’

  I thought for a minute she was going to bolt, but I guess the chance to tell her story was too great to pass up. She fixed him with a piercing stare. ‘You really want to know? How long have you got?’

  After that, there was no stopping her. Soon, we knew the whole sorry tale: how she’d lost her job in the City and become depressed, how her husband had left her for another woman and finally, how she’d lost her home because she couldn’t keep up the mortgage repayments and it felt like no one cared. It made depressing listening and I didn’t have a clue what to say at the end. Jeremy did, though. ‘You’ve been through a terrible time. Didn’t you have any family you could turn to?’

  Isobel shook her head. ‘My parents are both dead and my friends kept telling me things would get better. But nothing ever did.’

  ‘And so you jumped?’

  ‘I thought it would be over,’ she said, heaving a sigh. ‘Instead, I’m stuck here.’

  Jeremy smiled encouragingly. ‘Well, at least you’ve got us now.’

  Her expression brightened. ‘Really? You’ll come back?’

  ‘Of course we will. And we’ll introduce you to other ghosts too.’

  ‘There’s a whole afterlife for you to discover,’ I chipped in, but she didn’t seem to hear me. Her gaze was glued to Jeremy.

  ‘When? When are you coming back? Tomorrow?’

  He hesitated, then nodded. ‘Sure, we can come back tomorrow if you like.’

  Isobel’s eyes glistened. ‘Thank you. It means so much to me. You’ve changed my life.’

  I supposed she was right, watching her giggle at Jeremy’s jokes. But there was something familiar about the way she was eyeing him. It bothered me all the way home and it wasn’t until I was getting into bed that I realised what it was. Isobel hadn’t behaved with Jeremy the way ghosts usually acted around psychics; Isobel had looked at Jeremy the way that Ellie looked at Nico.

  I didn’t mention my worries to Jeremy. Maybe I’d got it wrong, anyway, and Isobel was just grateful for his attention. She was certainly keen, waiting for us to drive by every morning and waggling her fingers at him as we did. By the time Friday rolled around, even Celestine was raising an eyebrow at the amount of Jeremy’s time Isobel was taking up.

  ‘Have you told her about the Dearly D?’ she asked over breakfast.

  Jeremy nodded. ‘Yes, but she doesn’t feel ready to go yet. She says she wants to get to know me better first.’

  I snorted into my Weetabix. It was the clearest sign yet that Isobel had developed a crush on Jeremy.

  Celestine frowned. ‘It sounds like she’s becoming a bit dependent on you. I think you should encourage her to go to the Dearly D. Find something from the bridge she can take with her. Maybe then she’ll realise you’re not the answer to all her problems.’

  ‘She’s only being friendly,’ he said. ‘I’m sure she’ll want to meet other ghosts soon.’

  I looked at Celestine and shrugged. I hoped for Jeremy’s sake he was right; hell had no fury like a spirit scorned.

  I got to Friday evening without any further mishaps. I still hadn’t heard from Nico and I tried not to fret. Over a Big Mac and fries, which I ate as Dontay tried not to drool, we came up with a loose plan to get Nelson’s attention, and on Saturday morning we headed to the pitches at Hackney Marshes to pull everything together before Nelson turned up to play. It was so early that the fields were empty, apart from the occasional dog walker or jogger, so I had no worries about looking like a lunatic talking to myself. The problem was that the plan involved ball skills I didn’t have, and Dontay wasn’t turning out to be the most patient teacher.

  ‘No, use your knees!’ he yelled at me as the ball bounced away over the sodden ground for what felt like the millionth time. ‘They’re called keep-ups, not drop-downs.’

  ‘Ha ha,’ I mumbled, picking it up and pushing my bedraggled fringe out of my eyes. ‘It would help if you could show me how it’s done instead of shouting at me.’

  He glared at me. ‘Very funny. You just control the ball. It’s easy.’

  I threw the ball towards him. It rolled a few metres past him and bobbled to a stop. ‘If it’s so easy why don’t you show me?’

  ‘How am I supposed to do that? I’m a ghost, remember?’

  Hands on hips, I returned his glare. ‘You just control the ball, it’s easy.’

  We stood glowering at each other for a few seconds. Then his shoulders slumped. ‘Stop tormenting me. You know how much I’d give to be able to play again.’

  My own expression softened and I felt bad, but not bad enough to let him off the hook. ‘Then try. Other ghosts can touch things. How do you think poltergeists manage to move stuff around?’

  ‘I’ve never thought about it,’ he admitted. ‘What do I have to do?’

  I knew that most ghosts used anger or some other strong emotion to allow them to make contact with non-ghostly objects. Given the way Dontay had just been bellowing at me, fury shouldn’t be too hard to manage.

  ‘You need to get angry,’ I advised. ‘Then try to push it with your finger.’

  Looking anything but convinced, he knelt beside the ball and thrust a finger towards it. Nothing happened.

  He wasn’t feeling enough emotion, I decided. ‘You don’t look very angry to me. Are you sure you want this?’

  Ignoring me, he stabbed his hand towards the ball again. Still nothing happened.

  There were signs of movement on some of the other pitches. The teams were starting to arrive and we were running out of time. I summoned up my most jeering tones. ‘I thought you were supposed to be good at this? You can’t even pick up the ball!’

  Dontay scowled furiously at me. ‘In case you hadn’t noticed, it’s called football, not handball.’

  ‘So kick it, then!’ I yelled and dredged my mind for football phrases. ‘Bend it like Beckham!’

  In a burst of rage, he lashed out his foot. It connected firmly with the ball, sending it soaring through the air and on to the neighbouring pitch. We stared at in stunned silence for a minute.

  ‘So,’ I said in a tentative voice. ‘How did that feel?’

  ‘Almost as good as it used to be.’ Dontay flashed me a tiny grin. ‘What was with that Beckham stuff?’

  My cheeks turned pink. ‘It was the only thing I could think of to say. It worked, anyway – think you can do it again?’

  His grin almost split his face it was so wide. ‘Are you serious? Now I know how to do it I’m never gonna stop!’

  Which could be a bit of a problem, I thought, as he raced towards the ball. People tended to get a bit freaked out by things apparently moving around on their own. And it could be exhausting to do it for long periods of time. I needed him fresh if our plan was going to work.

  ‘Wait for me!’ I called and jogged after him. ‘I can’t do this without you.’

  By the time Nelson and his team-mates arrived at the Marshes, I�
�d learned a lot. I’m not saying that I was ready for Skill School or anything, but thanks to Dontay’s teaching I could manage at least to keep the ball under control. Dontay had mastered touching physical objects with incredible speed; I guessed his talent for football had helped. All I needed now was to use my newfound talent to get Nelson’s attention.

  I knew that he’d clocked me standing on the touch-line almost straight away, but he didn’t acknowledge me until half-time. I stood to one side of the pitch, practising bouncing the ball off my knees and trainers, just as Dontay had showed me. Nelson jogged over to me, his gaze suspicious.

  ‘You again.’

  ‘Hi, Nelson,’ I said absently, concentrating on keeping the ball in the air.

  ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Playing keep-ups, what does it look like?’

  In my desperation to look like I knew what I was doing, I gave a particularly energetic thrust of my knee. The ball bounced high and I knew I was going to lose it, but then Dontay was beside me. With a flick of his leg and a look of intense concentration, he brought the ball under control and sailing back towards my foot. I stuck out a muddy trainer and the ball landed obediently on it. Dontay winked.

  I slid Nelson a sideways look. ‘Fancy a game?’ Then I blushed. What if he thought I was chatting him up?

  Sure enough, his eyebrows shot up. ‘Nah. I’m in the middle of a match.’

  Surreptitiously, I tried to fan my blushing cheeks. ‘Afterwards, then? Or are you scared of getting beaten by a girl?’

  He shrugged. ‘Fine. If you want to get your arse kicked, it’s no skin off my nose.’

  He turned and went back to his team. As he reached them he said something and they all turned to look at me. I was so busy trying to watch them out of the corner of my eye that the ball once again spun out of control and this time not even Dontay’s skills could rescue it. As it flew upwards and over my head, I heard Nelson and his friends laugh.

  ‘This had better be worth it,’ I told Dontay through gritted teeth as I picked up the ball and started again. ‘This had so better be worth it.’

  * * *

  The jibe about losing to a girl must have really hurt Nelson, because he showed me absolutely no mercy. A few of his team-mates had come over to watch after their match was over, and if I hadn’t had Dontay beside me, flicking and nudging the ball, I’d have lost almost as soon as the game began. I couldn’t believe how good he was; two hours earlier he hadn’t even been able to even touch the ball and now he was giving Cristiano Ronaldo a run for his money. His skill was unnatural; he must have been some footballer before he died.

  Dontay stood so close to me that we were practically touching. I knew it must be as uncomfortable for him as it was for me; Mary never stopped moaning about how unpleasant it was to have someone walk through you. But it worked like a charm, and by the time Nelson and I were both panting through the exertion, he was looking at me with new respect.

  ‘You’re not bad,’ he said when we stopped to catch our breath. ‘For a girl.’

  Dontay shook his head in mock embarrassment. ‘Our mum would go nuts if she heard him say stuff like that.’

  ‘Yeah, well I had a good teacher,’ I replied, without thinking. ‘Your brother.’

  Nelson stared at me. ‘Dontay taught you to play keep-ups? I thought you said you met him down the snooker hall.’

  I blushed. ‘Er . . . we did. But then he showed me some of his other skills.’

  Sniggers broke out among Nelson’s mates.

  ‘I bet he did,’ one of them called out.

  ‘It wasn’t like that,’ I insisted, keeping my eyes trained on Nelson. ‘We were mates, that’s all.’

  Nelson looked like he didn’t believe me. ‘Like I said, he never told me about you.’

  ‘He told me plenty about you,’ I said, lowering my voice. ‘Like how you’re going to be a great footballer and play for West Ham someday.’ I paused and waited until he returned my gaze. ‘How proud he was of you for staying on the straight and narrow.’

  There was an awkward silence. Then Nelson spoke, ‘Yeah, well.’

  The other boys started shuffling around. The one who’d made the joke about Dontay showing me his skills waved a hand. ‘Nelson, man, I’m off. See ya.’

  The others took that as their cue to go as well, leaving Nelson staring at the pitch and me wondering where to go from here.

  ‘He wouldn’t want you to go looking for revenge,’ I said once we were alone, deciding on the direct approach.

  Nelson looked up angrily. ‘How do you know? He was murdered by them Marsh Street scum and no one cared. The police talked about catching the shooter but they never did nothing about it. Who else is going to sort it out if I don’t?’

  I glanced towards Dontay anxiously. ‘Don’t get involved with the gangs. You’ll just get hurt and Dontay doesn’t want that.’

  Nelson shrugged dismissively. ‘Shank won’t let that happen. He looks after his own.’ He fixed me with an accusing stare. ‘Why are you talking about my brother like he was still here?’

  Realising there was only one way out, I took a deep breath. ‘Maybe he is.’

  Disgust etched itself over his face as he backed off. ‘You’re a nutter. Keep away from me, yeah?’

  ‘That went well,’ I mumbled to Dontay as his brother stamped across the pitch.

  ‘That wasn’t him talking,’ Dontay said, his voice flat. ‘That’s the sort of thing Shank would say. They’re building him up to do a shooting and using me as an excuse.’

  I shivered, and it wasn’t due to the sweat drying on my skin. ‘Then we have to find out when and where. Because if you ask me, Nelson seems plenty angry enough to do something he’s going to regret.’

  Celestine folded her arms and threw me an adamant look. ‘No. Absolutely not.’

  I slumped on to the sofa and sighed. ‘Why not? All I have to do is find out where the gang leader is, set Mary on him, and Nelson will be safe. Actually, we’d be doing the whole world a favour.’

  She held up a finger. ‘One, Mary is not an evil spirit.’ Considering some of the stunts she’d pulled on me I had severe doubts about that, but I kept my mouth shut and Celestine went on. ‘Two, it goes against everything spiritualism stands for to use ghosts to get something you want. And three, it’s too dangerous. What if he’s so terrified he takes it out on the living?’

  OK, so I hadn’t thought of that, but it still wasn’t the worst plan in the world. And I couldn’t see another way of preventing Nelson from getting himself into a situation where it was kill or be killed. ‘What do you suggest, then?’

  ‘I could talk to his parents, make them aware of what’s going on?’

  I shook my head. ‘I suggested that. Dontay says it wouldn’t work. They’d try to ban Nelson from going out and he’d become even more devious. Anything else?’

  Jeremy looked up from the Sunday papers. ‘Have you thought about going to the police?’

  ‘And saying what? There’s a ghost who’s worried his brother is going to try to avenge his death?’ I snorted derisively. ‘That’d go down well.’

  ‘I think you should get them involved,’ Jeremy insisted. ‘They have whole departments devoted to fighting gang crime. Surely they must have an idea of what’s going on.’

  I shuddered at the thought of the reaction of the boys in blue. ‘If you feel so strongly about it, then why don’t you go and see them?’

  Celestine groaned but Jeremy looked pleased. ‘All right, then, I will.’

  ‘I’d have thought you’d be too busy with Isobel to get involved with my ghostly problems, but what do I know?’ I said. It was a low blow, but Isobel was driving us crazy. The moment Jeremy had given her a small lump of stone from the bridge so that she could move around, she’d taken to standing outside the house. Mary was threatening to call in an exorcist to get rid of her. ‘Just don’t mention Nelson by name. Dontay will go mental if his brother gets picked up. And don’t drag me into i
t.’

  I needn’t have stressed over Jeremy’s Sherlock Holmes tendencies – Dontay didn’t bat an eyelid when I tentatively mentioned it. In fact, he looked almost pleased, much to my relief. We were at Lee Valley ice rink and Dontay was my safety net as I flailed around like Bambi on – well – ice. If he’d got the hump and left, I’d have been flat on my backside before you could say A&E.

  ‘There’s a lot of couples here,’ he said, gazing round the rink and drifting sideways to avoid a speeding ice marshal. Coloured lights refracted off the frozen white ground and a slamming bass-line chased them round.

  ‘I suppose,’ I said, concentrating on sliding one wobbly skate in front of another. ‘For a Sunday night, anyway.’

  I’d taken Jeremy’s advice and plugged a mobile phone earpiece into my ear so I could talk without looking like a care in the community case. Dontay was hovering more than normal, a few centimetres above the ice, making me feel even shorter. ‘Did you and Ned ever come here?’

  No, and I thanked my lucky stars we hadn’t. Crazy windmill arms were not a good look on anyone. It was all right for Dontay; he didn’t even have to move his feet to stay upright.

  ‘His name is Nico,’ I corrected.

  Dontay watched as my skate took on a life of its own and I almost did the splits. ‘Have you heard from him?’

  I couldn’t stop the grin from spreading over my face. ‘Yeah. They’re leaving Romania tomorrow.’

  He stared at me. ‘Leaving where?’

  ‘Romania,’ I repeated, ending on a squeak as I battled to keep my balance. Other skaters flew past, making it look so easy and scaring the pants off me with their pace. It wasn’t fair; how come everyone else appeared as if they were straight from the Winter Olympics and I looked more like the comedy turn? I gave up. ‘That’s where he’s been. Fancy a sit down?’

  Dontay shrugged and we headed off the ice. I sank into one of the seats behind the Perspex sheets and loosened the laces of my skates. ‘Bliss,’ I said, wiggling my numb toes. ‘I swear they’re cutting off my circulation.’

  Dontay’s gaze was fixed on the skaters. ‘How well do you know this Nick?’