The House on Findlater Lane

by Helen Goltz

  And then she saw the photo. Oh my, Holly whispered, I wonder if Esther has seen this? It was a photo of a very attractive, stylish couple standing in front of the window of the jewellery store. The name of the business was behind them on the glass, and the man had his arm affectionately around the woman, who was smiling happily at the camera. The caption read: Mr and Mrs Uri Hirschel outside their store premises. It was obvious from the photo that Freida was pregnant… it had to be Esther, she was an only child. It was 1932, and the Hirschels had no idea what was to come, or how many years they had left as a family.

  Holly closed the office – or rather her laptop – at 4 pm on the dot and called it a day. She stood up, stretched, and saw the beach beckoning her for an afternoon walk.

  ‘Coming for a walk, Alexander?’ she asked, but his portrait image didn’t move. ‘Does that mean you are ignoring me, or are you somewhere else and that is just a shop front?’

  Again, no reaction. Holly shrugged, got changed and left, locking the house behind her.

  Questions about the afterlife

  Back from her late afternoon beach walk, her lungs full of fresh air and the salt spray on her skin, Holly poured herself a glass of white wine and sat on her front porch, watching the sun light the waves and reflect off the rocks as it slowly made its descent.

  She loved this new routine, it made her happy. But she couldn’t help but be a little melancholy; imagine how wonderful it would be to have a man, a true love, sitting beside her. Just as she thought it, Alexander appeared on the chair at her side, in his customary dark jeans and long-sleeve grey T-shirt. He was ruggedly handsome, she had to admit, for a dead guy.

  ‘Hey you,’ she said, and smiled.

  ‘And hey you,’ he said, copying her. ‘Can I join you?’

  ‘Sure. Want a drink?’ she asked, and he gave her a dry look. ‘I would, but you know that would only make you look strange… the locals passing would see two glasses and just you sitting here. They’d be thinking that you’re either stockpiling wine to work through, or you’ve lost it,’ he said, with a smirk. ‘Wouldn’t be the first time, I’m guessing.’

  She laughed. ‘You’re a funny ghost.’

  ‘And you’re okay,’ he said, with a smile.

  ‘Really?’ She grinned. ‘So, you think you might get used to me… might let me stay long-term?’

  ‘Yeah, don’t get carried away,’ he said, putting up his hand. ‘But you’re better than some of the weirdos I’ve had here.’ He turned to look out to sea, and sighed.

  ‘Oh. Well, thanks.’

  Another couple walked by with one of those trendy designer dogs that used to be called mutts – a cavoodle or similar – and Holly exchanged pleasantries with them. They couldn’t see the Sergeant, but the cavoodle gave him a rousing reception.

  ‘What is it with you and dogs?’ she asked. ‘Do you give off an I-don’t-like-dogs vibe?’

  ‘I love dogs,’ he said defensively. ‘They’re just showing off that they can see me.’

  ‘So, speaking of seeing you,’ Holly began, ‘I’d love to know more about what ghost life is like.’

  ‘Yeah, it’s not really the done thing to share the details with the living. Although you do get those clairvoyant types who have some skills and reveal stuff. But, it’s not my scene.’

  ‘Right,’ she said, and made a note to work on him.

  They sat in comfortable silence for a while – Holly trying not to feel self-conscious of the good-looking ghost on her left; Alexander conscious of the fact he had company he desired for the first time in what might be decades.

  She smiled and waved at an elderly gentleman who was walking on the path past their home. She then recognised himl it was the doctor who had gone past the previous day. Would he see the Sergeant was with her again?

  ‘Lovely evening,’ Holly greeted him.

  ‘Indeed, young lady. Good evening, Sergeant,’ he said again, doffing his hat and continuing on. Alexander raised his arm in a casual salute. ‘Doctor.’

  Holly’s eyes widened and she turned to face Alexander. ‘I thought he was fluking the first time. So how come he can see you?’

  Alexander shrugged. ‘Some people can. Doctor Ron’s always been able to see me.’

  ‘Is he dead?’

  It was Alexander’s turn to laugh. ‘No, he’s very much alive, but he’s seen his share of the dead. I suspect that might be why he can see me.’

  ‘And that doesn’t freak you out?’ she asked.

  ‘Why? What’s he going to do? What are you going to do? Run around town telling people that there’s a ghost in the house? Yeah, tell them something they don’t know. Anyway, it’s good for tourists and keeps the kids on their toes.’

  Holly shook her head. ‘Positively weird, the lot of you.’

  The sun was dipping just on the water’s edge and the view in front of them was lit orange.

  ‘Spectacular,’ Holly said. ‘You know, my mum always tries to pick when the sunset or sunrise is at its peak – that moment when it is as intense as it is going to be before it begins to fade into day or night. It makes you appreciate the power of it.’

  ‘Very poetic of your mum,’ Alexander said. ‘I think it is now… no, hold on, now… or wait up… now it seems even deeper…’

  ‘Now,’ Holly said, getting into the game. They watched for the next minute as the sunset began to fade. ‘I win.’

  ‘Not that you’re competitive,’ he said.

  ‘And you’re not?’

  ‘Maybe, if the person is worth beating.’ They slowly turned to look at each other.

  ‘Play cards?’ he asked.

  ‘Only to win.’

  Alexander laughed. ‘Those are fighting words. Maybe we can invite Doctor Ron around for a game and find someone else who can see me. I haven’t played a hand of cards for decades.’

  ‘You’ll be crap then. I’m bound to win. Great plan!’ she sparred with him.

  ‘Yeah, dream on. So, when do I get my next online lesson?’ he asked. ‘That was amazing today. A whole new world.’

  ‘Mmm… about that next lesson,’ Holly said.

  Alexander crossed his arms and turned to look at her. ‘I’ll get there… with Meg, I will.’

  ‘I know, that’s okay,’ she said, assuring him. ‘I didn’t mean that.’

  ‘Oh,’ he unfolded his arms. ‘What then?’

  ‘I thought we could have a trade. I get to ask two questions about heaven for every session where I train you or give you information, and you have to answer honestly,’ she suggested.

  ‘Ah, you are good,’ he said, and wagged his finger at her. He realised she was going to get her way about insights from the other side whether he liked it or not. ‘Didn’t take you long to come up with that, did it?’

  ‘So, what do you say?’ she said, lifting her wine glass for a sip.

  Alexander counter-offered. ‘One question and I’ll answer anything I can.’

  ‘Honestly? You’ll answer it properly… not flippantly?’

  ‘Do I look like the flippant type?’ Alexander asked gruffly. ‘If I’m allowed to answer it…’ he said, with a look above, ‘I’ll answer it. You’ve got a deal.’

  ‘Really?’ Holly almost squealed. ‘I never thought you’d agree to that. Well, what do you know?’

  Alexander faked hitting his ear to get his hearing back and Holly slapped his arm before remembering she would pass through. She subtly tried to wipe her cold and damp hand on her jeans.

  ‘It’s okay, I know I’m chilly,’ he said, with a smirk.

  ‘More like wet,’ she said and returned his smirk – a much better version than his. ‘I’m not worried if you are chilly,’ she said and to prove it, she extended her hand. ‘Let’s shake on our new deal then?’ She felt his cold, soft grip on her own skin; a most unusual sensation.

  ‘So, my first question…’ she began.

  ‘Hold up!’ he said, ‘No one said anything about it being backdated. That contract start
s now.’

  ‘Well, if you’re already backing out on our agreement on a technicality… then I think I’m pretty busy for the next week. I’ve got Esther’s necklace to find, and Luke the gardener is coming over tomorrow.’ She picked up her glass, took another sip and waited for his reaction.

  He rolled his eyes. ‘Fine. Ask your question,’ he said, then her words hit him. ‘Luke the gardener?’

  Holly put her wine glass down. ‘Yes! From How Does Your Garden Grow? nursery. He’s found some original garden plans and he’s bringing them around and measuring up!’

  ‘So, he’s still got them. Wow!’ Alexander exhaled, surprised.

  ‘They’re yours?’ Holly asked, surprised.

  ‘Yeah. Lilly wanted the garden done and gave us a budget so Meg and I had the plans drawn up by that nursery. The owner did them, I’m guessing that’s Luke’s father. But we didn’t get a chance to run with them.’ He looked out to sea as he thought about the day they walked the small area, planning their future cottage garden.

  ‘Well, that’s cool. I’ll be able to see what you and Meg came up with, and you can see how the plans stood the test of time. It has been over forty years – they might be totally unhip!’ Holly said, sensing his mood and trying to lighten the conversation.

  ‘Ha,’ he scoffed, ‘I’m the coolest cat out, they won’t be unhip.’

  ‘Coolest cat?’

  ‘Yeah, whatever.’ He shrugged. ‘Ask your question.’

  Holly grinned and clapped her hands together. ‘Goody. Okay.’ She cleared her throat, narrowed her eyes and looked at him as if she was thinking of it, when she knew what she wanted to ask all along.

  ‘Why are you here and not on the other side?’

  Alexander groaned. It wasn’t a simple answer but it was an obvious question. He took a deep breath.

  Holly studied him; he was so completely in the flesh, so real, you would never guess he was a ghost except for the coolness around him.

  ‘You know how I said I had a job I wanted to hire you to do?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes. I was wondering when you’d get back to that or if I should raise it again in about a week’s time, given that you disappeared last time we were talking about it,’ she said. ‘But I’m guessing I know what you want me to do…’

  He raised an eyebrow and nodded at her to continue.

  ‘You want me to find Meghan,’ she said, confidently. ‘So, is that related to my question… why you stuck around? Are you hoping she’d come back or you could find her to – what? Say goodbye, or make sure she is okay?’

  ‘No, wrong on both accounts. I didn’t stick around just to wait for her to come back, although that would have been great. And no, I don’t want you to find Meghan, but that would be a bonus,’ he said, staring straight ahead and not meeting Holly’s eyes.

  Holly reached for her wine glass and finished her last sip. It was chilly now; the warmth of the evening had gone, the sun had dipped and the street lights were warming up – time to go in, but she wanted to finish this discussion first. She never knew when the Sergeant might next appear or talk about this subject.

  ‘I’m still here because I have other unfinished business,’ he said.

  ‘I guess that’s the short answer to why you are still here,’ she said, unsatisfied. ‘So why do you want to hire me then?’

  Alexander met her eyes. ‘I want you to find out who killed me, and then tell Meghan the truth.’

  The Sergeant’s last memory

  1972, Northern Ireland

  Sergeant Alexander Austen grumbled along with the rest of his company. January weather was shit in Belfast, but the weather wasn’t much better at home at the moment, so it wasn’t as if they were missing out on anything. It was freezing during the day, bloody freezing at night, and as a bonus, raining. Add to that, the sun rose after 9 am and set by 4 pm… yep, enjoy that window of the day.

  But Alexander didn’t really care… it was a deployment, like all other deployments. Do the job, do it well, or get out. He never could understand people who stayed in jobs they didn’t like. His father was one. Hated what he did all his life, then died. Alexander… well, he liked the military life, except for leaving Meghan, but coming home was so sweet.

  If he were honest, though, he’d have to agree the current operation was his least favourite of all his deployments to date, and it was putting a strain on his marriage. It started in 1969, the “request” to deploy to Northern Ireland after the riots and they were still there now in 1972. Not that Alexander had been there that long himself; he arrived in 1971 so it was a fairly new gig for him compared to some of his mates.

  It was a hairy mission… men died. There were paramilitary attacks and public attacks; there were areas where the locals loved them and areas where they were despised. To make it worse, Meghan had relatives on both sides of the argument, and being present to assert the authority of the British government in Northern Ireland wasn’t making for a happy marriage. He’d be glad when the gig was up. It was the first time in his career that he’d thought of getting out and doing something else with his life.

  It was Friday afternoon. Not that it mattered much to Alexander given he was working the weekend, but there was a Friday feeling in the air and he was hoping to have a few drinks in a couple of hours when he was off the clock. He and his team had been sent to a suburban location in Belfast; specials forces had received a warning of two bombs being planted and that they were going to be set off in under an hour. It wasn’t the first warning they’d received, or even the fiftieth, for that matter. Warnings came in all the time – some for real, some hoaxes which were traps in their own right.

  Geez, he hated bombs, it just wasn’t a fair fight. An armed fight was different – all fair in love and war. The fight took some skill, some stealth, some luck even, but bombings were just a lottery – a draw in the lucky or unlucky dip and they took out innocents.

  Following his Staff-Sergeant, Andy Davies – he who had to ‘do something or he’d die of boredom’ – Alexander stopped suddenly, nearly ramming into the back of him. He’d been right on his back all afternoon. It’d be nice to have a view that didn’t include Andy’s arse!

  He felt the rumble.

  Then the noise of an explosion engulfed the area.

  The signal came to drop, and Alexander followed suit. Another bang… somewhere a street or so away… screams, choking smoke and then another.

  ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck!’ his mind screamed as he rose and, squatting, stumbled behind Andy, following him straight into the risk zone.

  This one was no hoax!

  His adrenalin was pumping. Fear was overridden by alertness and his training kicked in. The noises around him couldn’t be described – it was as if the city had come alive and was immobilised.

  Another two explosions shook the area, one to his left, one straight ahead. His group broke up, smoke, flying debris… and in moments, Alexander and Andy, who was running beside him, were surrounded by civilians. Some were running the opposite way, screaming, eyes huge, hysterical mothers pulling children along, men in suits… everyone was on the move. Traffic was backing up in the streets, with many trying to turn around and go back, most of them sitting on their horns like that would miraculously clear the road.

  More bombs went off.

  He couldn’t hear the commands being yelled around him; all he could do was act on instinct and head in the direction of the action with the intention of shutting it down.

  For a split second, his mind went to Meg as he ran towards the danger.

  He’d counted five explosions now but nothing was directly in sight except for smoke, panicked crowds and traffic. Alexander tried to edge along the wall and increase his speed, but panicked people ran into him, barging in their hurry to get past. One guy literally bounced off him.

  Alexander put his hand down to help the guy off the ground before he trod on him.

  Shit, he knew the face. He knew this guy.

  Ronan – Megha
n’s cousin. Alexander had met him half a dozen times, and he’d come over to attend their wedding and led the stag night astray! He was a top young bloke.

  ‘Bloody hell, Ronan, it’s you!’ he said. He didn’t know if he was talking loudly as his ears were ringing.

  Ronan laughed. ‘Ha, well lad, here ya are! That’s grand!’ He took Alexander’s offered hand and, rising, pulled Alexander to him and they hugged and slapped each other’s backs.

  Then Alexander felt the pain. He gasped, pulled away from Ronan to look in his face.

  Ronan’s eyes were huge in shock.

  And that was Sergeant Alexander Austen’s last living memory.

  Holly could feel the chill in the night air setting in but she couldn’t move after hearing his story. They both sat in silence for a while until he eventually stirred.

  ‘I’d give you my jacket, but maybe we should just go in,’ he said, and rose.

  Holly stood and followed him inside.

  A best friend comes to visit

  Juliette Holmes – no relation to Sherlock, despite her love of crime books – sometimes marvelled at the fact that she and Holly had remained best friends for so long. They were polar opposites by nature and looks, but if opposites attract, then they were suited. In true form, Juliette had given Holly exactly two hours’ notice that she was arriving for a long weekend visit to check up on her best friend. Juliette liked impromptu. “Surprise” was her middle name. It wasn’t technically a long weekend, but Juliette had taken Friday off from her antique buyers’ job in London and skipped out midday Thursday, so ta-da, call it a long weekend! She was arriving late afternoon on Thursday.

  Holly on the other hand liked to plan. For years, she had drummed into Juliette that she didn’t like surprise parties, or spur of the moment changes of plan. Holly couldn’t accept an immediate invitation; in most cases she would attend, but being put on the spot panicked her. Advance notice of a week or two was ideal. Not that Juliette wanted to panic her best friend, but she also didn’t want her running around for days prior to Juliette’s arrival, cleaning, preparing, preening and worrying when after all, they were as good as family. They had started and finished school together, had met each other’s boyfriends and lovers, travelled together and lived together while at university. Now, Juliette was going to crash at Holly’s new abode and give it the tick of approval… whether she liked it or not. That’s what friends did, after all.