by Paula Hayes
Dylan turned the dimmer down for a dramatic effect then turned it on and off for a comic effect. He couldn’t help but make a couple of ghouly noises for an annoying effect because he was starting to feel twitchy and scared, he didn’t want vintage lace weaving its way out of his recovering ear hole. “We could read ghost stories instead? I have a copy of Neil Gaiman in my satchel. I have perfected the voice of the spidery ‘Other Mother.’ I give myself the chills … I don’t like spiders,” Dylan shivered, “or women that eat children.”
“Dylan, sit down and behave yourself,” said Jacqui sternly. “Come and close the circle like a good boy, or there will be no more fondue for you!” Anna looked up at the ceiling and counted the spider webs. This is Jacqui’s gig, there is nothing else to do but sit back and try to enjoy the ride, thought Anna pleased with her generosity of spirit.
“Anyone for hand sanitiser?” said Dylan as he observed his grubby fingers with chipped black nail polish then quickly wiped his hands on the back of his skinny leg jeans. “There, that’s better!” He grabbed Anna and Jacqui’s hands and sat himself in the middle.
It was odd to sit and hold hands in the dark. It would have felt odd anywhere, even though they had all been friends for years. They knew each other’s most intimate secrets but were never touchy feely. They were soul-mates— maladjusted but totally connected.
Their connection felt powerful and slightly surreal. It was as if just the act of touching had changed all the boundaries. A way to kill off a Saturday night got deadly serious.
Dylan’s eyes opened in surprise. “It’s show time,” he whispered.
They felt so connected that the air around them was almost crackling. Jacqui felt strands of long blonde hair rise and buzz. Dylan’s sculptured purple tipped mop top stood up like an electrified kitten and Anna’s short curls started to stand to attention like a prickly halo.
“It’s show time!” said Dylan.
“Well, I think we have connectivity kids,” whispered Jacqui. “Tick.”
“We certainly have atmosphere,” replied Anna. “Tick.”
“Snacks are awaiting,” added Dylan.
“Dylan!” said Jacqui through very clenched teeth.
“It’s show time!”
“You have already said that. Now shut up.” Jacqui was hardly moving her mouth and reminded Anna of an enraged ventriloquist. The effect was not lost on Dylan. He sniggered.
“We would like to talk to the ghost of Heath Ledger. Please,” Jacqui added, “if you are not too busy?” Jacqui sounded slightly less self-assured now. After all he was a massive movie legend. Although the tension between the three bodies remained static, nothing changed on the table. The magazine and the glass lay in the middle and Dylan tilted his head to the side so he could continue reading the front page, ‘Nicole and Keith: Our Undying Love.’ He mouthed the words silently. Jacqui tried to hide her disappointment. It was not working and patience was not her strongest virtue.
“We are three unique individuals living in your birth home town and we are great admirers of your work,” said Jacqui in her most flattering voice, hoping her charm would penetrate the cosmos. She felt confident it would as she shook her head and her ginger blonde mane fell forward.
“Except for Ned Kelly, I had grave concerns for the elasticity of your wig. I found it very unnatural,” interjected Dylan.
“Dylan, stop it,” said Anna, making threatening evil eye looks.
“Well, the helmet hair was very distracting,” continued Dylan.
‘‘SHUT UP.’’
“All I am saying is I really don’t think the real Ned had access to hair curlers and spray. It wasn’t authentic at all and frankly it ruined it for me,” sulked Dylan. “But I cried like a baby the whole way through the Mountain men one, an outstanding body of work, simply masterful.” His voice became squeaky, “It was during that movie I realised, I realised … I had to accept—” Dylan started to contort his face to keep the tears inside.
Jacqui and Anna stared at one another alarmed. “It’s not about you … again ... today Dylan darling. We need to focus on Heath and the task at hand,” Jacqui said quickly.
“Yes, I know,” sniffed Dylan.
“Ok, Dylan, keep it together our big brave lad,’’ whispered Anna.
Jacqui was leading them through the tunnel of death. Surprisingly, there wasn’t much about courting a heartthrob in the afterlife within the pages of her teen magazines and she found herself floundering.
“Hello Heath?” she said sharply, scowling at the glass as it sat motionless. It should have been vibrating by now. It should have been leaping and swirling, spelling out secrets and insights.
“Are we doing it right?” asked Dylan.
“Yes, I just researched it,” snapped Jacqui, hoping Anna would not point out she had only been flicking through gross and freakily faked images.
“Concentrate people,” hummed Anna stunned at her sudden compelling interest.
Their pulses joined together in one harmonious beat. Sweat beaded on Dylan’s manicured eyebrows. The scented candles flickered.
“Shall we chant his name,” suggested Jacqui tentatively.
“Heath Ledger, Heath Ledger, Heath Ledger.”
The room remained very still. The glass was stationary despite the electric atmosphere. No one seemed the least bit possessed. No one was in a bug-eyed trance, recounting Heath’s post passing over paranormal parties and pranks. Lottie snored on. A strong cheap scent wafted out from the three candles. Dylan started to cough.
They sat like that for ten minutes. With Jacqui’s hand still in his, Dylan attempted to scratch his nose, then his ear and then the back of his neck.
“Alright Dylan let go. It’s bad enough holding your hand. I don’t want to feel the inside of your nose.” She scrunched up her face in disgust.
Dylan’s eyes grew sly, “I have the worst wedgie ever.” He started to wriggle in his seat, pulling her hand towards his bum.
“STOP!” pleaded Jacqui.
“Dylan, I’m going to head butt you until your ears bleed,” said Anna in a deathly monotone.
“OMG why are you flipping out over a dead movie star,” he asked Anna. “Jacqui, I understand, she’s the Queen of Kook but you Anna? Weird Much! You like facts, facts and more facts although I often suspect your facts are cleverly disguised as your opinion,” he teased, expecting a lengthy serve back but Anna shut her eyes and only hissed, “Shutup loser,” out of the corner of her mouth.
Dylan realized he had pushed it too far and gave up. Anna and Jacqui were wired like a tightrope.
“Okay, gals I’m going to revive the fondue, I’ll be in the kitchen,” said Dylan, attempting to shake off Anna’s hand.
“NO!” said Anna quickly. “Sit down. Didn’t you feel the power the three of us created? It was awesome. It was magical. We made a … a force of some kind.”
“Okay, I see what has happened. It’s like a freaky Friday effect. Jacqui has possessed you and Jacqui’s soul has popped into the … hmmm … puppy.” Dylan looked down at the sleeping pooch. “Hmm, I see our animal radar is semi conscious so there can’t be too much psychic activity here.” Lottie whimpered and twitched in her sleep and let off a silent sulphurous fart. “Although it does smell like the bowels of Hell.”
Anna gripped his hand tightly and Jacqui copied.
“She said SIT DOWN!”
“Ahh, Jacs is back!”
“Maybe we need a more personal connection. Like a photo or a blood tie, like a relative … or something like that?” suggested Anna
“We have his signature on a magazine, we probably have enough DNA to clone him for heaven’s sake. All those finger nail flakes,” snapped Jacqui.
“Well, Miss Anna, our resident atheist, do I detect a glimmer of belief in some sort of afterlife?” provoked Dylan. “If only we had a handkerchief perfumed in the sweat of Shak
espeare methinks we could conjure his spectral presence in this very room.” Dylan bowed deeply, smacking his head into the dining room table.
“I never said I was an atheist, you know I’m more of an agnostic girl. I don’t subscribe to the dogma presented by the present patriarchal paradigm commonly referred to as organized religion,” retorted Anna. She punctuated this statement by poking her tongue out as far as it could go. She almost let go of his hand to free hers up to use it in a follow up statement, a punch to his head.
“I bought it on eBay,” said Jacqui flatly.
“What?” said Anna.
“The scented candles? Get your money back girl. It’s a very cheap and nasty smell. Reminds me of my brother’s bathroom. Not sure if it’s his aftershave or toilet air freshener?”
“You really are very nasty,” said Anna squeezing Dylan’s hand with all her might and trying to gouge him with her fingernails. She was tired of Dylan dissing Deepak who looked uncannily like Dylan, except with muscles, a mono brow and a calm demeanor in stark contrast to Camp Dylan.
“The autographed magazine, I bought it on eBay.”
“Well I bought this cotton scarf with a hint of glitter thread on eBay and I am very satisfied, what’s your point doll face?” quizzed Dylan.
“IT’S NOT REAL!! IT’S OBVIOUSLY A FAKE, I PAID $65 FOR A 2006 NEW IDEA MAGAZINE WITH A BIT OF SCRIBBLE ON IT. I FEEL SO USED, SO VIOLATED, SO RIPPED OFF. I AM VERY ANGRY, LADIES!!” bellowed Jacqui.
“I thought you got the signature through your well connected fabulous uncle,” snarled Anna, “and not through the conspiring capitalist con artists.”
“Ladies, chill,” said Dylan meekly, “too much juju is making everyone crazy.”
“Well I suspected you would have a problem with the parting of plastic cash so I left out the bit about it being one of my late night mad purchases with my newly acquired debit card. I also bought a very cute purple velvet waistcoat. What? You have never seen me wearing it? Yes, yes, yes, it never arrived. YES Anna, you are always RIGHT Anna, SO sorry Anna. I can’t listen to your speech on consumerism gone crazy and the insidious predatory nature of the faceless machine that is buying stuff off the Internet—ONE MORE TIME!” shouted Jacqui.
Anna opened her mouth and closed it again indignantly. She turned her head away from Jacqui and studied the freshly painted wall to hide the tears scratching at her eyelids. I will not cry. I never cry. Crying is for hysterical females … and Dylan. She focused all her negative energy on the array of vaguely familiar faces that lined the wall, working hard to put her emotions into neutral. It was difficult. She felt the inner bulldog pulling on the lead as she surveyed the deep regal green that offset an arrangement of antique family portraits that swelled and blurred like a Dali nightmare.
Anna scanned the faces again while attempting to talk herself down from the ceiling. Jacqui has many good qualities and I will remember one of them any minute now … or now. Nope, she had nothing, just these unseeing faces and a quivering lip that she bit down hard to still. She became aware of her maternal Great Great Grandmother watching her from the wall. She cut a fine figure of a woman but her taut manner bordered on angry. Where have I seen that look before? Oh … on my own face not twenty minutes ago on Jacqui’s tablet. Her vintage Granny seemed to be looking beyond the photographer to a naughty child in the background. Her eyes said—just wait till we get home, you are in for it. This expression, combined with a magnificent black hat was terrifying. There was a hint of witchy about her. Not that Anna believed in witches. It was just another way for the historic male hierarchy to subjugate women because of their superior alternative medicine. There I go again—she blushed into the pale reflection of green. Still … the Black Hat does look very scary.
Anna’s breathing began to steady as her eyes slid over the more average looking ancestors and stopped at her Great Aunt Daisy. Daisy’s eyes flashed with high spirits and stray beautiful strands of dark hair fell out of a low complicated hair knot. Her hat was slipping, almost covering one eye as she twirled a paper parasol. She peeked out from under the brim with a look that would not have been out of place on the cover of Vogue or in a Face Book profile photo. Her lips were puckered and her arm was flung around her sister Agnes’ neck, who looked away with an uncomfortable smile, slightly blurred as if she were trying to shirk off Daisy. Poor Agnes … Daisy was loving herself sick! Was it possible to take a photo of one’s self with a Kodak brownie in the 1910s? She would need to google it.
Daisy’s perfect bold smile reminded Anna of Jacqui. She had a confidence that eluded Anna and Dylan could only pretend at. It hinted at taking risks. Jacqui would fling her long blonde gingery locks over one shoulder, hand on hip, head tipped to one side and mouth pursed. S –M – I – L – E.
And she had an incurable case of FOMO. Jacqui spent hours searching for the next big thing. In reality, they spent a lot of time on Anna’s front verandah talking and making plans. She and Dylan still did, sometimes Jacqui went out with ‘other pals’. Anna didn’t know the ‘other pals.’ They weren’t kids from school, she pictured them as faceless vampires.
But there was something else in Daisy’s fragile beauty that reminded her of Jacs, a certain kindness and spirit she couldn’t quite put her finger on. It was not just that Great Aunty Daisy looked like too much fun but yes … she could see Daisy and Jacqui getting on famously and having a ‘divine’ time together. Images of the pair of them doing the Charleston and then attending techno raves zipped past in her mind’s eye. Anna always felt very fortunate that Jacqui had chosen her as her best friend but that fortunate feeling morphed into an insecure feeling in a heartbeat. Was it normal to be jealous of a ghost girl that didn’t exist? What is wrong with me? Why do I have to be so bloody intense? She remembered the picture of herself about to leap up and go for the jugular on a rather taken aback Mr. Trigwell. It wasn’t pretty.
She knew Jacqui never meant to make her feel this way. Jacqui was always joyful, insanely joyful and carelessly joyful. But she was always on her side. It was Anna who was the in house voice of doom. Or was she the voice of reason? Anna exhaled. She wasn’t sure anymore but at least the shaming tears had subsided. It had taken her two whole minutes. Emotion … totally overated!
Jacqui squeezed her hand and laid her head on Anna’s shoulder. “Come on Miss Annakins, now I know you get pissed off when I buy crap off the Internet and I know you are always right. You just made my conscience prickle … a little. Can you let go of my hand so I can see how my eBay bid is going for a divinely hand crafted woodlands themed brooch,” she said mischievously. “It’s one of a kind!”
Dylan yawned noisily, “Okay dolls, show’s over. It’s time to finish off the fondue, I’ll fry up the croutons.” He attempted to stand up but Anna dragged him back down into his chair with a loud plop. “Goodness, you have man hands Anna!! Remember, I’m a delicate flower.”
Anna turned back to the photo wall and concentrated. Come on sane, attractive, adjusted relative present NOW she thought. She had no idea what was propelling her forward in this supernatural adventure but felt compelled to keep going. And she knew it wasn’t to satisfy Jacqui or annoy Dylan.
Her eye caught two handsome soldiers. She knew the soldier sitting down was her relative, Great Uncle Les. There was another man in the photo. He was standing up with his hand on Les’ shoulder. An empty box of cigarettes lay near his boots. He had a twinkle in his eye and a pimple on his incredibly chiselled jaw. Nice eyes too. She felt herself blush. Someone had typed ‘France 1917’ on a tiny slip of yellowing paper. It was probably her own Great Nanna, Charlotte, Les’ little sister who had ended up addicted to talent shows, labelling guns and Minties.
“Uncle Les!” she shouted into the sombre night air.
“WHO?” shouted Dylan and Jacqui.
“Uncle Les, up there on the wall, he looks like a nice guy. We
have an original photo of him and I’m a blood relative, distant I know but still it’s better than some overpriced phony signature on a woman’s mag. No offence Jacqui,” Anna added quickly.
“None taken darling but Dylan is right, I’m feeling peckish and a wee bit drained too. We will give it another five minutes and if the table isn’t levitating we will break for more congealed cheese!”
Anna found herself saying thank you. Shocked, Dylan raised his eyes and shoulders at Jacqui.
“Okay Annakins, my aura must be experiencing massive cosmic interference, your turn. Let’s say G’day to your Lesley,” beamed Jacqui.
“Hark now, Uncle Les, come hither good soul,” demanded Dylan.
Anna ignored him and began her inter dimensional flight check, “Candles lit, check. Glass upside down, check. OMG guys, you are meant to put your hand on the glass, we are the electrical conduit … okay so now fingers pressing lightly on glass, check.”
Jacqui smiled, “Slight oversight, that’s all.”
“Well, let’s try Heathy baby again,” pouted Dylan.
“NO!” said Jacqui with lightning speed.
Anna calmly plodded on. She loved ticking stuff off lists. “Extra perceptive animal present, check. Prospective spirit, Uncle Les, check. Object from the deceased, original photo, check. Let us begin.” Anna took a deep breath. That was the most insane thing I have ever said but it feels good … but remember to make these two swear to secrecy … yeah … pointless!
“We are calling on the ghost of Leslie McNamara, formerly an Australian soldier of the Western Front. Of late, dead.” Okay, now that was awkward!
Dylan stifled a giggle.
“Anything else to add between those two valiant extremes,” prompted Jacqui.
“Well, I know he was injured and returned home. He couldn’t return to his normal job because of the injuries. I think he would have been in a lot of pain. Ummmh … he lived alone in an RSL flat and enjoyed a beer or two. He had a couple of good mates from his army days and they were pretty close … ummh I think he died of old age in the Seventies.”
Anna looked up to see tears streaming down Jacqui’s face. There is sympathetic and then there is unhinged.
“Poor, poor Uncle Les, I feel so sorry for him. He looks so handsome and his life ended up being so wretched.” By now Jacqui was whispering in staccato sobs.
“Well I don’t know about wretched, but it was certainly altered,” whispered back Anna. Jacqui is an old softie. Anna remembered another reason why she liked her so much.
“Shall we chant his name,” whispered Dylan subdued.
“No, too undignified,” replied Anna. “Let’s throw away the Wiki how to notes and just concentrate on his image.”
“I agree,” sniffled Jacqui.
The three of them turned to the wall, gazing intently at the soldier’s image. A calm descended over the room, like the exhaustion that follows a good cry. Lottie the puppy slept on in a deep supernatural free slumber. A slight stink stealthily made its way out of her but went unnoticed as the three were almost in a trance.
Dylan was the first to crack as he glanced at his watch.
“Jacqui, you said five minutes and we have been here for nine—” he stopped suddenly.
The dog was going crazy. She stood up on all fours and started growling and shivering. She looked beyond the three of them at the green wall. She was staring at the photo of the two soldiers.
Anna’s hair resumed its electrification, as did Jacqui’s and Dylan’s. Every hair on their body stood up in alarm and anticipation. Jacqui’s eyes became wild with fear as she felt the glass pull towards the letter ‘L’.
“Don’t be afraid,” said Anna, feeling serene and in control. She smiled soothingly at Dylan who was starting to wheeze.
The dog started barking loudly, interspersed with growls. She leapt up and began jumping up at the wall, attempting to scratch the green paint away under Leslie and his friend’s image.
The glass shifted again gaining momentum and speed. It made a clear path to the letter ‘E’. Dylan’s eyes were almost popping out of his head.
“Is that you Les?” she asked kindly but with a hint of authority.
The glass whizzed over to the letter ‘O’.
“L E O,” stated Anna. She frowned deeply.
“Who the hell is LEO?” asked Jacqui. “This isn’t funny Dylan, whatever you are doing, stop it,” she shouted.
“I’m trying to breathe and not poo myself,” gasped Dylan looking blotchy and ill.
“Who are you?” commanded Anna.
The picture of Les and his unnamed friend vibrated on the wall like it was possessed. It flipped up and down on its hook and then fell to the floor smashing into tiny pieces.
“I’M OUTTA HERE,” screamed Dylan. As he stood up, he knocked his chair to the ground. He slammed on the lights as he opened the door and didn’t stop until he was out on the pavement. He shook uncontrollably as he reached into his jean pocket, searching for his saviour, Ventolin. He sucked back furiously on his reliever while trying to think of happy thoughts, rocking his head from side to side like a Dickensian feverish orphan dying in the gutter. With chattering teeth, he muttered into the nippy air, “Coloured skinny leg jeans, perhaps in aqua or a warming chai latte with a shot of mocha, a crunchy Florentine on the side.” He coughed loudly into the night. When he regained strength he whispered, “Oh Dadu, I thought you would be the first to cross the Eternal River Ganges but it is I who light the way.”
“Dylan, Dylan, are you alright?”
He looked over his shoulder to see the two girls jumping over the hedge and following him out to the roadside. He lay down on the footpath with his puffer in hand. “Ladies and children first,” he said weakly.
Jacqui grabbed his hand, “Just concentrate on breathing.”
He felt her hand. It was shaking and Anna’s face had gone a beetroot colour as she crouched beside him. She looked like an out of focused mini Kevin as she ran her hands through her highly charged hair. “Shall I call an ambulance?” she asked with unusual tenderness.
“No doll face, I want to die so we can communicate via Ouija board all the time. It’s such fun,” he said wanly.
“I guess you’re okay then,” said Jacqui as she propped him up.
“It’s the smoke. I’m very sensitive to the smell and that was getting mighty strong in there. Where was it coming from? Is Liam back from up North?” he quizzed.
“No,” sighed Anna as she thought of her brother. He would have been uber cool in this situation. She missed Liam and hoped he was reading her emails on the danger of his alarming FIFO carbon footprint and his teeny tiny tobacco lung capacity.
“Have you been back to your asthma specialist recently?” Anna stroked his arm like he was one of her dogs. Dylan found it was peculiarly comforting. “You might need to. Try not to think about whatever that was … I’m sure there must be a logical explanation,” said Anna. “I just can’t think of one right now.” Except for I raised a ghost!
“How about this one?” replied Jacqui, “we invited an unknown ghost into your freshly painted dining slash formal room. Your mum is going to be devastated. And your dad, it’s too scary to think about.” She blinked back tears.
Dylan lay back down and puffed his final puff. The girls helped him into a beanbag on the front verandah.
“Stay here,” commanded Jacqui. “We are gong to rescind our invitation.”
“Rescind?’’ said Anna.
“Yes, you know rescind. Humans are always rescinding invitations to vampires in the movies and on telly. It means I’m very sorry to have let you in, my mistake, now piss off,” replied Jacqui.
“I’m not sure what works for the living dead in American TV land will work for the dead dead in Australian REAL LIFE!” shouted Anna.
Jacqui whipped out her smart phone. After s
everal failed attempts at typing in ‘Getting rid of ghosts you invited in’ she gave up. Her hands were shaking and her fingers would not hit the right letters.
Anna gently took the phone off her and settled her down into the rocking chair. Jacqui’s face looked abnormally blank. Anna collapsed into a tired looking armchair and picked up her tablet. She typed in various questions, sighed and put the tablet down. Normally, it was the source of all answers, their Great Oz of information. Instead of feeling at a loss, Anna felt empowered with newly tapped intuition leading her.
“OH NO,” Anna jumped up, “where is Lottie?” she said, storming back into the dining room.
Dylan and Jacqui locked eyes and wondered if they should follow. Jacqui was the first to move after her. The three of them were greeted with a shocking mess. Dylan turned around and walked back out of the room with his hand over his mouth. The scented candles had been tipped over and had bled wax all over the recently shellacked dining table. Chairs were flung throughout the room.
All the remaining frames on the wall were upside down or back to front. Several faces lay shattered on the floor. The Ouija board had been thrown into the wall and removed a great chip out of the newly painted plaster. The picture of the two soldiers was now sitting on the mantelpiece. The glass had fragmented into tiny shards. The effect was chilling.
Lottie was whimpering under the table with her belly on the ground in a puddle of wee and she was trembling violently. Anna climbed underneath and quietly pulled her out. She had left several little nuggets.
Jacqui was speechless, “I feel … I feel—” She didn’t know how she felt. “Let’s wake up your parents, I feel scared,” she admitted.
Anna turned to leave with Lottie tucked firmly under her arm. Lottie crammed her head up into Anna’s armpit, freaked but calming down. She sensed whatever had been in this room was no longer here … for the moment.
“Where are you going?” whispered Jacqui. Anna looked at her incredulously. “I’m going to get Mum and Dad, like YOU suggested thirty seconds ago.”
“You can’t leave me here,” pleaded Jacqui.
“Fine, come with me,” retorted Anna.
“What about our brave lad out the front?” said Jacqui, nodding her head in the direction of Dylan. “We can’t leave him alone, he is probably seeing pixies dancing in front of his eyes with the amount of reliever he has inhaled.”
“Fine, go and get Dylan, hold his hand, turn on all the lights and wake Mum and Dad,” snapped Anna. “I will stay here and clean up the poo, otherwise Dad will lose his mind altogether.”
“Poo versus poltergeist? I’d take a cup of doggy doo doo any day,” muttered Jacqui as she hastened down the hallway back to Dylan.
“Come on Dylan, we are going for reinforcements. Let’s wake up Kevin and Natalie.” She held his hand and led him back into the house and down the passage, flicking on every light switch she found.
“Well one good thing has come from this,” mumbled Dylan, wiping his snotty nose on his designer sleeve. “We can confirm Nicole and Keith really do have undying love for each other … although it has been tested.”
“There you go, Dylan. Good on you for finding the silver lining,” she muttered as she wiped the snot off his cheek with a tissue.
“But a few years fall short of forever,” she whispered under her breath while her outstretched hand fumbled for the light switch. When she switched on the kitchen light, the sight before them made them jump. “Oh my God, he is here. Leo is here,” squeaked Dylan.
They clutched at each other terrified unitl Jacqui relaxed, slightly and whispered, “No Dylan, you and I made this shocking mess. Remember you changed personality after a thimble full of brandy.”
They had arrived at Anna’s parents’ door to find the door was shut. “Oh no, I’d rather raise Stalin from the dead, than disturb the unholy act that is going on behind this door,” Jacqui pleaded, freezing mid knock.
“OMG, it’s one am in the morning, they’re old people. I guarantee you they will be fast asleep with their specs on their noses and their books on their bellies. Just knock already,” wheezed Dylan imploringly.
Anna grabbed a paper napkin and walked towards the table. She wavered, turned around and tiptoed over to the mantlepiece. She felt FURIOUS. She had been practising ‘pissed off’ all her life for this moment. She was seething. What kind of bad mannered monster had created this chaos? It looked like a Halloween stagesetting ready for Chucky or Krueger. Despite this, Anna felt a curious lack of fear. She had registered this unfamiliar centred feeling during the séance when she had taken control. Calmly, she shook the glass off the photo on the mantelpiece and examined the damage. The frame’s corners had become dislodged. She carefully lifted the image from its yellowing mount. It was like peeling a sticker. One top corner peeled away easily then it became stuck. If she pulled any harder she would rip Uncle Les’ head off. It was an original photograph nearly one hundred years old. The two papers, photo and the mount had bonded into one over time. She caught the words in faint pencil, Leslie and ‘L’. There was also the start of a quotation mark.
Is it worth decapitating Les to confirm the mystery ghost’s identity? Anna held her breath and with her fingernail, she nudged the picture back a couple of millimetres. It revealed an, ‘E’. Anna thought she might pass out from excitement. She kept on scratching, “Come on Uncle Les, keep your head on, just one more letter.” A semicircle came into sight, and then it became an, 'O’.
“Yes!” she smiled. She felt like punching the air in triumph but remembered that was not her style.
Anna felt galvanized. A powerful force surged through her just as Dylan, Jacqui and Natalie entered the room. They had linked arms and found it difficult to negotiate the doorframe. They shimmied sideways like frightened crabs, eyes out on stalks. Kevin came in with his baseball bat raised in his arms. He was wearing his mustard coloured jocks and mismatched socks. The sight of Kevin nearly nude snapped Dylan back into some kind of lucidity. “Oh my, Mrs. G—I see why you call him Chewbacca behind his back.”
Anna’s parents glared at him but this snide remark was lost as they faced the mess. Natalie shook her head in disbelief. She unhooked her arm from Dylan and slowly walked around the room, shaking her head and pacing the floor, trying to speak. Small little gulpy sobs filled the air. Kevin lowered his bat and turned to face the three of them.
CHAPTER FIVE