by Gareth Otton
How did that happened?
Tad’s end terrace had once been two houses that were combined to create one large house with three spacious bedrooms. Rather than heading to one of those bedrooms, Tad waited in the hall outside the living room, listening at the door.
“So, you’re Charles,” Maggie said. “You’re exactly what I imagined. It’s amazing, I’ve known you all these years and this is the first time I’ve seen you.”
“Yes, I don’t think I’ve been friends with someone I haven’t spoken to, either. It’s good to see you again, Maggie,” Charles answered.
Tad easily predicted the startled look on Charles’ face. His wide eyes pushed those bushy eyebrows up his head, and his double chin shook as he struggled to find the words to correct himself. Tad smiled even without seeing it.
“Not that I’m glad you’re dead, of course. I would never… I mean it would have been better to… I mean…”
“It’s okay. I understood what you meant.” After a slight pause, Maggie said, “Tony. You haven’t changed.”
“But you have, Mags. I approve. How about a twirl so I can look at— Ow. Will you stop hitting me?”
Tad took his cue to return and entered as though he had something draped over his left arm. Maggie looked up and suddenly he felt a weight on that arm. He looked down to find a pair of worn jeans and an over sized black t-shirt with a skeletal design on the front, his clothes from when he was growing out of his teens. He had long since tossed them, but Maggie didn’t know that.
Like most ghosts, Maggie didn’t yet to realise how much her reality relied on perception. Tad could see and interact with ghosts, but they weren’t part of the living world. Their reality was what they made it.
Ghosts appeared as they expected to appear. Some assumed this would be without clothing or any material possessions. In her new state, if Maggie believed herself clothed she would be. However, a lifetime of thinking you know how the world works takes a while to overcome. She’d get it eventually, but until then Tad had a few tricks up his sleeve.
Telling her he had gone to get clothes left her with the impression he would do so. When he returned, her belief in his word made the clothes real. It would do until he could show her how her new world worked.
“I never thought I’d be this happy to see these again,” Maggie said as she pulled the t-shirt over her head. “Thanks.”
Tad nodded and motioned to three large sofas arranged in a U around his TV. So many sofas were overkill for just he and Jen, but with the ghosts the extra seating was useful.
Tad grabbed the acoustic guitar that was resting in the corner of the room before taking his seat on the central sofa. As he got himself comfortable, his fingers moved along the strings, picking a few quiet notes that wouldn’t intrude on their conversation.
He never considered whether it was the right time for music. When he was nervous he needed to be doing something with his hands. The habit wasn’t even his own, it was Tony’s, one played out through Tad by proxy. The longer Tad spent with his ghosts, the more he became like them. Even with his bond to Tony fading, the habit and enough of Tony’s talent remained that the guitar made the beautiful noises that can only be produced by a master musician.
Maggie smiled at the familiar sight of Tad with a guitar and took the seat at the far left on his same sofa.
After a few minutes listening to Tad play, Maggie took charge of the conversation. She turned to Miriam and said, “I’m sorry, you weren’t about when I last spoke with Tad.”
Miriam shook her head and offered a smile filled with sympathy, but was neither overly pleasant nor condescending. Tad guessed she had perfected it as a detective talking to grieving families.
“I’ve only been around a few years. My name’s Miriam Winslow.”
“Maggie Patterson.”
“I know all about you, dear. Part of the Proxy thing. What he knows—”
“You know. Of course. I’d forgotten.” Maggie laughed nervously and brushed her hair over her ear as she turned to look at Tad. “It’s weird. I always believed what you could do. But there’s believing and there’s being a part of it. I never expected to be here.”
“Why are you here? After everything I told you when we were friends, I assumed that if you died you’d move on.”
She winced at his use of the past tense and looked away. Tad knew what was going through her mind and struggled past the memory their parting. He started into a faster song, trying to lose himself in manipulating the strings, using the music to leave his awkwardness behind.
“I would have, but…” Her words trailed off as she composed her thoughts. “I couldn’t move on. Not yet. You were right. About everything… About Mark. I can’t move on until… well…”
“Maggie. What happened?” Tad asked, mimicking Miriam’s polite, police tone.
There was a momentary pause in his playing as he surprised himself. That tone was something he shouldn’t have access to now his bond with his ghosts was almost gone.
“He killed me. A few hours ago.”
The bitterness in her voice was sharp and understandable, but Maggie looked ashamed. She took a deep breath to calm herself before her story poured from her.
“He started drinking a while back. There’s something about his work that’s bothering him, but he’d never tell me what. I knew it was eating at him so I kept asking. It got in the way of our marriage. He would walk around as though haunted by ghosts—” She looked at the three ghosts in the room and said, “No offence.”
Charles waved her off, Tony grinned and Miriam offered another tame smile.
“I kept asking, he kept telling me to mind my own business. We argued, and with each argument we grew further apart. Then he became violent.” She wasn’t looking at Tad, no doubt expecting an I told you so expression. She wouldn’t find one, he had more compassion than that.
“He was so distraught the first time he slapped me that things got good again. He treated me like a queen for months. We didn’t argue, we laughed, we… well, lets just say we were properly man and wife again.”
Tony sniggered and received another slap from Miriam. Tad was glad for their distraction, it hid the hitch in the music as he struggled with is own feelings.
“But then it started again. This time it progressed quicker. The next time he hit me he wasn’t so upset about it. Rather than trying to make amends, he drank instead.
“That was our pattern for a year. We’d fight, he’d get angry, hit me, and then hit the bottle harder. This evening he came home pissed off his head and angry about something. I guess I asked the wrong question.”
She took another deep breath and Tad saw tears streaming down her cheeks. Whatever I told you so speech he’d been composing vanished and he moved on instinct, dropping the guitar and sliding to the end of the sofa. He put an arm around her shoulders as he had a million times before.
At first she stiffened, shocked. Then she smiled and melted into him, resting her head against his chest.
Tad ignored the judging looks from his ghosts. They knew how he felt for Maggie and he knew how this must look. They could think what they wanted. This wasn’t about them, it was about Maggie.
“When he hit me tonight I was in the kitchen. I tripped and fell, and I remember banging my head against something. When I landed the world felt wrong, like it was moving too slowly. He stood over me with a guilty look on his face. But then his look changed and he got angrier than ever.
“He started kicking me. I lost consciousness after the first three. When I woke up I was naked and standing in the park near my gallery. There was this bloody mess in the bushes at my feet. I think it was me.”
The tension of the night, the pain of her death and the shock of her new life overcame her all at once. The new tears were accompanied by heaving sobs that weren’t going to stop anytime soon. It was understandable. Most ghosts were emotional at first. Death was a big thing to adjust to.
When Tad looked up, he saw Mi
riam mouthing the words, Call Kate.
If Maggie had been killed only a few hours ago, then she might not have been found. If he could tip off Kate, then he could get Kate on the investigation. Kate knew he was a Proxy, so he might be in on the investigation as well.
He nodded to Miriam and waved her over. Handing Maggie over was less than graceful, but Maggie was too distraught to notice. He left them and walked toward the kitchen, fishing his phone out of his pocket.
He was half way through dialling when he stepped into the hallway and cried out in shock.
In spite of knowing she was busted, the girl sat on the bottom step couldn’t help but giggle at his reaction. Her humour didn’t last long. At twelve years old, Jen was getting the feel for teenage mood swings a year early. She didn’t take well to being told what to do and Tad’s glare sparked her innate defiance.
She straightened her back and stood proud at her full five-foot-two, her hazel eyes hardening as she stared Tad down. Her coppery curls were tied back and lent a sharp look to her narrow face. Even her freckles did nothing to soften her menacing appearance. Tad felt a pang of sympathy for her future husband before he remembered that was years off and for now she was his headache to deal with.
“Why aren’t you in bed?”
Jen ignored his question, instead answering the question she thought he should have asked.
“You can’t have another ghost when I haven’t got one of my own.”
He sighed and shook his head.
“You need to be in bed. You’ve got school in the morning.” She wouldn't go to bed no matter what he said, so he continued into the kitchen. Jen followed him.
The case that had brought Miriam and Kate into Tad’s life had also brought him Jen. Her parents had never been responsible, and by the time Jen was nine they were heavily in debt and there were people looking to make an example of them.
After they died, they realised that when their daughter said she talked to invisible people she wasn’t lying. Feeling guilty, they stuck around using Jen as their Proxy until they could get her to safety.
Even now Jen didn’t realise how easy her parents had made the experience. Sharing your mind is beyond intimate. Without a strong will it can be all consuming, and if a Proxy isn’t alert a ghost could overpower them.
Jen’s parents didn’t do this, but what little time they spent in her head was damage enough. She was exposed to memories not meant for a nine-year-old and it took Tad a long time to unravel that particular knot.
With her parents on board, Jen had gone to the police. She had trouble being taken seriously until Tad, who was in the station looking for answers on the first disappearance, got involved. It took some convincing, but he had fifteen years experience of getting past people’s scepticism. Soon enough he and Jen were speaking to Miriam, the lead detective on Jen’s parent’s case. It was a career move that would claim Miriam’s life and see her then uniformed life partner promoted to CID.
Once their killers had been arrested, Tad convinced Jen’s parents of the damage they were doing to their daughter. He offered to Proxy for them, but they wanted to move on. However, they had no family and didn’t want to leave Jen to foster care. Knowing she would need more guidance than a normal parent could offer, Tad volunteered.
He posed as a distant relative and was armed with just enough knowledge to prove it. With a written recommendation from Kate, a good legal history and the tenuous proof that he was family, it was just enough for her to slip through the gaps in the system and into his guardianship.
She made him pay for that decision every day since. When her parents first moved on, she was understandably distraught. Over the course of the next year Tad came to love her as a daughter whereas Jen came to resent him as a parent. She blamed him for her parents moving on and she rebelled against his every decision since.
By far the largest argument that still hung between them was that Tad wouldn’t let her Proxy until she was eighteen. He had seen the damage her parents had done to her and knew it was a talent that could damage the young and innocent.
“I’m serious, Tad. You can’t have four ghosts while I don’t have any. You should let me have this one.”
“No. Go to bed.”
Tad picked up his phone again and searched for Kate’s number.
“No? You can’t just say no. You need to give me a reason.” He was fortunate enough to be standing on the other side of the breakfast island, putting a much needed barrier between them. The distance meant he felt safe enough to meet her eye.
“We’ve been over this. You’re too young. Just like you’re too young to be up at…” he glanced at his phone and couldn’t hold back his despairing sigh. “Nearly two in the morning.”
Jen was not yet out of the habit of stamping her foot when frustrated. Dressed in pink, cotton pyjamas and barefoot, her stamp made a slapping sound on the cold stone floor and she looked ridiculous.
“Tad. This isn’t fair. You had Charles when you were nine. By the time you were my age you had Tony as well.”
“That was different.”
“Why?”
“Because there was no one else to have them. You ask any Proxy what their thoughts are on children being Proxies and they’ll tell you the same thing.”
“That’s convenient when all the other Proxies are probably dead.” Which was the other reason he didn’t want her using her abilities. The last thing he wanted was for her to draw the attention of whoever was hunting Proxies.
She knew she’d gone too far without Tad having to say anything. Her expression softened. She was a good kid really, and he knew she was only acting out as all children did. But he’d had a long night.
“Go. To. Bed.” He said again.
She looked like she might be about to say something else, maybe the sorry he was waiting for. Instead she turned and walked away.
Tad knew by the lack of the footsteps climbing the stairs that she hadn’t gone to bed. He sighed again. He’d call Kate and then drag her to bed if he had to.
Kate picked up on the tenth ring and she barked in her thick, Valley’s accent, “Holcroft. Do you know what fucking time it is?”
“Yeah. Sorry about that, Kate. I’ve got a favour to ask.”
She snorted. “Figures. What’s up?”
“I’ve got a new ghost with me. She was murdered about midnight and her body was dumped in the park near Jensen Gallery. I figured you might want to take a look.”
There was a moment of silence before a more alert voice said, “Give me the details.” He retold Maggie’s story, explained where he expected her body to be, and when Kate said she’d look into it he thanked her and hung up.
As the phone went dark, he fully felt the lateness of the hour and was determined to put this day to bed. Beyond battling with a pain-in-the-ass pre-teen, he also had to have a conversation with Maggie that he wasn’t looking forward to. She was here for reasons beyond getting Tad to look into her murder. The trouble was, he didn’t know what his answer would be yet.
He was still thinking as he returned to the other room.
Sure enough, Jen was curled up on the sofa in the farthest spot from the door. It was as though she thought that by putting distance between herself and her bed he would let her transgression slide. He decided it was a battle that could wait for a moment and instead he turned his attention to Maggie.
She wasn’t crying anymore. Instead she had a stunned look on her face and she was staring at Jen.
“Tad, who’s this little girl? She says she’s your daughter—”
“Adopted,” Jen interjected before realising it was probably best if she stayed quiet. She went back to looking at her knees.
“She is,” Tad said. “It’s a long story.”
Maggie stared at him as though expecting to hear it, but that was not a conversation he wanted to have. Instead he asked, “What are your plans? Why are you here?”
Some of the sadness returned to her expression.
&nb
sp; “I hadn’t really thought about it. Mark killed me and my mind went straight to the one person I knew who could talk to ghosts. I thought that maybe you could help me get justice.”
Tad read between the lines. He knew Maggie too well and the careful lack of heat to her words made him suspicious. Maggie had always been passionate. When that passion disappeared he knew she was hiding something. This time he expected she was less interested in justice as she was in revenge.
It was because he knew her so well that he knew what she wanted to ask next. He had worked hard to put Maggie and his past behind him, agreeing to her request would awaken those old wounds in the worst way possible. He felt horrible and wished he had the strength to give her what she wanted, but he couldn’t help this time.
“I can’t be your Proxy, Maggie.”
She stiffened. “Why not?”
“Because of our history. Because of how invasive the process is. Because of a lot of reasons. I don’t think I’m going to be the right person for you. I can recommend someone—”
“I can do it,” Jen said.
“No!”
The word came from four voices at once and made both Jen and Maggie flinch. Charles and Miriam would never allow it, and even Tony knew it was not something suited to a little girl. It was one of the few things they all agreed on, much to Jen’s frustration.
“As I was saying. I know another Proxy that—”
“I want you to be my Proxy. I can’t believe you’d shut me out like this.”
“It’s not like that, Mags. From all the things I told you, I thought you’d understand.”
“I understand alright. I understand we were best friends before Mark, and now five years later you’re still holding it against me. I thought I meant more to you than that.”
“Of course you mean a lot to me—”
“Then be my Proxy. It’s not like we had secrets before. I’m not afraid of you looking into my mind. What are you so afraid of?”
That was just it, the question he’d been dreading. In all the years he had loved Maggie, he knew she never felt the same way. He’d never brought it up knowing what it would do to their friendship. If he was to do as she asked then she’d finally know. Who knew where that would leave them?