by E. A. Clark
‘And what’s new with you? How are you enjoying being a mum?’
‘It’s wonderful. Emily’s an absolute joy.’ I paused.
Clearly he detected from my tone that there was more to my calling than just a general catch-up.
‘Is everything all right?’
I sighed and told him about seeing the ghost of the little girl, and how it had unsettled me.
‘Yes, I can see why it might have troubled you. But it may be that this young spirit sensed something in you that drew her. It can happen, you know, once you’ve been opened up to it all … Perhaps you’d be better having a word with Nia? She may have some thoughts on the matter. I’ll just call her.’
Nia listened attentively to my story. ‘Did you feel that the little girl wants to communicate with you? What do you know about how she died?’
‘Nothing, to be honest. Leo – her brother – just said that she’d died tragically. I didn’t like to ask. I don’t know him that well – and it was only the first time we’d met when she appeared to me. To tell you the truth, I didn’t realize at first that she was a ghost.’
‘Annie, I think you have the gift. I saw it in you when we helped Aneira – and this child has obviously picked up on it. It could be that she doesn’t realize she’s dead. I know it sounds odd, but sometimes when a soul is propelled from the body very suddenly, it simply doesn’t adjust. Particularly in one so young. Maybe you can help her to move on. I understand your reluctance to pursue your new-found psychic talent, but it does get better with time. It soon starts to feel, well, like the most natural thing in the world – just like assisting another human being.’
I didn’t want to admit to myself that I might have had this unwelcome ‘gift’ thrust upon me. I just wanted a normal, peaceful existence with my daughter. I felt decidedly uncomfortable about it all.
‘So what should I do, then? Seek her out and find out what she wants?’
Nia chuckled. ‘I don’t think you’ll need to do any seeking, my love. She has found you – you just have to wait now until your next encounter. Let me know what happens. I’m always at the end of a phone – you know that. And if you’re really stuck, I’m sure we can take a drive down to see you.’
I should have felt reassured by Nia’s words, but instead was alarmed by the idea that Leo’s sister had singled me out as some sort of guide, if indeed that was what she had done.
My dreams that night were vivid and disturbing. I could hear the hum of jumbled, whispered voices, as if dozens of people were talking to one another in different languages. Strange, blurred faces seemed to swim in and out of my thoughts; they gradually merged into the background and Graham appeared suddenly, his face solemn and anxious.
Although he said nothing, I felt he was trying to convey some message. He turned his head to the side, so that only his profile was visible. He appeared to be examining something with great concentration. And then, as clear as day, a little girl with long hair was standing suddenly right next to him, staring silently at me with her distinctive blue eyes. I awoke feeling dead-headed and confused.
*
It was Saturday and the weather was pleasantly warm. I needed to get some fresh air and Emily was tetchy, probably owing to the teeth that were trying to break through her lower gums. After breakfast, I dosed her up with Calpol and took her over to the park. She fell asleep promptly. I was relieved, as she had clearly been in some discomfort.
I ambled round, greeting some of the familiar faces who passed by, many of whom I saw regularly when walking their dogs. Weary after my restless night, I decided to sit awhile. I had brought a new book with me and started to read the blurb on the jacket when the sound of footfall made me look up. It was Leo, pushing a sleeping Frankie in his buggy.
I felt sheepish after my hasty departure the other night.
‘Hi,’ he said, a little frostily.
‘Hi! How are you? Look, I’m so sorry about Thursday. I must’ve seemed really rude. I just felt incredibly tired …’
‘You don’t have to explain. I got the message.’
‘No, I had a lovely time. I really am sorry, believe me.’ I hesitated. ‘Look, do you want to come back to mine for a cup of tea? Perhaps we could start afresh. I’d really like to stay friends.’
He nodded, albeit somewhat dubiously. I had clearly offended him much more than I’d realized.
We went back to my little terraced home, and after a second cup of tea Leo started to mellow. ‘I didn’t think I’d see you again,’ he admitted. ‘I wondered what I’d done to upset you.’
‘You didn’t do anything!’ I assured him with a sigh. ‘I’m just a miserable sod sometimes, that’s all. I can only apologize. I really meant it when I said I’d like to be friends. Especially when you make such a mean lasagne!’
He laughed. From then on, the conversation began to flow properly and we got along like a house on fire. We went out into the garden and sat on a blanket I had spread out on the grass, watching as Frankie tirelessly ran up and down the lawn and Emily, now in a better mood, played with her building blocks.
Time seemed to fly by, and I was sorry when he said he had to leave.
At the front door he turned to me.
‘Can I see you again next Saturday – in the evening, I mean? If you could get a babysitter, we could go out for food, and a drink afterwards, if you like. Giuseppe and his partner are expecting their first baby soon. They’ll have Frankie for me at the drop of a hat – they say it’s good practice – so hopefully we’ll be able to have a child-free evening! I’ll take you to Cacciatore – my parents’ restaurant. You can meet the folks.’
‘I’d like that. I’ll ask my sister – I’m sure she won’t mind.’
‘Great. Well, if you give me a ring tomorrow once you’ve found out if she’s free …’
‘Sure, I’ll let you know when I’ve spoken to her.’
Leo seemed pleased. We wished one another goodnight.
I wondered if this was all too much too soon, and whether I might live to regret it. But something in me wanted to get back out there – to start enjoying life again. And he was a lovely guy. Where was the harm in it?
*
Sarah came up trumps as usual. She said she would be happy to stay over, so I could stay out as late as I liked. I asserted that I’d be home at a respectable hour.
It was arranged that Leo would come to collect me at 7.30 p.m., with the table booked for eight o’clock. Even if we were just good friends, I still wanted to look presentable, and spent ages fretting over my clothes and make-up.
‘Do I look OK?’ I asked Sarah worriedly. I frowned at my reflection in the bedroom mirror, wondering if the silk paisley-patterned dress I was wearing was clinging to me in all the wrong places.
‘You look great,’ she sighed, rolling her eyes. ‘Stop mithering! Just chill and enjoy yourself. God knows you could do with a night out.’
The doorbell rang and Sarah squealed. ‘Let me get it!’ she said excitedly. ‘I’m dying to give this guy the once-over …’
‘For God’s sake, Sarah – he’s just a mate. I told you!’
She shot me a look that said ‘pull the other one’ and rushed down the stairs ahead of me.
‘You must be Leo,’ I heard her saying. ‘I’m Annie’s sister, Sarah. Come on in!’
‘Pleased to meet you,’ said Leo. He looked up as I came down the stairs carrying Emily.
‘Ciao, Annie! You look lovely.’
‘Hi.’ I felt my cheeks flush. Sarah caught my eye and, raising her eyebrows several times in quick succession, gave me a surreptitious thumbs-up. I glared at her. Handing Emily over, I planted a kiss on her cheek.
‘You be a good girl, now!’
She chuckled happily. Auntie Sarah was always great fun.
They waved us off as we walked down the path. I just managed to stop my jaw from dropping as Leo opened the passenger door of a brand new Range Rover.
‘Hop in!’ He grinned.
&nbs
p; So we arrived at Ristorante Cacciatore in style. Leo’s mother came to the door to greet us. She was a striking woman of upright posture, probably in her early sixties. Her abundant dark wavy hair was cut into a bob and streaked with steel grey; her still-trim figure was encased in a smart blue jersey dress.
She smiled at me warmly and shook me by the hand, followed by a brief hug and a kiss on both cheeks.
‘It’s lovely to meet you, Mrs Cacciatore,’ I began.
‘Call me Rosa! And it’s lovely to meet you, too. We’ve been hearing all about the wonderful Annie from my boy here …’
Leo looked embarrassed. It was quite amusing.
‘Ciao, Mamma,’ he said, kissing her on both cheeks.
‘I need a drink,’ he muttered under his breath. I smiled to myself.
‘Michele!’ called Rosa. ‘Due Bellini per Leo e … this beautiful young lady, per favore!’
In seconds, Leo’s stockily-built father appeared from the kitchen at the far end of the restaurant, carrying a tray with two drinks in champagne flutes.
‘Buonasera, Annie.’ He beamed, handing me a glass. I accepted gratefully and noticed immediately that Leo had the same vivid blue eyes as Mr Cacciatore – the same, unforgettable eyes that he shared with his sister. His hair was thick but pure white, and his skin deeply tanned.
The restaurant was fairly empty initially. It was traditional but very smart, with expensive-looking, elegant lighting and mirrors. Leo chose a table for us in a quiet corner and we perused the menu, whilst his parents fussed and attended to us, much to his mortification. After a second Bellini, he started to relax a little.
‘They mean well,’ he explained, in a rare moment alone. ‘It’s just that it’s such an uncommon occurrence, my bringing a girl here, friend or otherwise. I think they’re quite excited about it all.’
‘Well, I think they’re lovely. They’ve made me feel very welcome,’ I reassured him.
He smiled and seemed happier. ‘They really like you,’ he said. ‘And how could they not?’
We enjoyed a fabulous meal, accompanied by an excellent bottle of Barolo. By now the restaurant was full and the atmosphere vibrant. I felt decidedly tipsy and politely declined the after-dinner Grappa offered by Leo’s father.
‘You’ll have to carry me out of here if I drink any more,’ I joked to Leo.
He laughed. ‘Not a seasoned drinker, then! We’ll need to train you up,’ he said, with a wink.
Feeling a touch light-headed, I excused myself and clutched the banister as I climbed the stairs to the bathroom. The toilets were at the end of a long, rather dimly lit corridor. The floor was carpeted, but uneven and I almost missed my footing. Before me on the floor, lying face down, I saw a small, sweet-looking blonde-haired doll, perhaps a foot in length, dressed in a green knitted outfit, tights, and Mary Jane shoes. I stooped to pick it up, but was repulsed to find its head smashed and the eyes gouged out. In the half-light it looked decidedly sinister. I tossed the doll to one side in disgust and continued to the bathroom, feeling somewhat uneasy.
Treading more cautiously on my way back down into the restaurant, I noticed a rustling sound behind me. Pausing to listen, I thought I heard a child’s muffled laughter. I stopped dead in my tracks, spinning round just in time to glimpse a small, long-haired figure disappearing nimbly along the landing.
My heart rate began to gather speed and the flesh prickled on my arms. The empty stairwell felt suddenly eerie and a touch menacing. But I felt compelled to investigate, however fearful I may have been. Taking a deep breath, I mounted the stairs once again and hurried back to the top. I peered into the gloom, looking to left and right. There wasn’t a soul in evidence. I was alone. I felt a sudden chill. I knew then that she was there, watching me from the shadows. It was not a pleasant sensation.
I hastily returned to the dining room with newly regained sobriety.
‘I will have that Grappa after all, if the offer’s still open,’ I told Leo shakily.
He looked at me in surprise. ‘Are you sure? It’s potent stuff …’
‘Bring it on!’
I sipped the firewater and gradually began to unwind once again. Leo watched me with undisguised curiosity, but said nothing. I must have seemed strangely contrary.
At the end of the evening, I thanked Rosa and Michele for their kindness and we left. I glanced upwards over my shoulder as we walked out into the night. A small silhouette could be seen from the darkness of the upstairs window. My stomach turned over. I knew she was looking down at us. Perhaps she was letting me know I was being observed, that she was making sure I was treating her brother properly. Whatever the reason, I was unnerved.
‘I’m ditching the car,’ Leo told me. ‘We’ll get a cab.’
The night air was surprisingly cool, and I shivered as we walked up the high street. Leo put an arm around my shoulder. ‘Let me warm you up,’ he said, rubbing my arm gently.
I shrank from his touch, which felt suddenly more than platonic.
‘Leo – I’m sorry. I’m not ready for this …’
He retracted his hand and smiled resignedly. ‘Mi dispiace.’
He was being so reasonable and I felt bad. We’d had a lovely evening and now I was spoiling it.
‘Just give me time. I really like you but –’
‘Yeah, I know. I understand. I’m a patient man.’
I smiled. I felt sure that, with time, I could fall in love with him. But the memory of Graham was still so strong. I was in a state of flux. My emotions were anything but stable.
Leo seemed unperturbed, however, for which I was thankful. Walking up the street towards the taxi rank, he chatted as though nothing had happened, which made me feel less guilty. As we waited for a cab he turned to me.
‘Listen, it’s my dad’s sixty-fifth birthday next weekend. We’re throwing a big party for him at my parents’ house – all the relatives will be flying over from Italy. I’d love it if you and Emily could come.’ He looked at me hopefully.
‘We’d love to – but are you sure I won’t be imposing? I mean, if it’s for family …’
‘Of course not! There’ll be plenty of friends too – and Mamma and Papà would love you to come. And you’ll be able to meet my brother – and everyone else! It would mean a lot to me if you could be there.’
‘Well then, how can I refuse? I’ll look forward to it.’
I sincerely hoped, however, that Francesca would remain in absence. I was ill-prepared to begin communicating with the dead once again. Whilst I felt that she posed no threat, in spite of my previous experiences, I was still not in my comfort zone in the presence of someone who was not of this world. It was disquieting.
*
The week passed quickly. Leo was busy with work – and the preparations for his father’s birthday celebration on Saturday – but called me several times just to see how I was doing, and to make sure I was definitely going to attend the party.
On Friday I decided to go into town to look for a suitable present for Leo’s father, Michele. I had asked Leo what he might like.
‘Anything Italian!’ He laughed. ‘No, seriously – he’s very easy to please. Just a bottle of something would be fine.’
I didn’t think, however, that a ‘bottle of something’ was particularly appropriate for a special birthday. Plus – he was a restaurateur – he could lay his hands on any kind of drink whenever he wished. I wanted to buy him something rather more special, something that he could keep.
I remembered that there had been numerous fine art pictures in Ristorante Cacciatore, which would surely be indicative of his taste. Perhaps a painting depicting a beautiful scene somewhere in Italy might be nice?
I found a shop selling classical artwork and spent a long time browsing. There was a whole section devoted to Italian street scenes and landscapes. It was so difficult to decide when buying for someone else – and I desperately wanted to make the right choice. The oil paintings on the walls were frighteningly expensive. I
asked the assistant, a tall, fifty-something elegantly dressed woman, if she could recommend anything.
‘I want to spend about fifty to sixty pounds,’ I told her. ‘Unfortunately most of these are out of my price range.’
The woman looked at Emily, who was sleeping peacefully in her pram, and smiled wistfully. ‘She reminds me of my daughter when she was that age,’ she told me. ‘I wish they could stay like that.’
Looking round at the proprietor, a rather flamboyant-looking grey-haired gentleman who was dealing with some apparently affluent clients at the opposite end of the shop, she lowered her voice. ‘We have some very nice prints for the smaller budget,’ she said. ‘I can find you a nice frame for one of those, if you like.’
The assistant produced a large catalogue from behind the counter.
‘Perhaps something in here will catch your eye.’
I thanked her and pored over the pages of the book, which contained images of places from all over Italy. I found myself completely engrossed in its contents. Suddenly, my heart leaped. I was drawn inexplicably to one particular scenic view. I didn’t know why, but felt without doubt that was the picture I must choose. It was almost a compulsion.
‘Do you have a copy of this one in store, please?’ I eagerly showed her the picture that had grabbed my attention. There was a tall, traditional stone building with steps to the left, set back from a dirt road on a slope. It stood on a sweeping bend, which disappeared from sight, overlooking a lake flanked by cypress trees to the right, and mountains in the distance. Three peasant girls, dressed in headscarves and long skirts, gathered in the foreground, carrying baskets and standing side by side in the road. A fourth drank from a water fountain set beneath a stone archway, in the shade of a huge olive tree next to the building.
The painting showed a typically warm, Italian summer’s day, with its azure sky and blazing sun. The colours were vibrant and there was a vital quality to the picture. I had to have it.