Ghost Diaries 1_Gigi's Guardian_Paranormal Romance

by Michele McGrath

  “One moment, please.” She pulled back her pointed sleeve and consulted a tiny, high-tech screen attached to her left wrist.

  “Yes, you’re on the list for today and Francis is expecting you. Follow me please.”

  Magdalen led me along a glass corridor, echoing with voices. I caught glimpses of huge airy rooms filled with people and what seemed like computers, although their shapes were odd. Do they need computers here too? How strange. We suddenly turned sharp right and left and right again. The ceiling descended, the corridor narrowed and started to zigzag. I lost all sense of direction and became totally bewildered.

  “However do you find your way in such a maze?”

  Magdalen smiled. “I’ve been here a long while. Everything’s difficult the first time you come. You get used to things, I suppose.”

  “Everyone seems to say that.” I was getting a bit sick of the phrase to tell the truth.

  “Well it’s true. Everything here is what you make it, although you need to keep an open mind. When I was young, all the men had gone off on the Second Crusade. We stayed at home doing tapestry work. You can’t imagine how boring tapestry work and gossip is, after a few years with nothing to break the monotony. I think I actually died of boredom but, of course, they called the illness something else. I couldn’t believe my luck when I arrived. I haven’t managed to do everything I want to do yet. I’ve still got a long list of things left. Here we are.” She tapped at an old oak door, studded with iron nails.

  “Come in,” said a deep male voice with a strong Devon burr.

  “I’ll be back to guide you to your next section. Then you won’t get lost,” Magdalen promised, as she floated away and left me.

  The door creaked open. A stocky man wearing a ruff and a doublet held out his hand and drew me into the room.

  “Good morning. You must be Ariane. I’m Francis Drake.”

  I did a double take. “The Francis Drake?”

  “The Francis Drake,” he confirmed with a nod and a smile.

  “But what…?”

  “…is a sailor doing in an office?” he finished my question for me. “I’m having a rest at the moment. I’ve been sailing around the world for several centuries now, you know. A few of us, who still had the sea in our blood, opted to keep on going. That’s why there are all those reports about ghost ships and the Bermuda Triangle. Oops. Done it again. I always forget the ‘G’ word isn’t P.C. any more. Don’t tell anyone, will you?” He gave me a grin. “I got tired of sailing at last, a couple of years ago. Most of my officers and crew were men. The ladies only joined us recently. They’re efficient, although they take some getting used to for an old sea dog like me. The problem is - there are not enough of them. All they did was remind me of what I was missing, so I came ashore. This job enables me to meet lots of pretty girls, just like you.”

  I blushed and he grinned again. I had the distinct feeling he often used that line to get a reaction and I hadn’t disappointed him. He pulled out a chair for me to sit on and gave me a thick embossed folder.

  “This is your Action Pack. Sorry I can’t give you one on disc. Computers were the size of this room in the Sixties and DVDs hadn’t been invented. We try to stay true to the period, as you know. Basically the Action Pack is in two sections. One is general information; the other is specific to your assignment. The General Section tells you what you can and can’t do. For example, you can rap and bump and thump, making people jump. I love rhymes! You can knock on doors or make the sound of ghostly footsteps. You can shake beds and wake up anyone sleeping on them. You can throw objects about and move furniture.”

  “Like a Poltergeist, you mean?”

  “Exactly. You can wrap people up, provided you make it appear to be accidental.”

  “Granddad did that!”

  “Precisely. Clever man, your granddad. You can levitate bodies into the air, provided you don’t drop them. Many dreams about flying or falling are real, because the Guardian didn’t put them down properly and they land splat. Disconnect the electricity and plunge rooms into darkness, if you want, and stop the power being turned on again. You can create cold draughts or ‘auras’ which make people shiver, and conjure up all types of smells. Speak to people in faint voices, so you cannot be heard clearly. You are allowed to ‘appear’ in dreams. When the client is awake, you mustn't be too visible. All the White Ladies and headless cavaliers get it right.”

  “Sounds like fun.”

  “Can be. One or other of those techniques usually works.” Then he wagged a bejewelled finger at me. “Now the ‘don’ts’. You aren’t allowed to speak directly to your client, unless she is aware of our presence, of course. Gigi is as sensitive as a brick.”

  “Pity.”

  “Sometimes direct communications can do more harm than good. Rasputin was a Sensitive, but a confused one. He got the messages muddled and caused dreadful problems in the end. You won’t be on your own. Other Guardians will be around and we all try to help out. Don’t be afraid to ask them.”

  “That’s a relief.”

  “Watch out for Thelma; she’s been doing the job for yonks.”

  I could feel my eyebrows rise. ‘Yonks’ didn’t go with doublets and lace. He chuckled at my expression.

  “I collect slang; I’m writing a paper called ‘Slang through the Ages’ for the Celestial Arts Society. I’ve had a lot of fun, since most of the people I interview are pretty girls. Funny that. Now to the specifics. Gigi is interesting. She is a Creole, who's seeing a bit of the world before she goes home and settles down. She’s working as a hairdresser and living in a hostel. She’s sharing a room with two other girls, who also have Guardians, because they’re at critical points in their lives too. Your task is to make sure Gigi gets pregnant and marries the right man. She’s going to sleep with two boyfriends at the same time, which confuses everyone concerned, including Gigi. Her daughter must be brought up by Finn, so she will become a doctor and discover the cure for the common cold. If Gigi marries James, her other boyfriend, the poor child will cheat a million people out of their life savings and go to prison.”

  “Phew!”

  “Not an easy task, I agree. The Guardians of Gigi’s friends, Leilani and Maude, aren’t experienced, but Thelma and Ivan are old hands. In fact Thelma’s a specialist, so you’re lucky to be with her on your first assignment. She can teach you a lot, if she takes one of her fancies to you. Otherwise she's an old battleaxe. She doesn’t like me, so I’m prejudiced, of course. Not putting you off, am I?”

  I shook my head.

  “Well then, I almost forgot to tell you how to recognise other Guardians. When we’re on Earth, we all have a sort of a purple shimmer. Helps to keep things straight, so you always know who’s who. Difficult thinking you were talking to one of us and you weren’t. If you’re in trouble, ask for help or pop back up here. We’ve got a department called the Bright Ideas Group, B.I.G. for short, to give you a hand when you get stuck. You’d be amazed at the things they come up with, I always am. Magdalen will take you and introduce you before you leave, so they’re on standby for you.”

  He handed me a delicate bracelet, set with glowing purple stones.

  “This is your communicator. We don’t use them here, of course, but you will where you’re going. Imagination and thought waves get scrambled down there. Weather can affect them and even emotions. We developed these in case you need to speak to someone, call for help or bring in supplies. Bracelets are foolproof, as much as anything is, but remember - fools are ingenious.” He grinned.

  “How does it work?”

  “If you look at the stones, you’ll see they're incised with symbols. This one for instance...” He touched a triangle and an alarm buzzed softly in the background. “...is for when you’re in trouble. The panic button. Usually you just come through to me. Don’t push really hard, though, or the Heavenly Host arrives. That can be useful, if you need a serious distraction, but it’s not always the best thing to do. They all have differe
nt opinions and argue amongst themselves. They get in each other’s way, too.”

  “Not very reassuring.”

  “Just push gently. I’m usually here and tactics are my forte.”

  “The panic button looks like the hazard warning on a car,” I said, looking at the symbol more closely.

  “We try to make them recognisable for the user. Didn’t have cars in my day, of course, and I'm not allowed to drive here. A bit of a disaster, the first time I tried. They still snigger about it behind my back. No one told me the turning circle of a car is so much smaller than a galleon. How was I to know? I took out three buses, fourteen cars and five buildings before I stopped. I didn't hurt anyone of course – that’s one of the good things about being here. Everyone said I should stick to boats.”

  “I can’t imagine why.”

  He laughed. “Neither can I. Have you any questions?”

  “Half a million, but I don’t know where to start.”

  “The beginning is usually a good place.”

  “I need to think about it first. My head is buzzing and I wouldn’t make any sense right now. Can I come back to you?”

  “Of course. Use the Hot Line, the stone with the gramophone horn.” He touched his own bracelet, a massive gold anchor chain.

  “I thought you said you didn’t need a communicator here?” I asked him.

  “I don’t. It’s a bad habit I got into below, but I think it goes with the outfit, don’t you?”

  “I do.”

  “I’ve called for Magdalen. She’ll take you to BIG and then you can go home and have a rest. Don’t worry about all the bumph. Seems like a lot, but we are quite good at this. We’ve had loads of practice. Go with the flow and ask questions when you need to.”

  The door opened and he kissed me goodbye. His beard prickled my cheek and he took longer than he should have done, the old rogue.

  Day Six, later on, Heaven.

  “Oh what a wonderful assignment!” Dotty gushed, shaking her shocking pink ponytail. “I’m so envious.”

  “Think of the clothes and the music,” said Honora, a tall blond in a vivid orange toga.

  I was right in the middle of B.I.G. and I had just been introduced to the group. We stood in a huge room, stretching away into the distance. The section nearest to me seemed to be an amphitheatre. Tiered seats surrounded a stage with a large screen at one end. Everything was coloured a violent shade of orange which made you blink. All the inhabitants were dressed in orange too, although some of them wore robes and others wore crinolines. Jeans and tee shirts were the clear favourites, though.

  It was, as they informed me, the Orange Section. I managed to stop myself from saying ‘No kidding!’ Apparently, this is the department I am linked to for this assignment. BIG Orange – I wonder if there is a BIG Apple.

  The screen already showed my details and the task I had to accomplish. A froth of people were talking and pointing and interrupting each other. They kept changing seats to speak with someone else. The swirling colour made me feel quite dizzy.

  “Ladies and gentlemen!” Magdalen called them to order. “Ariane isn’t used to us yet. Look at her face - she’s cross-eyed. Settle down. I’m going to put a typical problem on the screen to demonstrate the kind of help we can offer her.”

  ‘I cannot communicate with my client’ appeared. Immediately orange lights glowed above almost all the seats and hands waved in the air. They seemed like a class of schoolchildren, eager to tell me the right answer.

  “Bob.” Magdalen chose a bearded hippy in the front row.

  “Make the client smoke pot and get into her dreams,” he suggested.

  “Rubbish,” said a voice two seats behind him. “That’s your solution for everything, but not everyone uses pot, even in the Sixties, believe it or not.”

  “Gentlemen, please! Let’s not get sidetracked,” Magdalen shouted. “Annie.”

  A young woman, whose bright red hair clashed horribly with her tee shirt, rose from her place. “A lot of clients respond to heat and cold.”

  “Only if they’re Eskimos.”

  “Heard that one before, yawn, yawn.” Annie blushed, which was even more unfortunate. She now reminded me of a streaky sunrise.

  “Everyone’s opinion is equally valid.” Magdalen spoke severely. “We’re here to help Ariane, not score points off each other. Use another forum for that. Joseph.” She pointed at a man dressed like an orange version of Uncle Sam, complete with steeple hat.

  “She should try all the methods in the Action Pack to start with. One of them is sure to work. If her client doesn’t respond, we'll have a full-blooded session up here and come up with the solution. What do you think?”

  “Cop-out!”

  “Can tell you wrote manifestos; you sound like a party political broadcast.”

  “You're putting off the evil day!”

  Magdalen turned to me. “We’d better leave now. They’re getting excited. But they do mean well and they truly want to help you. The problem is this discussion's theoretical. Brings out the worst in people. If the situation was real, they'd be different.”

  “How?” I asked, but she didn’t reply and I decided I'd rather not know. The solution might be worse than the problem. No one noticed us leaving and the noise continued to grow louder behind us. As I glanced back I could see the air was full of orange missiles. I dread to think what that lot would be like if they really had a disagreement. It would be a long time before I referred a real problem to BIG Orange. In fact, I’d have to be desperate.

  Day Seven, Heaven.

  My Action Pack is an excellent cure for insomnia, however unhappy you are. A former civil servant must have written the words, because the language can only be described as dense. I took the tome home and fell asleep over page 5. I’m surprised I got so far. The introduction read:

  The practical role of the Guardian is to assist the client, whatever their character, social status, gender or sexual orientation. A Guardian must possess integrity, honesty, impartiality and objectivity. Their tasks and duties occur at a critical moments in their client's lives. A Guardian prevents the incursion of other people, events and occurrences into the client’s decision-making process. Nothing must hamper free will...

  Guardians cannot deceive or knowingly mislead clients, fellow Guardians, this Department or anyone else with whom they come in contact...

  Guardians should endeavour to deal with their clients sympathetically, efficiently, promptly and without bias or maladministration. Guardians must not misuse their official position or information, acquired in the course of their duties. They are not allowed to further their private interests or those of others...

  Action Pack for Guardians, Third Revised Edition 1873, p1.

  Unbelievable? I’m writing this down so, if I ever suffer from insomnia again, I'll be able to cure myself immediately.

  Nanna found me snoring on the couch and sent me up to bed for a proper rest. She laughed when I told her I needed to read everything. I wanted to leave early in the morning to start my new job. She introduced me to sleep learning and set the controls. She said I’d learn the whole Pack off by heart overnight.

  I did! How amazing - just like science fiction! Why aren’t such things available on Earth? I needed it badly as a student. I had lovely dreams and, when I woke up, the book was finished. I’m a bit frightened. The responsibility of being involved with major changes in someone’s life is awesome. Of course, everyone possesses free will. The Action Plan is clear. We are only helpers. We don’t decide for the client, but we are expected to guide them. The Guardian’s skill can make a huge difference. It’s okay to say ‘scream for help’, yet I wish I had been given a proper training course. Unfortunately no one seems to have invented one. I suppose it must be all right. Guardians have been around for millennia. I won’t be the first to worry about making a mistake.

  I’m looking forward to meeting Gigi. She sounds like an interesting girl and I’m determined to do my best to he
lp her. This task will certainly keep my mind off other things, which is exactly what I wanted.

  I went downstairs. The kitchen was full of lovely smells. Nanna had decided to send me off in style, bless her! Nanna, Granddad, Pam and I had a leisurely breakfast together. Then I got ready. They were delighted when they saw me. They said I reminded them of my mother in her teens. They wished me luck and made me promise to tell them my adventures. I hugged them and got a special goodbye lick from Rory. I left, shaky inside with excitement and nerves.

  I approached the Pearly Gates and Ramona signed me out. They are pearly, by the way - they shimmer. Ramona is tall and dark, wearing a black mantilla over a high comb.

  “I know where you’re going!”

  “Not difficult to tell, is it?”

  For my first appearance, I had chosen to wear a red paisley mini-dress, white boots and a floppy hat. My eyelashes were so long they touched my eyebrows and I had pale lips. Such fun, not bothering with makeup; merely thinking about how to look. Much safer too. No falsies to curl up and fall into my drink!

  Ramona approved. “I enjoy the Sixties when I visit. I love the music and your dress is perfect. Go on, give us a twirl!”

  I pirouetted obediently, holding out my arms, like a little girl showing off at a party.

  “Nice one. Now where are you going?” She consulted the long scroll that trailed onto the ground. “Ah yes, 163 Euston Road. 7th September 1967. 8.30pm. They’re holding a séance at the moment, would you believe? Three of them: your client, her friends, Jane and Adele, and their Guardians as well, so they're a bit squashed. Watch out for Gigi’s present Guardian. He used to be a sailor on the Spanish Armada, a randy one at that.”

  “Aren’t they all?” I murmured, thinking of Francis.

  “Too true. Anyway, Paco needs to get off to Alaska, to sort out some crisis or another, but he can’t leave until you arrive. He’s being naughty while he’s waiting. He’s spelling out a lot of messages which make sense and frightening them all to death. You’d better go fast or no one will sleep tonight.”