Ghost Diaries 1_Gigi's Guardian_Paranormal Romance

by Michele McGrath

  “After a while they got in a group of priests, complete with the Indian equivalent of bell, book and candle to perform an exorcism. I thought I’d better leave at that point, before someone had an unscheduled heart attack,” Maude laughed. “I was sorry to go.”

  Leilani described a Singapore curry she’d eaten in Raffles Hotel, when she celebrated an anniversary with Bob. “I like hot food, but that meal was ‘mind-blowing’.”

  Maude, of course, seized her opportunity. “So that’s what happened to your mind!” Leilani was too full to react properly and, for once, only grinned at her.

  I listened to their stories with fascination. I’d never managed to go further than Europe. I’d always meant to, but I didn't have enough money and then there was Michael.

  “You’ve got it all to look forward to now,” Leilani reminded me. “You can go anywhere and do what you want to do. When this assignment is over, how about a ‘round the world’ celebration? We'll do all the things you ever wanted to do and a few extra. You’d be seeing everything for the first time, so it would be exciting.”

  “What a wonderful idea. I’d love to.”

  “Unless, of course, she finds better things to do,” Maude put in slyly. “Don’t forget the gorgeous Ivan.”

  “He can come too,” said Leilani, casting a provocative glance at me. I didn’t react, but I could not help thinking that would be an even better idea if I had the courage to ask him.

  I felt relaxed and full and ready to go to sleep, when the evening took an unexpected turn. Maude lighted a fresh incense stick and Adele’s nose twitched.

  “Look, Maude.” I pointed to her. “She can smell the incense.”

  Maude wafted more smoke over Adele’s face. Her nostrils flared and she smiled in her sleep. “She's never reacted to anything I’ve ever done before.”

  “Perhaps it’s a coincidence.” We tried again and found out it wasn’t.

  “I wonder if scent affects the other two.” I began to get excited.

  “Let’s find out. I always come prepared.” Leilani pulled out a wooden box full of small glass phials from her grass bag.

  “You’re a proper little Girl Guide.”

  “I inherited this from my first mentor. She went off to join the CAP section for a few centuries. She always used to carry a selection of scents and tactile objects. She told me they come in handy. Now I understand what she meant. I’ve never tried them out before.”

  One by one we uncorked the phials and held them under the girls’ noses. Adele reacted to every one. Jane’s response was muted and Gigi did not react at all.

  “The hair lacquer and shampoo have desensitised her. She’s working in such an awful atmosphere. No wonder she doesn’t respond,” I cried out in despair.

  “Well you certainly won’t be able to influence Gigi by scent,” Leilani concluded. “Let’s find out if she responds to anything else.”

  We experimented with one sensation at a time. Gigi reacts to music and to faint voices, especially if they speak with a Caribbean accent. What a surprise! Leilani and Maude were helpless with laughter, as I kept trying to get it right. They said I sounded like Bob Marley on speed.

  Adele is sensitive to tastes as well as to scents. Maude smeared some of our curry on her lips and she reacted dramatically. Vividly coloured pictures started to swirl in the darkness over her bed.

  “Look,” Maude gasped.

  “What’s happening?”

  “They must be her dreams,” Leilani said in wonder. “Some Guardians are able to get inside a client’s dreams, but I never have. These are so colourful.”

  The swirling colours were fascinating until they started to make us dizzy, so we went back to our experiments. Jane reacted to loud noises and to heat and cold. When Leilani rang a bell beside her, Jane almost jumped off the bed in shock. I thought she was going to wake up, but she didn’t. Leilani can be cruel in a good cause. She put a hot water bottle, followed by a bag of ice cubes on Jane’s bare skin. Jane started to dream as well. In her case, she trekked across snowy wastes under a scorching summer sun. Her pictures were just like an action movie. Leilani floated over to her and wriggled in. The snow vanished at once and the pair of them were sitting in a cafe, chatting over tea and crumpets.

  “What a pity Jane won’t be able to recall their conversation in the morning,” whispered Maude.

  “That’s not allowed, is it?” I asked, trying to remember that section of the Action Pack.

  “No. She will know the subject of what they talked about, but not the detail and that it’s not real, of course. A good way of influencing her.”

  “You and Leilani are both so lucky. Getting into dreams is a much better method than music or whispers or even bumps and levitations.” My envy was showing.

  “Gigi doesn’t seem to dream a lot, not like the other two,” Maude remarked thoughtfully, “I wonder why?”

  “Perhaps she’s too tired. She seemed exhausted when she came home. She’s on her feet all day.”

  “So is Jane.”

  “Maybe we just need to find her catalyst.”

  “We’ll try again tomorrow,” Maude promised, as Leilani extricated herself from the cafe. She sat down on the nearest bed, grinning from ear to ear.

  “What did you talk to Jane about?” Maude asked, expecting to hear something important.

  “Rugby.”

  “Why on Earth…?”

  “Rugby was the most innocent thing I could think of, on the spur of the moment.”

  “I didn’t think you did ‘innocent’.”

  Leilani smiled. “You know me too well, but I thought I’d better start slowly. Now she'll let me into her dreams, I'll work up to more serious things. What a wonderful night! I’m so happy. Why don’t you two try?”

  “I will, the next chance I get,” Maude said.

  “I would too, if Gigi ever has a dream.”

  “Everybody dreams. Just wait until she does.”

  “I haven’t got much time. Gigi’s second boyfriend is about to arrive on the scene and things will start hotting up.”

  “We'll find a way, now we know it can be done.” Leilani sounded sure and I wanted to believe her.

  I didn’t realise the others had been worrying about completing their assignments too. They always seemed so confident, but perhaps they’re simply better at covering up their nervousness than I am.

  Maude, though, was still anxious. “I can get Adele to dream about India okay. How do I suggest to her that she needs to save money? She’s got to start right away or she’ll never have enough for the ticket.” Perhaps it was a rhetorical question, but an idea hit me. I pressed my bracelet, conjuring up a five-pound note and some pennies out of the air.

  “Sniff them.” I thrust them under Maude’s nose. “Coins and banknotes have a smell, sort of metallic. Maybe these will help Adele to dream about money.”

  “Might work.”

  It did. At one point we had a bucket of pennies resting on Adele’s pillow and we kept her dreaming for the rest of the night. When she woke, she sat straight up and said loudly, “I must go to India!”

  We all cheered but she didn’t hear us, of course.

  19th September 1967, Tuesday, London

  Gigi took her friends’ advice and went to the Family Planning Clinic this evening. She was nervous, because she’d never been to such a place before. She wondered what kind of questions they would ask her. She wanted Jane to go with her, but Jane was working and Gigi didn’t want to leave things any longer, just in case. She certainly won’t be able to say ‘no’ to James forever.

  It was quite a funny experience. Gigi tried to disguise herself, so nobody would recognise her. She wore a headscarf and a pair of NHS spectacles. I couldn’t help giggling. Who wears headscarves and specs in the Swinging Sixties? That kind of disguise is a dead giveaway to the fact that you’re doing something you shouldn’t do.

  Gigi sat in the waiting room and kept her head down, pretending to read a magazin
e and hiding her face. She registered in a false name and forgot it immediately, so she didn’t react when the receptionist called out,

  “Mrs Brown.”

  I gave her a shove. I don’t know whether that worked or if she remembered for herself. Anyway, she shot out of the chair and rushed across the room. She’d never make a conspirator!

  We went into a small office where a middle-aged male doctor was waiting.

  “Mrs Brown?”

  “Yes,” Gigi said, making herself meet his eye. She’d bought a Woolworth’s wedding ring, but the doctor had a sceptical expression as he glanced at her left hand. I had the strong feeling he’d seen this sort of thing many times before.

  “How can I help you?”

  “I’d like to go on the Pill, please, Doctor. My husband and I still need my wages...” Gigi rushed into the story she’d prepared, but she sounded breathless and unconvincing, even to me.

  The doctor smiled. I don’t suppose you can work in a Family Planning Clinic unless you’re in favour of contraception. He didn't ask her any awkward questions. He only said,

  “Please remove your jacket. I’ll need to take your blood pressure and examine you. The Pill doesn’t suit everybody. Now tell me –do you suffer from heart problems of any sort?” He read out a list of illnesses and had to explain some of them to Gigi. She answered ‘no’ to everything. The only thing wrong with her is psoriasis, which doesn’t matter.

  The examination ended and the doctor said, “Well, it looks as if you’ll be able to take the Pill, Mrs Brown. I’m going to give you a month’s supply now. If your vision blurs or you feel ill in any way, come back straight away. Don’t stop taking the pills, though, or you could become pregnant.”

  “I won’t, thank you, Doctor.”

  “I’m also going to give you some sheaths. The Pill doesn’t work for the first week or so, until it gets into your body. Use sheaths for at least a fortnight. Take one pill every day for three weeks then stop for your period. You should find the bleeding is lighter than before. If not, come back.”

  “I will. Thank you.”

  Gigi stuffed the packets into her bag. She said goodbye and scurried out of the clinic as if all the fiends of hell were after her. When she was a safe distance away, she pulled off her scarf and her glasses. She was relieved, but she felt somewhat dirty.

  “Phew! I’m glad that’s over,” she murmured to herself and I had to agree with her.

  Going to a Family Planning Clinic wasn’t pleasant in the Sixties. I’d been much luckier in my day. I'm pleased her contraception is sorted out for the present, though. That is, if she remembers to take her Pill regularly. Pity the contraceptive patch is years away in the future. Gigi’s in such a rush every morning. I must make sure her pills are clearly visible when she wakes up, so she can’t forget them. At least until I want her to!

  7th October 1967, Saturday, London.

  I need to find another method of influencing Gigi. She doesn’t dream, or hasn’t since I came to London, but nothing seems to work. I keep playing her music and whispering in her ear. Levitation is useless, which is a story in itself, and isn’t an easy process. You must hold the person perfectly level, or they slip off the side. I only managed to lift her a few inches before she fell. Maude and Leilani were giggling in the background. Not helpful! Lifting her didn’t work and now I wonder why I ever thought such a silly process would. After all I don’t want her to dream about flying or falling!

  Maude’s going to try levitation herself, because she does want Adele to dream about flying. She says she’s bound to make a far better job than I did. We’ll see. Gigi's only reaction to all of my efforts is shrouding her mind in a kind of grey fog. I’m beginning to despair. Maude and Leilani keep making suggestions, but she reacts to none of them. I hate leaving things until they're urgent. I was sitting thinking about the problem and idly playing with my bracelet, when I remembered Angels Central. Maybe Francis might have a few ideas. So I pressed his call button.

  “Hello, pretty lady,” Francis answered me instantly. He sounded as clear as if he was in the same room. “Lovely to hear from you. I wondered when you were going to call me. How are you this evening?”

  “I’m fine, but I’ve got a problem.”

  He sighed. “Here’s me thinking you wanted my scintillating company. None of you young ladies ever think of me pining away on my own up here.” There was laughter in his voice and I giggled. “Okay, what’s the problem?”

  I explained.

  “Everybody dreams,” he said when I had finished.

  “Gigi doesn’t seem to.”

  “Gigi must be one of those people who only dream occasionally. They save up the ordinary dreams until they blow up like a pile of gunpowder going off. Boom!”

  “Wow, isn't that dangerous?” I asked.

  “Not at all. I’ll show you if you want - I always keep several kegs in the office, sitting around doing nothing.”

  “Not the gunpowder, the dreams!”

  “They enjoy the experience or so I’m told. How long is it since you started monitoring her?” he asked.

  “About three weeks.”

  “That's not enough time. ‘Gunpowder’ dreams are rare. Something odd always triggers them and they blaze up. It’s spectacular. Are you sure you don’t want me to show you my fireworks? No? Well, has anything unusual happened while you’ve been with her?”

  “She’s met her first boyfriend.”

  “That’s obviously not enough. Anything else?”

  “Nothing I can think of.”

  “Wait, then. One of these days something will trigger a dream. You need to be ready to take advantage of the moment,” he told me.

  “I will,” I said, wondering how. “Thanks.”

  “I was going for my evening grog when you rang. Would you care to join a lonely old man for a drink?”

  “I’d love to,” I replied, trying to sound sincere, “but I daren’t. What if Gigi had a gunpowder dream tonight?”

  “Good point. Pity. We could have had fun. I can show you things your century never dreamed of - if you forgive the expression. I imagine you’re a bit sensitive on the subject at the moment.”

  “I’m sure you can.”

  “Another time?” he suggested.

  “Perhaps. I’ll think about it,” I said as I broke the connection. I like Francis but I don't want to be with him in a social situation. Gunpowder indeed! Makes a change from etchings, I suppose, but - once a pirate, always a pirate. So I'm waiting for Gigi to dream and I’m not a patient person. I made up my mind that I’d try to be, but it wasn’t necessary. Just as well I refused Francis’ invitation because, in the early hours of this morning, Gigi dreamed. Why? She slept with James for the first time and sex proved to be her trigger.

  They’d gone to a new place called the Pizza Express, across the road from the British Museum. All white tiles and big windows with potted palms. They sat on spindly chairs at scrubbed wooden tables, which was quite a novelty then. Gigi and James had margaritas with lots of Chianti and they had a lovely evening. When James asked her to come home with him, this time she agreed.

  Gigi was nervous, because it’s been a while since the boy in Antigua, but she wanted to go ahead. She’d been wondering what sort of a lover James would be. Could she react to him properly and not put him off? She needn’t have worried. James proved to be excellent and she responded happily.

  I was surprised, because I believed him to be totally selfish. He is in some ways, but not in this. He’s either nicer than I gave him credit for, or he’s been well taught. His former lovers did a good job. He’s found out that giving someone else pleasure enhances his own. A definite point in his favour. Gigi had her first ever orgasm, as I learned later, and she had a big grin all over her face this morning.

  Ivan and I didn’t stay around. It’s not done and I’m glad. Being a ‘peeping tom’ isn’t my style. I shudder to think what my Guardian would have thought about some of the things I got up
to with Michael. Everybody needs privacy, including ghosts - especially ghosts.

  Ivan and I went up on the roof ‘to look at the stars’ or so he suggested. I was horrified, because the house is old with steep gables, open to all the winds. My fear of heights set me shuddering. I told this to Ivan but he only said, “Watch.”

  He touched his bracelet. The place transformed into a sultry Turkish garden, complete with a huge day bed under the trees. Gentle waves lapped the sand at our feet, so romantic in the misty darkness. The moon had not yet risen and shooting stars flashed across the sky. We sat holding hands and drinking wine. He put his arm around me and we started to kiss. His lips were soft and tasted of musk. I abandoned myself, but I did not want to go further, even though the setting and the person were both right. I must be more conservative than I knew. When he slipped his hand into my blouse, I stiffened and drew away from him, in spite of myself.

  “What is the matter?” he seemed puzzled by my reaction.

  “I’m sorry, Ivan, I’m not ready for this yet.”

  “Did I do something wrong?”

  I shook my head, and, for the first time, I told him all about Michael.

  “So that’s the reason you pulled away from me. I don’t blame you; he sounds like a creep. No hurry - we’ll be together for months. Let me know if and when you are ready, I’ll still be here. I’m not going anywhere.” He lay back on the cushions. I sat sipping my wine and watching the stars make silver trails across the rippling Mediterranean.

  “I’ve told you my story,” I said, breaking the rather awkward silence which had fallen between us. “Won’t you tell me yours?”

  I’m curious about him. He seems perfectly at home in the ‘60s and revels in wearing the most outrageous clothes. Tonight, for example, he had on a cranberry velvet suit and a brown ruffled shirt. I’m certain, though, he’s not from the modern era. He occasionally uses archaic words and out of date phrases, as if he forgets where he is.

  He nodded and filled up my glass. “Do you like the wine?”