Ghost Diaries 1_Gigi's Guardian_Paranormal Romance

by Michele McGrath

  “Let’s hope Jane can convince them times are changing,” Maude muttered.

  “I’ve got to do more than hope. I need a plan and, at the moment, I can't think of one.” Leilani’s stomach rumbled.

  “What you need is food for thought. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  I reappeared after a few seconds, staggering under a large, brass-bound trunk.

  “What on Earth’s that?”

  A wonderful spicy aroma filled the air.

  “Comfort food. It’s my turn to provide the goodies and Nanna’s a fabulous cook. I had an idea this might be wanted, so I put the order in earlier. She had everything packed and ready for me to take. Just wait till you taste her steak pie. Nothing’s a problem for long with Nanna's cooking inside you.” I ladled out portions of steak pie and chips and handed round huge glasses of red wine.

  “I brought a chocolate pudding for afters too. I always think better when my tummy’s full.”

  They both laughed. “So do we. This is truly wonderful. Thank her for us, won’t you?”

  For quite a long while, nothing was heard except the sound of happy munching. I kept turning over the problem in my head. Ideas began to come, some of them were silly, but others might be knocked into shape.

  “That’s better.” Leilani licked chocolate from her lips. “Now, can you solve my real problem as easily?”

  “Using logic…” I began.

  “Aristotle, where are you?”

  “He’s in New York, looking after a teenage gang leader. You’ll have to make do with me.” I didn’t actually know where he was, but I didn’t want to be sidetracked. “Using logic,” I repeated, “first we define the problem. One: we need to convince Jane’s parents that Tommy is the right man for her, despite their objections. So they must meet him soon. Two: the meeting has to be in London, where they are out of their comfort zone. Three: we have to arrange for something to happen to show them how much he loves Jane.” The others were staring at me with a kind of blank astonishment on their faces.

  “Flawlessly logical, Mr. Spock,” Maude murmured at last.

  “You’re a Trekkie!” Leilani exclaimed. “You never told me.”

  “I adore the original show. I go to the Conventions when I’m not working.”

  “Live long and prosper,” I giggled, giving her the Vulcan salute. (I’m a fan too.) “Pity we didn’t in real life.”

  “Keep your minds on the problem, girls,” Leilani reminded us, before we could get off the subject. “Well done, Ariane, everything's much clearer now. So, to recap, the first task is to get Jane’s parents to come to London?”

  “Right!”

  “Their Guardians will help,” suggested Maude.

  “That’s a job for tomorrow. Tonight I’m going to make Jane dream about ringing them and asking them to visit. With a bit of luck, she’ll remember enough of the dream to act on it. It might take several nights to plant the suggestion firmly, though.”

  “I’ll whisper that thought to Adele, so she'll suggest it to Jane as well,” Maude offered.

  “What can I do?” I asked.

  “You’ve helped already, but Angels Central must have met this problem before. Would you slip Upstairs and find out anything useful?”

  “You’ve just used the words ‘Angels Central’ and ‘useful’ in the same sentence. Are you mad?” Maude asked.

  Leilani ignored her. “What have we got to lose?”

  “Our sanity?”

  “No problem then,” giggled Maude and we laughed with her.

  “Now, as we’ve all got our jobs to do…” Leilani sounded much happier.

  “Let’s do them!” Thank heavens for logic, Mr. Spock!

  9th October 1967, Monday, London.

  I didn’t expect to be long at BIG Orange, but everyone was still whizzing around and arguing. Do they ever calm down? I took ages before I got hold of someone who was making sense and had a working computer. His name is Norm.

  “Short for ‘Normal’, or so he says. Norm’s definitely not normal by anyone’s definition,” shouted a disembodied voice from the other side of the room.

  “If ‘normal’ is being like you, who’d want to be?” Norm retorted.

  Norm’s a computer geek from Santa Clara who got wiped out in a freeway pile-up. His working uniform is a Technicolor Hula shirt and purple flip-flops.

  “I thought everyone had to wear orange in this section?” He was a blob of psychedelic colour adrift in an orange sea.

  “I’m the token rebel. I never wear orange.”

  “Clashes with his nose,” said the same voice as before and even Norm laughed this time.

  “Can you help me?” I asked him, definitely not wanting to get bogged down in office politics. “I need this information.”

  “Honey, I’d love to. Any which way you want!” Norm started telling me the things he can make his computer do. He talks the most amazing techno-babble, so I had no idea at all what he was on about. What's with computer people? They only communicate properly among their own kind. One day they will speak a totally different language, probably some sort of machine code. He seemed disappointed when I told him that all I wanted was information on Jane’s family.

  “Far too easy.” He pushed a few buttons and handed me a tiny data cube. “Put this tag on your bracelet. The modem generates a hologram you can read or watch as you choose.”

  “It’s so small. Are you sure everything’s on there?”

  “This is the next generation data storage; you won’t have seen one like this before. We were only developing the process when you snuffed it. It’ll work believe me.”

  “Believe him,” came the anonymous voice. “He’s a whiz at Macrofine. No one can make the program dance like Norm.”

  “Thanks very much.”

  I took the cube and started to leave.

  “We're having a fancy dress party tomorrow night. Want to come?” he asked, peering at me over his bubble glasses.

  “Sounds wonderful, but I’m on duty. What a pity.”

  “Maude or Leilani will hover over your client for you and you can always set an alarm in case anything happens. Everyone else does. All work and no play, you know.”

  “Norm’s going as Elvis again, aren’t you Norm?” Horatia floated over to us, still wearing her orange toga. “About fifty-three others come in the same costume and one of the games we play is spotting the real Elvis. He always comes in person. He thinks it’s a hoot. I won last time.” She sounded smug.

  “Only because you had insider information.”

  Oh Lord - a party with the Orange Section! I must be mad even to think of going.

  Then Vinnie, one of the others, wearing a startling long-tailed dinner suit and a bow tie, said, “Do come. Fancy dress parties are always fun and, if you vote for Norm, he’ll get at least one vote for a change.”

  It would certainly be an experience and, after all, why not? I’m collecting new experiences these days.

  “Thanks, I’ll try.” I made a mental note to ask Maude and Leilani if I could leave Gigi with them. I haven't been to a party for ages, unless you count the Admiralty do - which I don’t - because I was too busy working.

  “I’ll send you the coordinates,” Norm promised.

  “How?”

  “They’ll appear on your bracelet. Touch the jewel that looks like a bird when you’re ready and you'll land in the right place. Cuts out a lot of messing.”

  I thanked him again and left, wondering what exactly I’d let myself in for, but a bit excited all the same.

  “Anything interesting?” Leilani asked when I got back.

  I held up the data cube. “I hope you can work this. The info’s supposed to be here. It’s so tiny - we’d better run the program to see if it works. It was given to me by a weirdo named Norm.”

  “Norm’s got no taste in clothes, but he’s a genius with computers. He’d be a billionaire, if he hadn’t got creamed by that pickup truck.”

  “He asked m
e to a party as well. I’m not sure whether I should go.”

  “Why not?”

  “You know what the Orange Section's like. They’re off the wall in normal working hours. Can you imagine partying with them?”

  “Be brave and find out.” Maude dared me.

  “I’d need to leave Gigi with you for a while.”

  “We’ll take care of her, won’t we, Maude?” Leilani offered.

  “Sure. About time you had a few hours off to enjoy yourself. You can return the favour when we need a break ourselves.”

  “Okay then, I will.”

  So now I’ve got something to look forward to, as well as the information we needed about Mr. and Mrs. Jackson.

  10th October 1967, Tuesday, London.

  Jane looked awful when she came back from work. She was sheet-white and her eyes were heavy. She’d had some sleep, but not enough. Gigi and Adele were lying in wait for her and pounced. They gave her a steaming mug of coffee and a chocolate biscuit.

  “Don’t tell me you haven’t got a headache. I'd only call you a liar,” Adele said as she handed her two aspirin.

  “I won’t.” Jane took them with a weary smile.

  “We will work this thing out, Jane, and find a solution.”

  “Everything seems hopeless to me.”

  “You slept badly and you’re tired.” Adele sounded firm.

  Adele and Gigi had been talking about how to start such a difficult discussion before Jane came home. Adele nodded to Gigi, who immediately took her cue.

  “What do you want to happen, Jane?”

  “Marry Tommy with my parents’ blessing and not have to wait until I’m twenty-one.”

  “Why won’t they let you?”

  “They don’t want me to marry a builder's labourer. We’ve been over all this before.” Her voice rose sharply.

  “Phew!”

  “Sorry. Not your fault. The things they said keep going round in my mind and they’re making me feel sick.”

  “Do they know anyone like him?”

  “Only Mary, who cleans for Mum and Ted, the gardener. Dad must meet others in his job, but that’s about all. Mum’s friends are all like her.”

  “So it’s easy for them to hold on to their prejudices?” Adele asked and Jane nodded.

  “If they met Tommy, they’d find out what a lovely person he is,” Gigi said.

  “Meeting him might make a difference but, even if they liked him, they still wouldn’t want me to marry him. They want me to marry a boy in a good permanent job who can get a mortgage for a house of our own. Anyway I can’t just walk in with him, not after last weekend. I made such a mess of everything.” Jane started to weep and Gigi put her arms round her.

  “Things might be worse, if you had taken him with you. They must have had a shock, since you’d never even told them about him and suddenly you're engaged.”

  “No use crying over spilt milk. The thing to do is to move forward.” I do admire Adele’s practicality, although she can be abrasive at times.

  “How?”

  “If you want to stay friends with your parents and still marry Tommy, they must meet him sometime, mustn’t they?”

  “Yes.”

  “You can’t take him home, so the meeting has to be somewhere else,” Adele continued.

  “I suppose…”

  “Can we get them to come here?”

  “I might have, if I’d suggested a visit before they knew. Now they’ll twig to why I’m asking them.”

  “Would they refuse?” Gigi asked.

  “Probably, or they might see it as a chance to break us apart. It might even make everything worse.”

  “If you never do the Pools, how can you win the jackpot?”

  “What if they stop me seeing him?”

  “Could they?” Gigi raised her eyebrows.

  “No.” Jane sat up straight and looked determined. “I love my parents, but I’m going to marry Tommy, whether they approve of him or not. I’ll be twenty-one in ten months’ time and they can’t stop me then. I just never imagined getting married without Mum and Dad beside me.” Jane wiped her eyes. “I always wanted a white wedding at the local church with all the trimmings, bridesmaids, confetti, the lot. Most girls do. I’m the only child, so Mum would love the fuss and excitement. Now we’ll marry in a dreary old Registry Office and none of them will be with me.”

  “Did you tell your parents that?” Adele asked.

  “No. I didn’t get the chance. I was so cross with what Dad said about Tommy, I just walked out.”

  “The main problem is for your parents to meet Tommy. Somewhere they can’t escape and it would be difficult for them to quarrel.” Adele can also be logical when she wants to be.

  “A public place...” Jane mused. “Dad wouldn't cause a scene if people were watching him.”

  “Tommy could appear smart, without doing anything too drastic to his appearance, couldn’t he?”

  “If I asked him to.”

  “You would have to get them to come and visit you first,” Gigi pointed out.

  “I’m not sure they'd agree.”

  “Is there anyone who could help you to persuade them?” Adele asked.

  Jane thought for a moment. “Uncle Hugh might; he’s Mum's oldest brother and they respect his opinion.”

  “Would he agree?” Gigi asked.

  “If he believed marrying Tommy was the right thing for me to do. He’s fond of me. He was the one who persuaded my parents to let me come to London for my training. They’re probably holding that against him at the moment, though.”

  “Would it be worth asking him?”

  “Yes. Even if Uncle Hugh wouldn’t help, I’d like to find out what he thinks about the whole thing. He’s not as prejudiced as Dad.”

  “So, that’s something you can do?” Adele asked.

  “Yes. That makes things seem a little less hopeless.”

  “Tommy’s worth the effort, isn’t he?”

  Jane smiled. “He certainly is. Thank you.”

  “I didn’t think either Gigi or Adele were so logical!” I murmured.

  “Adele's got a good brain, but she never bothered much at school, just like Gigi. It’s a pity because, in other circumstances, she would have gone far.”

  “She’s going to anyway,” Leilani giggled, “if you get your way.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Being a saint is pretty distant from where she is at this moment.” Leilani said.

  “Now girls, what do we need to do tonight?” I asked to stop their bickering.

  “Well,” answered Maude, “I'm going to make Adele dream about India and saving money.”

  “I'll encourage Jane to phone her parents.”

  “And we'll keep our eyes on Gigi while Ariane goes off gadding.” Maude said, grinning at me.

  “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

  “Not at all. Go and enjoy yourself.”

  “With BIG Orange, who knows what will happen?”

  What indeed?

  Day 40, Heaven / 10th October 1967,

  Tuesday night, London.

  The party was in full swing when I arrived in the formal gardens of a large white manor house, which glistened softly in the moonlight. Music played and the scent of magnolias filled the air. People strolled along candlelit pathways, dressed in every sort of costume imaginable. Cavaliers with lovelocks and ruffles held deep conversations with robots. A man in a bunny suit danced on the green lawn with a girl wearing harem pants and a veil. I couldn’t take my eyes off them all. One woman wore a towering grey wig, topped by flowers and plumes. Her skirts were so wide she’d have to go through doors sideways. I understood why she stayed outside. I walked past her and gagged. She smelled awful. She had used some sort of musk perfume, but it didn’t cover the dirt underneath. Unsurprisingly, she was alone.

  “Who is she?” I asked a clown, who was also watching this strange creature.

  “Madame de Pompadour," he answered. “S
he always comes as herself. She says, why should she invent a new costume? She’s worn this disguise all her life.”

  “Her dress is fabulous, but she stinks.”

  “She hardly ever washed, even when she was the toast of the French court and the mistress of the king.”

  “Poor man, living with the pong. You’d think she’d want to change - her dress must be so awkward to wear.”

  “Not anymore, she fixed that.”

  “There’s no accounting for taste.” Madame de Pompadour wandered away and I fanned myself vigorously to get rid of her lingering odour.

  “Have you seen Norm?”

  “Over by the stage, last one on the right.” He pointed to a group of Elvis look-a-likes standing on a small raised platform, singing ‘Jailhouse Rock’.

  “How can you tell?” They all looked alike to me.

  “He’s the only one in flip-flops.”

  I glanced at his feet and giggled. Flip-flops don’t go with a sparkly white suit, even if they are colour co-ordinated! I counted thirty-six Elvises and the other thirty-five wore the correct footwear for their costumes.

  “He never learns,” said the clown. “I told him why no one ever votes for him ages ago. You get a prize if you spot the real Elvis. They wear numbers on their back and you vote over there.” He pointed to a small table manned by a Roman centurion and the Lone Ranger. Silver stood by him, looking as if he wanted to eat the ballot papers.

  “What do they win?” I asked.

  “An evening with Elvis,” he giggled. “Second prize is two evenings with Elvis. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “I won’t. Thanks, but I don’t think I’ll bother.”

  “There’s also an award for best costume and you’d win that, easily.” He looked admiringly at me and I preened a little. I had taken some trouble with my outfit and chosen a crimson ‘Southern Belle’ crinoline, straight out of ‘Gone with the Wind’. I wanted to try one, because they are so feminine. Unpractical, though, unless you live on a plantation surrounded by servants. Needless to say, I’ve never worn one before. The thought of the corset put me off. Thank Heavens I wasn’t an actress or lived in the Confederacy, when I would have had no choice. This corset didn’t hurt and so far, no one else seemed to have chosen this style. Historical costumes weren't popular. People preferred more futuristic ones, like Aliens and Cyborgs, although there was a small quota of Roman soldiers and milkmaids. I smiled when a man in a confederate uniform came towards me. His face was hidden by the brim of his hat, but he spoke with an authentic Southern drawl. He bowed over my hand and asked me to dance. ‘Perfect’, I thought, ‘our costumes match so well.’ As he straightened up, I recognised him. Ivan, of course - it had to be!