Ghost Diaries 1_Gigi's Guardian_Paranormal Romance

by Michele McGrath

  “How did you find out what I was wearing tonight?”

  He seemed amused. “I always was a good spy.” He glanced over my shoulder and grinned. “Shall we give them something to stare at?”

  Lots of people watched us as we walked out onto the lawn and he took me into his arms. We waltzed. I swirled round, letting myself surrender to the magic of the night, the music and the man. For a moment, we were in Dixie. The war had not been lost and the dashing Confederate officer danced with the beautiful Southern Belle. We won the fancy dress prize by a landslide, a sparkling diamond necklace for me and a ruby buckle for Ivan. He lifted my ringlets to fasten the clasp. His hands brushed my skin and I shivered, realising my battle was lost. Even if he ended up hurting me more than ever before, I accepted that I had fallen in love with Ivan.

  In the heat of the moment I’d completely forgotten about Norm, but unfortunately he hadn’t forgotten about me. He came over to us, right after they made the presentations. Unsurprisingly, no one had voted for him again. He was holding the booby prize, a pair of gardening gloves. Oops.

  “I’ve already got seventeen pairs of these and no garden,” he muttered. “Where were you? I couldn’t find you anywhere.”

  “Dancing. Do you know Ivan?” I asked, nonchalantly, while the men glared at each other. I enjoyed being the object of so much attention for once. They’d never met, so I introduced them and we made stilted conversation for a few minutes. I kept wondering how we could leave because, although I liked Norm, he couldn’t compare with Ivan. Fortunately, in the end, I didn’t have to do anything at all. Someone called Norm away to play three-dimensional chess. The team from Big Orange are the current champions and Norm is their star player. The game was starting and everyone insisted that he come NOW. He left us, reluctantly, making me promise to meet him when he had finished. I told him I would. Ivan didn't help at all. He stood there, with a superior smile on his face, saying nothing, while I hesitated and stammered. Things are beginning to get complicated and I never intended them to be.

  Norm's team were winning easily. Three-dimensional chess must be fun to play, but it’s as boring as cricket for the spectators. Before long, Ivan drew my hand through his arm and we wandered away down a candlelit path into the gardens.

  “Do you play chess?” I asked him. He shook his head, which surprised me. “I thought all Russians did?”

  “I can, of course, but the game is too cerebral for me - not enough action. Sailing’s my sport.”

  “I like sailing,” I told him. “In the Med, though. England’s far too cold.”

  “I sail flyers. The Southern Ocean is the best place in the world for them. They truly fly.”

  “What’s a flyer? I’ve never heard of them.”

  “They skim the top of the wave crests like flying fish do, a cross between surfing and sailing. They won’t be invented for a couple of hundred years yet. We’ve been testing the prototypes. Would you like a ride?”

  “I’d love one. I adore new sensations.”

  “I do too, but my favourite sensation is ancient.” He leaned over and kissed me. His arms slipped round me and a thrill ran down my spine. This time, I did not draw back from him at the critical moment. I responded, slowly at first and then faster and faster.

  “You beautiful girl,” he murmured into my hair, as he drew his lips away at last.

  “Mmm.”

  15th October 1967, Sunday, London.

  “Good party?” Maude asked sleepily as I stumbled in just before dawn.

  “Fabulous. Anything been happening here?”

  “Not a thing. All quiet. Boring even.”

  “Where’s Leilani?”

  “At Tommy’s with Jane.” I hadn’t noticed Jane’s empty bed. “Is Ivan still gorgeous?”

  “How did you know he was going to the party?”

  “He told me when he asked about your costume. I assumed he had his reasons.”

  I should have guessed. Hardly difficult spy stuff - asking Maude - but how delightful that he’d taken the trouble to match my outfit. I didn’t want to share my wonderful evening with Maude, in case she tarnished a little of the magic. So I quickly changed the subject.

  “Adele looks a bit rough.”

  “She’s got a hangover.”

  “Poor girl. I know how she feels,” I sympathised.

  “You do? You're not supposed to any more.” Maude sounded astonished.

  “I mean, I used to, once,” I explained.

  “Just as well you don’t have one now. Isn’t Gigi meeting boyfriend number two today?”

  “Yes. I’m looking forward to it.” Finn sounds nice and his Guardian, Thelma, is supposed to be the last word in our profession. Even Maude and Leilani are in awe of her so she must be fabulous.

  The day started badly. Gigi had nothing to do and no one to talk to. Jane was with Tommy, Adele was sleeping it off and James had gone to visit his parents. Although she didn't expect him to take her with him, she felt lonely. She idled away most of the morning, but the sunny weather tempted her outside. After a quick lunch, Gigi went down to Tottenham Court Road, window-shopping at Heal’s for the furniture she’d buy one day. She ignored the electrical shops and turned into Oxford Street. For once, clothes and jewellery did not interest her, because she had nothing left to spend. She didn't want to find something nice which she couldn't afford. She paid for herself on Wednesday night at the little place James found. The meal had been more expensive than either of them expected. Almost all of her week’s wages vanished in an instant.

  When she got to Leicester Square, she turned left, intending to go and walk along the Embankment. She stopped. People were shouting loudly in Trafalgar Square.

  “What’s going on?” she asked a passerby.

  “A demo, anti-Vietnam, anti-American, something like that,” the man muttered and hurried away.

  Gigi had never seen a demo, although she had been in London for almost a year. Neither had I. They were much rarer in my time. Even the anti-Iraq war rally was supposed to be tame in comparison to the Sixties. Gigi was curious and she decided to see what was going on.

  She walked quickly towards the shouting. Trafalgar Square was packed. A huge crowd milled about outside the National Gallery, listening to speeches condemning the killings in Vietnam. At the corner of Whitehall, a colourful procession had started to line up. Banners with the names of University Students’ Unions, Socialist and Working Men’s Clubs and the Young Communist League were being raised.

  ‘I like that one,’ Gigi thought. Huge red letters had been stuck onto transparent net, so the words seemed to hang suspended against the clear blue sky.

  “Come and join us,” a group called to Gigi. They waved a large Leeds University banner.

  ‘Why not?’ she thought and walked out into the road, taking her place beside them.

  The procession started moving slowly past the National Gallery. We marched in the middle of a happy chatting crowd. Policemen flanked us, trying to look stern, but not succeeding very well.

  “Hey, hey LBJ, how many kids have you killed today?” we shouted or, for a change “Ho! Ho! Ho Chi Min!”

  At Australia House, a deputation held up a banner that read, “End the war in Vietnam”. The crowd greeted them with delighted shouts of “Australia out! New Zealand out! America out!”

  In the narrow tunnel under Westminster Bridge, we clapped, stamped our feet and roared. The noise deafened me, as it echoed in the enclosed space. When we emerged from the darkness, the Thames rippled beside us, sparkling in the sunshine. We were dazzled by the brightness, until we got used to light again.

  At Downing Street we halted, watching the leaders try to present a petition to the Prime Minister. He would not receive it and sent them away. Our chant changed to, “Wilson out! Wilson out!”

  Spectators of all nationalities jammed the pavements, taking photographs of us. One man even had a tape recorder. If he imagined that he would be recording profound political statements, he'
d get a shock. The Leeds crowd chatted about their courses, their friends and their exams, not wars.

  As the demonstration snaked its way through central London, we passed a Salvation Army Band. Their dark uniforms and stern features contrasted sharply with the colourful, happy crowd of demonstrators. “Come and join us!” we shouted. The ignored us and walked on in silence, carrying their instruments.

  We reached the U.S. Embassy in Grosvenor Square in the late afternoon. Gigi felt weary, but the enthusiasm of the protesters was infectious. For a long time she didn't notice the ache in her feet. We marched forward and stopped close to the line of policemen guarding the Embassy. The one nearest to Gigi was young and looked anxious. She smiled at him and he grinned back at her when...

  “CRACK!” Everyone jumped.

  “Only a firecracker!” someone shouted. “We’re winning through!”

  The temper of the crowd changed instantly, becoming frightening and hostile. Gone was the happy mood of the afternoon, which had made the demonstration into a parade. People pushed, more firecrackers went off and some of the demonstrators started throwing stones at the building. The young policeman was hit and staggered backwards, but the cordon did not break. No one came out of the Embassy. British people fought British police. The demo rapidly turned ugly.

  ‘Let’s get away from here!’ I thought, pushing hard at Gigi’s mind. The same idea must have occurred to her. She began to edge her way out of the press of people, towards the open square. We had got under the trees, when someone shouted “Mind your backs!”

  Dogs and police horses charged right into the mass of demonstrators. The crowd broke and ran. Gigi stumbled towards a tall iron fence and privet hedge but she couldn’t find a way through. I stared back fearfully at the demonic black shapes galloping under the trees. Crowds of demonstrators fled before them. Their riders leaned down, hitting out with their truncheons at whoever was unlucky enough to be in their reach. A scene from a nightmare. The shadows were huge, frightening and coming our way! For a moment, I forgot that they could not hurt me. Gigi shook with fright. She grasped the fence and tried desperately to climb up. Her feet kept slipping; she wasn’t tall enough to reach the top. I pushed her, but I might as well have been catching fog. Then a calm voice above me floated down.

  “Don’t worry, my dear, everything will be all right. She’s about to be rescued any minute now. Come and sit by me - we can watch it happen.”

  A little old lady, with shining white hair, was sitting on the branch of a tree. She looked at me with twinkling eyes. She reached down and effortlessly pulled me up beside her. She seemed about eighty-five and frail, but she had a grip of iron and a purple flicker. I had never seen anyone like her before.

  “Who are you?” I gasped, although there was only one person she could possibly be.

  “I’m Thelma, Finn’s Guardian. Didn’t they tell you to expect me?”

  “They did, but not in a tree!”

  “You get the best view from high up. You can also keep out of the way, until you are needed. Besides, I like climbing trees and this gives me an excuse. Look, Finn's coming.”

  She pointed to a tall, red-haired figure running along the fence and heaving people over. They landed on the other side and ran away.

  “Here!” he cried as he grasped Gigi’s waist and swung her to the top of the rail. He steadied her and shouted, “Jump!”

  She jumped, caught the heel of her shoe, and landed flat on her face.

  The horses were almost on us now and the rest of the demonstrators had vanished. Finn vaulted lightly over the railings. He’s so tall, he made it seem easy and Thelma clapped her hands.

  “Isn’t he super? I'm so glad Brenda wanted me to take care of him. Not long now before we can get down and follow them.”

  The horsemen trotted back into the centre of the square and disappeared among the trees.

  “I’m pleased to meet you,” she said to me. “I love meeting new people, especially ones from this century. You’re all such free spirits, with so much life and vigour, no puns intended.”

  “Immanuel doesn't pun, he Kant," I quoted the old chestnut and she smiled.

  “Dear Oscar, so witty! But we must get down now. Come on.” I gasped as Thelma leaped from the tree and floated to her feet, landing close behind Finn and Gigi. “What are you waiting for?” she asked me.

  I hesitated. My fear of heights had stopped me again. I never climbed trees as a kid, because I always hated getting down. I'm still as bad, another thing that hasn’t changed.

  “Jump!” Thelma ordered, in so decisive a tone I stopped dithering and obeyed. She sounded just like Mrs. Brodie in primary school, when she wanted us to stop talking. I landed right beside Thelma. She laughed, then she held a finger to her lips. Gigi sat on the ground, moaning and clutching her leg.

  “What’s wrong?” Finn bent over her.

  “I think I’ve broken my ankle.”

  “Let me see.” He ran his hands over her. “Only a sprain, but a nasty one.”

  “Are you a doctor?” Gigi asked, looking up at him.

  “Medical student.” He glanced around. The horses still roamed in the square. At any moment, they could come over to our side of the railings. “We’d better get away from here.”

  He picked her up and hurried down the street. Talk about being a knight errant to her damsel in distress! He needed a white charger, although, personally, I’d seen quite enough horses for one day. Gigi clung onto Finn, thinking he might drop her. Thelma told me to run on ahead, until I found a street that led away from all the trouble. She pushed Finn after me and he seemed to respond to her touch. He distinctly hesitated at one point and then went in the direction she wanted.

  “Goodness, can he sense you?” I gasped as we turned the corner together.

  “I think so. More often than not, he does what I want him to do, but he thinks he is acting by instinct.”

  “That must make your job much easier,” I exclaimed with envy.

  “Easiest assignment I’ve ever had. He’s a real sweetie, well worth the effort.” Thelma chuckled. “Handsome too.”

  She’s crazy. No one would describe Finn as handsome. He’s tall and gangly, with red curly hair and a straggly beard. He doesn’t hold a candle to James. I felt a bit disappointed to tell the truth. Looks aren’t supposed to be everything, of course.

  A few seconds ago, we had been surrounded by people; now Gigi and Finn were alone. Amazing how quickly such a large crowd can dissolve. Finn stopped at last under a streetlight, breathing hard. He lowered Gigi to the ground and wriggled his shoulders as if they hurt.

  “Thank you so much.” Gigi smiled. Finn wasn’t looking his best. Blood smeared his face from a cut on his forehead and his clothes had been torn. Gigi's skirt was in tatters, with a huge rip from hem to waist, where she had caught it on the railings. Her hands were scraped and her ankle swollen.

  “Look at us. Anyone would think we’d been in a fight.”

  “I thought this demonstration was supposed to be non-violent?”

  “It was - most of the time, anyway. I’m Finn, by the way.”

  “I’ve never heard that name before.”

  “I'm Irish. Finn's short for Fionnbarr, what’s yours?”

  “Gigi, short for Birgitta.”

  “Pretty, suits you.” He bent down and touched her ankle. She gasped. “Can you wriggle your toes?” Gigi did so. The movement hurt and she grimaced. Finn frowned. “I should take you to a hospital, but the police will be sniffing round them by now. I don’t think your ankle is broken. Cold compresses and rest are all you need. Do you want to come home with me, let me treat it and get you cleaned up?”

  “I certainly can’t go back through the streets looking like this.” Gigi held up the remnants of her skirt.

  Finn grinned. “Anyone would think you’d been mugged or worse. I’ve got some things you can borrow for now.”

  Fortunately Finn’s bedsit wasn’t far. He carried her in and laid her
down on the untidy bed.

  “You must be exhausted. I’m quite a weight.”

  “I’ve certainly had my exercise for the week. Now, let’s see about your ankle.” Finn stuffed cushions under her leg. He packed it round with towels and dumped a bag of frozen peas on top.

  “Ouch! That’s cold.”

  “Sorry, but ice will bring the swelling down. Try to bear it as long as you can. Are you hungry?”

  “Starving.”

  “I know a good chippy. What do you want?”

  “Fish, chips and peas. Take some money out of my handbag.” She looked startled. “Oh no! Where is it?”

  “You didn't have a bag when I picked you up.”

  “I must have dropped it in the square.”

  “What was inside?”

  “A couple of bob, makeup, a comb and my wardrobe key.”

  “Is the key important?”

  “I can get another.”

  “Anything with your name on?”

  “No.”

  “They won’t be able to identify you then, if they find your bag.”

  “But I can’t pay for my supper.”

  “I’ll treat you.”

  The chippy was good. Thelma and I sampled the fish and chips too, with tea, bread and butter. We went outside, to enjoy the evening air and watch the world go by. Thelma is even better prepared than Leilani. In a short time, we were sitting at a proper table, complete with a lace tablecloth, flowers, china and silver cutlery.