Ghost Diaries 1_Gigi's Guardian_Paranormal Romance

by Michele McGrath

  “You certainly do things in style,” I said to Thelma, as she poured out the tea from her rose-covered teapot.

  “Practice, my dear. At my age, I like my comforts, even if I don’t actually need them any more.”

  “How old are you?” Curiosity overcame politeness at this point, but she didn’t seem to mind.

  “Just a moment.” Thelma counted up on her fingers. “I’m one hundred and forty-four in 2012 or one hundred and five in 1967.”

  “Goodness me!”

  “I lived until I was ninety, but I decided to stay a few years younger for present purposes. I liked my eighties. I had no work to do and I could enjoy myself. People respected me and excused all my naughtiness. They used to call me an eccentric. You had to be old to get away with eccentricity, then. I was brought up to be a proper Victorian lady.”

  “Who likes climbing trees.”

  A delicate rose coloured her cheeks. “I always did. My mother, bless her, disapproved. She called me a hoyden, who would never get a husband. Boys climbed trees, not girls. I had to stop after I started wearing corsets, of course, which are such uncomfortable things. It’s wonderful to be without them now. I climb trees whenever I get the chance, but don’t tell anyone or Mamma is sure to hear. She still scolds me dreadfully.”

  “I won’t,” I promised.

  Thelma is good company. She lived a sheltered life in a quiet English village, where nothing ever happened. She reminded me a little of Agatha Christie’s Miss Marple, but she is far more amusing.

  “I was so bored,” she told me. “I'm the youngest daughter of elderly parents. I had to stay at home to take care of them. I never had a chance to travel or do exciting things, but I’ve made up for it since.”

  Thelma has been a Guardian to dozens of people in many countries and in lots of time periods.

  “It’s been fun and so different from anything I was used to. I always enjoy myself,” she concluded.

  “Did you ever fail in a task?” I asked, voicing my secret fear.

  “Twice. Once, when the Titanic sank and my client would not leave her husband. Once, when my client advised Neville Chamberlain to appease Hitler. Lady Maitland intended to found a hospital for sick children, which was never built after she drowned. You know all about Chamberlain and Hitler.”

  “What happened to you?”

  “Me? Nothing.” She stared at me in surprise. “You can only do your best. No one blames you if you fail, unless you don't try. If you can’t be bothered, you’re not allowed to be a Guardian again for a while. Then you have to go through the Gulag. It’s a sort of Boot Camp for Guardians, training all the hours God sends and he sends a lot! The food is supposed to be terrible too. Not a pleasant experience, they tell me, but a Guardian needs a sense of responsibility.” She patted my arm. “No need to think you’ll end up there. After all, here you are, worrying, when Gigi’s perfectly fine. So you care and want to do your best.”

  Gigi and Finn spent a happy evening, chatting and arguing about the demo. Finn thought the Vietnamese people should be left alone to work things out for themselves, without Americans or anyone else interfering. As an Irishman, he knew all about interference in the affairs of another country. He was a bit horrified to find out Gigi had gone along out of curiosity. Before they started to fall out, he suggested they go to the nearest pub and have a drink. Gigi was able to hobble as far as that and he introduced her to a ‘proper pint of Guinness’. She hated it - too bitter.

  Finn lent Gigi a pair of his jeans, which fitted with the belt tied tight and the legs rolled up. She wouldn’t have been seen dead looking like that, if she thought anyone knew her. She was glad to be in a different part of the city. A few of Finn’s friends dropped in and joined them. They were also in various stages of disarray. One had a huge bruise on his forehead and people bought him shots of whisky ‘to make him better’. Everyone thought the demo had been a success, even though the police had broken it up.

  “At least we’ve shown the Americans we don’t like what they’re doing in Vietnam. So many people turned up, the story is bound to be in all the newspapers tomorrow.”

  Fortunately, neither Gigi nor Finn had been photographed.

  “I pushed him behind a tree as the camera clicked,” Thelma told me with a wink. “Now is not the time for him to be arrested.”

  Gigi enjoyed the evening and the company. She was quite sorry when it ended. Finn borrowed a motorbike from one of his friends. She arrived back at the hostel in style, perched up behind him on his ‘charger’.

  “How are we going to follow them?” I asked Thelma.

  “Watch.” She opened up her large umbrella. “Hold onto me tight.”

  The wind blew us into the sky and we easily kept up with the speeding bike.

  “I saw this on ‘Mary Poppins’ and I thought ‘what a good idea’. It’s such a simple way to travel and the view is wonderful. I mean to try a motorbike for myself, though, one day soon.” The view was lovely, sunset over the city spires. I understood what she meant.

  When Finn dropped Gigi at the door of the hostel, he asked if she would meet him again. She hesitated, thinking about James. She had to return Finn's trousers, though, and he had rescued her, so she said ‘yes’. She told him she'd come out with him next Sunday. He gave her a number where she could leave a message, in case something happened to stop her. Gigi thought that, if James went away again, she wouldn’t mind being with Finn. Finn suggested a walk on Hampstead Heath, if the weather was okay. He takes black and white photographs and he wanted to go to the Heath before all the leaves are off the trees. They agreed to meet at Hampstead station. Finn rode off with a big smile on his face and Gigi smiled too. So Gigi has met the other man in her life and I've met Thelma at last.

  18th October 1967, Wednesday, London.

  James did not phone Gigi until this evening. He usually rings on Monday and she wondered what had happened to him. She started to get worried, so she tried to ring him. His landlady wasn’t nice to her at all. She made it clear that she has got better things to do than answer phone calls for her tenants. Gigi felt properly snubbed.

  James didn’t explain why he hadn’t rung, but he sounded as if he was dying to see her. She bucked up in an instant. He asked her to meet him tonight at the Queen’s Arms. He planned to have a few drinks and then take her to bed, Ivan told me later. Things didn’t work out like that.

  Gigi hurried to the pub, looking forward to the evening. The room wasn’t crowded and there was plenty of space. Ivan and I sat down at the next table, and chatted. Everything was peaceful and I enjoyed the sweet nothings Ivan was murmuring into my ear. Then a young man came into the room and Ivan immediately sat upright.

  “Watch out for the fireworks.” He rose and dragged me off into a corner, out of the way. “You wanted to know more about James the other night. Well, you’re going to find out a few things right now. One of his oldest friends just came in.”

  A crowd of people had followed the young man. They looked round for somewhere to sit when one of them spotted James and whooped.

  “Look who’s there!” They surrounded Gigi's table.

  “What are you doing here, old man?” one of them asked James.

  “Having a quiet drink.” James frowned, but the strangers pulled out chairs and sat down. They seemed oblivious to the fact he did not want them to join him. They talked loudly, like people do with several drinks inside them.

  “Who’s the lovely lady?” someone asked and James introduced Gigi.

  Gigi didn’t catch all the names, but there was a Selina, an Anthony with an “h”, a Rupert and a Georgie. Rupert went to the bar for more drinks and hauled James off with some of the others to help. They all acted as if they had been friends for years and Gigi felt a bit left out. She was sitting next to Selina, a lovely blond with a voice which would fracture glass.

  “Have you known James long?” Gigi asked her. He hasn’t told her a lot about his life and she wanted to find out more.
/>
  “I went to school with him. So did Rupert,” Selina replied, with a shrug.

  “Oh?”

  “He’s a couple of years older than me and Rupert was in the year above him. Didn’t he tell you?”

  “He doesn’t talk about himself much.”

  “He's changed then. James is his own favourite subject. He can rabbit on for hours.”

  “Not when he’s with me.”

  “Perhaps he has other things on his mind with you.”

  Gigi blushed. She goes rather a lovely colour.

  Ivan murmured, “He certainly does and so do I” in my ear, naughty man.

  “You’re not from London, are you?” Selina asked.

  “No. I’m from Antigua.”

  “Antigua,” Selina made the word sound as if Gigi had announced she came from Pluto. “Now I understand.”

  “Understand what exactly?” Gigi queried with an edge in her voice. She started to bristle.

  Selina’s eyebrows rose, but she said smoothly, “Why we’ve never met before. I usually know James’s girlfriends.”

  “You make him sound as if he has a harem.”

  “Wishful thinking,” murmured Ivan and I rapped his knuckles.

  Selina smiled. “I wouldn’t go so far as to say that. He sticks to one at a time. I’ve known him ever since I was thirteen and he’s gone through lots. Where did you meet him?” Selina asked the question, as if she expected the answer to be “at the zoo”. I felt cross with her.

  Gigi also caught the sarcasm and she became defiant. “At the hairdresser’s where I work.”

  The drinks arrived and Selina cooed to Rupert, “Gigi is James's hairdresser, Rupert, isn’t she sweet?”

  Gigi wasn’t going to take that sort of remark lying down. “What do you do?” she demanded.

  “I'm an assistant at an art dealer’s, so is Anthony, although he’s more on the antiques side. Well he would be, since he grew up with so many of them.”

  “That’s no way to talk about my parents.” Anthony gave a short braying laugh and they all joined in.

  “Darling, as if...” Selina protested.

  Gigi glanced over at James who still looked uncomfortable.

  “Talking of parents,” Rupert turned to James. “I’ve two tickets for the opera on Friday which I can’t use. Got to go home, Mother insists. The old man’s having a birthday and he’s the big 6-0 this time. Bit of a pain, but I'm stuck. Want them?” He turned to Gigi. “Do you like La Traviata?”

  “I’ve never been to the opera,” Gigi replied. She’s into pop or Reggae and she thinks classical music is for has-beens. She listened to proper jazz for the first time at Ronnie Scott’s. She doesn't consider her taste in music as something to be ashamed of, though. Rupert, however, seemed shocked and she noticed Selina's cruel smile.

  “Any opera or La Traviata?”

  “Any opera,” Gigi replied. “I’m more into the Top Ten myself.”

  ‘You would be.’ Selina didn’t say the words, but they hung in the air between them.

  “You must take her,” Rupert insisted. “About time she heard some decent music. You given it up or something?” Without waiting for an answer, he turned back to Gigi. “James was good at singing in school. He’s a tenor and did solos. He even used to play the clarinet. I thought you’d joined a choir down here?” he asked James.

  “I did, the Regent’s. But I don’t make a fuss. Okay?” James glared at Rupert.

  “Sorry. Put my foot in my mouth, as usual.” Rupert got the message at last. “Do you want these tickets or not?”

  James glanced at Gigi, who looked both annoyed and confused. He held out his hand and Rupert gave him the tickets. “Thanks, if no one else wants them, I do. Give my best wishes to your father.”

  “Silly man, he should have refused,” murmured Ivan.

  “Why?”

  “Ahh! Wait and see.”

  Gigi isn’t happy about going to the opera, because James plainly doesn’t want to go. He didn’t talk about either his friends or himself, once they left the pub. He made love to Gigi and then he took her straight home. It was the nearest they’ve ever been to ‘Wham, bam, thank you, Ma’am’. To be fair to him, he’s not usually like that. He’s a kind and courteous lover, but he definitely wasn’t himself tonight. The question is - why did he get so rattled?

  I tackled Ivan about what had happened as soon as I could and he gave me an explanation of sorts.

  “James keeps his life in compartments: his work; his friends; his family; his lovers. He’s always done so and is uncomfortable when the different parts get mixed up. He’s bad at complicated situations.”

  “I don’t understand why he was bothered about admitting he had joined a choir, though. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

  “He didn’t want them all to come trooping down to listen to him. They’d heckle him, like they used to do in school. He doesn’t put up with ragging any more. He’s drifted away from his old friends since he left. He had to. His father lost quite a lot of money on the Stock Exchange. He’s only got his salary to live on now - a real come-down for him. He’s been used to the better things in life. The others don’t know about his father and he wants to keep it that way. He can’t do many of the activities he did any more because he can’t afford it. So he avoids the old crowd as much as he can.”

  “No wonder he was upset when they walked into the pub.”

  “He also didn’t want them to see him with Gigi. They’ll accuse him of slumming or ‘having a bit of rough’. Selina will tease him unmercifully and make sure the story goes round all their friends. ‘A hairdresser!’” Ivan did a wicked imitation of Selina’s breathy voice.

  “There’s nothing wrong with being a hairdresser,” I said hotly, “Gigi’s a lot nicer than Selina, anyway. She moos.”

  “True, but she’s wanted to go out with James for years, so she’s jealous. He’s never asked her.”

  “Why not? Not pretty enough for him?”

  “Too poor. James needs money, to return to the life he once had. If he started a relationship with Selina, they would end up married. She’s from a large family without enough to go round. Selina, of course, still thinks James is rich, which makes the whole thing even more intriguing.”

  “He’s a calculating bastard!”

  “He is. He’s an excellent Bridge player.”

  “You would say that.” A thought occurred to me. “Gigi has money or, at least, her family does. He doesn’t know, because she’s never told him, as far as I can remember.”

  Ivan looked amused. “No. He thinks she’s a little Caribbean girl from a shanty in St Johns, so he’s just been amusing himself with her. Interesting to see what happens when he finds out.”

  “You’re awful.”

  “A mere fact of life. You’ll find out I’m right.”

  “I suppose I will.”

  Tonight was not one of our brighter times together. Finding out about James put a damper on the whole evening for me. Gigi is going to be terribly unhappy and I can’t help empathising with her, even if I shouldn’t. The future made me sad, so I couldn’t bring myself to enjoy Ivan’s company as much as I wanted to. I was actually glad to reach the hostel. Gigi’s room is beginning to seem like home to me now. The cramped space is somewhere to brood, with friends to help me when I need them.

  20th October 1967, Friday evening, London.

  Gigi’s been ill for the last two days and she’s only just started to get better. She couldn’t eat or drink anything and this includes her pill. Jane’s been on duty, so she hasn’t been around to remind her of the consequences. Adele’s brought Gigi drinks and hot water bottles, but she’s wrapped up in her own affairs so she’s not twigged either. I did my best, by putting her pills where she couldn’t fail to notice them. It didn’t work. Gigi hasn’t realised she is now at risk.

  I’m still blushing as I write this. When she kept ignoring me, I lost my nerve and pushed the panic button harder than I meant to. Befor
e I knew what was happening, the room was full of angels. They swooped around, getting tangled up and colliding with each other.

  “What’s going on?” I gasped, as a shining being clouted me with her harp on the way past. I ended up in a heap on the spare bed.

  “You pushed the button too hard, you twit!” Maude exclaimed as she fell on top of me.

  The Heavenly Host had arrived! A right lot of good it did. A couple of hundred angels dashed around in the air above us and the room wasn’t big enough. Whenever I tried to get up, I got knocked over by flapping wings or ate mouthfuls of feathers! Maude and Leilani went into hysterics in the corner. They couldn’t move for laughing, which didn't help.

  Some of the angels sang, others played harps, all out of tune with each other. Nobody could hear anything above the racket. I yelled at them and they kept yelling back at me. They asked what was wrong and what I wanted them to do. I pushed the button because I hoped someone would tell me what to do! I couldn't stop giggling.

  Finally I managed to communicate with a large, shiny one. She/he/it seemed to be in charge, if you could call it that. The being became extremely huffy when I explained I’d made a mistake. She muttered something like “I'm sick of all these false alarms. I wish people would think before they send for us.” She produced a golden trumpet and blew a shattering note. Talk about the ‘trump of doom’, the noise would certainly wake the dead. I jumped a foot into the air. Maude and Leilani kept shaking their heads, because their ears were ringing. Everyone went silent for thirty seconds and then the din broke out again. To complete the fiasco, they all attempted to go out of the window at once and got jammed in the opening! It was like being in a room full of headless chickens.

  Maude and Leilani rallied round at last, although they were still shaking with laughter, and helped me shove them out. We were all tired, aching and spitting feathers before we finished. I didn’t think you could be sore in Heaven, but I’ve never tried to push dozens of angels out of a window before. I found out the hard way- you can. The three of us downed several bottles of Champagne Nectar before we recovered. At least that’s our excuse.