by Mona Marple
“You didn’t have to eat that, I got some real food in the other cupboard.” Connie admits, then drops her tone. “Emergency supplies!”
“She’s such a feeder.” I say.
“What’s everyone up to today?” Connie asks, taking a slurp of the scalding coffee.
“Well.” I say, giddy with excitement. I’m surprised I’ve managed to hold the news in this long. “I’ve set up a meeting for Coral.”
“You have?” She asks, wide-eyed.
I nod with enthusiasm, rapid up and down. “Oh yeah, I’ve done good. You’re so obviously wasted in that café – no offence, Sandy.”
“None taken.” Sandy says. “At least, I think.”
“It’s different for you, Sandy. You’re the owner. It’s your baby. But for Coral to be there, just working there, it’s fine for some people but…”
“I know what you’re going to say.” Sandy interrupts. “She should be focusing on her journalism.”
“Exactly.”
“Oh, I can go back to that anytime. I like working with Sandy. And I’m pretty good at sales.”
“Oh girl, I can believe that.” I say. “You sold me on a hundred different schemes and ideas as a kid.”
“I did?” Coral asks, and these are the moments when my heart breaks for the girls. The memories that have been forgotten to time, that I should have been there, reminding them about. Without a mother to remind them, how can they know where they came from? Why did I have to go and die?
“Uh-huh. One week it was figure skating. Of course, there was no figure skating classes in Waterfell Tweed, but you convinced me you needed to create a track in the garden to follow. I came out later to find you hand cutting the grass with kitchen scissors!” I say with a laugh, picturing her expression when I went outside and caught her. The scissors were never the same again. “We had some good times trying to follow the lines of the short grass, though, as if we were skating. The neighbours totally thought we were mad.”
“I don’t remember that.”
“I know, baby.” I say, and I reach across the table and give her hand a squeeze.
“So what’s this meeting?” Connie asks, totally interrupting the moment. She’s like a bull in a china shop sometimes, honestly.
“Well…” I say, building the interest. “I’ve managed to get you an exclusive scoop.”
“But I don’t have anywhere to print it.” Coral objects.
“Oh, please, everyone’s a freelancer nowadays. You sell it to the highest bidder. And you’ll get some good bidders for this, trust me.”
“Who is it?”
“Kim Kane!” I squeal.
“The guitarist?” Coral asks, a smile creeping across her face, suggesting that she’s interested in more than his guitar.
“The one and only.”
“He never gives interviews.” Sandy says, then blushes. “I was looking into him last night after the show.”
“How did you arrange this, Sage?” Connie asks.
I shrug. “I asked him right after the show.”
“That’s where you went!” Sandy exclaims. I’d made an excuse about needing some air and disappeared as the last song of the night came to an end, and I was waiting, with my biggest pout and most sultry eyes at the stage when the band left. Kim Kane was putty in my hands.
“He was on a high from the gig. Couldn’t say no.”
Never been propositioned by a ghost before, were his exact words.
“Well, this is amazing.” Coral says. “When is it? Where? What will he talk about? Is anything off limits?”
“Coral.” I say. “He’s a vegan. He’ll want to drone on about animal rights, of course. And he’ll be here in half an hour. So the rest of you had better get a move on.”
“What!” Coral exclaims.
Sandy flashes her a grin and jumps up from the table. “Well, I’m going to go and explore. I want to try out the local café.”
“Coffee house.” Connie corrects. “Screamin’ Beans. I think you’ll like it. In fact, I need more caffeine. Shall we go together?”
“I’d like that.” Sandy says.
“Coming?” Connie asks me.
I shake my head. “Oh no, I’m sticking around.”
Connie rolls her eyes. “Well, you’ve always been into animal rights, I guess.”
**
Kim Kane dresses like a poster boy for rock, even on his days off.
Torn jeans, so faded it’s impossible to say whether they started out as black or grey, and a t-shirt with a huge skull across the front. I’m pretty sure he’s wearing eyeliner and his skin is far too flawless to not be moisturised with a better skin care routine than I ever had when I was alive.
I’m sitting on the staircase, out of sight, but within earshot. There’s a crack in the door letting me see a little of what’s happening.
He flops down on the settee and throws his legs up, revealing flip flops. I try to forget seeing them as they ruin the fantasy. I’m pretty sure rock Gods shouldn’t wear flip flops.
He’s brought his own drink, and it’s coconut water. Maybe rock stars are living cleaner nowadays.
In fairness, there’s never been a controversy around Kim Kane, other than the fact that he isn’t as accessible as the media would like, and refuses to choose a woman (or man) to settle down with. But there are no rumours of heavy partying, drugs, or women.
It would appear that, when he isn’t on stage making people swoon or making very occasional political protest appearances, he lives a quiet life.
“So, first of all, thank you so much for meeting with me.” Coral says, nerves causing her voice to wobble like a tight-rope walker.
“Hey, no problem.” Kim says. “I’m as interested in you as you might be in me.”
“Oh, there’s nothing interesting about me.” Coral says, her cheeks flushing.
“Well, your mom’s a ghost. That’s insane.”
“Yeah.” She admits. “It is pretty insane.”
“Maybe I could take you for a coffee after this? Ask you some questions?” He asks, and if I had a physical body I’d probably faint right about now. This rock star is totally flirting with my daughter. Even if he is a vegan.
“Sounds great.” Coral says, and clears her throat. “So I thought we’d start with breaking through the surface, if that’s okay. People obviously know you as the lead guitarist with Vera and The Vamps. But if you could choose, what is it that you’d like to be known for?”
“Ah, man.” He drawls, scratching his designer beard.
Choose Love Not Fear, orders a tattoo scrawled across his wrist.
“I guess I’d like to be known as a thinker.”
“Deep.” Coral says with a smile.
“Well, lots of people in this field go after the money and the fame. That’s never really interested me. I like making good music, it feeds my soul. It’s like a spiritual experience for me, to connect with an audience. But I need my time alone after. I like to think a lot.”
“What do you think about?”
“Oh, I think about everything. Like now, I’m thinking about how it must feel to know your mom after her passing. I’ll be honest, it’s making me rethink a whole lotta stuff. I like that. New ideas. It’s good to be tested, challenged.”
Coral stumbles, clearly not expecting the interview to go this way.
“The fame and money don’t mean anything to you?” She asks after a few seconds of silence.
Kim laughs. “I didn’t say that. Some people say that money can buy happiness, right? I don’t agree with that. But I think it’s pretty insulting to the single mom working three jobs to feed her kids to suggest money don’t make a difference. It can be the difference between you going to bed hungry or not, or cold or not, or getting the medical care you need or not. But that’s up to a point. So, I’m glad I’m not hungry or cold, but beyond that an extra million here and there really don’t matter.”
“What do you do with it, then?”
&nbs
p; He takes a breath and reaches into his jean pocket, pulling out a battered cell phone. I watch him do this through the bannister rails. He presses a few buttons, then holds the phone to Coral. I can’t see the screen.
“This is a water charity?” Coral says. “I’ve heard of this.”
“Their mission is to give everyone in the world access to safe drinking water.” He explains. “I don’t really understand how we got so many advancements over here and yet we haven’t sorted clean water for the world yet.”
“So you donate?”
He nods. “I do what I can. I’m not big on going over to places and building the wells. The media find out then, it all looks staged. I send money. I don’t want you to write about this, by the way.”
“Oh.” Coral says. “What can I write about?”
“Anything really. I just don’t like my donating becoming news, because really it’s not. You earn as much as I do, you’d better be donating, ya know? It’s not breaking news.”
“Okay, well, let’s talk about Vera for a minute. What’s she like?”
Kim laughs, a wild cackle. “Mad as a banshee! I mean, geeze, that woman is crazy!”
“Do you all get on? There must be lots of travelling together, living in a close space?”
“Well, like I said, I like to think, so I hole myself away a lot of the time. But yeah, those guys are cool.”
I start to lose interest.
I can understand why Kim Kane doesn’t give interviews often. He has nothing interesting to say. His thoughts on how the rich should have to donate could be interesting, but he’s put them off limits.
“So, Kim, it seems like you live a clean life. Surely, there must be some secret you’re hiding? Some scoop that the media just haven’t found out about yet?” Coral digs.
“Is that what celebrities have become now?” He asks. “I remember when celebrities were expected to be role models, to set a good example. The bad guys were criticised. Now it seems the press aren’t happy unless you’re treating people like crap, have an ego the size of a country and a drug addiction. I’m really just a regular kinda guy, who likes to play his guitar.”
“And not eat meat.” Coral prompts.
“Yeah, not eat meat.” Kim drawls.
“Have you always been vegan?”
“Born and bred.” Kim admits.
“What, really?” Coral asks, the focus of her story found.
“Mom and dad were crazy hippies. My mom was a bit like your mom, to be honest, that’s why I agreed. I could never say no to my mom either.”
“The cheek.” I whisper to myself. I was sure he’d been making eyes at me, not thinking I looked like his mother!
“So they were both vegan before I was born and I just carried it on. Never known different.”
“That’s amazing.” Coral says. “Aren’t you curious about the taste of meat?”
“Absolutely not.” He says, firmly. “It’s disgusting to me that we’ve decided that animals should give their lives so that we can eat, when it’s perfectly possible to survive without them playing any role in our diet.”
“Do you find it hard mixing travelling with your diet?”
“Well.” He says with a snicker. “That really depends. California is very vegan-friendly, but when I go to Texas I’m screwed.”
Coral and Kim both let out a laugh and I watch as their eyes meet across the coffee table.
“So… that coffee?” He asks, and a sinking feeling hits me as I watch Coral’s smile.
It’s a smile I know too well.
She’s not just feisty, like me.
She’s boy mad, too.
**
After they leave, I sit on the rocking chair on the veranda and watch the world go by. The days are growing cooler and the leaves are falling from the trees. The lawn is a mound of orange and brown leaves, swirling in the gentle breeze. I could watch them all day.
“Hey, lady.” A familiar voice comes and I glance across the street to see Patton floating by. “Fancy some company?”
“Sure.” I say. I owe him after bailing on him for the show last night.
“Don’t apologise.” He says, reading my thoughts. “I kinda saw it coming. How’s it going, with the girls?”
“So good.” I say, feeling myself grin. It’s not even deliberate. I can’t think of them without happiness finding me and announcing it to the world through the biggest grin.
“I’d like to meet them.” He says. “I’m not pressuring you, just saying, that if you want to introduce me at some point, I’d like that.”
“I’d like that too.” I admit, and I reach over and hold his hand. I have no idea what’s happening between us, but he’s somehow carved himself a special place in my heart. After Connie, he’s really the only other person I’d like the girls to meet. I just hope they understand why I’m not spending eternity with their nice but dull father. One lifetime was enough for that relationship, thank you very much.
“Where are they all?”
“Connie and Sandy went off somewhere earlier, and Coral is, I think, on a date with Kim Kane.”
“Isn’t he vegan?” Patton asks.
“I know.”
“I don’t think I could trust a vegan.”
“At least you wouldn’t have to share a steak on date night.” I joke.
“I doubt you’d even get a vegan in a steak restaurant.” Patton says with a grin. “It’s good to be with you, Sage. I’ve been giving you some space but I miss you. A little. I hope I can say that.”
“I miss you too.” I admit, my voice barely a whisper. Easier to joke about vegans than share feelings.
I glance across to see him gazing at me, but the moment is interrupted by a scream from across town. A scream I recognise.
I’m transported back in time, to a Saturday afternoon in Waterfell Tweed, juggling two kids and a dinner that wasn’t going to cook itself. Coral had been tugging on my apron all afternoon, begging me to play, until I’d lost my temper and told her I’d love to play but I was a grown-up and I had work to do. She’d gone off sulking and I’d thought no more about it until I’d realised she’d been quiet for too long. I tracked her down, through a process of elimination, to the bathroom.
She’d locked herself in, something that was completely forbidden. The lock was on the growing list of things that didn’t work properly in that darn house.
I ordered her to come out, and she tried. I knew from the noise the door made that the lock had jammed. Coral had a total meltdown when she realised she was locked in, until eventually she let out the same bloodcurdling scream I’ve just heard.
“Let’s go.” I tell Patton, and I race across town, him at my heels.
Coral stands by the high school gates, a shape by her feet.
“What’s happened?” I cry.
“He’s dead.” She says, bursting into tears. “I think he’s dead. I was lost, and he was here, and I… I think he’s dead.”
I scoop her into my arms and look down to the ground, where it would appear that Bruce Skipton is well and truly dead.
4
Connie
We’re under house arrest.
Not officially, but it’s pretty obvious that if we do want to go anywhere, we need to inform Sheriff Morton about it. Sheriff Morton, ever professional and respectful, has already solved the case.
My niece is the killer.
I’ve taken him to one side and tried to explain what a faulty logic it is to assume that the person who finds the dead body is the killer, but he doesn’t seem to be listening. He thinks my judgement is blurred. Conflict of interest, I believe they’d call it, if I was on the job.
Well, I’m not on the job, I’m a medium not a cop, but I know someone barking up the wrong tree when I see it.
“Have you heard what he’s done?” Sage calls as she appears through the front door. She hates floating through doors and walls, always moans about the odd sensation it causes, but it’s the only way she can get out
and about without attracting the attention of the junior police officer who is, supposedly, protecting us by standing guard at the picket fence. He’d hear the front door open, and Sheriff Morton has seized our back door key, which I’m pretty sure is breaking a few rules.
So Sage has been nipping out, floating off and keeping check on things, then floating back in and keeping us up to date.
“What now?” I ask. I’m in the living room with Sandy and Coral, who are white as sheets and wrapped in oversized hoodies as if their constant shivering is anything to do with the weather.
“He’s set up a checkpoint. Nobody can leave the town!” Sage exclaims.
“What? That’s…” Sandy begins.
“That’s brilliant.” Coral interrupts. We all look at her. “He wants to make sure the killer hasn’t left. It’s a good idea.”
“I guess it is.” I agree. “Although, he won’t find a killer.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s the curse.” I say, shaking my head with resignation.
“Oh, Connie, seriously?” Sage asks, sitting by my side. Her colour looks off. She’s tired herself out morphing through the door. I need to make sure she rests, there’s been so much excitement with the girls arriving, and now this. “Do you really think it’s real?”
“I saw him.” I admit. “After the show, when I went across to the Baker House. He was already there. I saw him leave.”
“And less than a day later, he’s dead. Wow.”
“So that makes Vera the killer?” Sandy asks. I shrug. I have no idea what the law would have to say about a witch placing a life-taking curse on a property.
“She did warn everyone.” I say.
“But nobody believed it.” Sandy says. “I just thought it was part of the show. Or her being kooky. I mean, these celebs are known for being a bit odd.”
“Bruce Skipton wasn’t at the gig, though.” Sage says. “I heard them chatting about that in Screamin’ Beans just now. He can’t stand live music, apparently.”
“He couldn’t stand it.” Sandy corrects with a sad smile.
“Well, yeah.”