Love In The Wrong Dimension (Romantic Ghost Story)

by Darbyshire, Anette

  Tom glared at Jemma, his eyes narrowing as they became cold and angry.

  “I see, so it’s my fault that Susie’s unhappy and stuck here is it?”

  “No, I didn’t mean it like that. All I’m saying is that Susie needs her mum, and she may have a chance of getting out of here with me. But she’s loyal and won’t leave without you.”

  “What makes you so sure that you can help her leave anyway?” snapped Tom, “You have no idea how to get out of here yourself, if I remember correctly.”

  “Not yet no, but at least I’m prepared to try and find out. Tom, stop being so bloody stubborn and defensive. I’m not your enemy, I was only trying to let you know that Susie is feeling a bit down. I’m trying to help.”

  “By accusing me of keeping her here against her will?”

  “Oh for god’s sake. I didn’t say that.” Jemma’s voice had gone up an octave, which was a strong indication that she was on the verge of losing her temper. It usually took a lot for her to get that angry, but when she did, she flew off the handle and often said things she later regretted. In an attempt to diffuse it, she kicked her foot hard in the sand, with the full force of her frustration. To her amazement, the action resulted in the sand flying through the air, the way it would have done if she were alive. She stopped dead in her tracks, her anger forgotten instantly.

  “Wow, did you see that?” she turned to Tom excitedly, “I just made the sand move.”

  Tom’s anger also dissolved just as quickly, and he smiled at her excitement. “That takes a lot of energy. You must have been really pissed off!”

  Jemma noticed the smile, and grinned back at him. She decided to leave the subject of Susie for now, although she certainly wasn’t going to let it drop for good, and so instead decided to find out what he knew about this thing that Max had spoken off.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “That’s okay. I will think about what you said. I didn’t realise that Susie was unhappy.”

  They started walking again, watching in amusement as a flock of seagulls started screaming and fighting over a dead fish that had been washed up on the beach.

  “Tom, do you remember Max talking about these..... She paused, trying to remember the name she was looking for – slugholes or something?”

  “You mean wormholes!” he smiled. “Yes, I remember. Don’t tell me, you want me to tell you what a wormhole is?”

  “Well, yes. Max said it’s the only way out of here, but he gives me the creeps and I’d rather not ask him unless I have to.” She shuddered as she thought about him, remembering Susie’s warning last night.

  “I can tell you a little bit, but to be honest you’re better off talking to Max, he’s been here for a very long time and has actually helped people leave.”

  They walked over to some tall, sand dunes and sat down. Jemma looked up at the sky and closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth of the bright autumn sun on her face.

  “Oh my god,” she cried, with sudden realisation, “I can feel heat. Tom, I can actually feel the heat from the sun.”

  “That’s because the sun is pure energy. It’s nice isn’t it?” he looked at her and grinned, “if you concentrate hard enough, you can almost imagine you’re alive.”

  “Hmm, it’s lovely. Right, tell me what you know.” She demanded, closing her eyes again.

  “Okay. A wormhole is a tube which connects one region of space-time to another. Basically, a wormhole allows you to travel backwards in time, but it’s not as simple as it sounds. You either have to locate an existing wormhole and manipulate it to take you to a specific point in space-time, or you can create a wormhole by warping space-time, but either way, it’s dangerous.”

  “Wow, you’re saying that time travel really is possible?” Jemma couldn’t believe that the science fiction she had watched on TV when she was a kid, really had some truth to it.

  “Yes, time travel is possible and the only way you can leave here. You’d have to go back to just before the point in time when you died, and stop the incident which killed you from happening. This can only be done if you weren’t meant to die in the first place, of course. Another thing to bear in mind is that if you went back to your specific time, that’s not going to help Susie get back. You’d have to find a separate wormhole for her, so it’s not as straightforward as you think.”

  “Tom? There’s just one more question I want to ask you. Please don’t be cross with me, but I think it’s important. If you went back in time, is there any way that you can change what happened to you, whatever that might be, so that you would be able to move on and be at peace after you die? What if you could be buried next to your dad?” Jemma braced herself for Tom to start shouting at her again, but instead he smiled sadly.

  “Jemma, I hear what you’re saying, and I thank you for caring enough to ask, but I don’t want to talk about it.” He shrugged, stood up and held out his hand to help her get up off the sand, leaving her in no doubt that the subject was closed.

  They spent the rest of the day walking along the beach, exploring a small town nearby that Tom used to visit on his holidays, and getting to know each other better. Jemma was amazed at how comfortable she felt in his company and, for a while, he managed to help her forget about the last few weeks, and just enjoy a fun day out. All too soon though, it was evening. They decided to have one last walk along the beach as the sun was setting, throwing bright rays of orange and red light onto the sea, now looking a little more lively, with small white peaks dancing to the fading light, and the seagulls screaming hungrily for their supper.

  As Jemma took Tom’s hand to return to Swiss Cottage, she sighed with happiness.

  “Thank you,” she said, softly, “I can honestly say that this has been one of the nicest days of my life.” They both laughed at the contradiction of her words. “Let me rephrase that. One of the nicest days of my life - and death!”

  Chapter 8

  Sunday evenings were meant to be quiet, designed to recover after a busy weekend and prepare for the new week ahead, and this one was no different. Alice was snuggled comfortably up against Jack on his sofa as they were watching the Antiques Roadshow. They had just eaten a cheese and spinach omelette that Jack had prepared for them, and had polished off some cake that Alice had bought earlier.

  They hadn’t got in until gone four in the morning after their ghost hunting adventure, and they were exhausted. Alice hadn’t thought about the fact that all the equipment had to be packed away at the end of the night, and when she had been delegated the tedious job of winding up the electric cables, she had silently cursed herself for being so keen to come along in the first place. The last hour had been very quiet with no paranormal activity, so when Maggie had suggested they wrap up and go home, she had been relieved. Once all the equipment had finally been packed away though, the group had continued to talk quietly in the bar for another hour, by which time Alice could barely see out of her eyes, let alone hold a reasonably intelligible conversation.

  When they got back to Jack’s flat, she had collapsed on his bed, fully clothed, and had slept soundly until eleven o’clock that morning. Waking up next to Jack had been a pleasure, until she saw herself in a mirror across the room, and realised that she still had yesterday’s make-up smeared over her face, while her blonde hair looked like candy floss. He had laughed when she screamed and ran into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her, and when she had re-emerged, clean faced with her hair washed and brushed, he had handed her a cup of tea and some toast, with a flirtatious grin gently teasing her embarrassment.

  Later, they walked to Belsize Park to get the Sunday papers, and had ended up having coffee in the same cafe that she and Jemma had gone to the morning after the party. That had felt strange for Alice, as the memory of her last visit was still very fresh, but she had coped well, and hadn’t cried as she had feared she might. Perhaps having Jack there with her had helped soften the edges of the grief that still threatened to overcome her every no
w and then.

  When they returned to the house, they had spent the rest of the day reading the papers, listening to music, drinking several cups of tea and finishing off a whole packet of digestive biscuits. Alice had thoroughly enjoyed the day, and it was now, with regret, that she realised she needed to think about heading back to her flat.

  She looked up into Jack’s relaxed face and smiled.

  “I’d better make a move,” she said, softly.

  “What? You’re not staying?” Jack looked disappointed, which somehow, knowing that he didn’t want her to leave, made her feel incredibly elated.

  “I do need to get back, I’ve got things to do tomorrow, and besides you’ve got two articles to finish remember?”

  Jack was a freelance music journalist, which involved writing album and concert reviews, investigating new up and coming bands, as well as interviewing the more established, successful artists. She knew he loved his work, not just because it gave him relative freedom and flexibility, but because music was a passion of his and what he didn’t know about it wasn’t worth knowing. He was successful too, earning continuous commissions from all the big music press organisations. The benefits of his job were numerous, but the best surely had to be the free concert tickets that were always landing on his mat. Not just any old concert tickets either, they were usually accompanied by back stage passes, and invitations to the after show party.

  A few minutes later, they pulled up outside her flat, and Jack tried again to persuade her to come back home with him.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to stay over?” his eyes twinkled in the dark and she felt more tempted than ever to tell him to take her back, but she kept her resolve and instead kissed him gently on the lips.

  “Yes, I’m sure, but why don’t you come here tomorrow evening? I could cook us something for dinner, and then perhaps we could go to one of the wine bars in Hampstead and have a drink.”

  “Sounds great,” he grinned, and gave her another kiss before driving off.

  As she let herself into the flat, she was hit, once again, by the emptiness and silence left by Jemma’s absence. She could almost feel the intense atmosphere touching her, and found herself wishing she was back at Jack’s warm, cosy house. But she had a reason for needing to be home tonight, and it wasn’t just to let Jack work in peace tomorrow.

  She wandered into her bedroom, opened her wardrobe door and stared at the row of dresses and tops hanging neatly on the rail. Should she wear jeans and a nice top or would that be too casual? Maybe she should wear a dress. Finally, she settled on a pair of smart black jeans and a green jumper, not too casual, but just smart enough to make her look like she’d made an effort.

  She surveyed herself nervously in the mirror and decided that what she needed was something to bring her luck. She was a great believer in lucky charms, although she wasn’t sure how much of it was psychological reassurance, but whatever it was, she usually found that wearing one did bring her the desired good luck. She didn’t need to think too hard about what her charm would be, because she already knew. Jemma had given her a beautiful silver bangle for her birthday last year, and she always wore it on special occasions. It was a while since she had last worn it, and she suddenly felt a strong urge to find it and put it on.

  She rifled through the drawer where she kept her jewellery, but the bangle wasn’t there. As she rummaged more urgently, she started to feel a sense of unease when she still couldn’t find it. It had to be there. This was the last present Jemma had given her while she was alive, and it had enormous sentimental value, she would never forgive herself if she lost such a precious gift. She stared hopelessly at the drawer, then at the dressing table, trying to remember when she had last worn it, and where she could have put it. By the time she had searched every inch of the floor, and every drawer, shelf and bag she was in tears. This was a bad sign, she thought desperately.

  “Oh Jemma, what am I going to do? I can’t find it. I need to find it!” she cried out loud, as a tear rolled down her cheek.

  And then she felt it. The cool air drawing her across the room, back to her dressing table, the fine mist clouding the mirror momentarily before disappearing. She felt the goose bumps on her arms tingle as she stared in disbelief at the dressing table. For there, in the middle of the table, and in full view, was the missing bangle. It had definitely not been there before, she would have seen it. How did it get there? Instinctively she knew.

  “Thank you, Jemma,” she whispered, with fresh tears welling in her eyes. “Thank you.”

  Rather than unnerving her, Alice found that her brief encounter with Jemma had given her a sense of calm. She was in no doubt that it had been Jemma who had helped her find the bangle, and found it immensely comforting to know that she was nearby. It also confirmed her suspicions that her friend’s spirit was still around. She hoped that she was at peace, but wished that she could talk to her just one more time, to say goodbye properly.

  She fiddled with the bangle and smiled to herself. Now that she had her lucky charm she knew that she would be fine tomorrow. She had never been good at job interviews, which is why she hadn’t told Jack about it. If he didn’t know she had an interview, then he wouldn’t need to know if it didn’t go well. On the other hand, if it went well and she got the job, then it would be a great excuse to celebrate. It was only a waitressing job in a bistro in Camden, but it was the first job she was going for since returning from America, and her CV wasn’t exactly impressive. Her advantage was that she had worked in several restaurants in New York, and was used to a busy, trendy environment. This job would be ideal for her, with the hours split between three day shifts and two evening shifts a week. Her weekends would be free as they had regular weekend staff, which would suit her down to the ground. And it was local, she could walk to work, saving on travel costs. It was perfect, she had to get that job.

  As she climbed into bed, her phone bleeped telling her she had a text message. She smiled as she read Jack’s message: ‘Night Night Gorgeous!’ She felt a warm glow as she re-read the message, and snuggled under the duvet, her last waking thoughts being of Jack, smiling at her, his eyes full of love.

  *****

  Jemma sat quietly and watched Alice as she slept. She was glad she had been able to help earlier with the bangle. What Alice couldn’t have seen was that it had been pushed behind the mirror on the dressing table, and all Jemma had had to do was use just enough energy to push it back to the middle where Alice would see it. It had been a very special moment for her when Alice had thanked her, letting her know that she knew it was her who had helped her find it.

  She wished more than ever that she could talk to her friend, to wish her luck with her interview tomorrow, and to tell her not to wear that hideous green jumper. She looked across at the clothes, carefully laid out ready for the morning, and decided that there was no way she was going to let Alice wear that horrible thing. The green made her face look pasty and washed out, it was one the most unflattering colours she could possibly wear, and it did nothing for her figure either. No, it would never do, she had to do something. She walked over to the pile of discarded clothes that Alice had left lying on the chair whilst deciding what to wear, and noticed a lovely dark red blouse, which was fitted at the waist, showing off her slim figure, and complemented her porcelain complexion. Why the hell hadn’t she chosen this to begin with? She sighed at her friend’s hopeless sense of fashion, and, with enormous effort, managed to push the offending green jumper under the bed and replace it with the red one. She grinned to herself as she imagined Alice’s puzzled face when she found the swapped top in the morning, and hoped that she would get the hint.

  She stayed with Alice for another half hour or so, before deciding it was time to go home. It had crossed her mind that this flat should really be home, after all, it was where she had lived before she died. But she liked it at Jack’s house. Alice would be there more often, now that she was going out with Jack, and she had started to think of Susie a
s a little sister, but mostly, it was because of Tom that she had stayed. Tom, who made her laugh one minute, but drove her mad the next. He was gorgeous, sexy and charming, but haunted by a tragic past that prevented him from moving on to a better place. She wanted to help him, but she was beginning to realise that you could only help someone if they wanted to be helped, and it was becoming blatantly obvious that Tom had given up the fight a long time ago. But she couldn’t help wanting to persist, to keep chipping away at the shell he had encased himself in, confident that, one day, she would break through and he would finally open up to her. She wasn’t going to give up on him. She had developed feelings for him that went deeper than anything she had ever felt for anyone, and she was going to stand by him, whether he liked it or not.

  “Hello stranger,” he smiled, as she returned to Jack’s house, “where have you been?”

  “With Alice. She’s got an interview tomorrow and she needed a bit of help with her outfit.” She smiled as she imagined Alice turning up at the interview looking like a little green elf. She hoped she had hidden the offending top well enough for Alice not to find it.

  “Where’s Susie?” she asked, looking around.

  “I’m not sure. She said something about visiting a friend.” He sighed as he looked at her. “I had a chat with her. You know, about her mum.”

  “Oh.”

  “You’re right. She is unhappy and I feel awful, because it never occurred to me that she would still be feeling bad after all this time. She always seems so bright and cheerful.”

  “She knows you have a lot on your mind. She doesn’t want to burden you with her problems.”

  “Oh god, that makes me feel even worse.”

  Jemma walked over to him and gently touched his arm. “I’m sorry about the way I told you,” she said, “I should have been more tactful. Tact isn’t exactly my strongest quality, in case you hadn’t noticed.”