Love In The Wrong Dimension (Romantic Ghost Story)

by Darbyshire, Anette

  “What about Oscar? Does he know?”

  “Yes. I didn’t tell him at first, but when he started getting this stupid idea that Glitz is haunted and cursed, I told him so I could put his mind at rest that there’s nothing there. Trouble is, Oscar being Oscar, he thought I was making it up to shut him up. I can’t win,” he sighed.

  “I’m psychic too,” confided Alice.

  “I know. I could tell from your reaction to the man in the top hat at the theatre. And Oscar told me.”

  “I don’t see ghosts like you do, but I feel them and I’m learning how to develop my skills, but I’ve got a long way to go yet.”

  “I wouldn’t say that, Alice. The fact that you saw what you did earlier suggests that you’re very sensitive to spirits’ presences. So, what do you think about Oscar’s wild claims about Glitz then?”

  “Well, I must admit I haven’t felt anything either,” she slipped her sandals off for a moment and discreetly rubbed her aching feet. “I can’t help thinking that he might be using it as an excuse for the way things are right now.”

  “Exactly! That’s what I think. And Darren isn’t helping either,” he grumbled.

  “Who’s Darren?”

  “Oh, he’s a nice enough guy. He’s a friend of Oscar’s and is always popping in for a coffee. You’ll undoubtedly get to meet him soon. Anyway, he claims to be psychic and is the one who has fuelled Oscar’s beliefs about the restaurant being haunted. He keeps going on about these bad vibes affecting the energy of the place, and that we need to exorcise it to get rid of the curse. Utter bullshit, of course, but Oscar believes it.”

  The first glimmer of an idea started forming in Alice’s head, and she smiled to herself as the idea became clearer. “I think I might know of a way to nip this silly curse in the bud,” she grinned.

  “Tell me more,” said Dean, leaning across the table, looking like he relished the idea of hatching a conspiracy.

  “Well, you need to make up a story about a ghost with a grudge. Tell Oscar that you sense an angry man, use the man in the top hat as a model if you like, and that he cursed Glitz because of a debt a previous proprietor owed him before he died. Invent a name, and sow lots of fake seeds about this so-called curse. You then wait for Oscar to tell Darren all this information, and Darren will hopefully offer to come in and do a reading, or whatever it is he does.”

  “Ooh, Alice. Are you saying that we set Darren up?” said Dean, with a glint in his eye.

  “Yes. If all goes to plan, Darren will come out with all this fake information, and we can then tell Oscar that we made it all up. And then, to finally drill the message into his head, we tell him that I’ll get Maggie, who’s a real medium, to come in and give you her opinion. In fact, I’ve already mentioned her to Oscar, so he won’t think anything of it. She’ll confirm what we’re saying, and hopefully that’ll be enough to convince Oscar that there’s no curse or ghost at Glitz. You can then get on with dealing with the real problem, by seeking professional advice from a business advisor.”

  “You’re a genius,” beamed Dean, delightedly.

  “Why thank you,” grinned Alice. “There’s only one snag though.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Maggie seems to have vanished off the face of the planet. Jack says she often does this, and that it’s just a matter of waiting for her to turn up again, but it’s so annoying. I really need to talk to her myself.”

  “Anything I can help with?”

  Without really intending to, Alice found herself telling Dean all about Jemma, right from the day she died, including the message on the EVP recording, and ending with the strange ghostly boy she had been seeing ever since Jemma died. “The thing is, Dean, I’m beginning to doubt my own sanity. He seems so real, and yet no-one else has seen him, and he just disappears into thin air, right in front of me. Apart from helping me talk to Jemma, I’m hoping that Maggie will tell me I’m not going mad, and that she can help me understand who he is and what he wants.”

  “Have you considered the possibility that he could be an angel?” asked Dean, seriously.

  Suddenly the music, voices, celebrities and bright lights all faded into the background as Dean’s words reverberated in her ears. “An angel?” she asked.

  “Well, some people, including myself, believe that there are angels around us who are here for various reasons. I’ve heard about people encountering them and that there’s usually a reason for their presence, like the angel needs to deliver a message or something. The trouble is, your natural reaction when you see something like that is fear, but the fear drives them away. They can’t communicate with you unless you’re calm. I’m not saying that this boy is an angel, but the next time you see him, try not to be afraid of him, remain calm and ask him if he needs to talk to you. Just remember that if he wanted to hurt you, then he would probably have done so by now.”

  “It never occurred to me that...”

  “What never occurred to you?” Jack’s voice made them jump and Alice felt a spark of irritation at the interruption.

  “Oh, nothing. Is there any more Champagne?”

  As Jack tried to grab the attention of a waiter, Dean leant over and whispered, “Why didn’t you tell Jack? I thought he was helping you with all this?”

  “He is, but he’s started doubting me, and that’s made me feel insecure about telling him anymore. Can you imagine what he’d say if I told him the boy could be an angel trying to deliver a message? He’d have me carted off to the nearest mental hospital.”

  “Be careful not to shut him out, Alice.”

  “Hmm,” she frowned, as Jack came over with the waiter in tow. “Where’s Oscar?” she asked, keen to change the subject.

  “Chatting to his new best mate, Boy George,” laughed Jack.

  The rest of the night flew by, and finally at two o’clock in the morning, they made their way out to a waiting taxi. By this time they were all more than a little merry with all the Champagne, and were singing Abba songs on the way home, much to the bemusement of the poor taxi driver. Once they’d dropped Oscar and Dean off at their flat above Glitz, Alice stared silently out of the window as the cab made its way back to Swiss Cottage.

  “You’re quiet,” said Jack. “Are you alright?”

  “Fine,” she replied, absently, knowing that she was doing exactly what Dean had told her not to do. She was shutting Jack out and, as much as she wanted to tell him, she just didn’t trust his reaction anymore. With a sinking feeling she hoped this wasn’t the beginning of the end for them.

  *****

  “Ooh, my head hurts!” Jemma looked up as Alice walked into the kitchen with her hand on her forehead.

  “Sorry, you won’t get any sympathy here,” grinned Jack, looking pretty fresh considering their late night. “Not when it’s self inflicted.”

  “She’s got a hangover,” said Susie, who was lying idly across the kitchen table. “Lucky cow, I never got to find out what a hangover feels like.”

  “Well, count yourself lucky,” said Tom, grimly. “Trust me, they’re not worth it.”

  “My last hangover was when we woke up here after Jack’s party,” said Jemma, fondly. “Now that was a hell of a hangover.”

  “You were still beautiful, even with puffy red eyes and old make up smeared all over your face!” grinned Tom.

  “Ahh, you’re so romantic.”

  They watched as Jack made Alice a cup of tea and some toast. While Alice was struggling to get the toast down, Jack was cheerily washing up yesterday’s dishes.

  “How come you’re so bloody chirpy today?” groaned Alice. “You had just as much to drink last night as I did.”

  “Ah, but I drank water in between the Champagne.”

  “Cheat!”

  “Have they had an argument or something?” asked Jemma.

  “Not that I’m aware of. Why?” said Tom, looking surprised.

  “It’s just that when they got back last night, Jack went to make them both a drink an
d when he brought it up to Alice, he found her passed out on the bed, so he went back downstairs. But she wasn’t asleep, I was watching her. She was awake for ages looking as if something was bothering her.”

  “Oh, she was probably just thinking about the concert, and trying to stop the room from spinning.”

  “Hmm. Maybe.”

  The three ghosts watched in silence as Alice fumbled with a packet of paracetamol and, just as she had washed the tablets down with the last of her tea, the doorbell rang making them all jump.

  “Who the hell is that at this time on a Sunday morning,” grumbled Alice.

  “Alice. Its half past eleven!” laughed Jack, as he went into the hall to answer the door.

  They heard Jack pull the bolt across and open the door. “Hello. Can I help you?” he asked the caller.

  “Hello. I’m sorry to bother you,” said an apologetic voice.

  “Who is it?” called Alice.

  “Grace?” cried Jemma and Susie in unison, looking over at Tom, who looked just as surprised as them. They rushed out into the hallway and sure enough, there was Grace standing on the doorstep, looking frail and cold.

  “My name is Grace Cresswell. I used to live here.” She sounded nervous and awkward, as if she had rehearsed what she was going to say, but couldn’t quite remember all the words. “I... I was wondering if I could possibly talk to you about something. It’s important.”

  “Oh. Yes, of course. You’d better come in,” said Jack, holding the door open for her.

  “Thank you,” said Grace, stepping into her old home, and looking curiously around the hallway.

  “This is Alice,” he said, as she appeared from the kitchen.

  “Hello,” smiled Alice, her earlier irritation now replaced with curiosity. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

  “Oh, thank you. That would be lovely.”

  Jack led Grace into the living room and offered her a seat, while Alice went into the kitchen to put the kettle on.

  Jemma, Tom and Susie had followed Grace and Jack into the living room, and now Tom was watching his mother as if he couldn’t quite believe his own eyes.

  “Why is she here?” asked Jemma.

  “I’ve no idea,” said Tom. “It’s so strange to see her back here after all this time.”

  “What the hell is that woman doing here?” They all turned towards the voice from the corner, where Max was glaring at Grace.

  “That’s my mother,” said Tom, angrily. “What’s it got to do with you?”

  “She was married to him,” he spat.

  “Yes, she was, but my father had nothing to do with what happened on the Titanic. You can’t possibly blame my mother for something that happened before she was even born.”

  “George Cresswell got away, and then your bloody dad got away. You all got away with it, but I’m the one who’s fucking dead because of your family.” Max’s face was, once again, filled with the same anger and bitterness she had seen before, and Jemma felt a shiver of unease as she remembered Max’s threat, but Tom stood his ground and faced Max head on.

  “Max. Whatever your issues are with my family, now is not the time to discuss them. My mother’s visit today has nothing to do with you, so why don’t you crawl back into your corner and keep your mouth shut!” Tom’s voice was trembling with anger, and for an awful moment, Jemma thought Max was going to retaliate. They stared at each other silently, with equal deadly hostility, like two cats about to fight for dominance of a territory.

  “Here we are,” Alice’s cheery voice broke the silence as she walked into the living room carrying a tray with three mugs of steaming tea.

  “Thank you. It’s very kind of you.” Grace gratefully took her mug of tea and smiled nervously at Jack and Alice. As if sensing her discomfort, Alice gently asked her what they could do for her.

  “Sit down, Max,” said Tom and, to Jemma’s surprise, Max turned and walked back to his chair in the corner, without another word. Tom sat down next to his mother and waited expectantly for her to tell Jack and Alice why she was there.

  “I’m not sure where to start.” Grace took a sip of her tea. “I sold this house about twenty years ago to a couple called Mr and Mrs Burns. My husband had died the year before, and my son, Tom, died a few months later.”

  “They were my grandparents,” said Jack. “I inherited this house from them a few years ago.”

  “They were very decent people. I was glad the house had gone to such a nice couple, it was where my sons grew up, and their father before them. Well, something awful happened just before my son died. As a consequence we had an argument, a terrible argument, and it resulted in us not being on speaking terms when he died. I did something that no good mother would ever do, I turned my back on my son when he needed me, and he died alone.” Grace’s eyes clouded over with pain, and the torment she had been going through all these years showed clearly on her face.

  “Mrs Cresswell, you don’t have to explain this to us,” said Jack, gently.

  “Yes, I do.” Grace took another sip of tea, and continued. “When Tom died I was angry with him. I blamed him for something he hadn’t done, and refused to grant him his dying wish, which was to be buried next to his father. I was so angry and hurt, and just wanted to hurt him back. So I gave Tom’s brother, Luke, his ashes after he had been cremated, and told him to get rid of them and that I never wanted to hear Tom’s name mentioned again.” A tear ran down Grace’s cheek, and Susie felt so sorry for her that she went over and put an invisible arm around her. Grace was struggling to remain composed, and fiddled nervously with her mug as she tried to continue. “Something strange happened yesterday,” she said, “it was as if someone shook me hard and woke me up from a bad dream. Everything was suddenly so clear, and all it took was a bit of honeysuckle. I swear that I could feel Tom’s presence, I know it sounds mad, but I just knew he was there and that it was him who had left the honeysuckle for me.”

  Grace looked at Jack’s face for any signs that he might think she was mad, but when she saw the genuine compassion in his eyes, she carefully put her mug down and said resolutely, “Of course I don’t blame Tom for what happened, I know he would never have done what he’d been accused of. I should have believed him, I should have stood by him, but I let him down and now I have to make it up to him.”

  “How can we help?” asked Jack.

  “Well, I called Luke last night and told him what had happened yesterday, and that I had to make it up to Tom somehow. And that’s when he told me that, when I’d told him to get rid of Tom’s ashes, he knew that I would regret it one day, so he hid the urn and told me he had scattered the ashes in the park.”

  “Where did he hide it?” asked Alice.

  Grace cleared her throat. “Here, in this house.”

  Chapter 17

  There were gasps from both dimensions as Grace continued. “They’re in the attic, tucked away in a little alcove under the eaves. That’s why I’m here. To ask if I could have my son’s ashes back.”

  “Oh my god,” said Tom, completely stunned. “I was in this house all along.”

  “Course you bloody were,” spat Max from his corner.

  “You knew?” Tom turned towards Max in disbelief. “You knew my ashes were here all these years and you never said a word. Why?”

  “Why would I help you?” Max growled. “After what your family did to me.”

  That was the last straw for Tom, and he jumped up and banged his fist down so hard on the table that the empty mugs shook violently, one of them even toppled over. Jack, who was already making his way upstairs to the attic, didn’t see it, but Alice and Grace did and they looked at each other in surprise.

  Jemma could see that Tom was on the brink of losing his temper with Max, and realised that she needed to calm him down. “Tom, stop!” she cried. “This is not the time. Go with Jack up to the attic and see where Luke had left your ashes. Don’t let Max spoil this.”

  “You’re right. I’ll deal with hi
m later,” said Tom, darkly, throwing Max a warning glance, before disappearing quickly after Jack.

  “Did you see that?” asked Grace, while Jack was upstairs, “The mugs just moved by themselves.”

  “Yes, Grace. That was your son, Tom,” said Susie loudly, as if she expected Grace to hear her.

  “It was probably the resident ghosts trying to get our attention,” joked Alice. “So what are you going to do with the ashes?”

  “I’m going to do what I should have done twenty years ago, I’m going to reunite Tom with his father,” said Grace, brightening up. “Unfortunately the graveyard is full so I won’t be able to bury him, so instead I’m going to scatter the ashes by his father’s grave. I’m also going to order a bench to be placed near the grave with a memorial plaque to commemorate them both.”

  “That sounds lovely,” smiled Alice, “I’m sure your son would be very happy with that.”

  “I do hope so,” sighed Grace, as Jack and Tom reappeared with Jack holding a small, bronze urn.

  “Oh!” cried Grace, reaching out for the urn. “Thank you so much. You’ve no idea how much this means to me.”

  “I’m glad we could help,” smiled Jack.

  Grace stood up and looked around the room, remembering it the way it was when it was her living room. “Does that corner still feel a bit creepy?” she asked, nodding towards Max’s corner.

  “Why, yes,” exclaimed Alice. “Has it always been like that?”

  “My husband’s parents said it was fine until about 1912, and then suddenly strange things started happening. They used to say there was a ghost haunting this room.”

  “It’s funny you should say that, because we believe this house is haunted as well. Maybe that was your old ghost paying his respects to you when those mugs moved,” laughed Alice.

  “Respects?” growled Max, as Susie and Jemma giggled.

  “Hey Max,” taunted Susie. “Grace thinks you’re pleased to see her.”

  “Piss off!”

  “I must go now,” said Grace. “Thank you again for your kindness. And thank you for the tea,” she smiled at Alice, as Jack helped her with her coat. “You’re a lovely couple, and I’m so pleased that you’re living in my old house.” As she left, Grace took one last look back at her old home, before hugging the urn close to her and making her way back to her car.