Mum had been planting onions in her row. I was weeding my carrot patch. And Dad was helping Gavin put in some pumpkin seedlings. It was a family ritual. Every Sunday we would work together in the vegetable patch. Mum and Dad had done it for years. And before that Nan and Pop had planted and weeded and watered in the very same garden.
It was a happy place. I don’t think there had ever been a fight in the vegetable patch before.
I clung on to the box with both hands and deliberately bumped Gavin with my shoulder. He stumbled backwards and fell to the ground. I landed on top of him. We rolled over and over yelling and struggling. Neither of us would let go of the box.
‘Thief,’ I yelled.
‘Robber,’ shouted Gavin.
Suddenly a hand grabbed me by the scruff of the neck. It was Dad. He pulled me to my feet. Mum did the same to Gavin.
‘I can’t believe this, Byron,’ Dad said to me. ‘You two are acting like enemies.’ He took the box from my hand and gave it a gentle shake. Something rattled around inside.
‘Dad’s right,’ said Mum. ‘It doesn’t matter what’s inside the box. It’s not worth fighting over. People are more important than things.’
‘It’s still mine,’ said Gavin.
‘You suck,’ I yelled at him.
‘Both go to your room,’ said Dad. ‘And don’t come down until you’re friends again.’
I held my hands out for the box.
‘No way,’ said Dad. ‘Nobody is touching this until you’ve both calmed down.’
Gavin and I walked back towards the house. Neither of us wanted to leave the box. I was busting to know what was inside. It seemed to be calling me. Gavin felt the same way. I knew he did.
He was probably thinking other things too. About me. We went back to our room and shut the door. Gavin threw himself on to his bed. I did the same on mine.
‘It’s my box,’ we said. We both said exactly the same sentence at the same time. It often happened to us. That’s how close we were. Normally. But right at that moment we were not close. It was like we were a million miles away from each other.
It’s funny when you are mad with someone that you really care about. Just at that moment you sort of hate them. It’s not real. But at the time it seems like it is. That’s how I felt about Gavin just then. We were like two horseshoe magnets. Normally the ends stick together so strongly that you can’t pull them apart. But if they are turned the wrong way around they push each other off.
He started to speak in an angry voice. ‘Why don’t you…’
‘Get lost?’ I said, finishing his sentence for him.
Just then the door opened. Dad came in carrying the box. He had rubbed it down and we could see that it was covered in bright jewels.
‘They’re not real,’ said Dad. ‘Just cheap glass. The box is made of brass so it’s not worth anything. And neither is what’s inside.’
‘Give it to me, Dad.’ I said. ‘Please.’
‘It’s mine,’ yelled Gavin.
Dad shook his head. ‘Neither of you are getting this box. Not until you make up. Not until you shake hands.’
I looked at Gavin. He was mad at me. I could almost read his mind.
‘Shake hands,’ ordered Dad.
‘No,’ we both said at the same time. Gavin shoved his hands into his pockets and so did I.
‘All right,’ said Dad. ‘If that’s the way it’s going to be, neither of you can have it.’
He gave a huge sigh and shut the door behind him.
Gavin and I stared at each other without saying a word. Finally, Gavin took one hand out of his pocket and held it out. He wanted to shake.
I shook my head.
‘No way,’ I said. ‘That box is mine.’
Gavin’s bottom lip started to tremble.
My stomach churned over. We had never been like this with each other before. We were both upset. I could see he really wanted to make friends. But I wouldn’t. I was too stubborn.
Suddenly he rushed out of the room. I heard him stumble down the stairs and out of the front door.
I wanted to yell out for him to come back.
But I didn’t.
I never saw Gavin again. Well, not in the flesh anyway.
2
My twin brother Gavin was run over by a car right in front of our house. After I refused to shake hands he rushed out of the front door and straight across the busy road. Maybe he had tears in his eyes from our argument. Maybe he was in so much of a hurry he just didn’t look.
Either way it was my fault.
‘No it’s not, Byron,’ said Dad as we drove home from the funeral. ‘You can’t think like that. If I hadn’t sent you to your room it wouldn’t have happened. If we hadn’t found the box he wouldn’t have run on to the road. Life is full of things making other things happen. It wasn’t anyone’s fault.’
I answered with a trembling voice. ‘Gavin held out his hand,’ I said. ‘And I wouldn’t shake.’
Mum put her arm around me and tried to smile. ‘Everyone does mean things to the people they love,’ she said. ‘We all have to get over it.’
That was easy to say. But it didn’t happen. Gavin was run over right outside our house. Every time I went in and out of the gate it reminded me of him. All I could think of was shaking his hand and putting things right.
Dad tried to reason with me. ‘Byron,’ he said. ‘When someone you love dies you think you will never be happy again. There is a great big black hole in your life. You cry and ache and hurt inside. But finally a day comes when you can think about them and smile.’
‘That day will never come for me,’ I said. ‘Not until I can shake Gavin’s hand.’
A year went by. A whole year. But I couldn’t get happy. I just kept thinking about Gavin standing there and offering me his hand. Sometimes I would hold out my arm and move it up and down as if I was shaking with him.
‘Sorry,’ I would say. ‘You can have the box. I don’t want it.’ I would close my eyes and see us laughing and digging in the garden and having fun like we used to. But when I opened them no one was there.
No one.
Dad was going to throw the box out. He showed me what was in it. A pair of glasses. Just an old pair of granny spectacles. That’s what my brother had died over.
‘No,’ I said. ‘I’ll keep it.’
The box was a connection to Gavin. For some strange reason I felt as if I could reach him through it. Mum made me put it in the cupboard. She couldn’t bear to look at it. In fact Mum didn’t even like living in our house anymore. Everything made her sad.
Finally Dad made a decision. ‘I think we should move,’ he said. ‘Buy a new house. Start new memories.’
Mum nodded her head. ‘I would like that,’ she said. ‘I can’t bear it here anymore.’
‘No,’ I yelled. ‘No, no, no. I don’t want to go.’
I couldn’t tell them why. They wouldn’t like it. But the truth is I still hoped to see Gavin again. He was connected to the house. I felt as if his spirit was there.
I went to my room and picked up the box. The terrible box. Maybe it would bring me closer to Gavin.
I walked down to the tool shed. I hadn’t been inside there for a year. Neither had Mum or Dad. The tools were all covered in cobwebs. Dust lay over everything. Dad’s overalls still hung on the peg where he put them on that terrible day. He had never worn them again.
I stared through the open door at the vegetable patch outside. It was overgrown and full of weeds. None of us could bear to dig in it anymore. Dad hadn’t even touched his overalls since Gavin died.
I suddenly held out my hand. ‘Shake,’ I said.
I pretended that Gavin’s hand was in mine. But I knew it wasn’t.
Finally I decided to have a look inside the box. It couldn’t do any harm. I sat on the ground and opened the lid. Then I took out the glasses. I turned them over in my hand. Finally I put them on and stared around.
3
The shed was d
ifferent. For a second I couldn’t quite take it in. Things always look different when you put on someone else’s glasses. But this was really strange. The tools were not the same tools. And Dad’s overalls weren’t the same.
The Victa lawnmower was gone. And in its place was a push mower. An old-fashioned one. There were paint tins I hadn’t seen before. There were two metal buckets and the sharpened handle of a spade. Pop had used something like that to plant seeds.
I snatched the glasses from my nose. Everything went back to normal. This was incredible. What was going on?
I was seeing things – that’s what.
The glasses had some sort of power. I put them back on and stared out at the vegetable patch. The weeds had gone. There were neat rows of carrots and beans and tomato plants held up with wooden stakes. Each row had a small seed packet pinned to a peg and placed at the end of the rows to show what was growing there.
Three people were cheerfully working in the vegetable patch. An old man and woman. And a boy. ‘Pop,’ I gasped. ‘And Nan.’
It was my Pop and Nan. But it couldn’t be. They were dead.
And so was the boy.
‘Gavin,’ I whispered.
My head began to spin. I couldn’t take this in. What was going on?
Then it hit me. They were ghosts. I was looking at the ghosts of my dead relatives. They were happily working away in the vegetable patch. Just like they had when they were alive. It was a ghost garden, in a ghost world.
I walked over and stood next to Gavin. He was testing tomatoes by squeezing them.
‘Don’t pick any green ones,’ said Nan.
‘No worries, Nan,’ he said. Gavin laughed in the way that he always did.
This was wonderful. Fantastic. Frightening. The answer to my dreams. This was my chance to make up. To shake his hand. ‘Gavin,’ I croaked.
He ignored me. He just kept picking tomatoes.
‘I’m getting hungry,’ said Pop.
‘I’ll go and put on the soup,’ said Nan.
I used to love Nan’s soup. Without thinking, I yelled, ‘Don’t forget me.’
No one heard me. No one answered. They couldn’t see me. They couldn’t hear me. They didn’t even know I was alive.
I went over to Gavin and held out my hand. ‘Shake,’ I said in a trembling voice. My whole body felt as if it was filled with a zillion volts of electricity. This was my chance to set everything right. I was scared and filled with happiness at the same time.
Gavin lifted his head and looked puzzled. I waved my hand in front of him. It passed right through his head.
‘Nan,’ said Gavin. ‘I thought I saw something.’
‘What?’ said Pop. ‘What did you see?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Gavin slowly. ‘I thought I saw something out of the corner of my eye. I thought it was a person.’
Pop and Nan laughed and laughed.
‘There’s no such thing as a person,’ said Nan.
‘I don’t believe in people,’ said Pop.
‘Neither do I,’ said Nan.
‘It’s me,’ I yelled. ‘Byron. Your grandson. I’m real. I am. Gavin, Gavin, it’s me.’
They didn’t take a bit of notice. Pop started walking towards the shed with his garden fork. Nan followed.
‘Stop, stop,’ I yelled.
There was no reply.
It was just as if I was a ghost.
They could talk to each other. They could see each other. But I wasn’t there. Not to them.
I have often wondered how ghosts felt. Hanging around and not being seen. Watching others do things. Being there at Christmas but not getting presents. Asking questions and receiving no answers. Knowing answers but not being able to tell them.
Now I knew how a ghost felt.
Lonely.
It was the loneliest thing in the world. To be there and not to be included. It was like walking into a new school where no one notices you. Only a million times worse.
I snatched the glasses from my eyes and at once the three ghosts disappeared. Everything went back to normal.
4
What did the ghosts mean when they said that they didn’t believe in people? Didn’t they know they were dead? Where did they think they came from?
I put the glasses back on my nose. There they were again. A family of ghosts working the vegetable garden. Pop was leaning the wheelbarrow up on its wheel against the shed.
‘I believe in people,’ said Gavin to Pop. ‘We could have lived in another world before this one. Another life.’
Nan shook her head. ‘You would remember,’ she said. ‘You would remember other people who were there. But we don’t. No, there’s nothing before you are born. How could there be?’
‘I feel like I was here once before,’ said Gavin.
‘That means you would have had to stop living and start again. But we go on for ever,’ said Pop, shaking his head. ‘You can’t stop living.’
I couldn’t help yelling out even though I knew they wouldn’t respond.
‘It’s called dying,’ I said. ‘You get run over. Or sick. Or you just die of old age.’ None of them took any notice. They didn’t hear a thing.
‘I feel like I remember something,’ said Gavin. ‘But I can’t be sure. Maybe I had a sister or something. Before I was born.’
‘No,’ I screamed. ‘Not a sister. You had a brother. A twin. Me. I’m here.’
This was crazy. He couldn’t remember being alive.
Gavin stared around, frowning. But he didn’t see me.
‘That’s enough nonsense for one day,’ said Pop. ‘I’m going inside for a cuppa.’
‘Me too,’ said Nan.
Just then a face appeared over the back fence. It was another old man. He had a bald head and a big grin on his face. He held up a glass of Champagne.
‘Congratulate me,’ he said. ‘We’ve had a child. A son, named Ralph.’
‘Oh, wow,’ said Pop.
‘Fantastic,’ said Nan. ‘Where was he born?’
‘Over there behind the apple tree. One minute there was no one. And then there he was. Appeared out of nothing.’
‘Isn’t nature wonderful,’ said Nan. ‘I never get used to it. People being born out of thin air.’
Another face appeared. A man of about forty. ‘Here he is,’ said the neighbour. ‘This is my boy.’
‘Pleased to meet you,’ said Ralph.
‘Isn’t he polite,’ said Pop. ‘I like that in a son.’
‘He’s got your nose,’ Nan said to her neighbour. ‘You can see he’s related.’
Ralph beamed. He was happy with his new family.
This was crazy. The ghosts thought they were alive. They didn’t know they were dead. They believed that new-born people just arrived out of the air already grown and talking.
I stared sadly at Gavin. He had a funny look on his face. As if he was sad about something but didn’t know what.
Oh, how I wanted to shake his hand, just one last time.
‘I’ll stay here and plant some more beans,’ he said.
‘Good boy,’ said Pop. He and Nan shuffled inside. The neighbour and his new son, Ralph, dropped back behind the fence. Gavin was alone in the garden. He planted the beans slowly in the soft earth. He could sense something. I just knew he could. He knew someone was there. Twins are like that. They are closer than other people.
‘I’m here, Gavin,’ I called.
He looked around, not seeing me.
Without warning another crazy thing happened. A dog appeared. And appeared is the right word. An old dog just popped up from nowhere.
Gavin gave a grin. ‘Hello, fellah,’ he said. ‘Welcome to the world.’
The dog gave Gavin a lick and then scampered off. Amazing. A new-born old dog. Somewhere back in my world someone was sad because their pet had died. But the dog couldn’t even remember them. It had probably gone off in search of relatives.
I had to jog Gavin’s memory. I had to make him see me.
I looked at the row of vegetables. He was kneeling down in a familiar spot. Yes, yes, an idea was coming into my mind. What was it? Of course. I hit my forehead with the palm of my hand. That’s where I had dug up the box. In that very spot.
I closed my eyes and sent out a message. A thought message. I put every bit of energy into the one word. Over and over and over I chanted it in my mind. ‘Dig, dig, dig.’
After a bit I took a peek. It was working. Gavin wasn’t just turning the soil. He was digging a deep hole. Every now and then he would stop and look around as if he thought he was being watched.
He was. By me.
‘Aha!’ he cried. He had struck something with his spade. It was the box, all covered in dirt with glass jewels peeking through. And a key sticking out of the lock.
He turned the key and opened it. Then he tipped the box upside down. Nothing. Not a thing. He was disappointed. So was I.
Of course. He couldn’t find the glasses because I was wearing them. I suddenly whipped them off my face and dropped them into my cleaned-up box. The ghost world vanished. Everything was back to normal. I couldn’t see ghosts without the glasses.
I stared into the box. The glasses were shimmering. In a flash they were gone. Vanished. They had gone to another place. And I knew where.
Now, now, this was my chance. I tried to imagine what Gavin would do if the glasses suddenly appeared in his dirt-encrusted box. He would be startled. Scared. But in the end he would put them on. I knew that because that’s what I would do. What I had already done. And we were twins. We thought alike.
‘Anyway,’ I said to myself. ‘Things are always appearing out of nowhere in the ghost world. People are even born from nowhere. They are used to things suddenly appearing.’
I waited a bit. Then I stepped into the garden. I hoped that Gavin was standing there wearing the glasses and looking at me. If I could see him with them, maybe he could see me. I held out my hand. ‘Gavin, mate,’ I said. ‘I want to be friends again. Shake.’
There was no reply of course. Or, if there was, I didn’t know it. I couldn’t see Gavin without the glasses.
Paul Jennings' Trickiest Stories Page 16