Drive By

by Jim Carrington

  Donald notices her almost right away. ‘Do you think you know G, darling?’

  The lady in the audience nods. She goes bright red. She looks nervous as anything.

  Donald nods his head, like he knew the spirit was for her all along. He paces around the stage for a bit, then stops and swivels on his heels. He looks at the lady. ‘What’s your name, love?’ he asks.

  ‘Tina,’ she says quietly.

  ‘Tina.’ He smiles at her. ‘OK, now. Spirit, have you got a message you’d like me to pass to Tina this evening?’ Donald nods his head as he concentrates, listening to the spirit in his head or whatever it is he’s doing. ‘Right,’ he says, focusing on Tina. ‘Now, G says there was something to do with a barrier. Does that mean anything to you?’

  Tina looks at the woman who’s sitting next to her. She looks shocked. She says something that I can’t hear and nods at Donald, looking terrified. ‘A wall,’ she says. ‘Is she talking about the wall?’

  Donald takes his time and then nods. ‘Tina, was there something to do with a dispute about the wall? I’m getting the sense of a dispute here.’

  Tina’s face falls. ‘Yes,’ she says. She looks at her friend again and shakes her head in disbelief.

  Donald takes a deep breath and nods. ‘Now, G wants you to know that whatever happened, no one was to blame. She says it’s all forgotten and forgiven. Everyone needs to move on.’

  Tina stares at Donald, looking like she’s about to cry.

  ‘She wants you all – the whole family – to know that she loves you very much. Don’t ever forget that, she says. OK, Tina?’

  Tina nods. She wipes tears from her cheeks and tries to smile. Her friend puts her arms round her.

  Donald moves off around the stage. He stops still after a few seconds and does the whole thing again – closes his eyes, holds his hands out, channels a spirit. ‘I have another spirit who has a message,’ he says. He opens his eyes, looks over the audience and smiles. ‘I have another lady here . . .’

  The audience all stare back at him expectantly, waiting for more information. Donald stands there, smiling, his head slightly cocked as though he’s listening to the spirit.

  ‘OK,’ he says, looking directly into the audience now. ‘The spirit is nervous. She’s not long passed into the spirit world.’

  My insides lurch at the words. What if it’s her? It could be. What if she really is haunting me? I shrink down in my seat. I look away from Donald, at my feet.

  ‘She’s reluctant to say too much, but I’m definitely getting a letter from her. The letter J.’ He closes his eyes again, holds his hands out, concentrates. ‘Is the J part of a name?’ He waits a few seconds, his eyes still closed. And then he nods. Slowly, he opens his eyes and looks out across the audience. ‘Her name begins with a J.’

  A few people in the audience whisper to each other. That makes me feel slightly better. Maybe I’m being paranoid. The spirit is for someone else. It has to be. But if that’s the case, why do I feel so nervous? I can’t even bring myself to look at Summer. I can sense her sitting forward in her seat. I just know that if she looks at me, she’ll sense my nervousness and she’ll see right through me. She’ll know my secret. And she’ll hate me for it. I hate me for it. So I alternate my gaze between my feet and Donald.

  ‘I’m also getting the name of a place,’ Donald says, eyes closed in concentration. ‘Exminster.’

  My heart feels like it stops beating. Exminster? This can’t be a coincidence. Oh my God. I take a deep breath and try not to panic, try and stay as still as I can and avoid looking at anyone.

  ‘OK. J wasn’t sure about coming through tonight, but she has a message that she wants to pass on. It concerns a young man. Is it? Or for . . . ?’ He pauses.

  I gulp. My temples pulse inside my ribcage. I’m not being paranoid. This is about me. I know it. I close my eyes for a second. I can’t draw attention to myself. I have to stay calm and pretend that this spirit is nothing to do with me. If I manage to ride this out no one will know.

  ‘Now this might be quite shocking for someone, so be prepared, please,’ Donald says. ‘J wants someone to know that what happened wasn’t natural. It wasn’t an accident. There was foul play.’

  There’s a gasp in the audience. My heart practically jumps out of my mouth. Jesus. This has to be the Poisoned Dwarf. She has to be talking about what happened outside the shops. I feel Summer’s hand on my arm, gripping tightly, but I just ignore her.

  ‘She wants someone to put it right. To put right what was done.’

  I shrink even further down in my seat. I want to get out of here this very second. I sit and stare at the back of the chair in front of me, pretend this is all happening to someone else.

  ‘And she’s gone,’ Donald says.

  I look up, relieved.

  ‘I’m sorry about that,’ Donald says. ‘There was obviously some real hurt there, some raw wounds. J didn’t want us to get too close.’

  And that’s it. Donald is off around the stage again, channelling the spirits, raking over the coals of someone else’s life. But I can’t concentrate on anything apart from what’s just happened. J must be Jean. That was the name in the paper, the name spelled out in flowers by the side of the coffin. She must have sensed I was here tonight. And if she can tell where I am, then it must be her presence I’ve been feeling in my room. I shiver.

  A hand on my arm makes me jump. I turn. It’s only Summer.

  ‘You OK?’ she mouths.

  I nod my head and try to force a smile. I need to snap out of this. ‘Fine,’ I say. ‘You?’

  She makes a face like she’s not quite sure. ‘Yeah, I think.’

  Summer

  When it’s all over, Johnny and me walk out of the hall. Around us most people seem to be chatting excitedly about the spirits the guy just got in touch with. Me and Johnny are silent though. I’m still taking it all in. I feel like I’m in shock. I keep thinking about J, wondering whether it was Nan or not. Everything she said seemed to fit. She could have been trying to tell me something about Dad. It fits with what I heard on the tape.

  When we’re out in the little tarmac car park in front of the church, Johnny and I stop and look at each other. For an awkward moment neither of us speaks. I decide I have to say something even though I don’t really feel like talking right now.

  ‘Did you enjoy it?’ I say.

  Johnny, hands in his jeans pockets, shifts around uncomfortably, kicking at the tarmac with the soles of his trainers. ‘Yeah,’ he says. But he doesn’t sound convinced. ‘How about you?’

  I shrug. I can’t make my mind up. I feel kind of freaked out by it. ‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘It was a bit weird though, wasn’t it?’

  He nods. He doesn’t look at me. And I start wondering whether this was such a bright idea. Maybe I should have come here on my own. Maybe I shouldn’t have invited Johnny. I’ve probably put him off me for good. He must think I’m completely mad by now. First date we go to a graveyard, and second date we go to a spiritualist church. I have to try and make this all a bit more normal. So I put my arm in his and we start walking.

  ‘Do you think any of the spirits were there for you?’ I ask as we walk out of the car park and on to the street.

  Johnny immediately shakes his head.

  ‘So your ghost didn’t turn up with a message?’

  Johnny turns and looks at me. He seems sort of startled. His eyes search my face. ‘No.’

  We walk on a few paces in silence. And I’m convinced I’ve messed things up. I’ve put out whatever spark we had. Even his arm inside mine feels uncomfortable, like he’d move it in a second if he wasn’t so polite.

  ‘Are you all right, Johnny?’

  He nods his head slowly. ‘Yeah, why?’

  ‘You’re not acting like yourself.’

  He stops walking and looks at me. ‘Sorry. I’m just thinking. It was weird in there, that’s all – hearing what the spirits were saying and stuff. I’ll snap out of it.’
He smiles. ‘Sorry, I didn’t even ask you whether you think you heard from your dad?’

  ‘No. I think I might have heard from my nan though,’ I say. We start walking again.

  ‘Really? Why didn’t you say something to the medium?’

  I shrug. ‘I don’t know. I was too scared, I s’pose. Besides, my nan didn’t seem to want to talk much. She seemed as scared as I was.’

  ‘So did she say anything important?’

  We stop cos we’re at my bus stop. We stand and face each other. I don’t really want to go into what Nan said. I don’t even know for sure what it means. It was confusing.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ I say. ‘It didn’t really make that much sense.’

  We stand and look at each other. Johnny steps forward and puts his arms around me. And I feel so relieved – he can’t think I’m a freak if he wants to be close to me.

  ‘I’m sorry I brought you to a spiritualist church,’ I say. ‘Maybe it wasn’t such a great place for a date!’

  Johnny doesn’t say anything, just looks into my eyes.

  ‘We’ll go somewhere more normal next time,’ I say. ‘I promise. You can choose.’

  ‘That’s OK,’ he says. ‘I don’t mind as long as I get to see you again.’

  I smile. ‘Of course.’

  He smiles back and looks deep into my eyes. And before I’ve even thought about what’s happening we’re kissing.

  Johnny

  I don’t feel like sleeping in the slightest. I’m tired, sure. After being woken up every night for the last God knows how long, I’m dead on my feet half the time. But I’m too wired to sleep. My mind’s buzzing.

  So here I am, sitting on my bed, still in my clothes, staring into space, trying to catch hold of my thoughts as they race through my mind. Thoughts about Summer. About the kiss. About how right it felt. About the surge of energy I felt flow between us as we touched.

  I’ve been thinking about what happened with the Poisoned Dwarf as well and what Mikey might know about it. The same thoughts as always. The same old questions. Still no answers.

  The clock on my bedside table shows the time 12.14 a.m. I sigh. I’d love to be able to lie down, shut my eyes and lose myself in sleep. I’d like to fall into a deep, dreamless sleep and stay there for a long time. A week. A month. A year. And when I wake up, everything would be normal again. All the stuff with the Poisoned Dwarf would just have been a dream. I’d be back to being me. Johnny. Carefree. Normal. I’d get up and the world would be a bright and welcoming place, full of hope. I’d call Summer up and we’d get to know each other some more. We’d spend what’s left of the summer together, without a care in the world, and who knows what might happen.

  But it’s not gonna happen. If I lay my head on the pillow right now, I know that my mind would still be buzzing. I wouldn’t escape all these thoughts. They wouldn’t just float away. Besides, even if I do fall asleep, I know for sure what’s gonna happen when the clock shows 2.43 a.m. I’ll be woken. And I won’t be alone. The Poisoned Dwarf’s ghost will be here, watching me.

  And then it occurs to me. I make a decision. I’m gonna stay awake. I’m just gonna sit here and wait till 2.43 a.m. Because maybe that way I can see what really happens at 2.43 a.m. in my room, why I keep waking up. Maybe I can prove to myself that I’m not going mad, that I’m not imagining it all. Maybe I can take whoever it is by surprise.

  Summer

  I should be at home. I got on the bus in the right direction, even pressed the button when we got near my stop. But I didn’t get off. Instead I watched as we passed the turning to our flat. I didn’t know where I was going, but I just felt like I couldn’t go home. I had too much on my mind.

  I chose a stop at random to get off and then I started walking around the streets with my earphones in. Thinking.

  I ended up here. On a bench. I don’t know where I am exactly. Somewhere between Tooting and Streatham. Mum texted me a while back, asking where I was and when I’d be home, so I made up a white lie to keep her off my back. I’ll go home when I’m ready. I have some thinking to do. About Johnny and the kiss, what happened at the church, the creepy medium guy, the spirits. My nan and what she said. Was she trying to say that Dad’s death wasn’t an accident? Foul play, she said.

  It seems to tie up with what Dad said to Nan on the tape. Which makes me think I need to listen to the other tape. There could be more on there that would explain this. And if it’s true, it would kind of account for why Grandad didn’t want us to hear them. Maybe Nan wants me to listen to it though. Maybe she wants me to know what happened. That’s why she turned up at the church.

  I try and get straight in my mind what I know about Dad’s death. I’ve always been told he died in a road accident. Dad was driving to work and his car was hit by a van. He got rushed to hospital, but he died. I don’t know all the horrible graphic details of what happened to him. Nobody ever told me and I never asked. That’s all I’ve ever known and I’ve never questioned it before. Why would I?

  Perhaps I’m reading too much into it. Maybe all Dad and Nan meant was that dying in a road accident – having your life smashed out of you by a van – isn’t natural. That could be all they meant. Simple as that. But then why would Nan’s spirit seek me out to tell me that? I know all that stuff anyway.

  I hear a noise. I look up and see someone shuffling along the pavement towards me. A man. I watch him. He looks like he’s struggling to stay upright. He’s scruffy. His hair’s matted. His clothes are torn and stained. And as he gets closer, I can smell that he hasn’t washed in a long while. He notices the bench and shuffles towards it. And then he notices me. He stops where he is, unsteady. He points a finger at me.

  ‘Why are you following me?’ he says. His voice sounds rough and drunk and mad and angry.

  I freeze. I panic. My insides tie themselves in knots.

  ‘What do you flaming well want with me?’ he shouts.

  I look away from him. I don’t know what to do. I don’t feel safe here.

  ‘I know who you are!’ he mutters. ‘You’re a spy.’

  I get up from the bench and edge away from him. He watches me as I go. I keep looking back over my shoulder as I head across the road towards a bus stop.

  ‘Spy!’ he shouts at me. ‘I know who sent you. I’ll get you!’

  Johnny

  I hear the message tone on my phone. It wakes me up. I open my eyes and sit up in bed. The lights are still on. I’m lying on top of my duvet, still in my clothes. And yet again the window is wide open and I’m drenched in sweat. And there’s a presence. Someone else is here, watching me. A spirit. The spirit. The Poisoned Dwarf. The previous evening floods back into my mind. The spiritualist church. I remember Donald Howard, the way he walked, the look of concentration on his face as he tried to commune with a spirit and the words he spoke as he communed with J: ‘J wants someone to know that what happened wasn’t natural. It wasn’t an accident. There was foul play. She wants someone to put it right.’

  I lean over and grab my mobile from the bedside table, noticing the time as I do. The time. 2.43 a.m. Why is someone texting me at this time of night? I look at my phone. 1 new message, it says, from The Poisoned Dwarf. I open it and read it.

  It was you.

  I stare at the message. I rub my eyes to make sure that I’m seeing it right. Who sent me this? It can’t have been the Poisoned Dwarf. She’s dead. Someone else must know what happened, but who?

  I put my head in my hands. This is bad. This is very bad. I try and think things through. The only people who know what happened – who know what really happened – are me, Drac, Jake and Badger, and none of them would’ve sent this message. Besides, I have all their numbers and they would have come up when I received the message. There’s Mikey, of course. He keeps hinting he knows what happened, but I have his mobile number on my phone. He could’ve used one of his mate’s phones to text me, but that’s hardly likely at this time of night. I have no idea who else it could be. None. If o
nly I’d managed to stay awake maybe I’d have seen something. I feel scared, like I’m being watched, like I’m not alone.

  ‘Hello?’ I say. ‘Who are you?’

  There’s no answer. My room is silent. The curtains flap in the breeze. Some papers flutter down from my table and land on the floor.

  I get up from my bed. I go over to the window and close it. I need to get out of here and I also need to take a leak. So I go out of my room, across the landing and into the bathroom. I close my eyes as I do my business.

  I don’t want to feel like this any more. I want to feel normal. I want to sleep through the night. I want to feel like I’m alone when I’m on my own. This is driving me insane. And there’s nothing I can do about it.

  I finish. I flush the toilet and go over to the mirror to see how much of a wreck I am. As I look up at the mirror, my heartbeat quickens again. There’s a patch of condensation on it. Written there in capital letters is one word. GUILTY. The letters look shaky, like they were written by someone old, someone desperate.

  As I stare at the words, the condensation clears. The message disappears. I stare at the mirror. I feel a chill. I look behind me. There’s no one there. Who is doing this? Someone must have been here just now. There’s no other explanation.

  Maybe I am mad. Maybe I’m creating all of this stuff in my imagination to punish myself. I step towards the mirror and breathe on it. Condensation forms around the word. GUILTY. It’s definitely there.

  I hear a noise. Scuttling. I look around me again, but the room is empty. No one is here. And the noise has stopped.

  I rub my head. I don’t understand this. I take a deep breath. I feel like crying. This is too much. What is happening? What am I meant to do? I need to find who’s doing this to me. I need to make them stop. There’s only one place I can think of to start.

  I step out on to the landing. I wait a couple of seconds and then walk towards Mikey’s room. I reach out, put my hand on his door handle. I feel sick, paranoid, confused as hell. I close my eyes and brace myself. And then I turn the handle quietly. I push the door open. It makes a noise as it brushes over the carpet. The smell of Mikey’s room hits my nostrils. Old socks. Mouldering food scraps. BO.