The Write Dream (Storage Ghosts)

by Gillian Larkin

  Brian gave her a look of total admiration. He planted a kiss of her powdered cheek. Grace didn’t miss Sharon’s look of disgust as he did so.

  Andrew didn’t say anything. He kept his eyes down as he followed his uncle out of the shop.

  The second they were gone Sharon turned a vicious look on Grace. She snarled, “Get out of my shop, don’t ever contact us again. I know where you live and I know how bad your locks are!”

  Grace’s eyes widened. Was this over made up woman threatening her? Grace had been threatened by worse than her. She’d even had a gun held to her temple by a nasty thug of a man.

  Grace kept her voice calm as she said, “I don’t respond to threats. I know you’re up to something and I’m going to find out what it is.”

  Sharon looked her up and down, she curled her lips. Grace could almost see the venom dripping from her mouth. “What’s it got to do with you?”

  Grace leant forward. “I’m a friend of Andrew’s mum. She wanted the best for her son, I’m going to see that he gets the life he deserves. Goodbye, I won’t be buying your deluxe package.”

  Grace left the shop without a backward glance. She took a deep breath when she got outside.

  Marie grinned at her and said, “You were magnificent, standing up to her like that. I think I’ve just seen the true side of Sharon, and it’s ugly. She’s definitely lying about my things.”

  Grace began to walk away from the shop. She checked around to make sure no one was looking at her. She didn’t want people to see her talking to herself. She said, “How do you know?”

  Marie said, “Did you notice that necklace she was fiddling with? It was mine. My husband bought it for me on our honeymoon, he had it specially made at a shop in Paris. I’d recognise it anywhere. I never wore it after he died. Andrew wouldn’t recognise it, I’m surprised Brian didn’t though.”

  “Men don’t notice jewellery much. He seems quite blinded by Sharon, and so does Andrew. What are we going to do?”

  They walked in silence for a minute.

  Grace nearly jumped out of her skin as Andrew walked out of a side street. He put his hand up and said, “I’m sorry about Auntie Sharon, she’s got a bit of a temper. And I’m sorry I didn’t believe you about Mum’s things. Do you think I could buy the items from you?”

  Grace gave him a kind look and softly said, “I’m really sorry but the items have been sold. It’s my fault, I should have hidden them away from my brother. I’ve still got your notebooks, you can have them.”

  Andrew sighed and looked at the ground. When he looked up his eyes glittered. “I’d love to be a published writer but it’s never going to happen. I’ve got this job now, I can’t let Auntie Sharon down.”

  He walked swiftly away.

  Grace and Marie watched him.

  Marie said, “What power has Sharon got over him? Why is she controlling his life?”

  Grace gave a slow shake of her head. “I don’t know but I’m going to find out.”

  Chapter 11

  Grace headed back to her house. She couldn’t get Andrew’s face out of her mind, he’d looked so defeated, as if his life had been sorted out for him. She had to do something.

  When she got home she switched on her computer and went online. She typed in a subject and was amazed at how much information came up.

  Marie sat down at her side. “What are you looking at? Have you got a plan to help Andrew?”

  Grace pointed to the screen. “He wants to be a writer, doesn’t he? Look at this, he can self publish his stories. He doesn’t have to wait for a publisher to decide if he’s good enough.”

  “But doesn’t he need to go to university? Get a writing degree or something?” Marie asked.

  “Only if he wants to. Look at some of these bestsellers. I’ll click on their websites. See, some of them are doing other jobs and writing part time. Andrew could do. But look at this one, this author has given up work and is a full time writer. The internet is making anything possible. Andrew could try publishing his story himself.”

  “But he won’t, will he? He’s convinced that he has to work for Sharon, for some reason.”

  Grace looked at Marie, she gave her a small smile and said, “We’ll have to convince Andrew that he can become a published author easily.”

  Marie frowned. “How can we do that? We can’t force him to write.”

  Grace turned back to the screen and clicked on a website that she’d found. She moved to one side so Marie could read it.

  Marie did so, her hand flew to her mouth. “Are you suggesting that we ...?”

  Grace pressed her lips together and nodded. She said, “Desperate times call for desperate measures. This could work out wonderfully well, or, he could sue me. What do you think? Should we do it?”

  Marie considered the matter for a moment. “What have we got to lose? I can’t let things carry on as they are. I’m giving you my parental permission.”

  Grace raised her eyebrows. Did parental permission from a deceased parent count? Oh well, she was going to do it anyway. She had a feeling it was the right thing to do.

  “Which story are you going to use?” Marie asked.

  “The last one,” Grace said in a definite voice. “If things work out well then he can write more. Now, I don’t know how long this will take, I’m not a fast typist.”

  “I can dictate, if you like,” Marie offered.

  “Good idea, thanks.”

  Grace listened to Marie as she read out Andrew’s story. She typed it on to the screen and saved it. She then followed the instructions on the website and uploaded the document.

  “Here goes,” she said. She pressed the publish button. A feeling of panic shot through her as she realised what she’d done. She hoped Andrew would understand.

  Grace stood up and stretched her aching body. “Time for a cup of tea. I wish I could offer you one, Marie.”

  “I wish I could take one!”

  Grace turned to the kitchen. Her phone rang.

  It was Frankie.

  “Hi, you know those boxes from that locker,” he started.

  Marie’s boxes?

  “Yes,” Grace answered.

  “You seemed upset that I’d sold everything so I had a good look in the corners of the boxes, to see if there was anything stuck there.”

  “Yes,” Grace said again. A bubble of hope was rising in her tummy.

  “I think I might have found something. It’s a necklace made of pasta. It’s like something that a child might make. Do you want it? If you don’t I’ll fling it into the rubbish.”

  “No!” Grace gripped the phone. “Don’t do anything with it, I’m coming over now.”

  “Alright, no need to shout, I’m not deaf. I might be now though,” Frankie grumbled.

  Grace ended the call and turned to Marie. “Did you ever own a necklace made from pasta?”

  Marie stared at her, her mouth dropped slightly. “I did. Andrew made it for me when he was five. He made it for Mother’s Day. I wore it on special occasions. Has your brother found it? Has a miracle occurred? Tell me, Grace!”

  Grace laughed. “Yes! Frankie said he’s found something. I really hope it’s the same necklace.”

  Marie whooshed over to the door. “What are we waiting for?”

  Grace’s knees buckled slightly. She’d never seen a ghost do that, move without walking. She’d almost forgotten that Marie was a ghost.

  She looked away from Marie and grabbed her handbag and coat. By the time she’d turned back her heartbeat had slowed to a normal pace.

  They left the house and caught the bus to the shop. Marie sat at Grace’s side, leaning forwards as if willing the bus to go faster.

  Grace crossed her fingers. She really hoped it was Marie’s necklace. She’d love to give it to Andrew. It might set in her good stead for when she told him what she’d done with his work.

  Chapter 12

  Frankie was waiting for Grace. He dangled the necklace from his finger. “
This is it. You can see a child has made it, it’s rubbish. I could have done better.”

  Grace ignored his tactless comment and hoped that Marie was doing the same. She carefully took the necklace as if it was made of delicate gold thread.

  Grace felt a coldness on her shoulder and knew Marie was right behind her. Marie said solemnly, “It’s my necklace. Oh, Grace, it’s making my heart hurt. I didn’t think it could hurt anymore.”

  Grace spoke to Frankie but her words were directed at Marie. “I think we need to get this to the rightful owner.”

  “How do you know who it belongs to?” Frankie asked.

  “Erm...” Grace began.

  Frankie clicked his fingers. “Never mind that, I’ve got to tell you something. It’ll put your mind at rest.”

  “What? I didn’t know my mind wasn’t at rest,” Grace said.

  Frankie gave her a look as if to say he knew better. “Wait til you hear what I’ve done.”

  Grace didn’t want to hear. She’d seen that look many times, it was never followed by good news.

  Frankie grinned at her and opened his mouth. His phone rang. He held up a finger to Grace. “Hang on.”

  He answered it. He suddenly stood up straighter, the blood drained from his face.

  “Frankie! Who is it?” Grace asked.

  He made a shushing gesture with his hand. “Yes. You did? You did? You did?”

  Grace gave him a push. “Who did what?”

  Frankie turned his back on her. “Yes. Yes. I can. Now? No, it’s not a problem. Yes. Okay. Goodbye.”

  Frankie ended the call and turned back to Grace. His eyes shone and his mouth stretched so wide that Grace was afraid his face would split open. In a hushed tone Frankie said, “Do you know who that was?”

  “No, tell me.”

  “Guess.”

  “No, just tell me.”

  “Guess, you’ll never guess.”

  Grace glowered at him. “Tell me now or I’ll get my favourite teapot and whack you with it!”

  Frankie stopped smiling. “That’s not even funny. I’m not going to tell you now.”

  “Fine, I’ve got things to do,” Grace said and she turned away from Frankie. She turned back when she heard him sigh.

  “Alright, I’ll tell you. It was Sylvester Sylver! THE Sylvester Sylver on my phone! Can you believe it? He phoned me! On my phone!”

  Frankie looked like he could burst with excitement. Grace couldn’t help but smile at him. She said, “What did he want?”

  “He said he’s seen my website and he loves it! He really liked the videos that I’ve put on, thinks they look professional.” Frankie paused and caught his breath. Grace wondered if she should bring him a paper bag to breath into. He carried on. “He asked if I wanted to see how the auctions worked from his point of view. How he gets the details in the first place, how they have to check that the storage fees are no longer being paid. Isn’t that exciting?”

  Grace scrunched her face up a little and shrugged.

  Frankie misread her look. “I know! It’s beyond exciting. Anyway, you’ll never guess what Sylvester Sylver asked me. Guess, go on, guess.”

  Grace said flatly, “Frankie, will you get to the point?”

  “He asked me to go round to his home office! At his home! In his office! He said I can video him going through his paperwork! How awesome is that?”

  “Very awesome, are you going round there now?” Grace asked.

  Frankie gave her a sceptical look. “Of course I am, what a stupid thing to ask. You’ll be alright looking after the shop won’t you? You can close it up soon. I don’t know what time I’ll be back.”

  Frankie grinned at her again. His grin suddenly dropped. “Do I look okay? I bet Sylvester’s got a mansion. Do you think I’ll have to take my shoes off?”

  Grace smiled at him. “You’ll be fine. Go and have a good time. Of course you look okay.”

  Frankie’s grin returned. “Yeah, I know. See you later.”

  He almost skipped towards the door.

  Grace called out, “What was that thing you wanted to tell me? Something about putting my mind at rest?”

  “I’ll tell you tomorrow, I can’t keep Sylvester waiting.” Without a backwards glance Frankie skipped out of the door.

  Grace turned to look at Marie. Marie smiled at her and said, “Your brother’s certainly full of life.”

  “He’s a handful, you wouldn’t think he was older than me. The times I’ve had to get him out of trouble.”

  Marie nodded. “It was just like that with me and Brian. We argued but he’d do anything for me.”

  “He seems besotted with Sharon, almost as if he’s under her spell,” Grace pointed out.

  Marie nodded. “He never used to be that bad. He was always under her thumb but he used to stand up to her. I wonder why he changed.”

  Grace placed the pasta necklace on the counter. “What should we do with this? Shall I phone Andrew and tell him about it? He could call round to collect it. Then I could tell him about the other thing I’ve done.”

  Her stomach quivered at the thought of that. How would Andrew take it?

  The hair on her scalp prickled. She looked at Marie and said, “What was that? Did you hear it?”

  Marie looked up from the necklace. “No, sorry, I was lost in memories. What did you hear?”

  Grace put her head to one side and waited.

  Nothing.

  Marie tapped her on the shoulder. Grace felt a chill there. Marie was looking at something behind her.

  “What is it?” Grace whispered.

  Marie stiffened. “It’s a ghost.”

  Chapter 13

  Grace spun around. “Where? I can’t see anything, are you sure?”

  Marie came to her side and pointed a few feet to the left. “I’m sure. It’s the ghost of an old lady. She’s wearing one of those housecoat things, my granny used to wear one for doing the housework.”

  Grace squinted and tilted her head. “I can’t see her. Can you speak to her?”

  Marie jumped, her hand flew to her mouth. “I can certainly hear her! The old woman just said, ‘Of course she can bloody well speak to me, I’m not an idiot.’”.

  Grace frowned. “I can’t hear her, why can’t I hear her?”

  Marie looked at where the old lady was, she waited a few seconds and then said, “She says it’s not time yet. She can only tell you her name, it’s Pearl.”

  Grace smiled at where she thought the ghost was. “That’s a nice name. Are you attached to the old teapot? Did you give me the strength to hit someone with it a few weeks back?”

  Marie’s eyes widened. She said to Grace, “I’m not going to repeat everything she says because she’s using some words that are not proper.” Marie turned back to where Pearl was and pointed a finger. “Call me a fuddy duddy if you like but I won’t repeat them!”

  Marie pursed her lips and glared into empty space. “Yes, I have heard words like that on the telly, and I’ve read them in books. Of course I know what they mean! No! I won’t try using them, I don’t care if they are liberating! I thought old women were supposed to be genteel!”

  Grace said calmly, “Marie, you need to calm down, you’re shimmering, I can hardly see you.”

  Marie gave the air a disgusted look and turned away from where Pearl must have been standing. Marie jerked her thumb over her shoulder and said, “She says that she’s attached to the shop, not the teapot. But she did give you the strength to whack that ... well, I won’t say what she called him. She’s only sorry that you didn’t kill him, and his evil friends. Grace, what have you been through?”

  Grace waved a hand dismissively at Marie. “It’s all in the past. Can you ask her when I’ll be able to see her?”

  Marie looked over her shoulder. “She’s gone, sorry.”

  Grace looked upwards. “I just heard that sound again, it was like something mechanical.”

  “Perhaps it was Pearl?” Marie suggested. “If she�
��s attached to the building she probably moves around it freely.”

  “Maybe,” Grace said, but she wasn’t sure. “Anyway, let me phone your son, let me try and help you.”

  “Don’t bother, look who’s just walked through the door.”

  Grace did so.

  It was Sharon.

  Marie lifted her chin up and strode towards her. She said to Grace, “I think we’ve got questions to ask.”

  Sharon’s eyes narrowed as she looked Grace up and down, she grimaced as if the sight offended her. She placed her expensive handbag on the counter and pointed a sharp talon towards her. She said, “Andrew told me where you worked, I didn’t realise it was so shabby. Listen to me, I want those notebooks back.”

  Grace walked up to the counter and stood behind it as if using it as a shield against Sharon’s hate. “What notebooks?” she asked, although she knew what Sharon was referring to.

  Sharon shot her a look of scorn. “You know exactly which notebooks. Those ones that belonged to Andrew, those that are filled with his ridiculous scribblings.”

  Grace felt Marie stiffen at her side but she kept her eyes on Sharon. “Why do you want them?”

  “So I can destroy them! I don’t want Andrew to ever get his hands on them again. He might start thinking he has some sort of talent, he might believe that idiotic stuff that his mum told him about following his dreams.” Sharon snorted. “It used to make me sick hearing her talk like that! No idea at all! She was a useless mother, filling his head with impossible ideas.”

  Marie floated through the counter and hovered over Sharon. Sharon shivered and pulled her jacket closer.

  Grace folded her arms. “I read Andrew’s stories, I thought they were good. Actually, better than good. He could be a best selling author.”

  Sharon sneered. “What would you know? You just work at a junk shop.”

  Grace took a steadying breath. She heard that peculiar noise again. Her scalp prickled as she realised what it could be. She almost smiled when she realised where it could be coming from. She’d need to keep Sharon talking.