Dad mouthed, ‘Sorry’ again. Had he said it out loud? With all the noise and yelling and people in the room, she wouldn’t have heard him anyway.
Her father could apologise as much as he liked, but it wouldn’t make anything better. Nothing could make this better. She shook her head, unable to speak as emotion-fatigue set in.
‘What’s this about demolition?’ Robbie asked as he read through an official-looking paper.
Loaded with sarcasm, Rachelle said, ‘Your father made a mess of that as well. He lied on the paperwork, thinking the council wouldn’t check.’
Her father spoke at last, ‘They won’t demolish the house. They’re grandstanding that’s all.’
‘This looks pretty serious,’ Robbie said.
‘I put the wrong figure in. I’ll pay the fine and it’ll blow over.’
‘I’m not so sure about that. You better lawyer up.’
‘And that’s your professional opinion is it?’ Dad asked. ‘No doubt you’ll send me the bill. Eleventy hundred dollars thank you very much.’
Robbie snorted.
Rachelle blew her nose on a tissue. ‘They can doze the lot for all I care. Everything was fine before we moved here. Now our marriage is over, we’re tabloid fodder and your sister is pretending she has a ghost for a boyfriend. I tell you, this house is cursed.’
‘I’ll tear it down myself if it comes to that,’ her father said. ‘I’ll drive a bulldozer right through the front bloody door.’
As her parent’s flippant words sank in, new feelings of dread filled Morgan. It wasn’t so much that she was emotionally attached to the house either – they hadn’t lived in it for very long and it wasn’t as if they’d ever be homeless if they had to leave.
Her fears were much more serious.
If the house was demolished and taken away, did that mean George would vanish with it?
‘Morgan, if I may interrupt.’ It was George, standing beside her.
‘Hmmn?’ In all the chaos, she’d almost forgotten he was here in the crowded room. Three brothers fighting, a manny making pots of tea that nobody wanted, mother shouting at everyone.
‘The programme team are still in attendance,’ George said. ‘They have their devices aimed towards your father and appear to be recording the proceedings.’
At which point Morgan threw up.
George must have helped her up the stairs. How else to explain how she came to be in her room, tucked up in bed? Dave brought her a chicken, avocado and watercress sandwich on her favourite artisanal bread.
The thought of eating anything churned her stomach.
Every time she almost fell asleep, the awful problems from the kitchen replayed in her head and her eyes sprang open. The hideous, horrible and oh-so-public reality of her family falling to pieces.
On top of all that drama, there was a selfish streak that rearranged her priorities towards saving the house ahead of saving her parents’ marriage.
Without the house, there would be no George. It just didn’t bear thinking about. Maybe George wasn’t real, but even if he wasn’t, he was real enough to Morgan, and that’s what really mattered, right?
From his spot on the chaise longue, George said, ‘Please my love, try and get some rest.’
See, he cared about her welfare. He cared a whole lot more than the rest of her family did. They were all so caught up in their own problems they weren’t even noticing Morgan. Had they congratulated her on making the finals for the Ford Prize? Nup.
‘I am so terribly sorry to see you in this state of distress. If it’s any consolation, I know how you feel.’
Grabbing the last four tissues from the box, she wiped her face and blew her nose. ‘S’pose you felt like this when your family fell to bits.’
‘It was a terrible shock at the time.’ George gave a deep sigh and handed her a fresh box of tissues. ‘I would do anything to stop those tears, but I fear you may need to cry a good while yet. Your family situation is indeed dire.’
It felt like she might never stop crying as she snatched more tissues. ‘I’m not crying about my family, George. I’m crying about you.’
‘I’m right here.’
‘Yeah, but . . . George, you’re not looking at the bigger picture. If they demolish the house, what’s going to happen to you? For all I know you could end up in landfill.’
‘Oh.’ George stopped for a moment. He opened his mouth to speak and then closed it, as if he thought better of it. Then he opened his mouth again and once more closed it. Clearly his processing had shut down.
Morgan said, ‘I guess my family’s public disgrace is . . . sort of the modern version of what you went through back in Portland.’
George shook his head. ‘I dread to think how distraught my mother was at the time of my family’s scandal. Not that I knew anything at the time. But soon before . . . it happened, I recall she spent three days in her room, weeping. When she came out, she never said a word. And after . . . well, we know what happened then.’
Another huge sniff from Morgan.
‘Although despite my terrible situation, I did not also fear the permanent loss of my fiancé.’
Morgan swallowed hard and held back more tears. She simply had to stop the council from following through with their demolition threat. There was still time to at least do that.
Despite her need for sleep, she couldn’t help sneaking onto social media to see what people were writing about her family.
She really shouldn’t click on the utterly clickbaity headline about the council threatening to knock their house down.
She really shouldn’t read past the first paragraph.
She really shouldn’t click on the council’s website and send them a pleading email to let them fix the situation in a nice, private way, instead of everything being so horribly public.
By the time the sun crept over the windowsill Morgan woke feeling even more wretched and wrung out than when she’d gone to bed in the first place. School was completely out of the question. No way would she go. Not with the media camped outside her house. Even more must be waiting by the school. Would they be interviewing her friends?
Would they be interviewing her enemies?
Stop being paranoid, the voice of reason said, you don’t have enemies. You just have a whole school full of kids who tease you for every little slip-up.
She followed her nose to the kitchen, and the smell of chipolatas and fried tomatoes. As she took her seat, the sight of a full plate of food twisted her stomach.
‘I just can’t, Dave.’
‘But they’re chicken and coriander.’
‘They look delicious. What a shame I cannot eat.’ George appeared in the chair beside her. ‘Do eat something, you need your strength.’
Judging by Dave’s complete lack of reaction, he could neither see nor hear the ghost. Morgan tried the smallest bite and swallowed hard. It didn’t taste of anything. ‘Where’s everyone gone?’ Apart from Dave and George, the kitchen was empty.
Dave shrugged. ‘All indoors. No-one other than Gareth wanted to go out and face that.’ He tilted his head towards the window.
A phalanx of cameras waited for them to step out the front door.
‘I think it’s best I drive you to school,’ Dave said.
‘But I –’
Dave’s palms shot up to placate her. ‘I know you like getting public transport because you somehow think it makes you normal. But I’m driving you, and that’s that.’
‘I was going to say I didn’t want to go to school at all.’
‘And stay here in this morgue? God no. You’re better off at school. I’ll pick you up as well. No arguments. Now eat your breakfast.’
‘I can’t eat anything. I feel full.’
‘Then drink your juice.’
She managed that at least.
The garage connected directly to the house so nobody saw them get in, but the moment Dave clicked the gates to open, the photographers surged forward. The rock-c
oncert of flashbulbs blinded them. It was a miracle Dave didn’t crash into the gatepost.
Sitting directly behind the driver’s seat, Morgan turned her back to the window and kept her head down, her hair falling like a security curtain around her face.
‘Your bravery knows no bounds,’ George said in a soft voice beside her.
Brave was the very last thing Morgan felt as Dave nudged the car through the media scrum. Camera flashes. TV cameras. People banging on the window. People pulling at the door handles. Panic set in as Morgan slammed her palm against the door locks, making doubly sure they stayed down. Did it make her a horrible person to wish for a natural disaster so the media had real news to chase, rather than her family’s emotional train-wreck?
‘I’m sure it will all blow over in a few days,’ Dave said.
When every minute felt like eternity, his words didn’t help one bit.
They finally cleared the media, but before Morgan could heave a sigh of relief, she heard the fresh sound of motorbikes from behind them. They were following her to school.
‘Oh come on!’
‘It’s a public road, just ignore them,’ Dave said.
It didn’t get any better when they got to school. The kerb heaved with media. Students milled about, wondering why today was so especially crazy.
Dave kept driving and turned in to the staff car park, lined with evergreen and paperbark trees which added a lemony scent to the air. The sign on the gate read, ‘Strictly For Teachers and School Staff Only.’ There were scribbles on the sign where somebody had added an apostrophe between the ‘r’ and the ‘s’ and someone else had rubbed it out.
‘I’m sure they won’t mind just this once,’ Dave said as the media stayed on their side of the gate. ‘It’s private property in here.’
The ever-considerate Dave drove Morgan as close as possible to the back of the school buildings so she could walk amongst the landscaped garden beds and around the corner, away from view.
‘Thanks Dave.’
‘I’ll pick you up this afternoon as well,’ he said as he came around and opened the door for her. Even more helpful, he stood with his back to the photographers, so it was even harder for them to get a clean shot. ‘Have a great day. Learn heaps of stuff,’ he said with a too-bright voice.
‘What a marvellous help that Dave is,’ George said as he exited the car behind Morgan.’
‘Thanks,’ Dave said. Then he froze. Mouth at half mast. ‘Was that . . . ?’
Morgan said, ‘George. Yes. He’s come to school with me.’
‘Hello.’ George gave a jaunty wave.
‘But I heard him,’ Dave said. ‘Clear as a bell!’
Brilliant! Morgan marked the moment as a personal turning point. ‘That either means I’m sane, or we’re both mad.’
Dave rubbed his forehead. ‘I need a drink.’
‘He does seem to have taken things rather badly,’ George said.
‘Is he in your bag or something?’ Dave said, his brows creasing together.
‘No, he’s standing right beside me.’
‘So he’s not coming back in the car with me, is he?’
‘I shall accompany Morgan for the day,’ George said.
Morgan found herself giggling for the first time in ages. ‘If you’re gonna hit the bottle, should I tram it home instead?’
Dave gave a shake of his head. ‘No need. I’ll be fine. See you later.’
With that, a pale-faced Dave headed back to the driver’s door and Morgan headed to school, the sound of cameras and shouts dimming as she walked around the back of the building.
15
Tabloid Fodder
Morgan thought she’d need every last gram of bravery to get through the day. Mentally she readied herself for stares and comments from other students as she walked to her locker.
But then something wonderful happened. Without making a big deal of it, her friends Olivia, Emma and Kaz milled about her at the locker, forming a barrier between Morgan and the rest of the students. It had the effect of blocking all the bad news out, making her feel secure. They were being so caring she thought she’d cry. At recess, her friends did the same thing again, keeping prying eyes away. The protective barrier – best bodyguards ever! – continued at lunch, where they smuggled food into the secluded library meeting room.
They wouldn’t let Morgan access the internet either. In an act of supreme sacrifice, and a touch of melodrama, Kaz declared, ‘I’m giving up Twitter’.
Emma and Morgan did a double take.
‘For the whole day.’ Kaz said.
Olivia snorted.
Kaz hugged Morgan. ‘We’re going to help you through this. We’re your friends and we love you.’
Emma added herself into the three-way-hug, which set Morgan crying afresh at how protected and loved she felt.
Olivia cleared her throat. ‘I’m sorry too, about . . . everything.’
‘It doesn’t matter anymore.’ Morgan freed one arm to invite Olivia into the group hug.
‘This is hardly an advance on solving the greater problem,’ George said, standing nearby.
The girls jerked back and all spoke at once.
‘Who said that?’
‘– Did you just –?
‘– I swear I –’
‘– Did you all hear him too? –’
‘– I’m going to wet my pants.’
Morgan put her palms up, ‘Time out! Yes, George came to school with me today. To be honest, he’s been pretty damn wonderful. I don’t know how I would have made it through this without him.’
‘Such kind words,’ he said, taking a bow for Morgan’s benefit.
‘Ohmigod!’
‘– I heard that too –’
‘– Seriously, I need to pee.’
Morgan rubbed her forehead. ‘Please, everyone, can you all just breathe?’
‘From your unilaterally distressed reactions,’ George said, ‘I assume your friends can hear me but I am yet to make myself visible?’
As one, the girls shut up. Olivia grabbed Morgan’s hand for reassurance and squeezed. Ouch! Too hard.
‘Silver lining. At least I know I’m not going crazy.’ Morgan smiled through the pain. ‘Which is a shame really because I was hoping this was all some bizarre fantasy timeline and I’d be waking up any moment now.’
Olivia hugged Morgan again. ‘You’re the bravest person I know.’
Emma and Kaz moved in for another hug. This time they trembled together.
‘Don’t be scared of George.’ Now it was Morgan’s turn to calm them down. ‘He’s a real gentleman. I wish there was a way you could see him.’
‘Nice ring,’ Emma said.
‘George gave it to me. It was his mother’s.’
‘Is he hot?’ Kaz asked.
Heat bloomed across Morgan’s neck as she fixed her eyes on the Victorian lad standing nearby. ‘He’s completely charming and very handsome.’
George doffed his hat. ‘I return the compliment ten-fold.’
‘So romantic,’ Emma said on a sigh as she sort-of looked in his direction but missed.
‘This is freaking me out,’ Kaz said. ‘He’s really in here? George the ghost? He’s real?’
‘As real as it gets,’ Morgan said with a grin. ‘Now stop wobbling and give me more hugs.’ The three friends grabbed at Morgan, clinging to her more than she clung to them. ‘Thank you for being here for me. I wouldn’t be able to get through this without you.’
‘Alas, you are no further in finding a solution to your problems.’ George said.
Emma, Kaz and Olivia stilled at his voice.
‘This is how girls solve problems,’ Morgan said to George. ‘We hug it out.’
‘Yet it resolves nothing,’ George said. ‘Your parents are fodder for gossip and the estate is slated for demolition.’
‘Yeah, but we feel better for it.’ Morgan wiped her nose on her sleeve.
‘Eww! That’s my sleeve!’ Kaz said.
‘Oh, sorry!’
As he’d promised, after school, Dave met Morgan in the staff car park, avoiding most of the cameras. A month ago, one photographer had had the power to freak her out. Now there were thirty outside the school but she was keeping it together. That’s because although her friends couldn’t see George, they could hear him. So could Dave. So that meant she definitely wasn’t crazy. Couldn’t be crazy if other people could hear him.
All things considered, things were looking up.
Once in the car, she mussed her hair forward over her face, making it hard for the paps to get a clear shot as Dave turned out into the street.
‘There are less of them than were here in the morning, that has to be a good sign?’ George said, peering out at them.
‘Jeezus!’ Dave slammed the brake, jamming Morgan tightly in her seatbelt.
The car behind them hit their bumper.
‘You didn’t tell me he was in the car!’ Dave said. ‘Bit of warning would have been good!’
‘I appear to be the cause of distress again,’ George said.
‘Stay here.’ Muttering under his breath, Dave got out of the car to talk to the teacher behind him and exchange details.
Leaving the door open.
It took one pap a nano-second to shove his camera through the open door for a shot of Morgan. She hid her face in her hands, as if she had something to hide.
‘Remain calm, I shall resolve this.’ George vanished through the door. Outside, George caused mayhem with their gear and their clothes. Then he yelled out, ‘Look over there! A Kardashian!’
By which point, Dave jumped back into the driver’s seat and locked the doors. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘Can we go home now?’ Morgan kept her fingers over her eyes.
‘Good idea.’
When George reappeared beside her in the back seat of the car, she kept quiet about it, lest Dave had another prang.
When they reached home, Gareth was holding a press conference by the gates. Was he wearing . . . makeup?
Flicking the window down a few millimetres, she heard the end of Gareth’s comments.
The Girl and the Ghost Page 16