Ghost House (Soul Mate - Book One)

by Richard Crawford

  ####

  The ghost's gone. It's just me, standing outside the house at the end of the path, shivering. Each time it happens I feel emptier. Like something is missing. It's still me, but there's a sort of uncertainty. And I'm so tired. It would be nice to lie down right there, but there's a chance Marv might call the cops. I need to get out of here. With a last glance at the house, I start back towards town

  It takes me an hour to get back to town and by then I can't stop the shivering. As I walk through town, the gargoyles sit on college walls, watching. The ghost shit keeps going round in my head, half of me is still about what they want; the other bit of me feels half-dead. It would be nice to get shitfaced, forget it all. But instead I think about Suki. It would be good to go look for her tonight. But there's no point. The ghosts have drained me out, it's like there's not enough of me left to string a sentence together. The cafe will be closed now, and I don't even know where to look. Instead I filch some cardboard and find a doorway to curl up in. As it gets cold, thoughts of whiskey fill my head. It's a shame the first ghost didn't take a jacket. People go by; they pretend not to notice me. I watch them for a bit and fall asleep thinking about Suki.

  Usually I dream about falling. Or Danny is in my dreams, alive in the moment before he falls. Or dead, his head smashed open on the ground. But tonight my dreams are all about Suki. The moment when she touched me and the ghosts went away; the henna tattoos writhe on her hands and wrists. She's kissing me. Just as I taste strawberries on her lips, I'm falling away from her. The crash of a refuse cart wakes me; the bins rumble by and some guy swears at me to get out of the way. I stumble upright, hardly awake, and start walking.

  The sun shines. Oxford is all cream and gold. It's a morning when you'd feel good to be alive, but it's hard to lose the ghosts, like a hangover. The dream's still in my head. I hold onto it and go looking for Suki and the café. I walk through Oxford surrounded by crazy, leering gargoyles.

  My memories of yesterday are a bit hazy. It takes me some time to find the café in a street off St Aldates. I'm hungry, the dinner from last night another distant memory as my stomach growls. But the money's for Suki, to pay her back, if I can just find someway to talk to her. I need a plan, and making things right with her is the place to start. But the ghost hangover makes me stupid and nothing comes to mind, going into the café's out. For a bit, I stand across the road and watch the café window, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. An hour goes by. Then I see her come out down the road. It's hard not to run, but that would freak her out. Instead I walk trying to look calm, normal, in control.

  She sees me and turns away.

  "Hey," I call out to her. "I'm really sorry. Won't you let me apologise?" It's not going to be enough to stop her leaving. She's still walking away. "Please!" One word never mattered so much.

  She keeps walking and I have to let her go. For a while I hang around watching the café windows, but it's best to leave it for today. It will only make things worse if she sees me lurking, and I don't want to scare her. The bins behind Tesco offer up some out of date sandwiches, saving the money I have left. Somewhere in the back of my head there's a glimmer of an idea for tomorrow.

  As the sun sets, I wonder about finding Mickey. He won't give me a hard time about what happened, but I will have to come up with some sort of explanation. It's not easy to explain away being such a jerk, so I put off the Mickey problem. I sleep in the same doorway and dream about Suki again.

  The next day I feel good; it helps to have a plan. It starts with using some of my money to buy a small bunch of flowers. Then I head back to the café and wait. She comes out round the same time. I go up to her holding the flowers and trying not to look like a creep or pervert. This time she waits, but she's looking at me as if she knows this is a bad idea.

  She has the same pink uniform shirt; today her hair is pulled up in bunches. Silver rings sparkle on her fingers.

  I'm nervous and out of breath, and it takes a moment before I can say. "I hated to do that to you."

  "Why do it then?" she asks. She's frowning but her voice is soft. It's just a question, not nasty.

  "No money." I haven't thought this through, what with the ghost hangover and being so tired. As soon as I've said it, I know what's coming next.

  "Why order all that stuff, if you know you can't pay. And then leave a message saying sorry, as if that will make it better. Do you know how pissed off Benny was?" She puts her back to me as she says it, shoulders hunching a little underneath the pink shirt. "I need this job."

  She was nice to me and I took advantage, or that's how it seems to her. There's nothing more to say. Then I remember the money. Shoving my hand deep in my pockets I dig out all the cash that's left. She hasn't moved, so I take a couple of strides to come round her and hold the flowers and the money out. "Here."

  After a moment's hesitation, she takes the flowers. But she just looks at the money. The crumpled note slowly unfurls in my palm. Then she looks me up and down, real quick. She shakes her head and stares off down the street. "Benny already took it out of my wages."

  "Then you should have this." I need her to take the money, but the way she won't look at me says that's not going to happen. She's feeling sorry for me; it's not going to work out if she thinks I'm some loser. "Please."

  She shakes her head, just once, and I just know there's no arguing with her. It makes me smile. "Please," I say it again in a wheedling voice.

  Against all the odds she smiles back, and I love her. Just for smiling at me, that's how stupid I am. But it's like I got one hand on the lifeline. It's hard not to grin like a lunatic. Despite everything, she's still standing there, holding the flowers as if they're precious. Her head is tilted to the side; she watches me and gives a little laugh. She's not pissed off anymore. It's like I won a prize.

  "I'm on a break. I need to get back," she says and it doesn't sound like an excuse.

  "What time do you get off?" I try to stop grinning. "Let me buy you dinner to make it up to you." I look down at my palm. "It won't be much."

  "That's all you have?" She blushes a bit when she realises how that sounded. I know she didn't mean it to be nasty but it still feels as bad. I don't want this girl to feel sorry for me.

  "I left my wallet…." but I can't lie to her. What's the point anyway? My fingers curl round the note and I shove it in my pocket. Another screw up.

  "The other day," she says, it's obvious what's coming next, and there's no way to stop her. "Your clothes." She stops short of saying I looked like shit.

  There's no point lying. I stare off somewhere else, not wanting to see the look on her face. "I've been sleeping rough for a few days." I laugh, as if it was a game or for a dare. And the whole world goes quiet while I wait for her to say something.

  "I get off at two," she says. "Wait here. Don't come to the diner!"

  She's gone before I can get myself together. But that's okay, stops me saying something stupid and blowing it. There's no way she fancies me or anything. I'm guessing this girl collects strays. But that doesn't stop me grinning.

  ####

  I'm there waiting at two, washed and tidied up. I see her coming and push off the wall trying not to look crazy eager. She's carrying the flowers and a mug.

  "Hey," she says and hands me a mug. "Tea with lemon and honey," she says. "That's how you take it, right?"

  "Thanks." That's what the ghost liked. I like coffee. It's a bit of a downer, the reminder of the ghosts. But I don't say anything, just hold the mug and stare at her. My social skills are a bit rusty.

  She glances up the street, probably regretting this already. "Let's go to the meadow," she says.

  "Sure." We start walking. The tea's burning my hand and I don't know what to say. I try to remember when I last talked to a normal person. I try to remember what normal people talk about.

  It's sunny and the meadow is full of bodies. The duck pond is busy with mums and kids chucking bread at the ducks. We sit under a tree and watch them
. I drink the tea and pretend I like it. Suki takes her shoes off and wiggles her toes in the grass. She doesn't seem to mind if we don't talk. I finally manage a question and she tells me that she lives on a narrow boat moored up on the canal. She tells me about the dog she used to have and the crazy old people who come in the cafe everyday. She tells me simple things the sort of things you tell a weird stranger. She asks about me but there's nothing good to tell her. We don't have anything to make small talk about and it goes quiet.

  We stop talking and lie among the daisies. The sun sinks above us and I know my time's running out. Then I feel this itch inside my head. The ghosts are going to be calling. I'm not expecting it so soon after the last lot. I lay still just breathing, trying to think this through.

  It's early yet. Maybe I've got time. "Let's go to dinner," I say, and it sounds weird, like some big life or death deal.

  Suki laughs, but in a nice way. She sits up and reaches for her shoes. I can feel the brush off coming even before she says, "Sorry, Tommy. I've got plans tonight." She glances over at me.

  "No problem." It's for the best. I don't want to be pulling some sort of mad Cinderella stunt or turning into a real nut job in front of her. But I'm not giving up, "I still owe you dinner." I hold my breath.

  She looks at me for a moment. Then nods.

  I wonder if it's just she's a girl who can't say no to losers.

  "I get off at six tomorrow, meet me here," she says.

  "Great. Will do." My voice comes out weird again, like a fighter pilot in an old movie. I sound like an idiot, but I'm worrying about the ghosts and wishing she hadn't picked tomorrow. I think about it, just sitting there not saying anything while she gets up.

  Suki's on her feet. She seems to be taking my latest weirdness in her stride. "See you here, tomorrow then," she says and gives a little wave.

  I watch her walk off, liking the way she moves, and wondering what she thinks of me. It's weird, somehow I know she's going to turn up tomorrow.

  The ghosts are calling, but now I have something to hold on to.

  ####

  The old house is waiting for me. I try to hang back, keep some sort of control, but the ghosts pull me in; past the weeds, sliding under the door, up the creaking stairs and back to the room where the ghosts are waiting.

  Tonight I huddle in the corner as the ghosts slither through the cracks, trying to hide even though I know they'll find me. It doesn't take long before they're all over me. Then I'm lying on the floor and one of them is in me. I don't know how long I lay there but I can only feel one ghost. It's hard to think, but one ghost is better than two, so that's good.

  The ghost picks us up off the floor and stretches. The ghost stretches so hard my shoulders crack, and I know it's a man in charge. That's not so good. We're outside as the sun comes up and heading for town. One ghost, I tell myself this should be easy.

  ####

  But it's not easy. The guy doesn't know what he wants. It happens like that sometimes, and usually when they don't know what they want the ghost is always a guy.

  All morning we're following some girl while she goes to the beautician and sits in the window to get her nails done. She goes to the coffee shop with her friends. She goes shopping; she goes to lunch. I'm wondering why we're bothering. Don't get me wrong, the girl's hot in a plastic Barbie way. A longhaired brunette, with lots of make-up, sexy clothes, a big bag slung over her shoulder, always talking into her phone or tapping at it with long red nails while she talks to her friends.

  It's boring. I'm fed up with this small-town Barbie. But the ghost's here for more than a last look. After lunch she does more shopping. Then it gets a weird. She ditches her friends and soon she's heading for the wrong part of town.

  The ghost keeps following her and I go with him, not that I have any choice. But there's a change in him. This is what he's been waiting for. And it starts to feel bad; now I can feel the anger in him.

  The surge of anger freaks me out. But there's nothing I can do. There's a lot of fear, and I don't know whether it's mine or the ghost's. To steady myself I think about Suki, and the date this evening. I worry about being on time. Will she wait if I'm late? All the time the ghost is more freaked out. What is he going to do? In an hour or so, I need to be back across town to meet Suki in the park at six. That's all that matters.

  We head up the Cowley Road past restaurants and sex shops. The ghost turns into a side street where there are a few sleazy bars. I get a bad feeling. The ghost is juiced. I get the sense he's scared, and that worries me. We go down a flight of stairs and into a steamy red room filled with tables. Some sort of club. There is a bar along one wall with a mirror behind. A few guys stand along the bar drinking. We head for a guy sitting on a stool at the end of the bar. A good looking guy in sharp clothes, his hair gleaming in the soft light. He is sitting on the stool with his legs spread wide holding the Barbie girl in his arms. She's pressed up against his crotch.

  Oh shit. I know straight off, it's like the ghost fizzes inside my head, and I'm worried he's going to make me do something crazy. They haven't seen us yet and my face won't mean anything to them anyway. They've never seen me before. The guy is sliding his hand over the girl's back and down over her arse. He gives her a squeeze and she laughs. The laugh says way too much.

  We stumble over a chair and a few people look round. We're about ten paces away and they're too caught up in themselves to notice. The guy's kissing her now.

  "Deb!" It's my voice but higher and sort of wild.

  They stop kissing and the girl looks round. She sees me and there is no hint of recognition, but she keeps looking. I know she's heard something in my voice. It happens like that sometimes, especially with names. Her eyes are really wide. She takes a step forward.

  "Yes," she says. "Do I know you?" She takes another step.

  The ghost is lost for words and I wonder what he hoped for. I almost feel sorry for the stupid bastard. But this could still go bad.

  The girl's staring at us and she looks scared now. "Kev," she says and glances back over her shoulder.

  The guy gets off the stool and comes to stand behind her. He slides a hand round her waist. "Can we help you?" He says it real polite, but nasty. His thumb brushes against her boobs. I can see his face now. He has psycho eyes.

  My fingers twitch and curl into fists. The ghost glances sideways. There's a beer bottle standing on the bar. I feel my fingers twitch. But we don't move. The silence stretches like an old elastic band. We stare at the girl, but it's the psycho guy who really pulls at the ghost's attention. I'm getting a really bad feeling about this.

  My mouth opens and the ghost speaks to the girl.

  "You're Deb," he says, as if he hoped for better. He doesn't wait for her to answer. "Dave sends his regards and told me to say thanks for Saturday. He had the best night ever."

  "What the hell," says Kev, but he is looking at Deb.

  The ghost is gone and I'm running through the club. It's all kicking off behind me. But the way to the stairs is clear and I'm going to make it.

  I'm nearly there when a shadow blocks out the light. No time to dodge, a fist hits me in the face. I tumble backwards, crashing into the tables and end up sprawled among a pile of chairs. Blood, beer or something, drips into my eyes. Before I can wipe it away a hand grabs my shirt and yanks me upright.

  "Who the fuck are you?" Kev's voice, followed by his fist in my stomach. Now I'm only standing because they're holding me up. "I asked you a question?" says Kev, and there's something nasty and excited in his voice. He gets off on this stuff.

  I wonder how the ghost died.

  I can't talk and I haven't got an answer for him. Kev hits me again. Then he looks to Barbie. "Do you know him?"

  "No," she says. "I swear, babe. I've never seen him before."

  I blink through the blood and focus on Ken's face. He believes her. He should, it's true enough. She's never seen me before. I hold my hands up and tell him it was a joke. I grin like an idiot
and pretend I've been drinking. They're going to pound on me a bit for being such a stupid idiot. But at least no one asks how I knew Barbie's name.

  There's only one thought in my head. Get away from this guy. Play the joker or the idiot, whatever it takes. Live a while on the street and you know how to measure the psychos.

  I can live with a beating. If they get it over quick enough I can still meet Suki.

  Chapter Five

  A car alarm's wailing right inside my head. My eyes are gummed shut. When I move the pavement is warm against my face. It's sort of nice and I just lie there in the gutter trying to work out which bit of me hurts the worst and wishing the damn noise would go away.

  It won't shut up and that's bad news for me. I prise one eye open. The car's right above my head. I grab the bumper and pull myself up. It's a flashy car, a Mercedes or BMW or something. I can't see well enough to tell. There's a dent in the hood where Kev and his mates bounced me off it, and smears of blood on the shiny black paintwork. Shit.

  I stagger down the street, bent like an old man, grabbing on to anything to keep on my feet. All that matters is getting as far away from Kev and his mates as possible.

  I don't know what time it is but there's no way I'm making it to the park, and Suki. Stupid dumbass ghost! What sort of closure was that? What did he want? I should feel bad for the guy, but he's got to be one of the stupidest yet. I'm so pissed off thinking of him I lose it and stumble against a car and another alarm's going off. This rate someone will call the cops and that won't be good. The cops will remember me. They don't like me; if I get locked up and the ghosts come, next time the cops are going to call a shrink in a heartbeat. The thought makes me panic.

  I want to cross the street, to put distance between me and the scene of crime. But just as I stagger between the parked cars a bicycle whizzes by and knocks me right back on my arse. Everything hurts, I sit there clutching my ribs moaning and cursing till a figure blocks out the sunlight, two figures. From down here it's just four legs, trousers and a skirt. A man and a woman. But something's wrong with this picture. Two pairs of skanky trainers. I do a double take and look up just as Mickey says,