Angel Kiss (15 page)

Eventually she dozed off and I took the torch out of the cupboard and put on my grey sweater and Mum’s wellies. I quietly stepped outside and closed the door behind me. I walked carefully along the dim path of torchlight, around the side of the house to the back garden. I was still amazed at how eerily still it was here at night. In our old house we lived on a quiet road, but you would still hear cars and people in the distance. Now you could go hours without hearing anything. I weaved through an obstacle course of building materials, then I looked up at the top of the big pile of rubbish. Sure enough, there they were: two leather bag handles poking out of the rubbish.

‘
Fine … I’ll burn the bloody bag. Whose is it anyway?
’

The colour was exactly the same as the chocolate-brown bag from my dream. I couldn’t believe it. I had to have a closer look at them. I started to climb the pile, my fingernails desperately scraping at the dirt as I tried to hoist myself up. Bits of rubber and shards of plastic fell down on to the ground. I was trying not to tear any of the bin bags because they smelled disgusting. The smell was less potent without the sun on it, but it was still nauseating. I had no choice though. I had to grab hold of those two brown handles. Holding my breath, I lunged up and almost grasped them but then I lost my footing and fell to the ground.

‘Ow!’ I shouted as my shoulder hit the earth hard, but I was determined to try again. I scrambled back up the pile, quickly grabbed the handles and pulled them. A brown leather bag came free. Adrenalin pulsed through me at the sight of it. It was the same bag I’d seen in my nightmare.

I climbed back down and opened it. Then I let out a little shriek. Something had just scurried across my hand. A mouse. A tiny field mouse. I snapped the bag closed and hurried back towards the caravan, examining my new find on the way. There was a tear in the side, but other than that the bag seemed to be in pretty good condition. It was filthy and smelly though, so I couldn’t take it into the caravan. I decided to stash it in the hedge, as Mum probably wouldn’t come across it there. But first I sat down on the grass and opened it up.

Inside were four things: a black wallet, a packet of violin strings, a lipstick and a blue woolly hat. I took the lid off the lipstick. It was a bright red colour, half used. The hat was frayed at the bottom. The packet of violin strings was unopened and the price sticker was still on it – £12.50. I unzipped the wallet. There was just one thing in it – a small piece of paper that looked like it might have been a receipt, but the writing on it was too faded to make out. There were no cards, no photographs, no money. This was disappointing, but even without proof I knew who the bag belonged to. I could hardly believe it. I could hardly believe what I’d found.

You notice different things when you get up early. I noticed how Des Butler locked his front door from the outside and double-checked that his sitting-room window was shut before getting into his van. I noticed that Mary Reynolds arrived at her shop at eight o’clock, even though she didn’t open its doors until nine, and I noticed that Patrick Smyth kissed Brigid on the cheek, at the door of the guesthouse, before getting into his car and driving to work. From my position on the bench in the communal garden I could easily view the morning activities on the main street. I enjoyed observing the world, just watching what everybody was doing, without being part of it. It felt nice to be on the outskirts, to be invisible. I wondered if spirits liked doing that. Being able to go through the world unwatched, nobody knowing they were there. Well, apart from a few. People like Ger. People like me.

I loved the garden. I’d decided it was probably one of my favourite spots in Avarna. I felt a sense of security here that I didn’t get anywhere else. And in the early mornings it seemed there was never anybody there. I could happily stay for ages. Relaxing. Watching.

The river glittered in the sunlight. It was beautiful from a
distance but when I walked over and looked more closely I could see that the riverbed was a chaotic mixture of rock and stone, in grimy shades of brown, the outer beauty hiding a dark imperfect base. I picked up a flat stone and skimmed it into the water. It bounced along, sending soft waves rippling across the surface. I repeated this over and over again, then bent down and slid the tips of my fingers through the water. The riverbed seemed closer than it actually was. Just like Jane. Yesterday I had grown so sure that I could help her, but the more I thought about it the more I realized how little I knew. All morning I had been reanalyzing my dreams, reliving the attack and trying to identify any other signs she might have given me. The clues swirled around in my head, occasionally slotting together, but still not making an awful lot of sense.

Then I had an idea. I would write down what I knew so far. I took out my hardback notebook and flicked through the pages of lyrics until I found a blank space. I jotted down the few clues I had.

When I wrote the clues down it didn’t look as if there were very many at all. Ger said that there might be a link between the
places that Jane appeared, but I couldn’t think of any link between the dark forest and the cute Cupcake Café. I didn’t like how there was no single way to solve this. I was used to problems that had a clear formula, a right and wrong answer. I could work out most maths problems in seconds, but I couldn’t even seem to get started on this one. I had the bag, but it hadn’t really offered me any new information. I was pretty sure the bag was vintage, so that would suggest that Jane was murdered some time ago. But I couldn’t be certain. I don’t know why but I also thought that the same person who killed Beth might have killed Jane too. But I knew from my Internet research, and from talking to Colin, that nobody seemed to know who had killed Beth. Maybe her killer was
still in Avarna. Still walking around. That thought scared me a little, but it also gave me hope. If the killer was still here, then I had a better chance of finding them. I wondered what Jane had been like. What she’d looked like, what she’d liked to do. I wondered if she’d ever been in this garden, ever sat on this bench.

The gate creaked, bringing my thoughts back to the present. Colin came into the garden, carrying a bin bag and a rubbish picker. He didn’t notice me sitting there. I watched as he picked up cigarette butts from the water’s edge.

‘Hi,’ I said.

He looked over, surprised to see me. ‘What are you doing up so early?’ he asked, coming over and sitting beside me on the bench.

‘Nothing really.’ I closed my notebook and dropped it into my lap. ‘What are you doing?’

‘I told Mary I’d pick up any rubbish lying around here. She wants it looking spotless for the fête on Sunday. Nick was meant
to do it for her, but he’s at home sick. She was already stressing about the broken freezer in her shop so I decided to help her out.’

‘What’s wrong with Nick?’ It hurt to say his name, but I wanted to make sure he was OK.

‘Well, supposedly he has a migraine, but I bet he just fancied a lie-in. He was well able to go to the gig in Sligo with us last night. You should have come – it was deadly.’

‘I had something on … So you’re talking to Nick then? I was worried that maybe I’d caused trouble between you two.’ I hoped that what had happened didn’t come between them.

‘I’m talking to him, but he’s still pretty mad at me for almost breaking his nose with the door. He’ll get over it.’

‘Did he say anything about me?’ I was aware I sounded kind of desperate, but I wanted to know.

‘Em … no, not really.’ Colin looked down at his shoes. He was a terrible liar.

‘So he hates me?’

‘Maybe just give him some space for a while. I know he didn’t do anything to hurt you, but … what got into you anyway?’

‘I just … I don’t really want to talk about it.’

‘Ooh, your songs!’ said Colin, seeing ‘Jacki’s Lyrics’ printed on the front of my notebook. He picked it up. ‘Can I read them?’ he asked, having already opened it. To my horror he was looking at my most recent entry.

‘No, give it back.’ I couldn’t let him see it.

I went to grab the notebook, but Colin stood up and stepped backwards, pulling it out of my reach.

‘Colin, please just give it back to me.’

‘What is this?’

‘Nothing just –’

He scanned down the page, his eyes widening. I tried to wrestle it from him, but it was already too late.

‘Jacki, what’s going on? Why do your lyrics look like a detective’s notes?’

‘I can’t tell you. Just please give it back.’

‘Why can’t you tell me?’ said Colin. ‘We’re mates.’

He held the notebook far above my head. I could tell he wasn’t going to give up. This was it. He was going to think I had completely cracked. I took a deep breath.

‘Prepare to think I am absolutely insane,’ I said. ‘Basically … I was getting these really bad headaches, so I went to the doctor –’

‘Yeah, and I – your friend – went with you, remember?’

‘Course, sorry …’

‘And she said you had allergies.’

‘Well, actually … I didn’t really tell you the full story. She told me I might be dealing with something … something supernatural …’

‘What?’ He looked puzzled, his expression flickering between a smile and confusion.

‘… and she sent me to Ger Rapple, the healer. Do you know him?’

‘Yeah, well, I’ve heard of him. People come from all over the country to see him. He’s supposed to be very good. What did she mean by “something supernatural”?’

‘Well … I’m getting to that. At first I didn’t want to go and see Ger, because I didn’t believe in any of that stuff. But then something really weird happened to me in the bedroom at David’s. I felt like I was being attacked, and my body was on the bed, but my mind was somewhere else – like in the forest.
After that I got really scared, so I went to see Ger and he told me that a girl called Jane is trying to contact me. She was murdered and her spirit needs my help to move on. I think she wants me to find out who murdered her, so that she can finally be at peace.’ I just blurted it out, aware of how it all sounded. ‘I know you believe in ghosts, but I don’t expect you to believe this. It’s crazy, but I swear it’s true.’

Colin read the page again. It felt like an eternity until he finally spoke.

‘I do believe it,’ he said.

‘Really?’ This totally took me by surprise.

‘Yes. I know you well enough by now, Jacki. If you say this is happening, then I believe you.’

‘Thanks. That means a lot.’

‘I’ll try to help you any way I can.’

I was almost crying with relief. Colin could sense this, so he tried to lighten the mood a bit.

‘I can be your sidekick!’ he exclaimed. ‘I’m cute, I’m funny … I’d be perfect for it! What do you think?’

‘I’m just glad you don’t think I’m mental,’ I said with a sniff. ‘But don’t tell anyone else, OK? Can we just keep this between us?’

‘I won’t tell anybody. I promise.’

‘Thanks,’ I said, wiping my eyes.

We sat in silence for a few moments. I had to stop crying in front of people. It was becoming too much of a habit.

‘Anyway … on a lighter note,’ said Colin. ‘Emily is having some people over to her house this evening. She lives a good bit outside the village, so I’ll get Mam to drop us if you want to come.’

‘Sorry, Colin … I can’t.’

‘Don’t be silly. You’re coming to Emily’s.’

‘No, I’m not. I can’t face Nick. Not yet. See, he isn’t just some guy … I’m crazy about him. I can’t stop thinking about him. It really hurts.’ I hated the thought of having to sit across from Nick while he ignored me or, even worse, tried to force an explanation out of me.

‘I didn’t realize you liked him that much,’ said Colin. ‘But don’t worry – he won’t be there. It’s a girls’ night in.’

‘But you’re going?’

‘Obviously,’ said Colin with a smile. ‘And so are you, even if I have to kidnap you and drag you there myself.’

‘I’m really sorry … but I don’t feel like going anywhere.’

‘But Emily’s dad is an expert on local history. He wrote a book about Avarna a few years ago. Maybe he’ll have some info on Jane. I’m sure he’ll be there tonight.’

I thought about it for a moment. To my surprise, my sense of duty to Jane was just enough to sway me.

‘Fine, I’ll go then,’ I said. ‘But only for a little while.’

I was actually a little excited that Emily’s dad was a historian. If there was someone called Jane from Avarna who had been murdered, then he’d surely know about it.

I went to meet Mum for lunch in the Cupcake Café. I was early so I thought I’d use a computer for a while. Mary was sitting at one of the tables with her eight-year-old daughter, Rosie, who I’d heard all about on one of my visits to the shop. I smiled at them as I walked towards the bathroom. I wanted to see if Jane would come back.

I stood behind the door, whispering her name over and over.
Deep down I knew she wasn’t coming back. Not yet anyway. The eerie sensation of the other day just wasn’t there any more. I hated the thought of her being stuck in that in-between stage, slipping back and forth between this world and whatever was waiting for her in the next. I wanted her to come back. I wanted to tell her that I was going to find out who’d murdered her, no matter how long it took. I tried to imagine her, tried to remember even the slightest detail from our encounter. She had black hair – that’s all I knew.

I eventually gave up, but there was still no sign of Mum so I logged on to a computer. I searched
jane murdered avarna
and all its variations but found nothing. I wasn’t too disappointed though. I was hopeful that Emily’s dad would be able to give me some information, or at least point me in the right direction.