Tamsyn Murray-My So-Called Haunting (12 page)

‘Ask him yourself, then,’ Megan smirked. ‘He’s coming now.’

My heart leaped crazily in my chest and I turned round. Megan was right, Nico was heading towards us.

Ellie didn’t waste any time. ‘Hi, Nico,’ she purred up at him. ‘You know, if you’re looking for company I wouldn’t mind . . .’

Her voice trailed off as Nico completely ignored her. Eyes intent on me, he closed the distance and, in one fluid movement, bent his head to mine and kissed me.

The corridor fell silent as I slid my arms around his neck and lost myself once again. Then I heard Mr Exton clearing his throat. ‘Albescu. This isn’t the time or the
place.’

Sniggers broke out around us and we broke apart. Nico flashed a private smile at me. ‘See you later?’

Dazed, I nodded and watched as he made his way down the corridor. Ellie was staring after him, her mouth open. Megan reached out a finger and pushed it shut.

‘Well, that answers that question,’ she said, grinning in satisfaction. ‘Definitely not a one-night thing.’

‘Can I ask you something?’ I said.

It was early evening and daylight had long since faded. Nico and I were snuggled together on a bench at the top of Parliament Hill, Hampstead Heath sprawling below us and the lights of London
twinkling like fireflies in the distance. It had been two blissful weeks since he’d kissed me at school and although we hadn’t dared to do that again, we’d seen each other every
day. He was everything I’d hoped he’d be and I was starting to wonder if I could trust him with my secret.

‘What do you want to know?’

I wriggled around until I could see his face. ‘How old were you when your mum died?’

I felt his arms tighten around me, then relax. ‘Around three. Why?’

‘I never even knew my dad. Do you remember your mum much?’

He thought for a moment. ‘Not really. I remember snatches, here and there. An old Romanian nursery rhyme she used to sing, the way she smelled of baking and roses – that kind of
thing. But I don’t know what she looked like.’

Nico hardly talked about his family at all, apart from when he needed to get away to do a job for his father. I hadn’t really noticed, because I kept the details of my home life pretty
quiet too. But Megan had been quizzing me about him and had been surprised by how little I knew.

‘He’s the love of your life and you don’t know his dad’s name or what he does?’ she’d said, eyebrows raised. ‘I know Charlie’s mum’s middle
name and we’re not even going out.’

I’d stared at her, wondering how she could possibly have found that out. ‘Well, no.’

‘Aren’t you curious? I would be, especially since Nico works for him.’

Her words had made me wonder why Nico didn’t talk about his family. I had a good reason for my silence; what was his?

A man walked past the bench with a chocolate Labrador on a long lead. It bounded towards us, snuffling at Nico’s outstretched hand with enthusiastic snorts. The man tugged it away,
apologising. Once they’d gone, I went on, ‘If you could talk to her, what would you say?’

Shrugging, he said, ‘I’d tell her not to worry.’

I blinked. I’d been expecting him to say something about missing her. ‘Why would she be worried?’

He tensed again. ‘Something my dad said once. Forget it.’

Chewing at a fingernail, I wondered what he meant. I supposed it was natural for a mother to worry about her son if she wasn’t there to care for him, but something about the way Nico had
said it made me think he’d thought about it a lot. I also sensed it was a sensitive subject and one I’d better steer clear of for now. Besides, I had my own agenda. ‘Do you
believe in life after death?’

He didn’t answer straight away. ‘Like heaven and hell, you mean?’

‘Kind of,’ I said slowly. ‘Some people think their spirit lingers after they’ve died.’

He looked straight into my eyes then. ‘You’re talking about ghosts.’

My pulse sped up as I debated whether or not to carry on. If I stopped now, I could laugh it off, pretend I hadn’t meant ghosts at all. But I knew I wasn’t going to stop.
‘Yeah. Have you ever seen one?’

I held my breath, waiting for the laughter. It didn’t come. Instead, Nico reached out a hand to stroke my cheek. ‘I haven’t, but I know people who have. According to them,
there are ghosts everywhere.’

My eyes widened as I stared back at him. ‘Maybe they’re right.’

His dark eyes glittered in the rising moonlight. ‘How would you know? Unless you’ve seen one?’

This was it; I stood on the edge of the cliff. If I stepped from safety, I’d be trusting him more than I’d ever trusted anyone. I couldn’t read anything in his expression. He
was waiting for me to go on. Breathing in uneven gulps, I whispered, ‘I see them all the time.’

For a few long seconds, he didn’t move. Then a faint smile crossed his face. ‘I thought so.’

My jaw dropped. It wasn’t the reply I’d expected. ‘You thought so? What does that mean?’

‘It was the only explanation that made sense.’ Wrapping his arms more tightly around me, he planted a kiss on my nose. ‘You’re clearly not schizophrenic and I always knew
you weren’t talking to yourself when I overheard you in the hall at school. So it was obvious you were talking to someone I couldn’t see.’

My head was spinning. He’d known I was lying about the mental illness? ‘But how is that the obvious conclusion?’

He looked away, his face pensive as though debating something. Then he gazed at me again. ‘I’ve never told anyone this, but my dad is psychic. Not in the same way that you are, but
he can talk to the dead.’

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Psychic ability ran in families, so —

‘I’m not psychic,’ Nico said, reading my mind. ‘Not yet, anyway.’

‘Not yet?’ I echoed, perplexed. It was hardly something you went to college to become.

He frowned slightly. ‘I can’t tell you much, but my dad has some . . . friends who can teach me how to do it.’

Alarm bells rang. Pulling away, I fixed him with a hard look. ‘What kind of friends?’

‘Don’t worry, they’re not into anything bad. They just know how to contact the dead.’

I’d heard about people who made claims like this before. In every single case, they’d been fraudsters. ‘Nico —’

‘Don’t worry, it’s cool,’ he soothed, drawing me close. ‘They’re practically my family, back in Romania. I’ve known them all my life.’

I let him kiss me but it didn’t work its usual magic. Instead, his words whirled around my brain and I couldn’t shake a deep feeling of concern. Friends who claimed to speak to
ghosts – what kind of family did Nico come from? Then again, I was hardly in a position to judge; I didn’t exactly come from a conventional background myself.

Nico ended the kiss, leaning back so he could see me clearly. ‘There’s something else I have to tell you. I’m going away for a while, with my dad.’

Dismayed, I bit my lip. ‘How long for?’

‘I don’t know. A week, maybe? He’s got something he needs to do back home and he needs my help.’

Megan was right; I should be wondering what Nico’s dad did for a living but it didn’t seem like the right time to ask. ‘In Romania?’

Nodding, he said, ‘Yeah, just a bit of business he needs to take care of. I’ll be back before you even miss me.’

Somehow, I doubted that. I slipped my arms around him. ‘I wish you weren’t going.’

He hugged me close, turning his face away to breathe in the cold night air. ‘I won’t be gone long and when I get back we might have something else in common.’

Troubled, I didn’t reply. What if these so-called friends weren’t con-men but something more sinister? I’d never met anyone who dabbled in dark arts, but I knew they existed. Nico had no idea
what he might be getting into.

‘Thank you for trusting me, Skye,’ he whispered into my hair. ‘I love you for it.’

His lips found mine before I could speak. Confused, I tried to make sense of my feelings. Nico had just told me he loved me; I ought to be elated. Instead, I couldn’t shake off a chill as
I wondered about the things he wasn’t telling me. Then his mouth became more insistent and I pushed my fears to one side. I’d shared my deepest secret with him and he didn’t think
I was crazy. He’d trusted me too, and maybe I was overreacting; hadn’t he said his friends were like family? They’d have his welfare at heart, and surely his dad wouldn’t
let anything bad happen. There was more to the story, but I didn’t push. Nico would tell me when he was ready. Closing my eyes, I returned the kiss hungrily. Nico and I were perfect together.
Nothing could spoil that.

‘I think I’ve discovered the identity of our mystery jumper.’

Since he’d found out he could see the suicide ghost from Hornsey Lane Bridge, Jeremy had been trying to work out who she was. Celestine had been mystified about why he could see some
ghosts and not others, but Mary had claimed the clues were hidden in his past, which had earned blank looks all round. And now Jeremy was waving a sheet of paper in my face and looking pleased with
himself.

Letting out an annoyed grunt, I shifted sideways, my gaze fixed on the television. ‘You make her sound like a cardigan.’

Undeterred by my grumpiness, he sat beside me and started to read. ‘Isobel Mitchell, aged thirty-seven, committed suicide by throwing herself off Hornsey Lane Bridge on 30th November
1998.’

I wasn’t in the mood to congratulate him. ‘Why?’

Jeremy scanned the paper again. ‘It doesn’t say. She didn’t leave a note.’ He placed the sheet on the coffee table in front of me. ‘But I imagine she was very
depressed.’

I exhaled loudly. ‘Do you think so, Sherlock?’

My sarcasm was apparently wasted on him. ‘Yes, I do,’ he said. ‘So how are we going to help her?’

I didn’t have the faintest idea. Since Nico had gone three days earlier, I’d found it hard to summon up the energy to care about anything. Megan had done her best to distract me and
Dontay had called round a few times, but I hadn’t exactly been sparkling company, and on his last visit he’d said he was giving me some space. I knew Celestine was worried about me, but
other than to gently ask if there was anything she could do to help, she’d left me alone. Jeremy, on the other hand, seemed to be constantly trying to take my mind off things and it was
starting to get on my nerves. ‘I don’t know.’

‘When I was helping Lucy, we tracked down someone else her killer had attacked,’ Jeremy said.

And that was another thing about Jeremy, I decided as he droned on in the background: it felt like he went on about Lucy all the time. I mean, I know she was the first ghost he’d seen
– the
only
one he’d seen before Isobel – and she had obviously meant a lot to him, but did he have to mention her like twenty times a day?

‘Well, since the only person Isobel killed was herself, I don’t think it’s going to help in this case.’ My voice sounded petulant and childish, but I couldn’t stop.
‘Maybe if Lucy was still here she’d have some brilliant idea about what to do, but she isn’t, OK?’

His gaze was steady. ‘I’m just trying to help, Skye.’

‘Don’t bother,’ I snapped and stood up. Anger coursed through me and sought the nearest available target. ‘There’s not much we can do, anyway.’

I pushed past him and stamped up the stairs, slamming the door to my room and throwing myself on the bed. Hot, miserable tears spilled down my cheeks as my harsh words replayed themselves in my
head. Great, now I felt mean as well as heartbroken. It hadn’t been fair to talk to Jeremy that way; he was only trying to help, and he didn’t really go on about Lucy that much.

Celestine tapped on my door fifteen minutes later. ‘Skye? Can I come in?’

Grabbing a tissue, I wiped the worst of the tears from my face and blew my nose. ‘Yeah,’ I called in a subdued tone, sounding like I had a peg on my nose.

She pushed back the door and watched me for a moment. ‘Jeremy told me what happened. Is there something you want to talk about?’

I shredded the soggy tissue between my fingernails. ‘Not really.’

Picking her way across the piles of clothes on the floor, she came and sat on the edge of my unmade bed. ‘Did something happen at school? Have you fallen out with Nico?’

Fresh tears pooled up in my eyes and suddenly it was all spilling out of me; how Nico didn’t think I was weird, what he’d told me on Parliament Hill about his trip to Romania and how
I was worried that he might be involved with psychic charlatans or worse. Celestine didn’t say a word until I’d finished, then she sat back and studied me, concern written all over her
face.

‘I’m not surprised you’re feeling terrible,’ she said finally. ‘You poor thing.’

I sniffled, with more than a touch of self pity.

‘But that’s no excuse for taking it out on the rest of us,’ she went on. ‘We all have feelings, even ghosts. Especially the ghosts – poor Dontay asked me tonight if
he’d done something to upset you.’

Guilt squeezed at my stomach. My problems were nothing compared to his. ‘I’m sorry,’ I mumbled. ‘It’s all got so messed up.’

‘When is Nico back?’

And that was another source of concern: I hadn’t heard from him since he’d gone. Pressing my lips together, I swallowed another wave of tears. ‘I don’t know. He’s
not answering my texts.’