Ways to See a Ghost (13 page)

When I got back to the shopping centre, it was Mum I ran into first. Of course, then I was in loads of trouble. She yelled at me twenty minutes straight for not telling her where I’d gone. She wouldn’t listen to a word I said, just marched us both out of there, which meant I never got to look for Isis or find out if she was okay.

Later on, Mum tried to get Dad into being cross with me, but luckily he didn’t care.

“I always hated going shopping with you, as well,” he said. “All that hanging around while you tried stuff on.”

“You never
came
shopping with me,” said Mum, “and I wasn’t shopping for myself today. I took your son to buy new shoes, which he needs. Not that you think about that
kind of thing!” And then they were into a whole new round of fighting, so I sneaked off.

Normally I hate it when they go for each other, but this time I was glad because it meant they never asked me why I’d run out of the shopping centre in the first place. I mean, I couldn’t exactly tell them I’d been saving Isis’s dead sister from a ghost-eating monster.

Not that I actually knew if I had. Without Isis, I couldn’t even see Angel, so when I was running for Isis’s place I didn’t know if I’d got Angel or not. Except I was freezing. I was running through town on a really hot day, and I was so cold it hurt. When I got outside the flats where Isis lives, I stood in the street, shivering and wondering what to do. In the end I just said, “Go home now,” to thin air.

I stopped being cold, so Angel must’ve gone.

But I didn’t see Isis for days after that. I was dying to talk to her, and find out what had happened, but I couldn’t because the whole thing timed with Dad and Cally cooling off each other, or something.

I mean, before, Dad was desperate to see Cally. Now she phoned and blew him out on a date, and he didn’t even seem bothered.

“Okay then, see you another time,” he said, like it was
no big deal. If she’d known him better, Cally would’ve been worried. His girlfriends usually only lasted a few weeks once he got that way.

“Aren’t you seeing Cally?” I asked.

Dad shook his head. “Isis isn’t well. She was taken ill yesterday.”

“She was?” And I was even more desperate to find out then. I was scared, wondering what that monster had done to her. “What’s wrong with her?”

Dad looked at me. Smiled a bit.

“Have you got a thing for her, Gray?”

“No!”

“You certainly like spending time with her.”

“No way!”

Dad shrugged. “Whatever you say.”

Trouble was, I couldn’t tell him what was really going on, so he got all the wrong ideas.

“The doctor thinks it was just a bit of heatstroke,” said Dad. “But you know the way Cally is about Isis.” He rolled his eyes. “She’s probably got her on a twenty-four hour nursing watch.”

I knew it wasn’t just heatstroke, whatever the doctor said. But Isis was strong, even though she looked like a twig.

I think being strong is how she held on so long, at the end…

So I had to wait to find out how she was, because I couldn’t ask Dad without him winding me up, and he wasn’t chasing Cally any more. Actually, when I think about it, he wasn’t exactly cooling on her. It was just that things were going really well for him then, with his UFO stuff.

The latest readings, and my film, they were good, you know? As soon as he posted them on the Network, his mobile started ringing, and he said his email was clogged with messages. It wasn’t just other UFO freaks either – the film clip got forty thousand hits in the first week! Dad got a call from a TV company, and from some professor in America who asked him to go and talk at a conference over there. Dad was turning into a name in the Network, and he was loving it.

It wasn’t until the Saturday I got to talk to Isis, when Cally invited us over. After a week of not seeing her, I knew Dad would be trying some way to get rid of me and Isis.

“How about the cinema?” he asked, when we were walking over to their place. “There’s that film you want to see. The one with all the robots.”

“I went last week, with Dipan and everyone.”

Dad looked at me, surprised. “Did your mum pay for that then?”

I nodded. “She wants me to go out with my friends.”

Dad just grunted, and walked a bit faster. He was cross I’d said that, but it was still true. When I’m with Dad, it’s just me and him. Or me, him and some girlfriend. He’s never even met most of my friends, it’s like the rest of my life doesn’t exist.

Dad slowed down again. “Isn’t there something else you want to see?” he asked.

I shook my head.

“You could go with Isis,” said Dad, “And I could go for a walk with Cally, or something.”

I didn’t even want to think what the something was.

So that’s how me and Isis ended up watching
Merlin
Wakes
. Don’t bother, by the way, it’s rubbish. But it was the only thing neither of us had seen.

We were in seats right at the back, in the noisy, flickering dark.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, as soon as we sat down.

I looked at her.

“You saved Angel,” she said.

I shrugged like it was nothing, even though I was really pleased.

“What happened?” I asked her, and she started telling me.

“It spoke inside your mind?” I asked, when she’d got a bit of the way into it.

Isis waggled her head – not yes, not no.

“More like I was remembering what it said. Like someone else had said the words to me, a long time ago.” There was a catch to her voice, and she went really still and quiet, staring at the film. A woman in a
medieval-style
dress was running around this stone castle, carrying a sword like she didn’t know how to use it. She smashed it into a massive wooden door, and the door broke open.

“That’d never happen,” I said. “You’d need a chainsaw or something.”

The woman rushed into some kind of dungeon and set about freeing a white-bearded old man who was shackled to the wall.
“Merlin!”
she cried, then they went into this stupid long chat where they explained the plot of the film to each other.

“There was another thing,” Isis said, and her voice sounded weird. Scared. “Philip Syndal came over with
Cally, afterwards. And the thing came back, out of nowhere, and… poured right into him.”

I stared at her. “Poured how?”

“Through the top of his head.”

“Did he…” I didn’t know what to ask. Did he drown? Ice over? Did his head explode?

“He didn’t do anything,” said Isis. “He didn’t even notice, I think.”

“How could he not notice a monster going into his head?”

Isis took a sip of her drink, the ice clunked inside the cup. “No one else at the shopping centre even knew it was there. It exploded these two people, then put them back together, and no one even blinked.” She put her drink down on the arm of her chair. “Mandeville said Philip was psychic, but he never noticed Angel at his house.”

“So is it… still inside him?” I asked.

“I don’t know.”

We watched the film for a bit then, both thinking hard. Merlin and the woman left the castle and rode through these random bits of countryside, asking the peasants if they’d seen King Arthur. All the peasants were really clean, and they had nice white teeth.

I turned to Isis. “Do you think it could’ve been an alien, maybe? Like, with advanced technology, so no one could see it? A cloaking device?”

Isis frowned. “An alien hunting ghosts and possessing people?”

“Maybe. Aliens do all sorts of things.”

She shook her head.

“No,” she said, firmly. “It didn’t have anything to do with aliens, or your dad’s UFO stuff.” The light from the film flickered over her face. “It felt like pure… wanting, or hunger or something. Mandeville said it was from before humans could even speak.”

She wrapped her arms around herself. “Mandeville said something might happen to Angel, and then next thing the Devourer appeared.”

“Devourer?”

“That’s what Mandeville calls it,” she said.

Now I can see he practically told Isis what was going to happen, especially giving it a name like that.

Isis looked at me. “He wants me to save the ghosts from the creature, but how can I even do that? I don’t know how to fight it, and I don’t want to see it again, not ever!”

“Do you think it’s still hunting after Angel?”

Isis shrugged, looking miserable.

“It said something about a bargain, that I could keep her. But then it said…” She stopped, and sort of shuddered. “I don’t know what. I didn’t agree to anything though, I’m sure I didn’t.”

I thought about it, but I couldn’t work it out. Not then, anyway.

“Where’s Angel now?” I asked.

Isis sighed. “Hiding inside the sofa. She hasn’t come out for days – I think she’s recovering.”

“Well that’s good, isn’t it? She’s safe for now.”

Isis stared at the film, her eyes reflecting the cinema lights. I could see how scared she was.

“We’ll think of something,” I said. “Angel will be all right.”

But the thing is, we hadn’t fitted it all together properly. We’d forgotten all the other stuff we were caught up in.

I wish I’d thought harder. I wish I’d been cleverer.

Cally led the way through the trees, along a narrow path, brown-patterned with last year’s leaves. A little way back they’d passed a wooden footpath sign, faded and
green-stained
with moss.

“Are we there yet?” asked Isis.

“Nearly,”
said Cally.

Isis rolled her eyes at Cally’s back, trudging on between the trees. What was the point of this?

There was a flicker of movement just off the path, leaves in the sunshine maybe. Isis half-expected the small, familiar shape of Angel, but she wasn’t there. She hadn’t been in the car with them either; she’d barely been in their flat. Angel still spent most of the time inside the sofa.
Hiding or hurt, Isis wasn’t sure which.

“Please, just let me see you,” Isis had whispered into the cushions.

“No! I not coming out,” was the only reply.

Isis had watched a whole morning of
In the
Night Garden
, and asked Cally if they could make a cake. Nothing would tempt Angel out of the upholstery, but then, after what had happened at the shopping centre… Isis wished she had a sofa she could hide inside as well.

She followed after Cally, pushing past the thin stems of a straggling bush.

“Are you sure this is the way?” she said. “It’s a bit overgrown.”

Cally paused next to the gnarled trunk of an ancient tree. Its canopy spread above them, a roof of dusty-dark leaves.

“We’ll be there soon,” she said, “and then you’ll see.”

“See what?” asked Isis, but Cally just started walking again.

A bit further on, they passed into a patch of sunlight, a clearing created by the falling of another tree. Its rotten trunk lay shattered on the ground, covered in earlike fungi, only a dead, jagged spike of wood marking where it
had stood. The corpse was surrounded by green-spray ferns and young saplings – new trees growing out of the leaf mould.

Cally paused next to the stump, taking in a deep breath and tilting her head back a little.

“Shut your eyes,” she said. “Just listen.”

Isis frowned, watching Cally breathe herself into the peace of the sun-dappled woods. A breeze rustled the leaves, and a hidden bird sang a short, repeating song.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” sighed Cally. “Doesn’t it make you feel calm?”

But Isis felt too scratched inside to be calm. If she closed her eyes she might see dark blue filled with faces, a shadow pouring into Philip Syndal’s head, Angel screaming for help, or impossible birds flying into the night.

Cally opened her eyes and saw Isis’s frown.

“Oh, Isis,” she said.

Isis walked past, taking the path out of the clearing. “When can we go home?”

“We have to get there first,” snapped Cally.

“Where is there?” cried Isis. “Why are we even here?”

These woods, this walk Cally had insisted on. Not asking Isis, more like threatening and cajoling, all morning
long, until at last she’d given in just to keep the peace. Staring silently out of the car window as Cally drove them into the countryside.

Now, in the clearing, Cally seemed to be studying Isis.

“You’ve been so… odd, lately,” she said. “Won’t you tell me what’s the matter?”

Isis sighed. “The doctor said. It was just a bit of heatstroke.”

“I don’t mean that,” said Cally. “You’re so distant… You’ve changed so much recently.” Her eyes glistened, tearful, and her voice was croaky. “You were always the one I could rely on, Isis. When I was on the edge, it was having you that kept me sane. You do know that, don’t you?”

Isis nodded, her throat felt full and fat.

Cally brushed her hair back from her face. “So why are you… like this? Are you angry about something? Or scared? I can’t help you, if you won’t tell me what it is.”

A bird flew over their heads, wings swishing in the air. If Gray had been here, he could’ve told them what kind it was. Isis didn’t have a clue, but she still felt the ache of feathers she didn’t have. She wanted to leap upwards, and join it in flight.

She shook her head a little, trying to clear her thoughts.

“Oh, Isis,” said Cally. “Please.”

And suddenly she wanted to tell her. Like on telly, when girls tell their mums their problems. The words were on her tongue, she was already speaking them in her mind. The ghosts, the night in the field, the creature in the mall, Angel…

Her heart went still. Not Angel. Telling about Angel would smash the bit of happiness they’d reached these last months, and if she left out the little ghost, how could she tell the rest?

Cally sighed. “Do you know what Grandma Janet thinks? She told me you’re turning into a teenager, and I should expect you to be horrible for the next five years.”

Isis laughed. “That sounds like Grandma.”

Cally answered with a small, hesitant smile.

“I’m fine, Cally,” said Isis. “Really I am.”

Cally’s smile pinched off. “When did you stop calling me Mum?”

Isis shrugged, it had been years ago.

“I know how hard it’s been for you,” said Cally. “Losing Angel, and then your dad. And I know I wasn’t… the best mum, for a long time.” She put her hand out, touching Isis’s cheek. “But things are better now, aren’t they? I’ve got Gil, and the Welkin Society. I’m so much stronger. I think… Maybe it’s my turn to help you?”

Isis tried to smile, but it turned into tears. Everything that had happened, all the secrets she was keeping, they were bursting to get out. She couldn’t hold them; she was going to burst into crumbled pieces like the fallen tree.

Just a part of it, that’s all I’ll tell.

“Something did happen,” she said, more quietly than the rustling leaves. “That night when we went chasing UFOs, with Gil and Gray.”

Wings fluttered at her back, her bones were light as air. She looked down at the strange, lumpy shapes of her body. Her wrong body, which wouldn’t fly.

Cally stared at her, then gasped.

“Oh, God!” she cried, pulling Isis into a tight, crushing hug. She whispered in her ear. “Did Gray… did he try and
touch
you?”

Caught in a dark curtain of hair, it took Isis a moment to realise what Cally meant.

“No!”
Isis pushed out of the hug, shaking her head. “It was nothing like
that
.”

Cally rubbed a hand across her eyes. “Thank goodness. For a moment I thought…”

And Isis plunged in. “It was the lights,” she said, watching Cally’s face, trying to gauge her reaction.

“The lights in the sky?”

Isis nodded. “When I watched them, I saw them turn into birds. And I felt like… I had wings, and I was flying.” She swallowed. “It wasn’t a dream. It was as real as this.”

Cally frowned. “And that’s why you’ve been out of sorts?”

“I can’t get it out of my head.” It was a bit of truth, enough maybe.

Cally’s frown slowly turned into a delighted smile.

“Isis!” she cried, “Why didn’t you tell me before? Don’t you see? This isn’t bad, it’s wonderful! You’ve inherited my gift! I’m sure you were frightened, but it was only the spirits speaking to you. I said it to Gil, didn’t I? There was spiritual energy all around the UFO!” She reached out, taking Isis’s hands. “It’s very unsettling, the first time they communicate, but you’ll get used to it.”

Isis opened her mouth, then shut it again. Cally didn’t understand her better now – if anything, it was worse. And how could she put her right without telling a whole lot more? Things she
couldn’t
tell.

Cally laughed, hugging Isis.

“I’m so happy, Isis! And this makes today even more important!” She let go, keeping hold of Isis’s hand, her smile as bright as the sunshine. “Come on, we’re nearly there.”
Another clearing, but larger this time and lawned with fine grass. A purposeful space, not just an opening in the trees. Tended by a warden who came each spring to mow back any encroaching gorse and bracken, and in the centre, a standing stone. Iron-grey, dappled with lichen, and shaped roughly like a pointed leaf. Around it was a low fence, with a small sign reading
T
HE
D
EVIL’S
S
PEARHEAD
.

“This is it,” Cally said quietly.

Isis’s chest was tight, as if a hand had closed around it.

A standing stone in the woods, half an hour’s drive away from Wycombe.

“Is this where…?”

Cally’s mouth was a flat line, her cheeks pale in the sunlight. She looked as squeezed as Isis felt.

“It’s where we were going, the day that Angel… died.” Cally took a deep breath. “But I brought us in by another way. I couldn’t bear to take the main path, or drive along that road again.”

Isis stared round. “Why did you want to come
here?
”

In answer, Philip Syndal walked into the clearing from a path on the other side of the standing stone. He was
pink-faced
and sweat-glistened, wearing shorts that revealed his hairy, fat-calved legs. He looked like somebody’s uncle,
innocently out for a ramble, but the hand tightened its grip on Isis’s heart. Why was he here? Was the shadow still inside him, a darkness waiting to pour out?

“Cally, Isis,” he said genially, “so good to see you.” His habitual smile faded a little as he got closer. “Is everything all right?” he asked Isis. “Has your mother explained why I asked you here?”

“I didn’t know if it would be right to,” answered Cally, awkward and guilty.

Philip’s smile returned. “It was my suggestion we meet at this place. It’s important we work somewhere with resonance. Somewhere strongly linked to your troubles.”

“What work?” asked Isis, fear building inside her.

“Phil’s very kindly offered to cleanse your aura,” said Cally.

“My aura?”

Cally nodded. “You know, darling, the field of psychic energy around your body. Phil can see its colour, he can clean it up.”

Isis stared at them. Was this a joke?

“I’ll clear away the darkness, the stains of sorrow and trouble,” said Philip. “You’ll forget all your unhappiness.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to do it.”

Philip reached out to her. “Your mother told me how unhappy you are. She thinks you’re suffering from delayed trauma about your sister.”

The word on his lips held strange echoes. Isis backed away.

“It’s got nothing to do with her,” she said.

Cally caught her hand. “I talked with Phil, and he explained it so clearly.
Everything
for us is about Angel.” Her voice was quiet, trembling. “What happened to her changed us both so much.”

If only Cally knew! But Isis couldn’t tell her, not with him here.

“Please,” said Cally, “I just want us to be happy again. We’ve been through so much, and now we can be better. Phil can work on our auras, right here in the sunshine.”

Isis shook her head again, looking around for escape. But there was only the path, and it wouldn’t take her anywhere; at the other end was a just small car park in the middle of fields.

“I don’t want to,” she repeated.

“I promise, it won’t do her anything but good,” said Philip, looking at Cally, who nodded. The two adults agreed between themselves, ignoring Isis.

Philip sat down on the ground, crossing his legs. They squeezed out of his shorts, the colour of uncooked pastry.

“My spirit guide wants to help you,” he said, looking up at Isis. “Why not think of it as a spring clean for your soul?” He patted the grass. “Please, sit down.”

Cally immediately knelt down on the grass next to him.

“I’ve worked on auras hundreds of times,” said Philip, “and people always tell me they feel better afterwards.”

Now Cally grabbed Isis’s hand and pulled her down. The grass was soft as lace.

Surely someone else would come into the clearing? A sightseer or dog walker, interrupting them and bringing this all to an end.

But no one did.

Cally took Isis’s hand and put it into Philip’s. His grip was fleshy, warm and as tight as a manacle.

“Now,” he said, “we’re here today, in this special place, to find healing for you both.” His voice oozed with calmness. “Your auras have been clouded by sad events, but with help from the spirits, we can clear away the darkness and send you forth refreshed and sparkling.”

Isis studied the top of his head, watching for anything spilling in or out, but there was nothing apart from his
shiny-bald skin under thinning hair. Did he even know what was hidden inside him? The woman at the theatre had no idea about Mandeville’s possession of her.

Philip turned to Cally, without letting go of Isis’s hand. “Cally, can you use the meditation technique we’ve been practising at meetings?”

Cally nodded and gazed upwards, her eyes unfocused, breathing deeply through her nose.

“Shut your eyes,” Philip said to her, “and find your third eye.”

“Her what?” asked Isis.

“It’s my psychic portal,” said Cally, her voice low and sleepy. “It connects me with the spirit world.”

“That’s right,” said Philip, soothingly. “And now you’re drifting out through your portal, into communion with the spirits. Isn’t it beautiful? Too beautiful to see or hear anything else.”

Philip started to hum tunelessly, first whining the sound though his nose, then dropping into a beelike rumble. Even as she tried to stay alert, Isis began to feel sleepy, while Cally’s breathing grew even slower and deeper. After a little while Cally began to snore gently.