Angel Kiss (14 page)

‘Here.’ Ger gave me a tissue and I wiped my eyes.

‘Are you … are you, like … talking to my dad?’

‘We were only able to communicate for a few seconds. He’s moved on, you see. He’s at peace. Not like the spirit who’s been trying to get in touch with you. She’s not at peace. She needs your help to move on.’

I was so glad to hear that my dad’s spirit was at peace, but disappointed that Ger couldn’t talk to him for longer. I couldn’t explain how he knew about the socks without accepting that what he was saying was true. Something or someone was trying to contact me. From the other side. I had no idea why they’d chosen me. I was a fifteen-year-old sceptic. Maybe Ger would know why.

‘But why me?’ I asked. ‘Why is she contacting me? I’ve just moved here.’

‘There must be a reason why she chose you,’ said Ger. ‘I’m not getting very many details about her … but I do think she had a violent death.’

‘Was she … murdered?’ I whispered.

‘Perhaps.’ Ger’s voice was gentle. ‘Jacki, some people are more in touch with the other side. I am, and so are you. She is contacting you through your dreams, and in other ways.’

I looked down at my bruised arm.

‘Why would she … why would she do this to me?’

‘She wanted to get your attention.’

‘What’s her name?’ I asked, even though by now I had an idea what the answer might be.

‘Jane.’

This name took me completely by surprise. I’d been expecting something else.

Ger saw my surprise. ‘Does that mean anything to you?’

‘Not at all. I thought it might have been a girl who was killed near my home … Beth Cullen. What … what does Jane want from me?’

‘You have to figure that out on your own, I’m afraid. She chose you, not me.’

I guess it felt kind of an honour to be chosen, but at the same time I had no idea what on earth I could do. I wished she could find a less scary way to ask for help.

‘How can I help her if I don’t know what she wants?’

‘You haven’t been listening to her messages. Until today you didn’t even think something like this was possible. You have to start listening. There must be links between the dreams you are having, the places you saw her.’

‘If I listen, if I find out … will she go away?’

‘Once this spirit gets help she’ll move on. But …’ Ger let his sentence trail off, and avoided looking at me. This worried me a bit.

‘But what?’ I said.

‘Well … I wouldn’t be surprised if something like this happens again in the future. It seems that a unique path has been chosen for you.’

I sighed as I imagined a lifetime of headaches and visions and nightmares.

‘You can’t ignore this any more. It’s like driving along a road and completely disregarding the markings … eventually you’re going to get hurt.’

More hurt than I already was? I could take the headaches and the nightmares, but last night had been unbearable. I didn’t want to go through something like that again. Was Ger saying I had no choice? That I’d been chosen to do something, and that I had to accept whatever consequences came with it?

‘What if I can’t work it out?’ I said. Just because I was prepared to accept that a spirit was contacting me, didn’t mean I would suddenly get any better at figuring out what she wanted.

‘You will. I know you will.’

Ger stood up and walked over to the bookshelf. He took down a small black book and handed it to me.
MASTERING PSYCHIC PROTECTION
was printed on the cover in tiny gold letters.

‘I think you should read this,’ he said.

‘Is this to protect against the spirits?’

‘Yes, but it will also help you learn how to defend yourself from people on this side. Here, the demand for the truth never quite matches up to the supply. Some spirits want to get their
message across, but often there are people who don’t want that message revealed.’

I took the book from him.

‘You can choose to block this out, Jacki, choose to ignore it as you have been doing, but you do so at your own risk. If you don’t start accepting who you are now, your health will just continue to get worse.’

Even though it was hard to believe, I was feeling better already.

‘Thanks. I’m sorry for, well, you know … for being so rude earlier,’ I said.

‘It’s fine,’ he said. ‘I understand. I’m not interested in trying to convert sceptics. People can believe whatever they want. And people can deny this stuff all they like … But as you know, when it’s staring you in the face, it’s very hard to get away from it.’

I felt guilty. Jane had been staring me straight in the face and I had explained her away. I tried to remember her features, but they were just a blur. Ger handed me another tissue and I wiped my face again. I’d been in such a rush that I’d forgotten to put on make-up and now must have looked a state, my bare face all red and puffy. The relief I felt meant that the tears just kept coming. I hardly ever cried; this was really not like me.

‘How did you find out you had this ability?’ I asked, trying to divert attention away from me as I pulled myself together.

‘I sort of always knew I could do it. I just wasn’t able to accept it. Or, rather, wasn’t
willing
to accept it. It’s not an easy thing to do, to acknowledge that you’re different. I ignored it for years. I was very sick, in and out of hospital all the time. I’d been to see different doctors, but none of them seemed to
be able to diagnose my condition. It baffled them. I went to a specialist in Dublin, and he said, “I think we both know what’s wrong. You have a gift, and you’re not using it.” The specialist’s grandfather was a healer too. He told me that the kind of healing I do can be traced right back to ancient Ireland. He gave me his grandfather’s number, and it took off from there. I haven’t been back to hospital since.’

‘So what am I? I’m not a healer.’

‘No. But you do have the ability to connect with spirits. You can be whatever you want to be, just as long as you remember to use your gift. You don’t want to suppress it. You don’t want to end up like I did.’

‘Can you talk to my dad again?’

‘I’m afraid not. I think your dad must have been worried about you. Maybe he needed you to believe what was going on. Communicating with spirits who are at rest is extremely difficult and can be highly dangerous. It should only be attempted in exceptional circumstances. That’s not to say what you’re about to embark on won’t be dangerous as well.’

My stomach twisted. I wondered what else I’d have to endure.

‘You can talk to people who are in between more easily,’ said Ger. ‘Spirits who haven’t moved on. You can help them. You can help Jane.’

‘How do I help her?’

‘Just listen. Listen to what she has to say.’

I walked back down the mountain in a kind of daze, replaying in my head everything Ger had said. I was grateful to have met him, and felt much better now that I knew there was an explanation. Not knowing had been scary. Last night had been one of the worst nights of my life. I’d been so freaked out – I’d never felt so out of control. But things were a bit better now because I understood what I had to do. In a strange way it was kind of exhilarating knowing I’d been chosen to do this. And having something to focus on distracted from the embarrassment of what had happened with Nick. I was going to help Jane. I was going to find out what had happened to her.

When I got back Mum was standing outside the front door of the house. She was talking to one of the builders, her gestures suggesting that she was unhappy about something. I knew those gestures well. I went inside the caravan and put the little black book that Ger had given me into the shoebox in the suitcase under my bed, right on top of Alf Meehan’s letter. That suitcase was fast becoming a home for my top-secret stash. I wasn’t used to keeping secrets from Mum. It wasn’t like I told her everything, but I never kept anything major from her. I considered
letting her in on my secret, but then decided against it. She had enough to worry about. She didn’t need this too. Once I knew more, I’d tell her what was going on. Or I’d at least try. For now, I thought it was best to say nothing.

Ger had told me to listen. I was used to doing that. I was used to listening to songs, memorizing every word, repeating the particularly beautiful sentences and making note of why they worked so well. But it was hard to listen when you didn’t know what you were supposed to be listening for. The clues were supposedly all around me, but how was I to know exactly where they were? I was too tired to concentrate now. My visit had been so overwhelming that I just wanted to rest for a bit. I thought I’d better say hi to Mum first though.

I tied my hair up in a ponytail and walked across the grass to the house. Mum had finished talking to the builder, and was now sifting through sheets of paper.

‘Hi, Mum,’ I said.

‘Hello, stranger. Where have you been?’ she asked. She seemed kind of flustered, but not at all suspicious.

‘Oh … just around. The house is looking great, isn’t it?’ I stepped inside the hallway. It was starting to look like a home now. The walls were painted and the wooden floors were polished. I walked down the hall into the kitchen. There was so much more space than we’d had in Dublin. And everything was so new. I was beginning to get excited about moving in. The house really was gorgeous.

‘Yes. It’s looking great,’ said Mum. ‘But we have a problem.’

‘What the hell is that smell?’ I scrunched up my face in disgust, noticing it for the first time.

‘That’s the problem,’ she said.

‘What is it? It’s horrible!’ I covered my mouth and nose with my hand.

‘You know how we had to dig up out the back for the new pipes?’ she said, covering her nose too.

‘Yes …’ I vaguely remembered her complaining about it.

‘There was a load of rubbish buried there. It absolutely stinks.’

‘What kind of rubbish?’

‘All sorts of stuff. Looks like Alf just buried his rubbish, rather than putting it in the bin.’

‘Ew. Why would he do that?’

‘No idea. Now we have to dig up the whole back garden and get rid of it. Just when I thought we were getting somewhere, something like this happens. I don’t know if I’ll ever get rid of that smell!’

Mum seemed very upset, and rightly so. I looked out the window.

There was a pile of horrible-looking rubbish: bursting plastic bags, rusting tins, torn packaging …

‘Looks like he buried everything. God only knows what they’re going to find down there.’

I suddenly thought of Jane. Maybe they were going to find a body. Maybe she was buried underneath the ground, having lain there for years. Maybe that’s why she couldn’t move on. I stared at the giant pile of rubbish. It might have polluted the air around it with a horrid stale smell, but potentially it held the answer to my mystery. I was getting ahead of myself though. This was only a wild guess and I felt guilty even thinking Alf was involved in a murder.

I walked towards the rubbish, my eyes searching the rubble.
There were torn black bags and bits of clothing and car tyres all stacked up. I looked to the very top of the pile, where decaying milk cartons and plastic bottles poked out.

‘Jacki, what are you doing?’ said Mum. ‘Is that smell not killing you?’

That’s when I saw them. Two of them. I couldn’t believe it. But I couldn’t investigate now. Mum would wonder what I was doing clawing through the rubbish. I would have to come back later.

The glorious weather continued on into the evening. Mum invited Des over to have dinner with us. I heard her on the phone and knew who she was talking to from her giddy voice. I’d been planning to go over to Colin’s that evening so wasn’t very happy when Mum told me I’d to eat with them. I tried to get out of it, but she insisted I stay there and make an effort to talk to Des. I texted Colin and then lay in a slump on the bed, waiting for the text to deliver.

‘Jacki, will you stop moping around and go down to the shop for me?’ said Mum. ‘We’re out of teabags.’

‘All right,’ I muttered, reaching for my bag, but then stopped abruptly. I couldn’t risk seeing Nick. He probably thought I was completely insane and I wasn’t sure how he might react. I would have to get Colin to scope it out before I went anywhere near him. There was no point in trying to explain everything to Nick, because my honest explanation was so weird.

‘I can’t go down there,’ I said, flopping back on the bed. I knew it would make her mad, but that was the least of my worries.

‘Why not?’ said Mum, turning round.

‘I don’t want to talk about it.’ I avoided her gaze.

‘Fine. You’ll have to watch the dinner then. And don’t ask me for any favours this week.’ She grabbed her purse from the table.

‘But –’

‘End of discussion.’ Mum stormed out and I was left to watch the pasta and prepare the salad. Keeping all these secrets was proving hard work. There was no point in me telling her about Nick though, now that there was nothing to tell.

Des arrived early so I was forced to talk to him. At first it was tedious, but then I decided to be extra nice to him, in the hope of getting back on Mum’s good side. She’d promised to take me shopping that weekend and I didn’t want to mess it up. Once Mum saw that Des and I were getting on she might forget all about our little disagreement.

Des was all right, I suppose. He liked good music like Springsteen and Neil Young, his favourite film was
The Great Escape
and he used to play guitar when he was younger. He didn’t play any more, but he had won an air guitar championship in Galway last year, which I had to admit was kind of cool. Apart from talking about movies and music, we talked about his mum. The fact that he was forty-eight and still living at home puzzled me, but I didn’t pry. Des was besotted with my mum and she seemed to like him a lot. I was still not happy about them being together, but at least after getting to know him a little better the sight of the two of them didn’t make me want to gag.

The evening went well, and thankfully Mum didn’t seem mad at me any more. I offered to do the dishes, just to be extra sure. We went to bed soon after Des left, but Mum was in such
a good mood she kept chatting to me. I was a bit distracted by what I was planning to do, but I had to wait until Mum was asleep.