Tamsyn Murray-Afterlife 01 My So-Called Afterlife (9 page)

‘Lucy?’ Jeremy’s voice was gentle once we were alone in the toilets. ‘Was any of that helpful?’

Wordlessly, I shrugged. Helpful wasn’t the phrase I would have chosen. It felt more like the cuts inflicted by the knife had been torn open again.

A concerned frown wrinkled his forehead. ‘OK. I think it’s safe to say we’re dealing with the same person. I’ll see what else I can find out.’

I couldn’t answer. Jeremy was doing this for me, but he didn’t have to face the memories I did. My eyes skittered away from him as I struggled for calm. It was no use. The walls of the toilet seemed oppressive and too close. In my mind, I could see the pool of blood which had seeped from my wounds as my vision dimmed and I sobbed my last few breaths on the floor by the cubicles. Suddenly, I couldn’t bear to be down there any more.

‘I have to get out of here.’ I stumbled towards the stairs.

‘Where are you going?’ Jeremy started to follow me, then stopped.

I couldn’t answer. All I knew was that I needed to be out in the sunlight. I couldn’t hide away underground any longer.

No prizes for guessing that I went to find Ryan. He was at the Dearly D, chatting to Bob, who’d been a Tom Jones impersonator at a nearby pub until his untimely death from a heart attack. Even the sight of his orange tan and big hair couldn’t raise a smile from me. Ryan must have read in my face that something was wrong. He said goodbye to Bob and came over to where I waited. Stumbling a little over the words, I explained what had happened. He didn’t hassle me for details.

‘What you need is something to take your mind off things. Come on, there’s something I’ve wanted to check out for ages.’

We made our way to Camden Town and wandered along the side streets, talking about the silliest things we
could think of. He described the braces he’d worn until a few weeks before the crash, I told him about the time I’d managed to fall off my horse in slow motion during a riding lesson, finishing up in an undignified heap in front of the instructor. By the time we got to our destination, the memory of meeting Sarah had faded.

‘I still can’t believe you’ve brought me to the zoo,’ I said as we slid through the ticket barriers. ‘I haven’t been here for years.’

Ryan smiled. ‘I used to love seeing all the animals. Most of all, I wanted to get up close and personal with them, but there were always barriers in the way.’

I caught on. ‘So you’re planning on doing it now?’ Thinking back to the way Lucifer had reacted, I wasn’t sure it was a good idea. A freaked-out domestic cat was one thing – but a lion or tiger? Things could get very messy.

‘I promise not to scare them. Let’s go and try the meerkats first.’

The animals adapted to our presence better than I expected. Some of them were more relaxed than others. We didn’t stay long in the big cat enclosure because they were clearly disturbed, but the otters didn’t flicker an eyelid and the meerkats were great, popping up and down in a flurry of activity to see if we were still there. My favourite place was Moonlight World, a dimly lit series of underground rooms containing all kinds of nocturnal animals. The bats were fascinated by us, which I couldn’t work out.

‘Aren’t they blind?’ I asked as a large bat unhooked itself from a branch and swooped around me in a circle.

Ryan held up a hand, frowning in concentration to make his skin solidify. The bat landed on his outstretched fingers. ‘No, that’s a myth. These are fruit bats, and have good eyesight, but they use sound waves to travel in the dark. I’d say they have more idea than most animals that we’re here.’

I watched the bat take off. ‘How come you know so much about them?’

‘I was going to be a vet. I suppose that’s why I feel so comfortable here.’

I’d had no idea what job I wanted to do when I finished school, beyond the usual daydreams of marrying a super-rich celeb, which was looking unlikely now, and living a jet-set lifestyle. Art had been my favourite subject but, as the school careers advisor had pointed out, it wasn’t a proper career.

It was nearly closing time and there were only a handful of people around. We could have stayed but it didn’t seem right somehow, so we made our way out of the bats’ glassfronted enclosure and headed towards the exit. As we neared the heavy black doors, Ryan stopped.

‘Lucy, wait. There’s something else I want to try before we go.’

I paused, throwing him a questioning look. He beckoned me into a dark corner.

‘I really like you, Lucy.’

Zoing!
went my stomach, doing its weird somersault
thing again. It was turning into a regular event where Ryan was concerned. ‘I . . . er . . . like you too.’

He licked his lips nervously. ‘Good. That’s good, because what I was wondering was – if you wanted to – maybe we could try . . . kissing?’ His wide eyes found mine. ‘But if you don’t want to it’s fine.’

My breath came in shallow gulps. ‘OK.’

His face lit up. ‘Really?’

I nodded. ‘Have you done it before? As a ghost, I mean.’

‘No. Have you?’

Oh yeah, I’d made a habit of jumping other ghosts in the months I’d been dead. I didn’t say that, though. Instead, I thought back to my last snog attempt, with Dean Watson at the Year Ten Christmas party. It had been wet, mostly, and Pringles-flavoured but deliciously tingly at the same time. ‘Do you think it’ll feel the same?’

‘Because we’re ghosts, you mean?’

‘Yeah.’ I smiled wistfully. ‘I can’t help wishing we’d known each other when we were alive. I know we can still touch each other, but it doesn’t feel like it did before I died. Do you know what I mean?’

‘Yeah.’ He thought for a moment. ‘Maybe there’s a way to make it feel the same.’

He held up a finger and made it solid. I caught on and raised my own finger to touch it. For the briefest second my skin tingled, as though we’d really connected, instead of the shadowy touch I usually felt. I blinked unsteadily and lowered my hand.

‘Almost.’ I swallowed, nervousness and happiness battling to make themselves felt. ‘It’s almost like being alive.’

Ryan’s eyes were steady on mine. ‘This is going to work,’ he whispered. ‘Ready?’

I nodded and closed my eyes. Pouring all my concentration into making my lips real, I tried not to let my nerves put me off. It wasn’t easy. Usually I summoned up some anger to help me make contact with the real world, but anger wasn’t one of the emotions swirling inside me now. But passion was – maybe I could use that. I seized on the feeling and felt my lips change. Millimetres away, I could feel Ryan doing the same. Slowly, I leaned towards him until my mouth brushed his. I pressed gently into him, parting my lips and then – oh bliss of all bliss – we were kissing! I was actually snogging the delicious Ryan, just like we would have done if fate had been kinder.

Seconds later, we broke apart, panting with the effort of taking solid form even for such a short period of time. When we’d got our breath back, Ryan was grinning. ‘That was amazing.’

I couldn’t help it. A matching smile broke out on my own face. ‘Yeah, it wasn’t bad. We could do it again sometime, if you like.’

He reached down and took my hand. ‘I might just take you up on that offer, Lucy Shaw.’

We let the evening rush die down before heading home. I knew something was wrong the instant we turned into
Carnaby Street. Around the top of the stairs to my toilets hung a cluster of interested onlookers and several television cameras appeared to be pointing towards the entrance. An uneasy frown creased my forehead. It didn’t take a boffin to work out something weird was going on. The question was what.

‘I don’t like this. Let’s take a closer look,’ I said.

We edged nearer. Halfway down the stairs stood a woman with a clipboard. She was arguing with a man in a dark suit.

‘Look, this toilet is a site of suspected paranormal activity and I intend to catch it on film.’

‘As a council employee, I can assure you, madam, that the only thing you’ll catch on camera here is members of the public using the facilities and they won’t be very happy about you filming them.’

‘
The Ghost’s the Host
is a very well-respected scientific television programme. We’re not a peep show.’

The man folded his arms, jerking his head towards the film crew. ‘I don’t care. There’s no way I’m letting you in with that lot. Apart from anything else, it’s more than my job is worth.’

The argument went on for several minutes before the woman gave up and stamped back up to ground level. My eyes followed her as she crossed to the cameras, and I caught a glimpse of magenta hair. I scowled. It could only be Elvira.

‘That woman is turning into a major pain in the arse,’ I
complained, pointing her out to Ryan. ‘I don’t fancy hanging around here while they sort this out. Let’s go and find Jeremy. If he’s not at work yet he soon will be.’

Jeremy took the news grimly. ‘
The Ghost’s the Host
is the show that filmed here. They didn’t find any evidence of ghosts, but you’d never know that from the show they churned out.’

‘It doesn’t surprise me,’ I said. ‘From what I saw of it when I was alive, the whole programme was pretty pathetic.’

He threw a glum look around the lighting box. ‘There’s no way they’ll get permission to film in your toilet, but it’s going to cause us problems. I don’t think it’s a good idea to go back there tonight.’

I stared at the floor glumly. ‘Where am I supposed to go? I can’t stay away too long – I’m not risking getting dragged back there.’

‘You’ll be OK for a while yet,’ Ryan said. ‘I’ve known experienced ghosts stay away from their haunting zone for anything up to a day. It wore them out, though.’

Alarm shot through me. The last thing I needed was another side effect to leaving the toilet. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean that staying away for that long is tiring. You’d need to recharge your batteries there before you could leave again, but it doesn’t mean you can’t keep clear most of the time.’

Sniffing, I folded my arms. ‘Even if you’re right, I still don’t have anywhere else to go. No offence, but I don’t want to hang around your subway all night.’

‘Can’t you stay at Hep’s?’ Jeremy suggested.

I gave it some thought. ‘I don’t know. She’s a bit edgy these days. I think she’s depressed – even more than usual.’

He was silent for a moment. ‘I suppose you could sleep at my flat.’

I looked at Jeremy in surprise. He’d never spoken much about where he lived. ‘Have you got a plasma screen? And MTV?’

Ryan grinned. ‘Way to get those priorities right, Lucy.’

Fixing me with a level look, Jeremy said, ‘No, and it’s probably a good thing or you’d take up residence in my living room.’ He heaved a sigh. ‘Go and find something to do for a few hours. When I’m done here, I’ll take you home with me.’

I tried not to show it, but I was genuinely excited. I didn’t imagine for one minute that Jeremy’s flat was a palace, but it would have sofas and a television and the floor wouldn’t be swimming in pee. At least I hoped it wouldn’t. I might even be able to convince myself I could feel the softness of the carpet under my feet. Elvira had set out to trap me, but she’d ended up doing me a favour. Maybe I’d even catch up with the latest happenings in Albert Square. A tiny grin crossed my face. Even if I couldn’t be there all the time, I was looking forward to the first of many cosy evenings over at Jeremy’s.

I’m not superstitious. I don’t have a problem with black cats (unless their name is Lucifer) or an irrational fear of ladders, but for some reason it bothered me that Jeremy’s flat was number thirteen.

‘Didn’t you think about it before you moved in?’ I asked him as he held open the door.

‘I can’t say I gave it much thought, and I haven’t been especially unlucky.’ He shut the door behind me. ‘Apart from meeting you, obviously.’

‘Charming.’

My sarcasm was half-hearted. I was much more interested in nosing around Jeremy’s flat. It was surprisingly stylish. No dated carpets and flowery wallpaper for this boy – the floors had been stripped back to the original wooden
boards and the walls were pale. Best of all, fastened to a wall in the living room was a large flat-screen television. With a burst of concentration I snatched up the remote and sank into the leather sofa with a blissed-out expression on my face.

‘Ooh,
Friends
repeat! Why didn’t we think of doing this before?’

Jeremy poked his head around the door. ‘Because I like having some kind of control over my life? We need to work some house rules, Lucy.’

Eyes glued to the screen, I nodded absently. ‘OK.’

‘No all-night TV fests.’

Boring, but I supposed he had a point. Given the amount of catching up I had to do, twenty-four seven television was on the cards, but he had to sleep sometime. ‘Go on.’

‘No walking through walls. Use the doors and never walk into a room without letting me know you’re coming.’

I dragged my gaze away from the screen. ‘Are you worried I’ll catch you getting dressed? Don’t worry, I’ve seen it all before. I have a little brother, remember? But if it really worries you, I could sing cheesy pop constantly. Then you’ll always know where I am.’

‘I’ve heard your voice. A simple call when you’re coming in will do.’

‘Fine. Anything else?’

He shook his head. ‘That’ll do for starters. I’m beginning to worry about this boy band fixation you have.’

Shuddering dramatically, I said, ‘Pray to any God who’ll
listen that you never find out the truth.’ Firing a stern look his way, I went on, ‘Anyway, you’re a fine one to talk about musical taste. Is that a Barbra Streisand CD I see over there?’

A tinge of red crept into his cheeks. ‘It’s not mine.’

Pull the other one, mate. ‘Of course it is. Are you sure you’re not gay?’

‘Positive. But if I change my mind, you’ll be the first to know.’

With that, he took himself off to bed. I settled down on the sofa with my new friend, the remote control. Once again, I thanked my lucky stars Hep had shown me how to handle physical objects. Back-to back-episodes of every TV show I used to love? It wasn’t heaven but, short of kissing Ryan, it was as close as I got.