Veiled Dreams Chapter Two

 

Chapter Two

 

Jan

 

There was no one in front of him as he raced across the long dyke. It was already light. The water on his left was tepid and lifeless. Even at this hour, the heat was draining the country of energy, but the speed of the bike gave him a welcome breeze. He was probably going faster than he should have, but he didn’t care now. For once, the bikers’ meet had been a bore. He had to go, even though he hadn’t wanted to this time. After all, he was their chairman, and the Baeyk Motel only allowed them all there if he was present. He could never work out why they thought he was a good influence. Perhaps it was just because he didn’t drink heavily.

He sped up a notch. He could think of nothing but her, probably still sleeping now. It was the school holidays and she’d asked to go with him, but he couldn’t take her. She wouldn’t be allowed in the bars and he couldn’t leave her alone in the motel. That would have been terrible for her. Besides, he’d set off during school time. No way would her parents have let her go. Maybe next year, when she was older, when they knew him better, and they were sure the epilepsy was under control.

He was soon on the outskirts of the city. It was beginning to wake up. Front doors opened and the traffic was building. There would surely be a flower seller open somewhere? He’d go straight to her, only stopping to buy the biggest bunch of flowers he had the money for, leaving just enough to buy breakfast. Best not even go home and shower first, which would show her that he’d come straight round there.

The traffic slowed him down. There was a storm going on inside him. Six months now they’d been together, and his stomach still churned before he went to meet her. The thought of seeing her still edged his days with gold. He stopped at the traffic lights, revving the bike, but it didn’t make him feel any better.

The lights changed to green. He swung round the corner, off the wide boulevard and into the main shopping street near where she lived. It was a good job the other traffic was slow, or he would have been speeding for sure. There were speed cameras everywhere. It was just like being with her. He had to be careful all the time. She was underage, after all. She often teased him, about being old-fashioned. Sometimes, she said he didn’t care — didn’t find her attractive. If only she knew what he really thought. But he wouldn’t rush and spoil anything, not for the world. This girl was important. More important than any other girl he had been with.

He inched forward to the next set of lights, where he needed to turn right into her street. Good. The flower seller was already there and opening up his booth. Jan parked the bike.

‘What can you do for thirty euros?’ he asked. ‘With plenty of colour in it?’

‘What about five of these,’ said the vendor, beginning to take some huge yellow lilies out of a bucket. ‘And six of those?’ he suggested, pointing to some equally big fiery red flowers, which looked a bit like dragons heads with tongues sticking out.

Jan nodded. They were exactly right. They reminded him of Christina, dramatic, colourful and beautiful, and a little bit angry.

He watched impatiently as the merchant spent what seemed like hours, putting the flowers together. He worked carefully, adding in a few bits of green and one or two smaller blue colours. Finally, he added the little packet of the magic formula, which helped to keep the flowers fresh, and then skilfully wrapped the whole bouquet in cellophane in such a way that the flowers were protected without being squashed.

‘There you are, sir,’ said the merchant, handing the bouquet over. ‘Make sure she puts them in water straight away, and remind her to cut two centimetres off the stems first, and not to forget to put the powder into the water.’ He tapped the side of his nose and winked at Jan. ‘I hope they have the desired effect.’

Jan stowed the flowers carefully into the little space he had left in the luggage compartment of his bike, and turned down into Christina’s street. He felt slightly sick, and his pulse was beginning to race. Sometimes, he thought he could do without this relationship — always the tension. He was always worrying what she might think and trying to guess whether she felt the same about him. But, no, he couldn’t give her up. It just made so much difference to him. Life was grand, because Christina existed.

Five minutes later he was outside her apartment block, the bike parked again. Breathing in and out slowly several times, he rang the bell. There was no reply for a while. That was something, he supposed. It meant that her parents were already out at work, so at least he wouldn’t have to see them. Then the waiting became too much. He lifted his hand to ring the bell again, but just as he was about to press it, the buzzer sounded. His heart missed a beat.

‘Hello, who’s there?’ said a sleepy voice. Something sank inside Jan. It was Paul, her brother. Yet it was almost a relief.

‘Hi, it’s me. Jan de Vries,’ replied Jan.

‘You’d better come on in,’ replied Paul, now slightly less sleepily. ‘She’s not up yet. I’ll go and wake her.’

The buzzer sounded again, and the front door swung open. Paul was standing in the hallway in his dressing gown.

‘Go on in,’ he said. ‘I’ll go and get her up. Would you like a coffee?’

‘It’s okay, thanks,’ replied Jan. ‘I thought I’d take her out to breakfast.’

Paul wandered off towards Christina’s bedroom. Jan sat in the lounge nursing the flowers. He was grimy and sticky from the journey anyway. The lounge was impeccable — nothing out a place and not a speck of dust anywhere. He was a complete misfit. But hopefully, she would be glad to see him, and the little argument they’d had just before he’d left would be completely forgotten. He hoped she’d love the flowers, and going out to breakfast, and perhaps now gradually, her parents would start to accept him. He even thought of getting his hair cut, but she’d told him so often how much she loved his long blonde hair. Soon she would be older. They would be able to take things further, and she’d be able to come on more of the biker trips with him. He’d even be willing to give up that for her, but that was another of the things she said she liked about him. If he became too much Mr Sensible, she’d go off him. He even worried sometimes that she didn’t quite approve of the fact that he didn’t smoke, drink or do drugs. Well, not much, anyway.

What were they doing? He hoped she wasn’t unwell. Then he heard the raised voices.

Christina’s voice was hard to hear. But he could make out ‘ever — again — have gone — flowers where the sun…’

‘Oh come, on,’ he heard Paul say. ‘He’s waiting out there with a great big bunch of flowers. Come and sort it out, won’t you?’

A door slammed. Paul reappeared in the lounge.

‘She won’t speak to you,’ he said.

‘Oh well,’ said Jan getting up. What else could he do? He was sorry about going to the meet, but well, if he was going to carry on being a biker, he’d had to go. And she wanted him to be a biker.

‘Look, Jan,’ said Paul. ‘I can’t make her come out. You’ll have to try again later.’

‘I’ll leave the flowers, then,’ said Jan.

A door suddenly opened. Christina rushed into the lounge. Her green eyes were flashing, her thick dark curls were mussed from sleep. Still, something leapt up in him as he saw her.

‘You can keep your bloody flowers,’ she said. ‘Don’t come near me again. If you can’t put me first, it’s all off.’

She rushed back to her room. Paul shrugged his shoulders. Jan could do nothing but leave. The lump in his throat was so huge he couldn’t swallow — could hardly breathe. He couldn’t lose her, he just couldn’t.

Mrs Van Bredow, the Grants’ next-door neighbour was just coming in. She was a little woman, with dark and wrinkled skin, who shuffled everywhere with the aid of a walking stick. It was arthritis, she’d explained to him one day as she watched him mending his bike outside the apartment.

‘Oh, what lovely flowers,’ she exclaimed and beamed at Jan. ‘For Christina?’

Jan managed to nod.

‘Oh, there’s no one in?’ she asked. ‘I’ll take them, if you like, and see that she gets them.’

Jan didn’t speak.

A slight cloud passed over the old lady’s face.

‘Oh, she didn’t want them?’ she said.

‘No,’ said Jan, suddenly finding his voice. ‘You may as well keep them, Mrs Van Bredow. Enjoy!’

He thrust the bouquet into her arms, and went to leave. Mrs Van Bredow grabbed his arm, quite strongly, Jan thought, for someone in so much pain. She looked him straight in the eyes and Jan felt as if she was trying to tell him something.

‘Don’t give up on her, don’t give up.’

She let herself into the apartment, still clutching the flowers.

The day had lost its colour. The heat and the traffic were just a nuisance. Despite the bright sun, everything seemed grey. He wanted to get back now to his apartment and have a shower and then just sleep, try to forget, and then perhaps when he’d had a good rest, he could think what to do to make her come round.

But there was another problem waiting for him sitting on the doorstep to the tall old canal-side house his apartment was in. Susanne Richards. Her parents rented the two floors below him and she was at school with Christina. She was always hanging around.

‘Not seeing Christina, today, then?’ she asked. ‘I’d have thought you would have been gagging for it, after being away for all that time. I know, I bet she’s sent you back home to have a shower first. Little miss high and mighty.’

‘I’m too tired for this,’ said Jan. ‘Could you move, so I can get in?’

‘Have you two fallen out?’ asked Susanne, grinning.

‘No…not really,’ muttered Jan. What business was it of hers? ‘No we haven’t. Not at all.’ He wished she would just go away.

She grinned at him again. But at least she moved a little over to the side and he was able to struggle past her with his luggage.

He dumped everything in the hall and went straight to the shower. The hot water and the shower-gel felt good. When he had finished, he didn’t bother getting dressed, but just stretched out on top of the bed. His bedroom was in the shade now, and with the window just a little open, the room was beautifully cool. Seconds later, he was fast asleep.

When he awoke after two hours, he felt much better. He was no longer tired and he knew exactly what he was going to do about Christina. He was not going to let her go that easily. He tried ringing the landline, and then her mobile. Nothing. Perhaps she was still asleep. Or maybe she’d gone out. Well, he would just go and wait for her.

Susanne was still sitting on the step when he got outside.

‘You going to take me for a ride on your bike, then?’ she asked looking up at him with one eye shut against the sun. ‘Now that you haven’t got to worry about making old green eyes jealous?’

‘Don’t talk to me about Christina’s eyes,’ he said. They’re the most beautiful eyes in the world, he thought.

‘Do you and her actually — you know — do it?’ she asked.

The cheek of her. ‘None of your business,’ he replied.

‘I bet she won’t let you!’ said Susanne. ‘I bet she gets you panting for it. But oh, no, Mummy’s little girl wouldn’t do anything disgusting — like sleep with a man — not until she’s old enough.’

Susanne stood up and sidled over to Jan. She put her arms round him. Jan gently but firmly pushed her away.

‘No, you ought to go with me,’ she said. ‘I’m not such a prude.’ She gave him another of her crooked little smiles.

‘Can you let me through?’ said Jan. ‘I’ve got things to do.’

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said Susanne. ‘I will if you make it worth my while.’ She undid the top of her shirt to reveal quite a bit of cleavage. She grabbed Jan’s hand and held it over her chest.

He flinched and pulled his hand back.

‘Anyway, if you don’t, I’ll tell her you’ve been feeling me up,’ said Susanne. ‘Well, you have to admit, your hand was just on my chest.’

‘What do you want?’ he sighed.

‘Sleep with me!’ cried Susanne, her eyes gleaming.

‘No way!’ replied Jan, trying again to push past her. He could get past, if he pushed her hard enough, though he didn’t dare hurt her. Knowing her and her family, that would land him in court.

‘Only kidding!’ said Susanne, laughing. ‘Just give me a lift on your motorbike up to the park. I feel like chilling out by the river all day.’

‘All right,’ said Jan. ‘Are you ready? I want to get going.’

‘I’ll be two minutes.’

He took the spare helmet out ready as she went into the apartment. Ten minutes later, she appeared, dressed in nothing but a bikini, a short skirt, flip-flops and sunglasses. She was carrying a towel, a book and a tube of sun cream.

‘You’ll be cold, like that, on the back of the bike,’ he said.

‘Great!’ said Susanne. ‘It’ll save me getting too worked up, clinging on to you. It’ll stop me getting erotic feelings.’

They climbed on to the bike. He felt slightly nauseated as she put her arms round him. Still, it would only be for ten minutes, then he could drop her off at the entrance to the park and make his way as fast as he could back to Christina.

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Veiled Dreams

 

Chapter One

Christina

For some reason she never did find out, her friends didn’t turn up that night just after Christmas. She waited for them for almost an hour at the outdoor rink. She cursed them for thinking it was too cold. And she cursed the ‘flu’ bug that was doing the rounds.

But I’m here now, she thought, so I might as well get on with it.

Christina pulled on her boots and tightened up the laces. Soon she was whirling round the ice making her skimpy little skirt twirl out prettily. She smiled to herself as she moved. She knew her legs looked good even in these thick granny tights. Those dance skating lessons had certainly been worth it. She had the small rink almost to herself. And, as always, people stopped to watch. Some actually clapped. People came and went. But the group of bikers stayed put.  

‘Pretty, pretty,’ called one of them. ‘Do us a twirl.’ Their English sounded funny. How did they know she was English, though? 

She got hot and breathless and had to stop. Then she began to feel cold.

The hot chocolate stall looked inviting. Her teeth began to chatter as she queued.

‘Wouldn’t you rather have a beer?’ called one of the bikers.

It seemed to take forever to get served.

‘Met slagroom?’ asked the ugly man who was serving.   

Christina nodded. Cream would be nice, but she didn’t know enough yet to ask for marshmallows.    

She drank her chocolate. It was good. It warmed her up.

‘Will you dance with me?’ called one of the bikers.

Will you leave me alone? she thought. She looked at her watch. She’d better get going. It was getting quite near the time she said she should be back. She didn’t want another argument.

As she stepped off the ice, another of the bikers came up to her. He stank of cigarette smoke and beer. He put an arm around her waist. Then his face was leering into hers. He said something in Dutch which she could not understand. Now she wished she’d gone straight home when the others hadn’t shown up. She tried to free herself from him. He said something else. She could smell the beer on his breath even more strongly now.  The others began to cheer and laugh. Her mouth went dry and her heart began to race.

‘Let go!’ she screamed. She looked round frantically for someone to help her.

There was no help. No one seemed to think they were doing any harm.

Out of the corner of her eye she noticed another motor-bike arrive with its tall leather-clad rider. He shouted something to the biker who was drunk. She could understand the Dutch this time.

‘Let her go, idiot!’ he shouted clearly and slowly. He got off his machine. He removed his helmet. Silky blond hair tumbled to his shoulders. The drunkard stepped back. There was a rapid conversation between the tall blond one and the others. The blond one waved them away. They began to move.

A white light pulsated from one of the bars beside the rink. Christina tried to focus on the one who was trying to help her. But the light dazzled her and she had to shut her eyes. Suddenly the world was spinning round and she felt slightly sick. She felt as if she was losing control, as if her brain was seizing up.

Not that. Please not that. Not here. She shouldn’t have looked at that light.

Everything went black. She was trapped in a narrow room and couldn't get out. There was a tight band around her head and she was suffocating. Then nothing at all. But it was a nothingness that seemed to go on for hours.

She didn’t know where she’d been. She never did. 

Now, though, there was a strong smell of leather. The guy with the long blond hair was standing very close to her. She could see the other bikers still hanging around. The biker who had grabbed her was looking worried.

‘How are you, little one?’ asked the tall blond one in Dutch. She could not muster any words together in this language which was still so new for her.

‘I, er , I'm English,’ she stuttered.

The drunken biker wobbled forward. ‘Sorry,.... sorry,’ holding up his hands.

‘Where were you then?’ asked the tall blond biker. ‘You seemed a long way away.’

‘No,’ stammered Christina. She’d just been dazzled by the lights, hadn’t she?

‘You’re all right?’ he said.  

What was he saying? She hadn’t had a fit, had she? Perhaps it had just been a petit mal this time.  

‘You look pale. Do you want me to call someone for you?’

‘No! I’m fine,’ cried Christina. She really felt fine now. And this man was really very interesting. He was gorgeous. She just felt too ill to appreciate him properly. She started to shake.  

‘Oh, dear. You’re shivering. You will catch cold. You must get home. Do you live far?’ The slight Dutch accent was cheerful and friendly and his eyes twinkled.

‘I'll be all right. Honest I will,’ she managed to say.

‘I could give you a lift on my bike.’

‘No better not!’ She thought of all those warnings about not going off with strangers. How her parents didn't like motor-bikes. And then there was the question of whether she could handle anyone as sophisticated as this. He was obviously quite a bit older than her.

‘I don't drink or smoke,’ he said. ‘Or do drugs. And I'm a very safe driver.’

Then he touched her very lightly on the shoulder. He looked straight into her eyes.

Thank goodness it hadn’t been a full blown fit.

‘You shouldn't go home on your own.’

She shrugged.

‘I’m Jan by the way,’ he said.

‘And I’m Christina,’ she replied. 

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Spooking by Gill James

 

Chapter Six

“That’s what they do, you know,” said Marcus. “Pretend it ain’t happened.”

“Why?” asked Tom. “Why do they do that?”

“Shows they care,” said Marcus. “It’s the ones who make a fuss you have to worry about. They’re just enjoying all the drama.”

“I don’t get it,” said Tom.

“Just the first stage of grief,” said Marcus, shrugging. “Denial.”

The train arrived in the station. The people standing on the platform got on and Marcus and Tom floated in behind them. The train was rather crowded, but Amanda did manage to get a seat. It was almost as if people realised that she was a bit delicate today. Tom hung on to one of the grab poles so that he could be near her.

She did look pale, and as the train juddered out of the station, she just stared ahead. So, she was being different today. Normally she would have read her book, or done a bit of writing, or chatted to other people on the train. He wished he could hold her, kiss her, make her feel better.

“You’ve got to make her believe it,” said Marcus.

The train arrived at the next stop. Two young women got on.

“Did you hear about that young man who got killed last night?” asked one.

“The one that went into the river?” asked the other.

“Yeah. Terrible wasn’t it?”  

“Do something to make them stand near her!” hissed Marcus.

“What, though?” asked Tom.

“Let’s twist ourselves round the poles,” said Marcus. “People will know there’s something there even if they can’t see us.”

Marcus floated over to one of the grab poles and twisted himself round it. He looked like a monkey on a stick. Tom copied him. 

The taller of the two women put her hand on Marcus’ thigh and pulled it away quickly as if she had just touched something very hot. The other one did the same to Tom’s knee. They had to move along until they were standing right by Amanda.

“They say he was going too fast,” said one of the women.

“No, I don’t think so,” said the other. “It was some big car that was out of control. Flipped him round, then he went out of control as well and over the side of the bridge.”

“Oh, my God. I wonder if he tried to get out of the car? It must have been horrible, feeling yourself drown.”

Yeah, it wasn’t very nice, thought Tom.

“Well, they say they reckon it was pretty quick.”

That too.

“That was a blessing then. It’s his parents I feel sorry for. Tragic. Losing a son like that.”

“They say he had a girlfriend as well.”

“Oh my God. The poor love.”

Tom saw Amanda’s face crumple. He rushed over to her, almost knocking one of the women over as he passed.

“God, this train’s jerking about today,” she said trying to regain her balance.

Amanda let out an animal-like noise. She began to shake.

“It would be better if she cried,” said Marcus. “But it’s too early yet, probably. Of course she might be sick over everybody. That would be a laugh.”

Tom went to thump him.

“Don’t look at me,” Marcus warned. “You need to take care of her.”

Tom could see that Amanda was digging her nails into her palms and was biting her lips in between gulping and screeching.

“Oh my God,” said the smaller of the two women. “It’s her. I recognise her from the photo on the telly. They showed them together. They looked a really nice couple. Oh, dear.”

Tom tried to get as close to her as he could, but somehow the women were in the way.

“You won’t be able to do anything,” said Marcus. “She won’t know you’m there, and you can’t touch her. Not that she’d notice anyway. And really, she’s got to go through all of ‘em. All the stages of grief. There ain’t no short cuts.”

“You shouldn’t be going to work,” said the taller women. “I think you ought to get off at the next station and get a taxi home. We’ll come with you if you like. You need a nice cup of tea.”

Amanda nodded. The train stopped again and Tom watched as the two women escorted her off. The scene faded and he and Marcus were back in the Nowhere Place.

Why couldn’t he have done more to help her? Why couldn’t he make her realise that it was all right being dead? And that he was still actually around? Why couldn’t he get through to her? 

“That wasn’t it, then” said Marcus. “You’m still here. I bet you’ve got to go through all seven stages. One down, six to go, then.”

Tom nodded. That would be hard. It would be horrible seeing her so upset. Especially if he went on not being able to help her.

But then he smiled quietly to himself. At least it meant he could spend more time with her.

“Oy, you,” called Marcus. “Don’t you start getting too cosy.”

He played a loud discordant trill on his mouth organ as they floated into the Nowhere Place. 

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Spooking by Gill James

 

Chapter Five

When he woke up, he was in a normal bedroom with yellow flowered wallpaper. Rema and Zeboth were moving round. They were both wearing white tracksuits. Rema was setting out some strange shaped instruments on a table covered by a grey cloth.

“Some intensive physio today,” said Rema. “I’m afraid it’s going to hurt a little. I had been a little too optimistic about your progress.”

“I think I’ve found the problem,” said Zeboth, suddenly looking up form the file he was examining. “Your high emotional sensitivity has always interfered with your physical well-being. It’s the price you pay for being an artist.”

Oh yeah? thought Tom. What was that supposed to mean? Then he remembered the first couple of times he went out with Amanda. He’d been so nervous just before he went to meet her that he’d actually been physically sick. The same had almost happened again when he’d gone to have that conversation with her on the day of the accident.

Moments later, his bed had changed into a physio table and Rema was pummelling at various parts of him with her strange instruments. It wasn’t as painful as she’d promised. It was more uncomfortable really. He could feel some physical strength flowing into his limbs and muscles. He’d thought he’d seemed pretty solid before, but now he was becoming more and more real.

Except there was something missing. The mouth organ, that cheeky grin and the pointed comments.

“Where’s Marcus, then?” he asked, sitting up suddenly and almost knocking Rema backwards. “Has he gone?”

She exchanged a brief look with Zeboth. Zeboth nodded.

“No, he’s still around,” said Rema. “He’s sulking about something. I expect he’ll be back. Use your influence if you can. He really needs to be out of here.”

The exercises finished. Rema packed up her tools and Zeboth put the files into a large box.

“You need to get on now as well,” said Zeboth. “You should try and carry on from where you left off.”

They went. Tom was alone. Yes, he should get on. But he was clueless about what to do next. He was so used to having Marcus as advisor. He sat on the side of what had now become a bed again and tried to formulate a plan.     

“Why are you still here?” said a voice. “You damned well need to be with her now. How can you run out on her like that?”

Tom turned to see where the voice was coming from.

Marcus was standing in the corner of the room. His arms were folded across his chest and his forehead was creased with a huge frown. He looked so angry.

He played some loud, discordant note on his mouth organ. Tom had never known him angry. A bit serious now and then, but never like this.

He didn’t have much time to think about it though, because seconds later Marcus was thumping him hard on the chest.

“You had the chance,” he cried, “and you blew it. How can you let her suffer? She needs to get through the grief. Don’t you realise, you numskin, that that’s what they need us to do?” He then thumped Tom so hard that he fell to the ground.

“Get up and get on,” shouted Marcus, kicking Tom. “Do sommat.”

What’s the matter with him? thought Tom. Just as it began to get really painful, Tom had the curious thought that at least this showed that his ethereal body was really behaving like a physical one.

Marcus kicked him again, right in the face, and Tom heard a crunch as one of his teeth came out. His mouth filled with blood. That was enough.

He pulled at Marcus with all his force. And he had plenty of that now. Rema would be proud of him. It wasn’t difficult to pull Marcus over, despite the strength he was getting from his anger. Well, Tom was bigger, and he was angry as well now.

It was a real fight. The blows Marcus gave really hurt and Tom wanted to hurt him back as much as he could. He tore into him. Bones cracked. Places started to bleed and they both winced with pain now and then. One spectacular kick from Marcus caught Tom’s knee and he thought he was going to faint with the pain. He punched back at him even harder.   

Suddenly someone looking a bit like a hefty night-club bouncer grabbed Marcus and pulled him away.

At that same moment, Tom felt strong arms pulling him in the other direction.

“That’ll do,” he heard Zeboth say. Tom guessed the guy who looked like a bouncer was Marcus’ guardian. As he turned to look at Zeboth, he saw that he too was big and burly.

“You do realise,” said Zeboth, “that behaviour like that can result in you being transferred without delay.”

“Don’t listen to him!” cried Marcus, who was still held by the bouncer. “You can’t do that!”

“No,” said Marcus’ guardian, “but we can let the Authorities know and that is what they will arrange.”

“Naw, don’t be daft,” said Marcus. “We was only mucking about.”

Tom felt Zeboth relax his grip.    

“We’re mates, ain’t we Tom?” Marcus continued. He voice quivered. “We are, ain’t we Tom? Come on. Tell ‘em.”

“Yeah, we’re friends really,” said Tom, wondering if that was what friends did to each other, what enemies might do.

Tom felt Zeboth relax his grip.   

“Don’t do it again, then,” said Marcus’ guardian. The two guardians released Tom and Marcus and floated skywards, now looking like angels.

“I tried, you know, I really tried,” said Tom.

“I know,” said Marcus. “I’m sorry. It’s all because of – naw, don’t feel like talkin’ about it now.” He grinned. “You know what?” he said. “You and me, we both need a bit of fun. Come on.”

Tom felt as if he was floating, just like the guardians had. His body felt solid, but light. The bleeding had stopped and there was no pain. Ethereal bodies probably healed very quickly, then. Fun did sound like a good idea. But then they didn’t seem to be anywhere. They just seemed to be trapped in thick fog.

“What’s happening?” said Tom.

“Don’t panic,” said Marcus. “We’re just in the Nowhere Place. You always have to go through that, only when you first start spooking you don’t notice it. Shows you’m getting better at it if you’m noticing this place. We’ll be there in a minute.”           

     Seconds later, they arrived in Marcus’ time. The clerk at the shipping depot was sorting out some papers. He placed the papers carefully into a ledger. Marcus nodded to Tom and signalled that he should watch him.

The clerk went out of the room.

Marcus went over to the ledger, and took out the paper that the clerk had just put in there.

“Now we go forward to when he wants that paper again,” whispered Marcus.

They watched the clerk come into the room, open the ledger and start shuffling through the papers. It was funny watching the panic grow on his face as he couldn’t find the piece of paper Marcus was holding. He frantically sorted through the rest of the ledger, then through several others and then started taking other boxes out of a cupboard.

A bell rang. With a very worried look on his face, the clerk went out of the room. Marcus promptly replaced the paper exactly where it should have been.

The clerk came back into the office, looking harassed. He had a visitor with him, a finely clothed gentleman with a sour look on his face, who Tom supposed must be rather well off.

“I’m just looking for your file,” said the clerk.

The visitor looked round the room. His look seemed to get even sourer and Tom could have sworn his nose turned up.

“Bit untidy here, isn’t it Jackson?” said the gentleman. “I hope you’re handling my business a bit more efficiently than you run your own office.”

“Oh, we’ve just been a bit busy lately, sir,” said Jackson. Tom could see the sweat glistening on his forehead.

The clerk picked up the file which had been missing, a puzzled frown on his face.

Tom and Marcus started giggling. The scene faded and they were floating in the nothingness again 

“Can we do something like that in your place?” asked Marcus as they began to get under control again. “Nowhere near Amanda, though,” he added, quickly. 

Tom knew exactly what to choose.

“My old French teacher,” he said. “It would be great to get back at her. She was always telling me I didn’t have a cat in Hell’s chance… ”

“Don’t use that word,” said Marcus grimacing.

“That I hadn’t any chance of getting my French GCSE,” said Tom. “Well, I did pass!”

“G what? French?” asked Marcus. “What’s that?”

Oh, we have to learn French,” said Tom, “and then take an exam in it.”

“Oh,” said Marcus. “It sounds boring.”

“And it was,” said Tom. “But I did pass the exam. Not that what we learnt was much use.” 

“Ain’t that revenge enough?” asked Marcus. “Blimey, you’re a tough ‘un, wanting even more.” But he had a huge grin on his face.

“Yeah, I’d like a bit more,” said Tom, grinning back. “She was a real bitch to me.” 

“Let’s go then,” said Marcus.

The classroom came into view. There she was. That woman with the long face. She’d just walked into that horrible old classroom with the hole in the ceiling. She was carrying an armful of papers, which she put down on the desk.

“I’m going to give you your test results today,” she said, with the usual frown and the usual sour face. “I can’t say I was very impressed.”

“She never gives up,” whispered Tom. “The Devil’s gift to humanity.”

“Don’t use that word,” said Marcus.

Then Tom noticed who was sitting in the third row from the front.

“Crikey,” he said to Marcus. “That kid there – Sam Davis - I think he’s about to become my stepbrother. Or at least, he would be, if I was still alive.”

“Oh yeah?” replied Marcus. “We’ll see what we can do with him later.” He started to spin one of the lamp shades. The whole class looked up.

“What’s going on?” said Miss Richards trying to see where the whirring sound was coming from. “Who’s doing that? What is it?”

Marcus continued to turn the lampshade and pointed at the piece of paper on top of the pile Miss Thomas had been carrying. Tom got what he meant and floated over and removed it. While everyone was still staring up at the ceiling, he was able to put it safely out of sight in a drawer in the filing cabinet.

 Marcus stopped moving the lampshade.

“Good. Settle down now,” said Miss Richards, “and I’ll give you your results.”

She stared down at the papers on her desk. Her frown became even deeper than normal.

“I could have sworn I had them with me,” she mumbled. “I must have left them in the staff room.” She stared at the desk for several seconds. “All right, 8B,” she said louder. “I expect you to behave sensibly while I go back and find them.”

As soon as she had left the room, the noise level rose. Marcus nodded to Tom and pointed at the window. Tom floated over and shook the Venetian blinds so that they rattled. All of 8B looked in that direction.

“What’s going on in here today?” shouted one of the girls. “I think it’s spooked or something.”

While everyone was looking in Tom’s direction, Marcus made a paper aeroplane which he threw at the red-faced kid sitting in front of Sam Davis, catching him right on his ear. The kid turned round, becoming even more red-faced.

“What’s that for Sam?” he said. “What do you think you’re doing?”

All of 8B were now focussing on Sam and the red-faced guy. Marcus nodded to Tom, who took the exam results back out of the filing cabinet and put them back on the table.

The red-faced boy was out of his seat. “You want to watch what you’re doing, you do,” he said to Sam prodding him hard on the chest.

At that moment Miss Richards came back into the room.

“Roy Bailey, Sam Davis,” she said, looking even more harassed than she had before. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Roy went back to his place. “He started it,” he grumbled.

Sam just looked confused.

“Have you got our test results, Miss?” said one of the girls.

“I just can’t seem to find them,” said Miss Richards. “I am sorry. I have got another copy on my computer ….”

She stared hard at the desk.

“Goodness, they were here all the time,” she said, picking up the piece of paper Tom had just returned to the desk. “I must be going mad.”

“More like senile,” mumbled one of the girls.

“Well, anyway, here we go,” said Miss Richards, for once looking almost cheerful.

“Spooked!” mouthed Marcus, winking at Tom. 

The classroom faded and they were in the Nowhere Place again.

“That was a bit of a laugh, wan’t it?” said Marcus.

“Yes. Yes it was,” said Tom. He quite liked this spooking game.

“But, you know, it’s time now,” said Marcus. “Time to get back to her. Perhaps you’ve got to help her through her mourning time. I’ll come with you.”

“Aren’t I supposed to do it on my own?” asked Tom.

“It don’t matter,” said Marcus. “I’m just summat else in the room.”

Except seconds later they weren’t in a room. They were at the train station. Tom could see from the newspaper a guy was reading that it was the day after he died. It was the day after he died and Amanda was standing at the train station as if nothing had happened. Didn’t she care?     

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