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?
