Ghosts the complete seri.., p.21
Ghosts: The Complete Series, page 21
"Daddy's gonna play with you later, okay Lucas?" Buck says, leaning down and picking his son up.
"Are these both your children?" I ask, somewhat confused. I was sure that the Everard's only had one child now, ever since the accident that claimed the life of little Lucas's sister.
"No," says Buck. "This fine little lady -" He gestures to the little girl, "is Martin Bond's child. Laura, say hello to Mrs. Tammy Brightwell."
"Hello," says Laura, staring up at me with sweet, innocent eyes. It's tempting to grab her, shake her and warn her to never ever allow anything to destroy her life, but I would seem like a crazy woman. Instead, I watch as Isobel Everard steers the two children out of the room. I can't fail to notice the glance of annoyance that she casts at her husband before she smiles at me and leaves.
"Now what seems to be the problem?" Buck asks, gesturing for me to sit down. He knows me well, and he knows that I wouldn't be in here asking for help if there wasn't a serious issue. He also knows Herb, and I think - or at least I hope - he understands the problems that Herb and I have been having. But I'm determined not to cry in front of Buck, because I know that I'd appear to be some kind of foolish old woman.
"I need to make a change to my will," I say.
Buck nods. "That's not a problem."
"Now," I say, with tears in my eyes. "Right now. This minute. No delaying or dilly-dallying."
Buck frowns. "Is there a reason for this?" he asks.
I take a deep breath. "Does there have to be a reason for everything? I want to make a change to my will, and I don't want to hang around gossiping about my reasoning like two old women."
Buck stares at me for a moment, and then he frowns. "Okay," he says, grabbing a notepad and a pencil. "What do you want to change?"
"I want every cent to go to my sister," I say. "Nothing to Herb."
Buck scribbles something down. "I see," he says. "Anything else?"
"No," I say. "That's everything."
"Now..." He pauses, seemingly reluctant to bring up the next subject. "You know me, Tammy. You know that I'm not a nosy man, nor am I a man who wants to meddle in the affairs of others. So I'm not going to ask you to explain why you want to make this change. All I'm going to ask is that you're absolutely sure that this is what you want to do."
"I'm absolutely sure," I say, with steely determination. I knew he'd ask me that question, and I've thought long and hard over the past few days about the answer.
Buck nods. "It'll take about two hours to draw everything up, but I can assure you that the changes will be made by close of business."
"And it'll be legally binding?" I ask.
"Of course," he says. "Once it has been drawn up and once I've signed it, I'll put it into my vault and I can assure you that it will be absolutely legally secure."
"Do you promise me?" I ask. "I mean really, really promise me?"
"I promise you," Buck says. "Tammy, I know you very well. Is there anything you'd like to tell me, in complete confidence?"
"No," I say, getting up from my chair. "Just please make sure that these changes have been made by close of business today, Buck. It's the most important thing in the world, it really is."
"You have my absolute word," Buck says, standing and following me out to reception, where Isobel and the children are waiting. Again, Isobel looks up at me as if I've just interrupted the most important lunchtime play session in the world. Oh well, life is too short to worry about what women like Isobel Everard think.
"Such a lovely little boy," I say, walking over to Lucas and patting him on the head. "I'm sure he'll grow up to be a wonderful lawyer, just like his father."
"Oh," says Buck, laughing, "I don't know that I'd wish that fate on him. As much as I love this town, Tammy, there's a part of me that hopes little Lucas ends up moving out of here one day. Maybe to Dallas or Austin, somewhere he can make a real success of himself." He smiles. "Maybe he'll take little Laura with him. These two are thick as thieves, I think there might be romance ahead for them some day."
"Prom King and Prom Queen," says Isobel, and I don't think she's joking. I think she has Lucas's life all mapped out for him. I wonder what little Lucas will have to say about that?
"You promise me," I say to Buck. "Promise me that what we talked about will be done."
"I promise you," says Buck. "You know me, Tammy. You don't need to get me to say it over and over. Once is enough, and it'll be done."
Suddenly the phone rings on Rachel's desk. I turn to her angrily. "Did you have to plug that thing back in while I'm still here?" I shout.
Rachel stares at me, then she looks down at the wall socket, where the phone is still disconnected. "I didn't," she says, confused. "It's still not plugged in."
I look at the phone, with its incessant ringing, and then I turn and rush out the door into the street. For a moment, there's peace and quiet out there, but finally I hear another phone ringing in a building across the street, and then another one nearby. I run along the sidewalk. I have to get away from these phones.
Chapter Five
Today.
I knock on the door and wait. It's getting late, and the porch light is the only illumination on this dark night. How many times have I been to this house? Too many. But tonight it seems strangely appropriate that I should be here now. I put my hand in my pocket and feel the key. It feels so ordinary and dull in my hand, like it's just a run-of-the-mill piece of metal. I take it out of my pocket and look at it.
The door opens and, as I expected and somewhat feared, it's Kal who answers.
"What a surprise," I say.
Kal looks at the key in my hand. "Is that a key for this door?" he asks.
"This?" I say with genuine surprise. "No, not at all. This is..." I pause, not sure what to say. "Well," I continue, smiling, "trust me, Kal, there's no way you could ever guess what this key is for." I slip the key back into my pocket.
"Are you here to see Laura?" he asks in that strangely passive tone of his. I can't quite get a grasp on Kal, he seems so... different somehow, as if he's not quite human.
"Yes," I say. "Is she available?"
Kal hesitates, and suddenly Laura's voice calls out from within the house.
"Who is it, Kal?" she asks.
He pauses, then he calls back to her. "It's Lucas Everard."
There's another pause. "Let him in," Laura calls out.
Kal steps aside and I enter the house. This is actually the first time I've been able to get my foot in the door here since Kal appeared. For the past few weeks, it has seemed as if Laura has no interest in me at all, as if all she cares about now is her fancy new toyboy. Every time I came to the door, Kal would answer and I would be turned away. A lesser man would surely have felt shunned, but I kept the faith that Laura was merely indulging herself with a new man, and I remained convinced that she would eventually come back to me. I still believe that, but unfortunately I have run out of time. I understand her thinking, though. Sure, Kal is young and hot, but is he really so much better than me? There's something unworldly about him, and I'm sure that Laura isn't so superficial as to prefer a hot young guy over a man such as myself who has more... well, I'm certainly more world-weary than Kal, and I have a lot to offer any woman.
"I need to speak to Laura alone," I say to Kal. "I hope you'll understand."
Laura appears from the front room. She's wearing one of those tight, slightly revealing dresses that have been a hallmark of her wardrobe for a number of years. With her cleavage on display, it's clear that she's making an extra effort to appeal to Kal. I can see the fear in her eyes; the fear that this attractive younger man will grow bored of the middle-aged woman in whose house he has been living. Perhaps Kal's only here because he wants to exploit Laura's generosity? Somehow I don't feel that this is true, but I'm sure that's the fear that keeps Laura awake at night.
"It's okay, Kal," Laura says. "It's time I spoke to Lucas about a few things."
Kal eyes us suspiciously for a moment. "I'll be upstairs," he says eventually. He turns to Laura. "If you need anything -"
"I'll call," she says. "I promise. But I'll be quite safe with Lucas, don't worry. And I don't imagine this will have to be a very long conversation, will it Lucas?"
I shrug, and Kal goes upstairs. I follow Laura through to the front room, where she immediately goes to the bar and starts fixing me a drink.
"Not for me, thank you," I say.
She turns, surprised. "Seriously? You're turning down a gin and tonic?"
I nod. "Not tonight."
She finishes making the drink anyway. "Whoops," she says. "Oh well, I don't want to waste it. I'll just have to drink it myself." She heads over to the sofa and places the drink next to her other glass, which is still half-full. "Sit down," she says.
I take a seat on the other sofa.
"I've been meaning to talk to you," she says. "Things have been so crazy around here lately, I've barely had time to breathe. But I suppose you know what it's like to be busy, right?"
I nod. "Do you remember the first time we met, Laura?" I ask.
"No," she says. "And neither do you. We were far too young." She finishes her first glass of gin and tonic.
"I remember when we were children," I say. "When we used to play in my father's office. Do you remember those days?" I pause, but she doesn't answer. "And then when we got older... Do you remember the night when you were Prom Queen?"
"Of course I do," she says. "What girl could forget something like that?"
"Who was Prom King again?" I ask.
She shrugs. "Some guy," she replies.
"You and Kal seem happy," I say.
She raises her eyebrows. "I wasn't expecting you to say that," she says. "What's wrong, Lucas? Jealous?"
I shake my head. "No," I say, "although I must admit that I do miss our... arrangement from before."
"What? Oh, you mean when I was your personal whore? Well, time moves on, things change. You should know that better than anyone, Lucas."
I sigh, and then I pull the key from my pocket and hold it up so that Laura can see it. She visibly bristles, clearly remembering what the key means.
"Is it true?" she asks.
"It's true," I say. "It fits, I'm quite sure about that. And it's time." I put the key away. "I'd like you to be there."
She takes a deep, sharp breath. "Lucas, no..."
"You owe me."
"I..." She pauses, staring at me. "I do owe you," she says. "That's true. But you also owe me. You owe it to me, not to ask me to be there."
I shake my head. "I'm sorry, Laura. I'm not going to be so kind. I'm asking you to be there."
"And I'm declining."
I stand up. There's no point arguing with her. She's made her decision, and all I can do is accept that she won't be there for me when I need her. In truth, I knew that this would be her response, but I wanted to give her an opportunity to prove me wrong, to show me that she could still have some degree of pity.
"Don't hate me," she says, remaining seated.
"I gave up hating you a long time ago," I say, "when I realized that I'd wasted half my life chasing after you. Now I see you for what you really are, just a sad, alcoholic, lonely little whore desperately hoping each morning that this won't be the day when her toyboy lover decides to walk out on her."
She looks away, but I can see that I've really hurt her. Good. Finally she knows how it feels. I walk over and sit next to her.
"You know my powers, don't you?" I ask.
She doesn't look at me.
"I know you do," I continue. "I know you know what I can do. And I'm going to tell you something. I know how you die. You know that, right? You must have always known that you were one of the first people whose fates I looked up. Do you want to know?"
She shakes her head, tears filling her eyes.
"Well I'm going to tell you," I continue. "I held back before, because I felt sorry for you. I pitied you. But no longer. You're going to live a long life, Laura Bond. A long and lonely life. And you're going to become a little old lady, living all alone and heartbroken, with no-one to warm your bed, no-one to talk to. And finally, after many, many years, you're going to die all alone. You're going to collapse on the bathroom floor and you'll call for help, and no-one will hear you because there will be no-one who even knows you any more."
"Please..." she says, starting to sob.
"You know it's true," I say. "You've always suspected it, and now I'm telling you. There's no doubt. There's nothing you can do. It's who you are and it's what you'll become." I stand up again. "So enjoy Kal while you've got him, because soon he'll be off and you'll be left to rattle around in this house for another forty or fifty years, getting older and older and older, and lonelier and lonelier and lonelier, and your heart will fill with so much sorrow, you'll be unable to stand up straight. Do you understand me?"
She nods, tears streaming down her face.
"Good," I say. I walk to the door, then I look back at her. "Goodbye, Laura," I say.
As I walk to the front door, I hear her weeping. It's a sound that would once have broken my own heart, a sound that I would once have done anything to prevent. But now that same sound fills me with a strange kind of pleasure, at having finally broken through that damned woman's veneer of acceptance. She's doomed. I pull the door shut as I leave, just as the phone in the hallway starts to ring. I ignore it and walk away from the house. In a way, I'm glad that Laura won't be coming with me. I want to die with some kind of dignity, and dignity is one of the things that Laura has never been very good at maintaining.
Chapter Six
1967.
I don't know where to go, so I go home. Mercifully, the phone has stopped ringing and Herb is still at work. I have a few hours before he's due home, so I make myself a cup of coffee and then I place the key on the table in the front room. Such a small thing. Is this really the best place for me to do this?
I take a deep breath.
Of course it is. Where else should I choose to die? While Herb will undoubtedly be traumatized to find my body, he's a strong and resilient man and I'm quite sure he will get over my death, in time. And even if he doesn't, it doesn't make much difference to me. It's not as if I'll still be around after I'm dead, is it? Not unless I come back as a ghost. But I don't believe in ghosts, so - really - what do I have to fear?
I go to the drinks cabinet and take out the bottle of brandy, pouring myself a glass. Oh, I know that it's only just gone lunchtime, but I suppose I deserve a drink at a time like this.
There's a sudden knock at the door. I have no idea who it could be. I can't remember the last time someone came to visit in the middle of the day. Of course, they have to choose this day of all days. If they'd come yesterday, I could have entertained them royally, and if they'd come tomorrow then... well, I suppose there will be a lot of visitors tomorrow, once word of my death gets out. People will flock to the house to see Herb, and to tell him how sorry they are. At least I know he won't be too lonely, that there will be people around him when he most needs them.
I drink the glass of port, put the glass down and look around the room. It's so still and quiet, a house that has never been filled with a family. Just Herb and me, knocking around in here. I think we made this a sad house.
I suddenly remember Herb's bedsheets. I rush through to the laundry room, where the machine has finished. Pulling the bedsheets out, I go into the garden and hang them up. That was close. I almost left Herb with nothing to sleep on tonight.
I go back into the house and stare at the key. I take a deep, deep breath. There's no point putting this off any longer. The moment has come. I walk over and kneel in front of the table, then I pull my blouse over my head. I look down at my chest, at the little hole right in the middle of my breastbone. It's such a neat little hole, the exact size and shape for the key. Fortunately Herb has been so uninterested in me sexually recently, it has been no trouble whatsoever to keep secret the existence of this keyhole in my chest.
I pick up the key, turn it and prepare to insert it into the hole. I have imagined what this moment would be like for so long. And what will it be like to be dead? I suppose this would all be much easier if I believed in ghosts, but the truth is, I don't believe that there's any kind of consciousness after the moment of physical death. Oh Lord, can I ever be forgiven? I am not a true believer, and I do not deserve mercy. Still, if I ever reach Heaven, I shall throw myself on the Lord and beg him to show me some kindness.
Without wasting any more time, I insert the key into the keyhole. I feel the cold metal entering my body and clicking with some kind of mechanism in my chest. I take another deep breath. What would happen if I refused to do this? I sigh. I know that he would come for me. There would be nowhere to hide. I can either choose to do what he says and die a relatively painless death, or I can try to defy him and end up being brutally killed in whatever fashion he sees fit.
I turn the key.
I feel something move inside me. The metal of the key is scraping against my bones, causing a grinding sound as if someone has run their fingernails down a blackboard. And I feel something else. Something shifting. The bone lock itself is opening. I keep turning the key, despite the fact that my hand is trembling, and finally I hear the mechanism drop into its new place. I pause, and wait. What comes next, I can only guess. I look down at the key, sticking out of my chest.
I wait.
And wait.
And -
From deep within my body, something stirs. I can't begin to describe it, because it's unlike anything I've ever felt before. It's not painful, or uncomfortable, just... strange. It's as if there's suddenly another person inside me: not just another mind or another soul, but another body within my body. And in a strange way, I think I've been aware of it for years and years. It's been crouched down inside me, and now - slowly - it's standing up. I feel it spreading throughout my body, and finally I feel that it has filled me completely. At last, it steps forward and I see its energy walking out of me. It takes a few steps across the room, and then it turns to me. It has no face, it barely has a form of its own at all, but it's real and it just come out of me.
