Ghosted, p.22
Ghosted, page 22
There’s a pause, and then she flashes me another look and says, ‘Izzy. You’re my best friend and that’s why I’ve brought you here. This was the last place he was seen.’
I can’t hear anything of Izzy’s reply. I work it out, approximately, when Ariel says, ‘Yeah … But just before he came in there was a man in the mall. Joe bought a drink and walked into him, and the man told him to fuck off or something. We need to find him. I don’t know how to get the CCTV. I mean, they won’t still have it from then, will they?’ She pauses while Izzy says something, then replies: ‘I don’t know. The security guard said.’
I tell her, ‘I wish I could see Izzy. How come you can see kids at school but I can’t see her?’
‘No idea,’ Ariel says, to me, and then she turns to her right. ‘I mean, yeah. No idea why, but I think that man might have something to do with it. He’s part of Joe coming here. There aren’t many clues, and that’s a lead, I guess. Anyway! You don’t have to stick around in here. I just wanted to show you. I’m fine. I’ll hang out here for a bit.’
I remember the pieces of paper that appeared in her hand and disappeared when she let go of them. ‘If you touch her I might be able to see her!’ I shout.
Then a girl appears. She’s much shorter than Ariel, and very pretty with dimples and wild hair. I grin at her and she looks right through me. Ariel has her arm round her shoulders. They’re walking towards the door.
‘Oh my God,’ I say. ‘I can see her! I can see Izzy!’
Ariel grins. ‘Izzy, I’m so glad you don’t think I’m mad.’
‘Of course I don’t think you’re mad,’ says Izzy, and as they stand in the doorway Ariel grins at me over her shoulder. Izzy disappears and Ariel dashes straight over to give me the closest thing we can manage to a hug.
‘Sorry,’ she says. ‘I would have warned you if I’d planned it. Izzy just asked if she could see the room because she’s meeting her girlfriend over the road at half four. She’s invested in you now. We’re sure it wasn’t Lucas and now she’s desperate to solve this too. When she goes for something she really goes for it.’
‘I can’t believe I could see her,’ I say. ‘That’s amazing. But you don’t think it was Lucas? Why?’
I almost feel disappointed about this. I wish it was him because then we’d have an answer. I shake myself. We need the truth, not just the easiest thing.
‘Because he didn’t do it, Joe. I’m as certain as I can possibly be about that.’
I’m writhing inside with jealousy. Izzy is Ariel’s friend and they both get a bit older every day. I’m jealous of the real-world friendship I just saw. I’ve never seen Ariel with anyone else before. It is unsettling. I miss Troy. I wish I could go home with Ariel, walk around with her, become a part of her life. I almost hate the gorgeous, perfect Izzy who came into my space.
There’s an uncomfortable silence between us. It’s the first time I’ve ever felt awkward with Ariel. I know I’m being mean: I want Ariel to be happy and have friends. And yet, petulantly, I don’t want her to have anyone but me.
‘Tell me about him then,’ I say. ‘You really don’t think it was him? Are you sure? He was the only …’
‘It wasn’t,’ she says, and I deflate. Of course I don’t want Lucas to have killed me, but it would have been the beginning of the end. She sits next to me and I look into her eyes, searching for the tiniest sliver of doubt, but there’s nothing. ‘It wasn’t,’ she says again. ‘He was nice. He had a lot to say, though he was really nervous of us being young and him looking inappropriate. He’s still really cut up about you. He has a folder of photos of you on his phone. Look. He sent them to me.’
I stare at the pictures as she scrolls through them. I look exactly like that now, except that I don’t. These pictures show a different boy. I see now that I haven’t been that version of myself for a long, long time. He’s a stranger. The gulf between me and myself is far bigger than I’d ever realized. I know Ariel sees it too.
‘And this is Lucas now.’ She flicks through the pictures on her phone. ‘Izzy took them. She told him it was for the article. I didn’t even think of that.’
Lucas is a thirty-five-year-old guy, broad and muscular, with greying hair. He’s smiling at the camera, in a cafe, with people sitting at tables around him. He looks comfortable in the world in a way he never used to be.
I stopped him being comfortable, and now I’m not there.
The room fades around me. This is what my classmates are like. They have moved on. I’m stuck.
I imagine the scene. A cafe in London, the three of them sitting at a table with their cups of tea, existing in the same space and time. I want to break things. I want to charge into that cafe and throw everyone’s drink on the ground. I want to smash the windows, turn the tables upside down, destroy every bit of it, to stop people having fun without me.
I decide to give up. Just for a moment. I need a break.
‘Ariel,’ I say. ‘Can we have a day? Can we have just one lovely day when we forget all this? Another date, but not at school? Shall we do something different?’
She looks at me and I see her face change. She smiles slightly.
‘What do you have in mind?’
As soon as I wake up I take the books out of my schoolbag and replace them with a pair of jeans, a sweatshirt, a T-shirt and my favourite trainers. Then, even though I don’t need to eat or drink, I add that packet of Club biscuits from the cupboard and a litre of orange juice from the fridge, just because I like feeling normal. I say goodbye to Dad and Gus for the last time, as usual, and leave a little bit early.
Troy is waiting on the corner. He’s early too: I’d hoped to get past there before he arrived. He sees me coming and lifts a hand. I walk over, wishing I’d left sooner.
‘Hey,’ I say. ‘Sorry. I’m going to skip school today. I’ll see you later, for the trip.’
‘Seriously? Where are you going?’
‘Just going back to bed once Gus has left. I can’t face it today. I need a duvet day.’
‘Duvet day?’
‘Yeah.’
‘You OK?’
‘Yeah.’
There’s a moment. I know he wants to ask more, but he doesn’t know how to. I want to give him back his football thing, but I know I can’t do it. I guess I died while still in possession of it because any time I try to hand it back I can’t. Everything hangs between us, unspoken. I think about how shit it will feel for him when he never sees me again, knowing that everything was left like this. But there’s nothing I can do about it, and anyway this isn’t the real Troy. He wouldn’t remember this as our last conversation. He’d remember the first one, when we said goodbye after school and it was fine.
‘See you at school then,’ he says. ‘Tonight, I mean. For the French exchange. You’re going to be OK for that?’
‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘Can’t wait.’
I walk the long way to the beach. I pass kids in all the different uniforms. I pass parents (mainly mothers) dragging children to primary schools and nurseries, pushing pushchairs. Even though I’m walking in the wrong direction, no one looks twice at me. I go along Sheringham Road and, on impulse, I stop and ring the doorbell of number twelve. It’ll be nice to tell Ariel a new story about her mum and Sasha.
Anna Brown answers at once and I grin at her. I can’t help it; I feel that we’re old friends.
She’s holding the baby on her hip, like before. Little Sasha has blonde ringlets and is pink and adorable.
‘Hello?’ says Anna, and although she’s unsure what I’m doing here she’s perfectly friendly. I remind myself not to tell her I’m a ghost. I can’t spend the morning weeding her garden either.
‘Hi,’ I say. ‘Sorry to bother you. Do you … do you know a girl called Ariel? Sorry, I think I might have the wrong house.’
‘No,’ she says, and she smiles. ‘Ariel. What a lovely name. Like The Tempest.’
‘She more often gets people telling her it’s like The Little Mermaid,’ I say. ‘She’d prefer The Tempest.’
‘And Footloose. Have you seen Footloose? That’s one of my favourite films.’
‘I haven’t,’ I admit. ‘And I do apologise – clearly this is the wrong house. I’m really sorry to have bothered you. Thank you. Hey there, Sasha,’ I add as the baby is smiling at me. I just can’t help myself.
Ariel’s mum stares. ‘How did you know her name?’ she says, but with a smile. She’s one of those lovely people who is always sunny, always positive, no matter what. No matter, in her case, that she’s married to a wanker.
All the same, I need to answer. I cast my eyes around and am saved by a splodgy painting on the wall that consists of a load of red and blue handprints and the name SASHA written in the corner by a grown-up. ‘It says it there,’ I say, pointing. ‘I’m guessing it’s her artwork.’ I smile at the baby. ‘It’s very good.’
‘How observant. Say thank you to the nice boy, Sasha.’
I reach out and touch Sasha’s curly hair. It is unbearably soft under my fingers. Sasha is real to me in a way that Ariel can never be. I say goodbye and wave to them both.
As I walk away, I take out my phone. I press the button that will call my mum. Her course begins at nine, and now it’s eight forty-five. She has a mobile phone, but she keeps it switched off unless she’s using it, so when it goes to voicemail I say: ‘Hi, Mum! It’s Joe. I’m just calling to say … I love you. That’s all.’ Then I ring her hotel, and ask to be put through to room 237, but she doesn’t answer. She must have already left.
I walk faster and faster, down on to the beach and then along it, away from town, to the stony bit at the very far end where no one goes. And there is Ariel, sitting on a rock like a mermaid.
‘Hey!’ she says. ‘There you are. We did it!’
‘We did,’ I say, and I sit on the rock beside her and we both look out at the sea.
35
That day was, oddly, one of the best of my life. We didn’t talk about who killed Joe and how and why and what I was going to do next about it. We didn’t talk about Troy cracking up and leaving the country. We didn’t talk about the man at the mall, even though I really wanted Joe to take a photo of him. Instead we sat on a rock at the end of the beach and gave names to the seagulls in each of our realities, and threw stones into the sea. We didn’t talk about the past or the future, or compare notes or technologies or music, or anything. Joe didn’t do mad things just because he could. We talked. That was all.
‘Can you see that dog?’ he said. I looked, but there wasn’t one.
‘Nope,’ I said. ‘What’s it like?’
‘Black Labrador.’
‘Cute!’
‘It’s running up and down the beach. It looks so happy. It’s like …’ He adopted a gruff doggy voice. ‘Hello, beach! I’m looking for sausages. Do you have any sausages, please, beach?’
I joined in, mimicking his dog voice. ‘If I dig I might find some sausages. A big hoard of them buried by pirates.’
‘Pirate sausages are the bestest sausages.’
We basically just talked nonsense for about an hour, and then I stood up.
‘I’m a bit cold,’ I said. ‘I guess you’re not.’
‘Nope. I don’t feel anything.’
I reached out to touch his arm. It didn’t work. I still forgot.
‘Let’s go for a walk,’ I said. ‘I came prepared.’
I plugged my earbuds in and put my phone back into my pocket, noticing a text from Jack. Sorry if I came on too strong the other day, he said. Yeah, I’d like to be friends. We could go for a coffee sometime.
Jack was lovely, but I tapped out a quick Sure, I’ll let you know when I’m free and muted the phone. I was with Joe. The technology side of things was boring for him now. After the first flash of amazement at the changing role of the phone, there was really no need for him to be astounded by the fact that technology had developed over twenty years. It wasn’t remarkable, or even interesting.
‘Yeah, and I’ll just walk around looking like I’m talking to myself,’ he said. ‘Who cares? It doesn’t matter. These aren’t real people anyway. None of this has actually happened and no one will remember it.’ He shook his head. ‘Bodmin Leo was more eloquent about that. It’s a headfuck, but it’s a headfuck that brought me to you.’
‘It is.’ I took a deep breath and just walked with him, enjoying the magic that had brought us together.
We walked back across the beach and along a few streets, and then right to the edge of town and out into the countryside. We didn’t talk much. It was nice just to be side by side, in the same place at different times. The town was smaller than I’d always thought: it took us less than half an hour to reach the open fields, and then we looked at each other, grinned and ran up a hill.
The sun was shining. Birds were singing. The air smelled like springtime. I felt warmth on my face, felt my blood pumping as I ran. I realized that I hadn’t exercised for ages. It was a good feeling.
‘This is lovely,’ I said, but when I looked at Joe his hair was wet.
‘In a weird way,’ he said with a little laugh, ‘yeah. I guess it is.’
‘Is it raining?’
‘Is it not?’
We sat on the top of the hill, and Joe pulled his hood up while I took my sweatshirt off. It was wonderful up here. The sea glittered green and pale blue below us. The sun shone across it, making a golden path to the horizon. The town was hidden in the valley, and the sky was huge and blue, the grass bright, bright green. It was like being in a child’s picture, a drawing made by Coco. Green grass, blue sky, greeny-blue sea. And Joe, and me. A boy, and a girl, side by side.
‘What does it look like?’ I said.
‘It’s drizzling,’ he said, ‘and the sky’s grey. The sea’s grey. The grass is muddy.’
We laughed at that. Then we just lay back and talked. I told him that Jack Lockett had asked me out again. ‘I said no, of course,’ I said. ‘I mean, politely. I said I’d like to be friends, and he knew what I meant. I only want you, Joe Simpson.’
He smiled at me for a long time when I said that. We talked about the seagulls that were soaring over both of us. We talked about the boats I could see, the walkers who passed him and gave him a worried look as he lay alone on a cliff in the rain. We talked about our childhoods, what we could remember of them.
He called his mum, and this time she answered her phone, and I listened to his side of the conversation, while putting my hand through his.
‘Mum,’ he said. ‘Yeah. No, I’m fine. I just wanted to hear your voice today. I miss you, Mum. I love you. And Dad, and Gus. I love all of you. And the kids Gus will have. The girls. Don’t worry, Mum. You need to be happy, no matter what. I’m glad you’re doing your yoga course. You should go to India.’
When he put his phone in his pocket, though, he was smiling. He lay back and grinned up at the sky. ‘OK,’ he said. ‘Now I’m ready. As ready as I can be. So, do you want to go to the moon one day?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘It would take too much fossil fuel, and I don’t think there’s much of a mood for that. There are so many other things to focus on.’
‘We all thought that in the twenty-first century there’d be a lot more going to the moon.’
‘What do you think it’d be like up there?’
He closed his eyes.
‘Grey,’ he said. ‘Or maybe not? Is that just because we see black-and-white photos? No, probably greyish. Darkish. Amazing. I mean, standing there and looking down at Earth? That would be an incredible thing, wouldn’t it? And the bouncing around. I think it would be brilliant. I’m imagining us living in some kind of lunar module, with enough supplies and water to last us as long as we wanted. Not that I’d need them, I guess. It wouldn’t matter, up there, if we were a few Earth years apart.’
‘Yeah,’ I said, and I wished I could just lean over and kiss him. The feeling swept over me. It was the thing I wanted. The only thing.
‘I wish I could kiss you,’ he said, opening his eyes, reading my mind.
I sighed. ‘Oh God. It’s all I want.’
We looked at one another. I leaned towards him, and he leaned into me. It was the most pointless thing, and the most romantic thing, that had ever happened. I opened my mouth a little. He did too. I shivered as our lips went through each other. We couldn’t touch, but the thrill went up and down my body.
It was the most frustrating, most wonderful, most impossible thing. We stayed like that for ages, and I never wanted it to end.
It was Joe who pulled away. We didn’t speak for a long time. Then I found myself talking, just to break the sudden awkwardness.
‘Do you know where else would be a good place? If we’re going off-planet? Because there’s another one and it’s the one I’d like to move to.’
‘Mars?’
‘Better than Mars. Mars is the god of war. This is peaceful. We should go to the cloud tops of Venus. Mum used to talk about it, and I checked and it’s real. No one could come close to stepping on the surface of Venus because it has runaway warming and all that – though you’d probably be OK, to be fair – but above the clouds it’s perfect for humans. I think we’d have to live in a Zeppelin or something.’
Joe’s ghost fingers stroked my face and I shuddered. ‘I could get on board with that.’
‘My mum would be there.’
‘Cool. I love your mum.’
We mapped out a life above the clouds of Venus. We would live in our Zeppelin, and breathe the air (as this was imaginary it was filled with air that we could both easily breathe; in fact, it filled our lungs and made us sparkle). We would grow our own food.
‘Cloud-strawberries,’ I said. ‘And cloud-ice cream.’
‘Cloud-chocolate,’ he said. ‘Can we have some cloud-burgers? All the things I used to love. Chips from the chip shop, with lots of vinegar. A massive burger with all the trimmings from the fancy burger place.’
‘You can have that,’ I said. ‘Yes. And you’ll be able to taste it and swallow it. And we’ll just float around in the clouds, and it won’t matter who’s alive or what year it is because those things will be nothing.’
