He grabbed my hand and bulldozed his way through the crowd until we were by the bar.

  He beamed down at me, his eyes ever so slightly glazed already. “What can I get you to drink?”

  I shrugged. “A white wine?”

  He laughed. “Wine in a club, really?”

  I frowned. “Hey, this is my first time in a club you know! I dunno, what do the cool kids drink?”

  Realisation spread across his angular features. “Oh, of course. Sorry. I’ll order you a cocktail.”

  “Thanks for inviting me. Seems appropriate my first time should be with you.” Before the words had even left my mouth, I felt my cheeks burn hot and my entire body cringed inside.

  I wasn’t sure if he hadn’t heard me or if he just brushed it off. “I’m glad you came. It’s so good to see you again.”

  Once he had paid for our drinks, he led me back to the table, which was now empty. His friends appeared to have dispersed off to the dancefloor or the smoking area. I was glad to have him all to myself for now. I was so eager to hear all about his life in the city, where he was working now, the travelling he had done the Summer after school, that I almost forgot about the photograph on my phone. I wasn’t sure how to bring it up naturally.

  “So how are you finding living here?” he finally asked.

  I sipped at the bitter cocktail he had ordered me, screwing up my nose as it hit the back of my throat. “It’s going well. Better now I get along with my roommate. Classes are good, I just wish I didn’t have to attend all these mandatory therapy sessions.”

  His grin fell and was replaced with a mask of concern. “It’s important you go though, you know. To stay better.”

  I fiddled with the straw in my cocktail, aggressively swivelling ice around until it clunked against the glass. “You sound like my mum.”

  He placed a condescending hand on my shoulder. “She’ll just be worrying, you know. How do you feel now, do you still… Do you still see things?”

  I shook my head and lied to him. “No.”

  As perfect as Matthew had been and as much as I had shared everything with him – I had never told him the full extent of my power. I had tested the water when we were younger, quizzing him on whether or not he believed in the paranormal and the notion had been so hilarious to him I knew he would never believe me. Mel had encouraged me to keep it from him too, and when I finally had cracked and was running around telling anyone who would listen that Mel’s ghost was telling me they had arrested the wrong guy, I had ended up in the loony bin.

  “That’s good,” he smiled. “I’m glad you’re doing well.”

  “Do you ever talk to Jay?” I finally blurted out. “Like, write to him in prison I mean?”

  Matt scoffed, his nose upturning as if an unpleasant smell had wafted around him. “What do you think?”

  I let out a short, sharp laugh of disbelief. “You don’t believe he did it, do you?”

  “I didn’t, but after the trial – yeah, yeah I do. They don’t put people away for life for crimes they didn’t do.”

  I clutched the cocktail glass so hard my knuckles turned white. “What a ridiculously naive statement to make. I thought you were smarter than that. You really think they’ve never put an innocent man behind bars before?”

  He gritted his teeth. “Well of course it happens but it’s not exactly common is it.”

  I shook my head in disbelief. “You really have your head up your arse. The police just saw Mel’s black boyfriend and jumped on it – an extremely convenient perpetrator for their agendas.” I stood up, shouting so loud now it felt as if I was louder than the music. “I can’t believe you would turn your back on your best friend like that. I always thought you were a good person!”

  Before I could stop myself, I swilled my drink all down his perfect, crisp white shirt. For one gleeful second, I smirked, feeling like one of the glamorous girls on the reality tv shows Mel and I had once binged. The ultimate revenge was always chucking a drink in your shitty exe’s face, according to them. As Matt stared up at me in disbelief, I noticed he wasn’t the only one staring. A drunken crowd had began to form around us, some laughing and some cheering. I slammed the glass down on the table, scooped up my bag and turned to leave.

  Matt’s voice hollered after me, “Looks like you’re still a crazy bitch!” and the smirk on my face was gone. His words hit like a bullet to the heart and by the time I had stumbled up the stairs in my stupid high heels, I let out a deep, sob from the back of my throat. I carried on down the street, not entirely sure where I was going, heels catching in the crevices of the cobbles until I couldn’t take it anymore. I kicked them off and carried them in my empty hand, my feet slip-slapping on the cold stone below.

  As I hobbled down a side-street, desperate to put as much distance between myself and that idiot as possible, I found myself in a dark alley, lit only by a single street lamp at it’s opening. I froze, as Mel’s silhouette stood at the opposite end of the alley. My heart sank. My whole purpose for coming to meet Matt had been to see if we could identify the man in the photo and I had been so wrapped up in my bullshit feelings for my ex, I had forgotten.

  “I’m sorry,” I yelled, frustrated with Matt. Frustrated with myself. Frustrated with the injustice of life.

  Mel’s voice echoed up the alleyway. “Round and around, don’t make a sound…”

  I felt my body go stiff. Mel’s spirit had never said much more than help, now here she was spouting off absolute nonsense.

  I edged closer towards her. “What are you trying to tell me, Mel?”

  She stared me down, literally, dead-eyed. “You’re driving me crazy. I’m sorry…”

  I continued my slow walk towards her, aware that I wasn’t feeling the usual uncontrollable terror, but still wary. When I was almost within arm’s reach of her, she spun around quickly and shot off down the alley and onto a backstreet.

  I broke into a run. “Mel, wait up. Where are you leading me?”

  She was gone, though her voice echoed for a second, “Round and around, don’t make a sound.”

  Baffled, I looked around, spotting the group of boys who had been rejected from the nightclub earlier crowded in a bus stop that was decorated with posters of a missing girl. Thinking a bus home wouldn’t be a bad idea, I started making my way towards them until a cry of pain emerged from within the group. As I got closer, I realised they were standing around somebody, taking turns to kick at the body.

  I threw my shoes to the ground. “Hey! Leave him alone!”

  One of the drunken men looked over his shoulder and smirked. He swayed on the spot and spat. “What are you going to do about it?”

  The man on the ground let out another cry of pain and I stood my ground, fist clenched.

  “I… I’ll call the police,” I said, voice trembling as I pulled my phone from my bag and held it up and began filming the group. This had apparently been the wrong move. The group broke off from the man, like hyenas abandoning an old carcass to circle fresh prey. There were four in total.

  “She’s recording us,” one of the boys said, running his hand through thickly gelled hair.

  “Delete that!” another of the boys – a burly, rugby player type - shouted, making his way toward me.

  I walked backwards, still recording, though I was sure the footage would be as jittery and out of focus as a found footage horror movie.

  “Leave him alone!” I demanded again. They picked up the pace, and I was about to abandon my shoes and break into a run when a blur of black and red shot past me. There was a scuffle, the sound of fists crunching noses and an animalistic squawking as my stalker from earlier fought off the group of four. He was tall, thin and didn’t look particularly strong. I imagined the group's inebriated state put him at an advantage.

  “Who the fuck is this guy?” somebody shouted.

  “Good question,” I mumbled to myself as I watched on in awe as the mystery man shoved the hair gel boy to the ground, I noticed the burly one coming from behind.

  “Behind you!” I shouted and watched as he turned around and punched Burly straight in the jaw. Meanwhile, his feathered friend was circling the other two, talons outstretched as they squatted on the ground, waving their hands above their heads.

  “What the fuck is going on?” one of them squealed. He stood up and made a break for it, while the other jumped up and took a swing at the bird. Enraged, I sprang into action and ran up behind him, planting my foot into the small of his back with as much force as I could muster. He lost his balance and tumbled forward, smacking his face against the ground.

  “Let’s get out of here!” Gel hair shouted, and the four of them took off sprinting down the street, the bird following them, screeching, and pecking as it went.

  My stalker turned to me, breathless and asked, “Are you ok?”

  I nodded slowly. “I think so. Thanks to you I guess, but then you wouldn’t have been here if you weren’t stalking me. Who are you, exactly? Why are you following me?”

  His feathered friend was flying back towards us, landing with elegant grace on his shoulder. Close up, it was beautiful, like no bird I had ever seen. It resembled a peacock, save for the brilliant, scarlet feathers.

  The stranger mopped at his brow, pushing thick black hair out of his eyes. “I’m not stalking you, “he began, but was interrupted by a groan from the bus shelter. I had forgotten all about the man the thugs had been harassing.

  “Hold that thought, don’t go anywhere!” I shouted over my shoulder, as I ran to the old man in the bus stop. He was sitting up now, slumped against the bus shelter.

  “Are you ok?” I asked, placing a gentle hand on his arm. The man looked up at me. Tears trickled down his dark skin and into a matted, greying beard. It took a moment to register the fact that I recognised those pain filled eyes.

  “Thank you, young lady,” the familiar man said. “Wait... Cassie, is that you?”

  I knew Mel had led me down this street for a reason. This poor, injured man in the bus shelter had once been a police officer. He had been disgraced for apparently covering up evidence. It was Jay’s father.

  13

  I squeezed his arm. “Mr. Johnson, what are you doing here? Hang on, let me call you an ambulance.”

  Before I could begin dialling, he gave a dismissive wave and exhaled. The smell of alcohol was strong on his breath. “Pfft, don’t bother. I’m fine.”

  I glanced over his wounds, he was battered and bruised, and there was a small cut above his eye, but it appeared superficial. He grunted and reached out a hand and I pulled him to his unsteady feet.

  Wobbling a little, he said, “Shoulda left me in that gutter to rot.”

  I shook my head in response. “You shouldn’t talk that way. What are you doing so far from home anyway?”

  He gave a bitter laugh. “Newtown hasn’t been my home for a long time now. They practically ran me out of town. Weren’t you… “He glanced at my wrist and blushed. “Oh, of course, you weren’t around, I heard about… Ah, I’m sorry.”

  I forced a smile. “Don’t worry about it. Do you live nearby? At least let me see you home.”

  His face lit up. “Not sure an ex-cop like me needs the protection of a young lady such as yourself, but I sure wouldn’t mind the company. I’m just a few blocks down that way – an old friend rents me an apartment.”

  “Alright then, lead the way.”

  We took off down the street, albeit slowly, as Mr. Johnson hobbled from his injuries. Taxis and night buses flew past us in the orange glow of the streetlights.

  Mr. Johnson glanced over his shoulder. “Didn’t you have a friend with you? Where did he go?”

  I screwed up my face. “He’s not a friend he’s, I don’t know what he is really.”

  He arched his brow. “Boyfriend troubles?”

  My heart panged as Matt’s harsh words resonated through me. I guess you’re still a crazy bitch. All because I had faith that Jay, Mr. Johnson’s son, was innocent. And now Mr. Johnson was here before my very eyes. This serendipitous twist of fate made me feel uneasy. I perished the thought by focusing my attention on Mr. Johnson. When we finally turned off the main road and down into a quieter street of apartments and bed and breakfasts, I cleared my throat and finally addressed the elephant in the room.

  “Mr. Johnson, I have to ask, how’s Jay doing?”

  He avoided eye contact as he began fumbling in his worn pocket, presumably for his keys. “About as good as you can be after being found guilty of murder. And please – call me Noel.”

  I sighed. “It infuriates me, I think about him a lot.”

  He pulled his hand out of his pocket to reveal a crumpled cigarette and popped it into his mouth. He lowered himself, slowly and with a groan, to the steps leading to the apartment’s front door.

  He lit the cigarette and took a long draw. “You know I think we’re about the only two people in the entire world that believe he’s innocent.”

  I settled on the steps next to him. My feet almost sighed with relief. I had forgotten how painful high heels were. “I think you’re right.”

  He blew out a puff of smoke. The smell tickled my nose. “I never got a chance to thank you. You always supported my son, even when everyone else went after him with pitchforks.”

  I kneaded the aching soles of my feet with my knuckles. “We should work together, you know, prove it wasn’t him.”

  He went rigid. “I tried that, and it took everything from me. My job, my wife, my home… And my son still ended up behind bars.”

  I frowned, letting my foot fall. The cold concrete was soothing against my hot, aching skin. “Isn’t that even more reason to fight?”

  He sighed and flicked the butt of his cigarette into the gutter. “I have nothing left to fight for. The only evidence I had that pointed against Jay “mysteriously disappeared.” There’s no other proof, trust me. I’ve looked at every angle. All I can do now is be there for my son when visitation allows. Anyway, it’s getting late, let me call you a taxi.”

  I stared down at the last dregs of smoke as the cigarette butt petered out and bit hard on my tongue. Noel stood up and the jangle of his keys told me our conversation was over.

  I leapt to my feet, hands clutching my waist. “So that’s it? You’re just giving up on your son?”

  He froze, shoulders hunched, key half turned in its lock. “Giving up? I gave everything I had and all that did was shine the spotlight brighter on him. Convinced them I was covering for my son and then – bam – they planted evidence and claimed I hid it for him. I don’t know who you think you are, accusing me of giving up on my own son, but I think you should leave.”

  The way he snarled took me by surprise and I took a step back, unsure of how to react.

  “I’m sorry,” I finally said. “I just want to help.”

  He glanced over his shoulder at me, his eyes glistening in the light of the moon and scoffed. “There’s nothing anyone can do to help.”

  With that, he yanked the door open and disappeared behind it as it slammed shut. The sound echoed up the street, disturbing an urban fox that had been sniffing around some bins.

  “Guess I’ll get myself a taxi,” I mumbled.

  I turned to head back to the main road and flag one down when a cold breeze tickled my spine and the road behind me lit up blue. I spun around to see the kind yet sad eyes of Mary Johnson, Jay’s mother. She had been diagnosed with cancer shortly before Mel’s death, and it was commonly believed that the stress of her sons’ situation had sped the process along. She had died when I was in hospital.

  My heart sank as a tear rolled down her ethereal cheek. She pleaded, “Please, don’t give up on him.”

  “I’m trying.” I shrugged in defeat. “I don’t know what else to do.”

  “Tell him to remember the promise he made to me on Jay’s birthday. Tell him, “if that’s what it takes”.”

  I nodded. “Ok, I’ll try.”

  I marched up the steps, clutching my heels in one hand and hammered on the door. There was no answer.

  I squatted down and pushed open the letterbox and called through it, “Mr. Johnson… er, Noel? Remember the promise you made to your wife. Remember Jay’s birthday.” I paused but there was no answer. “She told me to tell you, “if that’s what it takes”.”

  I heard a floorboard creak farther into the apartment, but there was no reply. Perhaps it would take some time for the message to sink in, but as I stood up to leave once more, Mary Johnson gave me an encouraging nod. Noel would need time, but something in his wife’s face told me it would be ok.

  By the time I finally arrived home, the excitement from the events of the night had dissipated and I longed for nothing more than sleep. Smokey and Kimmy, however, had other plans. Both of them were sitting on her bed watching ghost hunting videos online when I arrived and tossed my shoes to the ground. Smokey was informing her what were genuine ghost clips and debunking the fakes. I felt a notch of jealousy when I saw him resting in her lap, purring as she stroked his head periodically. Their eyes were both full of anticipation as I walked in the door and sank backwards onto my bed.

  “Cinderella returns,” said Kimmy, pausing her video. “I wasn’t sure we’d be seeing you tonight or if you’d be rekindling that old flame with whatshisface.”

  I groaned. “No chance. Turns out he’s turned into a complete bastard.”

  Kimmy’s computer chair groaned as she leaned closer. “Oh no, what happened?”

  I waved it off. “That’s not important. What’s important is what happened after I threw the drink in his face.”

  Kimmy whooped with laughter as Smokey growled. “You what? Why would you be so uncouth? And why are your feet so filthy?”

  I sat up and rolled my eyes. “Chill out furball, he deserved it.”

  As I relayed the night's events to them, from what Matt had said at the club (which was met with many expletives from Kimmy) to the attack on Noel and my stalker showing up. Finally, I told them about the message Jay’s mother had told me to pass on.

 

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