Ewan blinked and wiped the tears from his eyes. By the time his vision had cleared, the mysterious woman had gone leaving him as mystified by her disappearance as by her words.
I must have misheard her, he thought as he followed his dad and sister into the pub.
Inside, the tap room was decorated with hastily printed images of Billie. A dozen pictures were hanging on walls, placed on the tables and the bar, all charting the girl’s life from toddler to young woman.
Julia stood beside a headshot of her daughter’s graduation day, supported by Ewan’s mum. He watched as his father made his way to them to awkwardly offer his condolences, saw Julia stiffen and his own mother’s face grow pale before Stan stumbled away.
Putting the two sisters’ reactions down to their grief, Ewan joined his father and his own sister at the bar. Sandra was looking at a framed photo of one of Billie’s birthdays. His nine-year old cousin was standing in the centre of a group of smiling children, each of the guests clapping as Julia leaned over to help Billie cut the cake. At the back of the crowd, Grandad Bunches gazed in adoration at his granddaughter.
The only person on the picture who did not appear happy was Billie.
‘I thought Grandad Bunches had died a few months before this party,’ Ewan said to Sandra.
‘Yes,’ she replied but before Ewan could question her further, she turned to the barman and ordered a round of drinks.
A chill draft preceded a voice by his ear. ‘I remember Billie talking about this day.’
Ewan turned to face the strange woman from the car park. Her wistful eyes lingered sadly on her friend’s face. When she spoke, her voice seemed to be coming from a great distance.
‘That was the day she realised she was different,’ she continued. ‘The day she found out that not everybody could see the dead.’
Ewan’s mouth dropped open, and he tried to pull himself together.
‘See the… Wha… What are you talking about?’ he stammered.
Before the woman could answer, Sandra tapped him on the shoulder and shoved a pint into his hand.
‘What were you saying about Grandad Bunches?’ she asked him.
‘I don’t remember him being there,’ he said, casually pointing to the man in the photo.
‘That’s because he’d died three months earlier,’ Sandra said.
‘But he’s right there,’ Ewan insisted, tapping the old man’s image.
Sandra leaned closer to the picture, studying it for a few seconds before turning to her brother. ‘Is this one of your jokes that I don’t get?’ she asked.
Ewan stared at her incredulously. He glanced at the photo. Eleven children and two adults; Billie’s mum and grandfather.
‘I love you, Ewan,’ Sandra said. ‘I don’t always understand you, but I still love you.’ She moved away from the bar, heading for a favourite uncle.
‘I see him,’ the woman at Ewan’s side said. ‘Billie saw him. And now you do too.’
This was getting too much for Ewan. The loss of his cousin was hard enough, now he had this weird woman telling him Billie had been murdered and that she – and now he – could see dead people.
He turned on the stranger and snarled, ‘I don’t know who you are but you’re starting to get on my nerves.’
Around them, people stopped their chatting and looked at Ewan. A friend of the family stepped closer and placed a hand on his arm.
‘Are you okay, Ewan?’ she asked quietly.
‘I’m fine, Kat,’ he answered, shrugging her off. ‘It’s just this…’ his voice trailed off as he gestured at the strange woman.
‘I know, it’s awful,’ Kat placated. ‘You shouldn’t be alone. Come and join us.’
‘I’m not alone,’ Ewan said, turning an incredulous face to Kat. Was everyone going crazy, he thought.
As the stranger spoke again, Ewan felt the cool air radiate from her. But it was her words, not her voice, which chilled his blood.
‘She cannot see me, Ewan. Unlike you and Billie, she cannot see ghosts.’
Comments