Tamsyn Murray-Afterlife 01 My So-Called Afterlife (13 page)

Jeremy took a seat on the black leather sofa and lifted one of the hefty ring-binders from the coffee table. ‘I’ve got no idea. I’m hoping it’ll leap out at us.’

Micky frowned. ‘Us?’

‘Me,’ Jeremy amended quickly. ‘I meant me.’

‘I’ll leave you to it.’ Micky eyed Jeremy suspiciously. ‘You’d better not be messing me about. I don’t like time-wasters.’

With one final forbidding look, he stalked into another room and shut the door behind him. I pulled a face at his back. Tattoos weren’t my thing, and anyone who had as many as Micky made me deeply uneasy. In fact, something about the whole set up was making me uncomfortable. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was trying to get my attention, but every time I tried to work out what it was, it skittered away.

A shiver crawled along my spine. ‘I don’t like it here.’

‘Let’s get on with it then. Have a look over my shoulder while I turn the pages. With a bit of luck we’ll hit the jackpot, and when he comes back I’ll tell him I can’t find anything I like.’

My sense of unease increased with each page I saw, but I forced myself to keep looking, stomach tight with anxiety. As I stared down at the pages, an image started to flash in my mind’s eye. I tried to blink it away, but it was persistent, and each time it stayed in my imagination for longer.

The scene was gloomy. A muffled figure stood in front of me. I couldn’t make out his features. He raised an arm and a shiny blade flashed in the dim lights. It streaked towards me. As it did, the sleeve of his coat fell back, revealing a black tattoo. My eyes widened and I stumbled to my feet, backing away from Jeremy in horror.

‘That one,’ I whispered, pointing a shaking finger at an image on the page in front of us. ‘The ace of spades.’

Jeremy didn’t ask if I was sure. The look on my face must have said it all. His own expression tense, he dipped his head towards me once.

‘Micky?’ he called over one shoulder. ‘Have you got a minute?’

The tattooist came through from the other room, rubbing his hands on an ink-stained cloth. ‘You’ve decided, then?’

‘Not exactly,’ Jeremy said and pointed at the book. ‘What can you tell me about this one?’

Micky glanced downwards at the image of the playing
card. ‘A very popular choice. The ace is considered lucky, and the ace of spades is the luckiest card of them all. Some people combine it with the number thirteen.’

The room swam before my eyes. I jammed them shut, forcing down a tidal wave of fear. With sick realisation, I knew why the number on Jeremy’s front door had bothered me so much. It had been my subconscious brain trying to warn me. As clearly as if it was painted on Micky’s hairy forearm, I saw the tattoo on my killer’s skin. It was the ace of spades, and snaked around the central spade was an inky thirteen.

‘On a scale of one to ten, how much does it hurt?’

Jeremy rubbed his right shoulder. ‘I’ve had worse.’

Maybe he had, but I bet that didn’t ease the pain. Micky Snake hadn’t taken the news of Jeremy’s change of heart very well. He’d called him ‘rubber-necking tourist scum’, following that with a string of swear words, some of which were new to me. I stored them away for future use. After he’d let rip with a few more curses, Micky had twisted Jeremy’s arm up his back and marched him down the stairs to the street.

We made our way back to the Underground. ‘At one point, I thought he was going to pin you down and brand you for life. Still, at least he didn’t nick your bling.’

Jeremy threw me a dark look and said nothing. I
shrugged. Still shaken by the flashback to my death, I wasn’t in the mood for chit-chat anyway.

By the time we reached the loo, the shops were closing and Jeremy was late for work.

‘Are you sure you’ll be all right?’ he asked, catching my troubled glance down the shadowy steps. ‘You can come to the theatre if you promise not to try any Lucifer-baiting.’

I shook my head. The last thing I needed was to get anyone suspicious again. ‘Nah, go ahead. I’ll be fine.’

He took some persuading, but eventually he went. I waited until I was sure he’d gone before I took myself off to Regent’s Street. Window-shopping wasn’t the most fun I could imagine having, but it beat hanging around on my own. Maybe by the time I’d finished lapping up the gadgets in the window of Hamleys, Ryan would have finished up at the Dearly D.

Eventually, I couldn’t put off going home and turned my reluctant feet in that direction. Ryan had texted to say he was going to be busy for another hour or so. Hep hadn’t replied to my message at all. Immediately after the Kimberly incident, she’d been great, spending a lot of her time making sure I was OK. Over the last few days, though, I’d noticed her slipping more and more into her own emotional world, and I got the impression it wasn’t a particularly nice place to be. Whatever was going on in her head, she couldn’t help the rage from spilling out into violent gestures, and she often sent traffic cones soaring with a well-aimed boot. How was she keeping a lid on
things at home if she was this angry all the time?

I wasn’t on my own long. Jeremy popped back after his shift had finished. The rush of happiness I got at seeing him appear in the doorway caught me by surprise. When had I become so attached to him?

‘Have you noticed anyone hanging around here lately?’ he said, after making me laugh with a description of that night’s performance.

‘Other than the usual assortment of weirdos and nutters, you mean?’

‘I assume you’re not lumping me in with that lot but, yes, other than them?’

I thought about it before shaking my head. ‘Nope. Now that movie star has stopped stalking me I haven’t seen anyone hanging around. Why?’

An unreadable expression flitted over his face. ‘I got chatting to Gonzo, the homeless guy upstairs. He told me to be careful. Apparently, he’s seen someone watching the comings and goings here.’

I stared at him. ‘Who would be interested in a public toilet? You don’t think Elvira’s got ants in her pants again, do you?’

He shook his head. ‘Gonzo says it was a man. He only really noticed him because the guy was standing in the doorway of the Tommy Hilfiger shop when he was ready to settle down for the night. Ripper didn’t like the smell of him.’

Ripper was Gonzo’s dog, a greyhound who’d been abandoned when he couldn’t race any more. His deep brown
eyes were intelligent and he certainly seemed to see me. Anyone he didn’t like sounded suspicious in my book. Except for Jeremy, what kind of saddo loitered around public toilets, anyway?

‘It might be the police doing surveillance,’ I suggested doubtfully. ‘I haven’t noticed any drug deals going on, but they aren’t to know that.’

Jeremy sniffed. ‘It’d be easier if you had. They definitely weren’t interested in my serial killer theory.’ He paused in thought. ‘It’s probably nothing. Why don’t you have a scout around later? If Gonzo’s right, we need to know about it.’

‘OK,’ I said, thinking that I wasn’t at all sure I needed to know anything of the sort. ‘Before you go, I have a favour to ask.’

He raised an eyebrow.

‘Actually, I have two favours to ask,’ I amended. ‘First, can you teach me how to do that eyebrow thing?’

A wry smile quirked Jeremy’s lips. ‘I’ll try.’

‘Second, if Hep agrees, would you be willing to talk to her parents?’

Understandably, he looked surprised at this last request. I’d never asked him to do anything like it before, mostly because I thought it would put him in an unbearable position. Imagine visiting a bereaved family and telling them you had a message from their dead loved one. I knew the psychics from the Dearly D did it sometimes, but Jeremy wasn’t a hardened spiritualist. If Hep hadn’t been worrying me so much I would never have put him on the spot.

‘To say what?’ Jeremy’s voice was gentle. ‘Do you think they’re ready to hear what she wants to tell them?’

‘They will if they value what’s left of their ornament collection. I think Hep plans on breaking one a day for the next month.’

‘Do you know why she’s so angry?’

I sighed. There was a strong possibility I’d got it completely wrong, but I couldn’t help feeling the reason Hep was still on earth was somehow connected to her parents. I knew she’d killed herself to find peace and wanted to pass across, but while she still blamed them for her death, she would always be angry and none of them could rest. As much as I’d miss her when she went, things couldn’t go on as they were.

‘I’m not sure. She told me once they never understood how bad the bullying was.’

Compassion flickered in his eyes. ‘Check with Hep first. If it’s what she wants, I’ll do it.’

Several days went by before I got the chance to ask Hep about it. She wasn’t answering texts, and no one had seen her at the Dearly D. Finally, I tracked her down in the park bandstand near her parents’ house. It was a good thing I did. The local hoodie gang might have been permanently traumatised from the treatment she was about to dish out to them.

‘You can’t set fire to their cider bottle, Hep,’ I told her firmly, dragging her away from temptation. ‘No matter how much they swear.’

‘I hate them.’ She spat at their oblivious backs. ‘They don’t deserve to be alive.’

‘Maybe not, but that isn’t up to us.’ I paused and took a nervous breath. ‘I want to talk to you about something, and you might not like what I’m going to say. In fact, I can’t think of much you’d like less.’

I explained. As I expected, she refused point blank to take part. It took me the best part of the afternoon to persuade her otherwise.

‘It won’t achieve anything,’ she said, once her initial torrent of rage had subsided.

‘You might feel better,’ I offered, wondering if she’d read between the lines and realised what this might mean.

She aimed a half-hearted punch at a shrivelled balloon tied to one of the pillars. ‘They didn’t listen to me when I was alive,’ she mumbled. ‘It’ll be even easier to ignore me now I’m dead.’

Somehow, I didn’t think her parents were ignoring her, not with the amount of poltergeist activity she was generating around them, but I didn’t say so. I was determined to get the three of them communicating, no matter how long it took.

Hep’s mum and dad were older than I expected. Even allowing for the aging effect of their grief, I guessed they were in their fifties. They sat in their faded, flowery living room and stared at Jeremy, sorrow hanging around them like an accustomed blanket.

‘How did you say you knew Rosemary?’ Mrs Muldoon
asked, after Jeremy had introduced himself.

Nervously, he cleared his throat. ‘I didn’t, Mrs Muldoon.’

I gave him an encouraging nod. What he was doing was incredibly hard, and neither of us knew how it would go or even whether Hep was going to play ball. At the moment, she was sitting in the corner of the room, scowling ferociously and peeling the wallpaper from the wall.

‘I’d like to start by saying I’m truly sorry for your loss.’ Jeremy glanced from one to the other. ‘I can only imagine what you’ve been through.’

Mrs Muldoon bowed her head. ‘No one should outlive their child.’

Her husband said nothing.

‘My purpose for coming here might seem hard to believe at first. If I was in your shoes I’m not sure I’d be able to accept it.’ Jeremy paused and took a great gulp of what must now have been lukewarm tea. ‘It might come as something of a shock to hear this, but your daughter is in this room right now.’

A ball of crumpled wallpaper sailed over our heads and bounced off the chimney breast. Mr and Mrs Muldoon didn’t bat an eyelid. I guessed it was an everyday event for them.

If I’d been either of Hep’s parents, the temptation to make a sarcastic comment at that moment would have been too great to resist. Neither of them said a word. Somehow, they didn’t seem the sarcastic type. Instead, they continued to gaze at Jeremy as though he’d told them it was raining outside.

He went on. ‘She’s quite angry. My purpose today is to speak on Hep’s – sorry, Rosemary’s – behalf.’

Mrs Muldoon’s expression softened. ‘Can you see her?’ she asked, wistful longing creeping into her voice.

Tears sprang into my eyes. The emotion on her face was heart-wrenching. No matter what Hep felt, in that moment I knew she had been loved by her mum and dad. They might not have told her so, but she’d been the centre of their world. The tragedy was, Hep had never known.

It was too complicated to explain how Jeremy knew about Hep. We’d agreed beforehand that it would be easier to pretend he could see her. With a questioning glance at me, he said gently, ‘She’s over by the fish tank.’

Silent tears spilled down Mrs Muldoon’s worn cheeks. ‘I’d give anything to be able to see her one last time.’

‘Oh for pity’s sake, it’s like being on a daytime TV show,’ Hep sneered from her corner. ‘Any minute now they’re going to wheel out the brother I never knew I had.’

It was an act. I could tell by her glistening eyes that she was struggling not to cry. ‘Let go, Hep. You don’t have to pretend any more.’

She stared hard at the patterned carpet, pressing her lips together. ‘What do you know about it? You never wanted to die.’

I couldn’t argue. It didn’t mean I couldn’t understand the depth of her desolation and loneliness, though. I knew how that felt. She’d thought killing herself would stop all the pain and bewilderment she felt at a world which
seemed unable to accept her. Instead, things had got worse.

‘No, but there are still things I wish I’d told my family. This is your chance, Hep. They’re listening now.’

The words broke the last barrier. All the pent-up emotions she’d been forcing back in the months since her death came surging out. Jeremy paled, but did his best to translate the waves of utter misery I relayed to him.

‘I couldn’t escape the bullies!’ she spat bitterly. ‘They hounded me at school and followed me home, calling me names on the bus. They even sent me bitchy texts, always from different numbers so I couldn’t grass. And . . . and then they posted a video of me having an asthma attack during cross-country on the internet.’

‘Slow down, Hep,’ I pleaded as she paused to suck in another impassioned breath. ‘I can’t keep up!’