Ben gave me the address of his maybe-haunted friend. Or acquaintance. Or whatever she was to him. He hadn’t said what his relationship was with her, only that she thought she was being haunted. I visited her the following Monday, while Edie was at college.
The woman who opened the door was average-looking, of average-size, and had a far-from-average dress sense. Her hair was a faded purple in poor condition, and she had no idea how to apply make-up to her face shape. There was a small child attached to her hip, hugging her tightly.
‘Ben sent you?’ she said, eyeing me up and down. Happened every time. They expected some goth chick to turn up at their door and always seemed disappointed when I rolled up to their front door with ginger hair, freckly skin, and wearing jeans and a T-shirt. Maybe I needed to update my brand.
‘Yeah,’ I said.
She stepped aside – with difficulty, thanks to her conjoined child – and let me in.
‘So, tell me about what’s been happening,’ I said. Every so often, I glanced down at the boy. There was something about his behaviour around his mum that seemed unnaturally attached.
‘The last few weeks, stuff’s started going missing. Or it’ll turn up in strange places. Like my keys in the dog bowl or the fridge.’
‘I see,’ I said. ‘Anything else?’
‘Lights flickering, music coming on when nobody’s in the room, that sort of thing.’
I glanced to the TV, where a smart speaker sat beside it. The boy was still clutching on to his mum, burying his face in her waist. It wasn’t quite covered, though, and I could see a slight smirk on his face. ‘When did the activity start?’
‘About six weeks ago.’
‘Did anything significant happen around then?’
‘My boyfriend moved in with me.’
I glanced at the boy again. He’d turned his head away from me.
A dog bed sat in the corner, near the TV. Animals knew ghosts. Better than most humans. The dog’s behaviour would tell me a lot, even though I couldn’t see or hear any signs of it.
‘Has your dog been acting strangely? Barking more, barking at air, that sort of thing?’ I asked.
‘No. Not that I’ve noticed, anyway.’ She looked to her son – it was the first time she’d acknowledged his existence, despite his proximity – and pried him away from her hip. ‘Neil, have you seen the dog act strangely, or any unusual activity lately?’
He shook his head, but it was impossible for him to hide the growing smirk on his face.
‘The dog is out with the walker right now, but I can bring him over later if you think it’ll help?’
‘Thanks, but I don’t think that will be necessary.’ I turned to her son: ‘Neil, what do you think of your mum’s boyfriend?’
His mum’s eyes widened, but I ignored her and focused on the son. His face contorted into an unimpressed, angry face. Then he blew a raspberry.
‘Neil!’
‘Your problem isn’t supernatural, I’m afraid. It’s your son.’
‘No! He would never—’ She stopped herself when she saw the guilty look on her son’s face.
‘You don’t need a ghost hunter, miss, you need a counsellor.’
‘How dare you! My son is just fine!’
‘Uh-huh. Well, whether or not you decide to fix your family problems, that’ll be £50 please.’
*
I was exhausted after the exorcism-turned-counselling session, so I stopped off at Maggie’s on my way home. It was useful having a friend who worked part time, sometimes.
And even more useful when she was a chef, who insisted on cooking at home just as much as she did at work. There was a plate of rocky road on the table. She’d no doubt made them for the kids, but I was happy to help them eat it.
I grabbed some from the kitchen table, then sat down as she made us both a coffee.
‘Have you seen this?’ Maggie asked, putting the local paper in front of me.
I always avoided local papers because I found them full of boring, supposedly heartwarming but mostly nauseating stories, or total sensationalism and melodrama. The headline Maggie pointed to was no different.
Pets go rogue as they turn on their owners.
I looked up at Maggie, frowning. Why was she showing me that?
‘Keep reading,’ she said.
Begrudgingly, I did. And the further into the article I got, the more worried and angry I was. Owners thought there was some sort of disease making their dogs go mad. The dogs were barking at them for no reason, jumping up, baring their teeth, and getting aggressive with some family members, while defending others. What they were actually doing was trying to protect their owners from the ghosts haunting – and possessing – them. Fiddlesticks.
I closed the newspaper and leaned back in my chair. ‘Those poor pets.’
Maggie nodded. ‘It won’t be long before one turns nasty and gets put down for it.’
‘What are you trying to say?’
‘Don’t you think someone should do something about it?’ said Maggie, waggling her eyebrows at me.
‘Don’t do that. I am looking into it.’
Maggie scoffed. ‘No, you’re looking into the part that affects you and Edie. This is bigger than just you two, Neevie.’
‘Don’t use my pet name against me. I’m trying to protect you and your family, too,’ I said.
She was making me regret telling her about Nathan’s warning. Not because she was worried – her dad worried about everything, so she wasn’t taking him seriously – but because she was using it to guilt me into doing things. Ugh.
She reached over and held my hands. ‘I know, and I love you for it. But it’s bigger than all of us. It affects the whole town. Maybe even more than that.’
I sighed, my shoulders slumping. Of course she was right. She had an annoying habit of always being right. Was I being selfish by only focusing on the parts that affected Edie, Maggie, and me?