‘Hello, Niamh Porter speaking,’ I said.
‘Niamh, someone gave me your number and said you’d be able to help me with my, uh, specialist, um, problem,’ said a very unsure and unconfident voice on the other end.
I sat on the sofa, anticipating that it would take me a while to get answers from this person. ‘What kind of specialist problem do you mean?’
‘Well, uh, ghosts.’ The last word was barely audible, but it was pretty obvious what it was given that none of my DIY services started with a G.
Fucking Maggie. She always used to refer clients to me, back in the day. I had no doubt this was her, trying to get me back into ghost hunting again.
Well, it wasn’t going to work. Just because I was looking into something for her and Edie, that didn’t mean I was going back into doing anything else involving ghosts. Especially not for a total stranger. I’d been done with that part of my life for a long time. Why did nobody listen when I told them that?
*
‘No,’ I said, glaring at Maggie as I stood in her doorway.
‘No what?’ she said, feigning innocence. The wideness in her eyes said she knew exactly what I was talking about. She stepped aside to let me in.
I took my coat off and hung it on the rack, then removed my shoes and placed them on the bottom step. ‘You, telling one of your friends I can do a seance for her! You know I don’t do that stuff anymore.’
We went into the kitchen, where Maggie was in the middle of cooking something. The room smelled of coriander, thyme, and some other things I couldn’t place.
‘She’s not my friend, she’s a customer from the restaurant.’ Maggie dumped a handful of carrots and a knife on a chopping board. ‘There, take your anger out on that.’
‘I’m not angry,’ I said through gritted teeth.
She returned to the chopping board on the counter opposite me, which was home to a terrifying-looking knife and a butternut squash. ‘Uh-huh. Then why is your neck redder than your hair?’
‘Shut up.’
I didn’t turn to look at her, but I imagined her smirking to herself.
‘What harm would it do, anyway? It’s just a seance.’
‘That’s. Not. How. It. Works,’ I said, punctuating each word with the slice of a carrot. ‘I haven’t used my powers in years.’
‘You see ghosts every day.’
‘I haven’t used my powers willingly in years,’ I corrected.
She put the knife down and turned to face me, leaning against the kitchen side. I turned to face her, too, my knife still in my hand and pointing right at her. It wasn’t as sharp as hers, mind.
‘Isn’t it time you put them to good use again? Don’t you want to set a good example for Edie?’
‘Don’t make this about Edie!’
‘Why not? You make every reason not to use your powers about Edie. Why shouldn’t your reasons to use them be about her?’
A grumbling noise escaped my throat. Did she always have to be so logical? Was that why I moved away from this place ten years ago?
No. It was because everywhere I went, I was reminded of Javi. While the reminders had mostly gone, I couldn’t help but wonder: if I did a seance, would he intercept it? Could he? He’d no doubt have an opinion on my ex-husband and what had happened with him. And I really didn’t need to hear it.
‘Is this about Javi?’ Maggie interrupted.
‘Of course it’s about my dead husband!’ I shouted, waving the knife in the air.
Maggie approached me with her hands raised in surrender, took the knife from my hand, and put it on the side. ‘It’s been ten years, Niamh. Don’t you think it’s time you addressed what happened?’
‘A ghost killed my husband. What is there to address?’
‘I don’t know, maybe the fact that you haven’t told your daughter what really happened? Or how you’ve given up what you used to see as your life’s calling because of it?’
‘If someone died by one of your kitchen knives, wouldn’t you give up cooking?’
‘No,’ she said without hesitation. ‘Because then that person would’ve died in vain.’
*
Maggie wore me down. But she couldn’t come to the seance, and I wasn’t going to invite Edie just in case her dad decided to crash it. I couldn’t risk Edie getting overly emotional at seeing her dad for the first time in so long. The seance wasn’t about our family, it was about someone else who was seeking answers.
I didn’t want to go alone, though. I needed backup in case the ghost went rogue or my powers were ropey. There was only one person left I hadn’t ruled out.
‘Back for more books?’ said Ben as I walked into the library.
‘No. This time I want you.’ My cheeks flushed. I had not meant for it to come out like that.
A playful smirk crossed Ben’s lips. ‘And what do you require my services for?’
I glanced around to make sure nobody else was around to listen. Aside from a couple of people in the coffee shop at the back, I couldn’t see signs of anyone, not even Ben’s colleagues.
’It’s just us,’ he said, but he leaned over the counter so that he could get closer to me anyway. I wasn’t complaining.
Fiddlesticks, no! This was supposed to be serious business. And I was too old to let hormones get the better of me.
I leaned in towards him. So that I could talk quieter and stop others from overhearing just in case, I mean. ‘How do you feel about seances?’
He cocked an eyebrow. ‘Why?’
‘Someone’s asked me to contact her dead grandmother, but I’m rusty. I could use some backup.’
He smirked. ‘Can I bring some toys?’
‘What kind of toys?’
‘Just the kind that track ghost activity,’ he said. ‘I’ve been playing with some new equipment. I want to see if it’s any good.’
‘Well. No time to test it like a seance.’