A delicate wisp of chilled air brushed across my ear, causing wandering strands of hair to dance across my face in the day’s sweet breath. ‘Jasmine, your ear is cold. It’s tickling’ lazily crawled through my mind and I raised a heavy arm to thud across my head, still lacking the dexterity of being fully awake. The movement jogged my brain into powering up and conscious thought flooded into my mind like the damn of sleep had been broken. Ideas rampaging disorganised in my skull until the waves had calmed. My ear is cold? I don’t feel cold, I can’t feel cold, but I also can’t dream, so something is seriously askew here…
I slowly pried my eyes open, trying not to frighten the sensation into retreat, but as my eyelids reached their summit the feeling dispersed into the shadowed corners of the room.
I couldn’t figure out what was more improbable; dreaming or feeling. One of those two things had just happened, but in order to feel I needed the catalyst of Nick’s proximity and dreaming would be so monumental I couldn’t really admit it as being a legitimate option.
Speaking of Nick where was he? I felt like an intruder in the hollow little room by myself and the internal debate of feeling vs. dreaming drifted away into the isolation of only having collapsed sheets of wallpaper for companionship. This was the first time I’d woken alone for some time and I didn’t particularly like it. Once downstairs and into the warm embrace of Edith’s company I learnt that Nick had gone back next door early to spy on forensics and see if they were any closer to wrapping things up “They won’t solve this in a couple days? Don’t murder investigations take months?” Edith gave me a chaste shrug of her shoulders, not meeting my gaze and replied “they might if they find some conclusive… like hair or blood or a murder weapon… you never know” I guess she was right; it still seemed pretty improbable though.
I wanted to ask about last night’s new found intelligence on her life and abusive husband but apart from being slightly out of sorts she seemed her usual self; Nowhere near as depressed as last night. Swearing at teabags missing the cups and humming forgotten tunes to herself, besides the cloak of curious anxiety that clung to her she looked lighter; like heavy, troublesome thoughts had escaped during the night and tunnelled out under the floorboards.
My interest on the subject of her past was far outweighed by my concern of the lingering memory of her spontaneous misery, so I decided to let sleeping dogs lie and not press the subject.
Before my inquisitiveness could requisition the choice, Nick burst through the back door “THEY FOUND IT!” he exclaimed brimming with elated relief. Edith ignored the kettles click of readiness and turned to Nick “your body?” “Unfortunately not, but they found the murder weapon!” Blimey, that was quick, my elevated brow gave away my surprise and he took it as a cue to elaborate “according to detective inspector Dempsey…” God, he knew them all by name now “Nick how long have you been over there?!” “Since five this morning, I listened to the police guarding the crime scene until everyone else arrived at eight… so a few hours” it was eleven, so quite a few hours. How on earth did I sleep for so long?
Edith held up a mug to Nick which he gave her a wink and a smile before continuing “ANYWAY, there’s still no sign of my body BUT they found a steak knife wrapped in a hotel towel, hidden on top of the wardrobe. It’s with forensics now” the killer must be pretty stupid to forget the murder weapon and leave it somewhere so plain… looks like it could be Ethan after all. “Also they checked out Dominic Crane, he’s been ruled out as he’s not the right build for the CCTV footage; he’s a rotund little chap” interesting, so it sounds like creepy Ethan was indeed still in the line-up an Nick’s brother “anything on our other suspects?”
Nick fidgeted around and took his cup from Edith “they are questioning Ethan today…” “And you’re brother?” At this point Edith left the room without a word to sit in her chair, it was very unlike her not to get involved and push her way into the conversation; she loved a bit of drama “is she alright?” Nick whispered “I hope so… don’t change the subject, have the police questioned your brother yet?!” “Don’t Jasmine, it’s not going to be him” Don’t? Don’t what, fall prey to the fact he has a clear motive? “You’re pretty sure for someone who…” “Just don’t Jas! Do you have any siblings?” I shrugged my shoulders; I genuinely had no idea… I didn’t feel like an only child? “See,” he replied “you don’t know. You don’t hurt your own, let alone murder them!” this was evolving into a row, I could feel it winding tighter inside me like a coil that was being twisted the wrong way and preparing to fracture. Something so simple shouldn’t have riled me, I should have just backed down; I wasn’t an arguer by nature, but for some reason my heels dug into the ground and smoke billowed from my nostrils “so that’s it?! Because my life is gone, I don’t get an opinion?” “Jasmine, I didn’t say that!”
“WILL YOU TWO BLOODY WELL CALM DOWN?!” Edith yelled from the living room and moved into the doorway, hands on hips; the motherly stance that was never questioned on authority. “Nicholas’ brother is a lovely young man; helped me with my shopping once when no one else was home” I had been well and truly silenced “and Nicholas, you have been trying to play detective, let the police do their bloody jobs without being haunted. The next one to mention murder gets a thick ear. Now go for a walk or something and give an old woman a break!”
Nick and I just stood there aghast at the scolding we had just received “Jasmine,” Nick cautiously said, not taking his eyes off of the pensioner who was on the war path “let’s go for a walk”
We decided to take a stroll in the park down the road; all of the neighbourhood’s children should be in school, so it should be fairly quiet with little chance of creating accidental spooky trouble. In fact the streets were deserted, the silence of snow prevailed. The only clue that people had ventured outside at all were residual footprints fossilised into the ice and tracks left by car tyres along the roads. But even those had a fresh layer of snow to cover the mud which was beginning to peek through its ashen shelter.
“So…” Nick began “things to talk about that don’t involve murder…” “well, my past is lost and your present is contraband conversation” my eyes met his and an awkward smile painted his face with melancholy, before sending his vision to the floor “oh, you are stubborn!” he strained for topics of conversation for a moment before remarking “it’s tough making small talk with someone who has no past” “…or future” our walking was halted so Nick could look me in the eye properly “Look, I didn’t mean that… you just have… death amnesia” I couldn’t be annoyed at him or retain hostility no matter how hard I tried. I liked the way he looked at things, a grin of amusement tickled my face and gave away my appreciation “see, look at that smile,” he continued “Who needs a past when the present looks this good?”
Trying to act cool at this point seemed to elude me, averting my eyes to the snow and continuing our walk was all my body seemed capable of doing. Since I died the only thing that had brought a real, legitimate smile to my face was Nick. After years of pining, to have him here, talking to me and noticing the smile that was all his doing was just surreal.
Nick caught up and brought me back to reality “Besides, we’re both in the same boat here; let’s just make the most of it” it was my turn to halt progress now, having a breezy optimism was one thing and not recognising a rubbish situation was another “What? It’s not like we on holiday or a date or something, we’re dead! How’d you make the most of that?!” Nick shook his head sniggering “You need to lighten up! You’re only dead once, once the police have buggered off, maybe we could go on holiday… or on a date” at this point I needed to keep my focus; the mention of a date turned my mind to goo and liquefied any trace of the quarrel we were in the midst of and for some reason I was striving to maintain.
I refuse to be wrapped around his little finger… or anything else for that matter “ghosts can’t date” a little more disappointment spiked my voice than intended and Nick sunk his hands deep into his pockets with a sigh, getting a taste that his stubbornness had a challenger. “Ghosts can go to places of mutual interest together can’t they?” I suppose they can, my lack of answer was a begrudged agreement “so what do you like doing Jas?” I shrugged my shoulders; I honestly had no idea what I liked to do, besides spying on him and drinking tea with Edith, I didn’t really do anything!
“I have, on occasion, seen you dancing in the kitchen, whilst making the tea when you think no one is watching” looks like I wasn’t the only one who enjoyed spying on people. A tinge of panic stained my voice portraying “when did you see that?!” as more of an accusation than as question “That’s not relevant!” Nick replied “The point is you like dancing, so that is what we’ll do”
Not dressed like this, I wouldn’t go dancing. The best part of a night out was getting ready beforehand; taking an hour to do your eyeliner before wiping it off and starting again and gauging all your shoes for comfort, style and how good they make your legs look. “I can’t go dancing in slippers!” unintentionally skated out of my mouth and Nick sprang with laughter down the road.
We were almost to the park and passing a row of shops that sold clothes for people vastly younger and thinner than I was. I climbed onto the bench outside the shop, much to the amusement of Nick, and with some careful positioning managed to place the reflection of my face on top of the mannequin’s svelte frame. My silvery reflection was now dressed in a black twinkling dress, I had never looked so good, shame the body was on rent “This is what you wear to go dancing!” I said to Nick who clambered next to me to assume the identity of the male mannequin next to mine “I hate to say it,” I admitted “but you look better than the mannequin” Nicks crisp white shirt and gray suit trousers has been replaced by jeans and a t-shirt, the only thing he needed to complete the look was the bashful grin he was now sporting.
The park was deserted when we emerged from the underpass that channelled under the road. I liked it the secrecy it suggested. Although it did maintain a fairly eerie vibe; seeing swings barren of children, a grassless iced desert and icicles hanging from the monkey bars like sharpened teeth. The scene looked more like a post-apocalyptic wasteland than our local park; with the lack of people and traffic the occasional creaking of a swing or birds cry were the only audible noise.
“This is creepy” I said surveying the abandoned playground, Nick turned to me with one eyebrow aloft “you have got to be kidding me?” he replied looking out to the untouched blanket of virgin snow “The ghost is scared?” slowly walking behind me he whispered in my ear “don’t worry, we are the only monsters here” and with that he smashed a snowball into my face and legged it onto the green (or white I suppose), repeatedly glancing behind him to see if I had taken the bait. “OH NO YOU DON’T!” I spluttered chasing after him, scooping a handful of snow up on the way.
Nick’s rainbow socks gleamed against the colourless ground and his laugh echoed through the trees lining the park like a war cry. He darted around the field avoiding my grasp, God he was fast. Sport was never my forte; I was more of an ambush (aka lazy) hunter. I was just starting to gain on Nick when out of nowhere he stopped and turned around expecting me to be miles behind him. Unfortunately the lack of grip on his socks had served me well and my slipper clad feet had closed the gap between us. It may have been a game of tag in a park, but in my head we were in Saving Private Ryan; I slammed into him and we fell onto the ground. I got up to perform a short but enthusiastic victory dance while Nick hauled his face out of the snow “Jasmine, Jasmine! What was that!?” I think I got a little too into that game “sorry… turns out I’m quite competitive… won’t happen again”
Nick got up and dusted himself off before bending down to create a mammoth snowball “damn straight it won’t happen again” he wouldn’t, I stood still for a second to test his resolve but a step towards me paired with a cocky nod was enough to tell me where his handful of snow was intended. I turned on my heels to flee towards the sanctuary of the wooden climbing frame, a snowball of such size couldn’t be carried to its summit and I would be safe. We both darted across the park taunting each other; it seemed our ages had momentarily reverted, like the absence of children had forced all of their playful energies onto us.
I took full advantage of being a spook and nimbly ran through a picnic bench; they had been built after I died so there was no risk of a connection to it. I was a few seconds from my target but I heard a smack, followed by a groan coming from behind me. Turning round there was no sign of Nick “Nick? Where are you?!” another moan came from behind the bench. I ran over to see Nick lying flat on his back like a snow angel, the gargantuan snowball re-joining the floors ample covering beside him. I ruptured into laughter and knelt down beside him “are you okay?!” “That shouldn’t have hurt… aaaahhhh but it did… why are picnic benches at groin height?” trying to sober my face into seriousness for his injury, scooped an armful of snow and dumped it on his waist. It was hopeless, laughter was leaking out of me “ha ha… Any b…better?!” he flicked a handful of ice into my face and as I began to gather another snowball I was pulled onto the ground beside him; face first into the chilled ground “enough!” Nick wailed in defeat “you win!”
Flipping over with a smug smile on my face to lie beside him, we both gazed up into the cloudless sky; relishing the earth’s current solitude. A single aeroplane was crawling across the horizon, leaving a silver snail trail behind it “do you ever wonder where planes are going?” I asked Nick, my eyes not shifting from the winged silhouette in the sky “Upwards?” Nick replied sweeping the snow from his torso “no! I mean who is on board, are they going on holiday, honeymoon, business trip?” Nick laughed to himself “whether they’ll make it back alive?” I shot a glare his way for toying with me before resuming my daydreaming “I think that plane is going to Egypt and it’s full of families going on holiday”
Nick mumbled to himself in thought; pointing at the sun, looking at his watch and chewing his lip. I tried to follow his winding path of thinking but that opulent lower lip brought glowing memories of our interrupted drunken kiss sprinting back into my head. His teeth indenting into the cushioned flesh made my chest tighten and attempt to support the heart which could skip a beat or give up altogether at any moment
“New York” promptly disturbed my outlawed fantasy “What? New York?!” what were we talking about again? “The plane is flying North West, so America is most likely… and I like New York… You see that trail they leave in the sky” he pointed to the iridescent streak of vapour across the fading evening sky “my mother always used to say ‘above that line is where heaven is’… she probably thinks I’m bouncing round on clouds being serenaded by angels… no in a park discussing aeroplanes” his voice was joking but there was an undeniable lining of sadness beneath it “well, I can sing if you’d like?” I teased but his laughter was encasing with the gloom of a thought he was trying to push back.
I moved my hand across the frosted gap between us and rested it on his, Nick gave it a squeeze of appreciation “I want to scream and shout about how unfair it is we kicked the bucket so young. I just don’t have it in me” if a breakdown was indeed bubbling below the surface he was doing remarkable job of restraining it; especially with the heightened emotions that death brings “maybe your just better at dealing with it than most?” “No, I can feel it’s here,” he continued using his other hand to tap his chest “it’s just outweighed by something brighter, something better. It’s like when you’re really excited about something but forget what it is; like anonymous excitement”
Maybe he wants to know how he died, I know it sounds morbid but until you remember and it settles in everything is like a murder mystery (especially in Nick’s case) Once it’s solved and the reality of being purposeless sets in; it evacuates any suppressed feelings.
I had retraced my footsteps around the house for weeks until I remembered how I had passed. I actually bumped into the goliath spider that did me in and it all came flooding back. I was prepared to squash the spider in a mindless act of revenge for inadvertently snapping my neck, but it ran from me. Like the vile creature could feel the pressure of my slipper weighing on its disgusting, scuttling little legs. Much to my joy all spiders have done the same since. It is much easier to hide an irritating, irrational phobia when the object of your fear won’t come within 20 paces of you.
Considering how many I had hovered up in panic over the years, one killing me must have been a mammoth dose of karma.