Driving Me Mad, page 7
“May I?” I gestured as if to open it, and she nodded.
Inside was a name written in small neat writing: Annabel Howell. I had known it would be there. I’d felt her mark even before I opened the cover. The date underneath the name announced December 1949. On the inside of the cover, opposite her name, was written: To you, from me. x E x. I also knew the E stood for Ellen. I’m not a prophet, or seer, it just made sense.
“It belonged to my great aunt.”
I nodded, but continued to turn the pages, pages that were full of words, full of memories of a time long gone. As I looked at the flowing script, I had an image of the words being lovingly placed on each page.
Clare laughed nervously, and I looked up and gave her a questioning look.
“Sorry,” she said. “I feel bad now.”
I tilted my head and looked at her. “Bad? Why?”
She laughed again. “I actually just fetched the book to rip a page out to give you my mobile number.”
My eyes widened in shock, and not because she was going to give me her number. I wasn’t that retarded. “Sacrilege!”
Clare looked embarrassed, and I smiled to let her know I was teasing. It was her turn to blush.
“I’m joking, Clare. It’s your book. You can rip out as many pages as you want.” I offered it back to her, and she deliberated before taking it.
“I couldn’t do it now. I’d feel like I was destroying a piece of history.”
“One tick.” I turned and ran back to my car, leaving her standing there. Less than a minute later, I was back, holding out a business card. “You can write your mobile number on the back of that.” She opened her mouth to speak, but I was prepared. Lifting my hand, I waggled another card. “And you can take this one to keep.”
A grin split her face, and she tried to pull the card from my hand. However, I copied her previous stunt and held on to it, tugging it back before finally releasing it. Lame, I know. But Clare thought it was amusing, so who gave a shit if I was a moron? I didn’t.
“There you go.” She handed the card back to me with a wink.
I gasped as I read the words on the small card. It wasn’t because she had written her name, mobile, landline, and email address in such a short space of time. It was that Clare had the exact same handwriting as her great aunt.
I lifted my eyes quickly and saw Clare grimacing, as if she was expecting me to say something about the amount of information she’d given me. She must’ve thought that was why I gasped. It would have been so easy to just explain the reason for my response, but I felt silly. Why would it be important for me to point that out?
“You write like your great aunt.” What the fuckity fuck?
Those perfect lips parted, then moved, then closed.
“I just thought…”
“Funnily enough, everyone says I look like her, too.”
Damned right she did. And then I wondered if her lips were as soft as Annabel’s.
Yeah. As soft as any eighty-five year old woman’s lips. I was thankful that thought stayed inside my head. I tried to repress the image of what I had dreamed about—not the actual dream, but the changed dream, where Annabel was in her eighties. No good.
A knocking came from behind us, Freddie knocking on the door. Man. It had taken him a while to think of that one.
A look of sheer dismay appeared on Clare’s face. “Shit! Oh, excuse me.”
Was she apologising for saying shit? I would be saying sorry every five minutes if that was the case.
“I…” She looked torn—like she wanted to keep talking to me, but knew she was needed elsewhere. “I’ll… Can I?” She cast a thumb over her shoulder, indicating she had to leave.
“Sure, sure, you get going.” I started to back away, but she moved towards me, a hint of panic on her face.
“Can you, will you, erm…”
A smile crept onto my face. “Go to him, Clare. I’ll wait in my car, and we can make some arrangements, okay?”
I’d been waiting for nearly fifteen minutes for her to come back out of the house, but I wasn’t worried. At least it indicated that he hadn’t been lying dead on the floor when she got back inside, nor was he likely clasping his chest in agony. To be honest, I didn’t quite know if I was pro or con in regards to that last thought.
I kept looking furtively at the house. I didn’t want to seem too eager when Clare reappeared, and just sitting in the driver’s seat of my Mazda would probably give her the impression that I was desperate. I needed to find something to occupy myself so she might think I was catching up on work, not just hanging around like a sad loser.
I turned around and stretched to retrieve my handbag from where I had thrown it on the back seat when I’d rummaged around for the business cards. The little fucker was an inch shy of being captured, so I continued to do myself an injury by jamming my body through the gap between the front seats. It would have been so much easier to get out of the car and open the back door, but now it had become a mission.
Just as the tips of my fingers touched the strap, I froze. It wasn’t because I had pulled a muscle. No. I was getting the distinct impression that I was being watched.
I looked towards the house, half expecting Clare to be grinning at me through the side window of my car, but no one was there. Frowning, I refocused on my target, my middle finger inching under the strap and slowly pulling the handle towards me. Then I felt it again, eyes watching me. Another glance to my left showed the area was still empty, with not even the ghostly figure of Annabel.
I waited a moment, the memories of the first time I had thought I was being watched slipping into my mind. The circumstances had been different, granted. For starters, now it was broad daylight, and I wasn’t peeing at the side of the road. That didn’t keep the hairs on my arms and at the back of my neck from standing to attention, as if they could somehow stop what was happening.
“Find me.”
The voice, an unidentified female voice, came from beside me. It was soft, yet insistent. Even though it had only said two words, each one penetrated to deep inside my core. The blood seemed to stop flowing in my veins, making the sensation even more terrifying. I sensed a patch of coldness pressing against my right side, and I closed my eyes to ready myself for what was about to come.
Releasing the handle of my purse, I slid my body back through the gap between the two front seats, my eyes still firmly shut. I felt a hand touch the small of my back and guide me, but I didn’t fear it. This wasn’t an ill-intentioned hand, not by a long shot.
The cushion of the driver’s seat felt reassuring, but I waited a couple more seconds before opening my eyes. I knew someone was staring at me from the passenger seat. Knew she was waiting for me to grow some balls and turn to meet her gaze.
I swallowed, then swallowed again. My whole body seemed to vibrate, and it wasn’t from excitement. To be honest, I wasn’t even sure it was from fear, as I knew she wasn’t there to hurt me. Somehow I knew she never had, and never would.
Slowly, I turned. Green eyes were expectant, inquisitive, and so very much like my own that it was like looking into a mirror. It was me, but it wasn’t me. Shoulder length blonde hair framed her face, her long fringe tucked behind one ear. A half smile played along her lips as she looked me over. She was probably thinking the same thing about me—that we looked alike, I mean.
“Ellen?” I knew I sounded like I’d lost the plot when I said it, but what else could I do?
She nodded, her eyes flicking shut rapidly, slowly. That didn’t make sense to me, but that’s how it appeared.
What does a person say to a ghost? I know mediums wail out, “Is there anybody there?” when they are trying to make contact, but what came next? ”How’s the weather where you are?” or “What’s it like being dead?”
I went with stating the obvious. “You’re dead.” Not the best way to start a conversation, I knew that. But I was feeling the pressure.
Ellen smiled at me. Even she knew I was a twat, and we’d only just met. I usually can fool people for a little longer than that, but there was no fooling those green eyes.
“Did he kill you?”
The smile completely faded and was replaced by fear. Her hand raised, and she pointed at the house.
Why didn’t she answer me? She had spoken when I wasn’t looking at her, so why not now?
I turned to where she was pointing and saw Clare outside with her granddad. She was helping him down the steps, her focus not on him but on me. She looked concerned, as if she knew there was something happening inside my car but couldn’t make out what it was.
Could she see Ellen? Was she wondering why there were two of “me” inside the car? Or was she just thinking about why I was still waiting.
“You belong with her.”
Ellen’s voice broke through my mental confusion, and I jumped. I turned back to her, but there was nothing there. The empty seat looked innocently vacant, as if no one had been there. Whiteness caught my eye, and I spotted a small card sitting on the seat, waiting to be discovered. I tentatively reached out to pick it up, even though I knew it was my own business card, the one I’d given to Clare. There was something different, though, something added: To you, from me. x E x.
“Fuck.” The word slipped from my lips in disbelief. How had that happened? Ghosts didn’t write messages did they? I thought when people talked about a ghost writer, it meant something completely different, not fucking ghosts actually writing!
Tap.
The noise at the window was my undoing. “FUCK!” I grimaced as I saw Clare’s expression change to shock. “Sorry… I…” Was I apologising for swearing, as she had? No. I was apologising for frightening the crap out of her.
Clare mimed the action of rolling down the window, and I complied immediately.
“Everything okay?” She leaned forward, her head poking inside the car, and the scent of her shampoo drifted in and engulfed my senses. “I saw you talking to someone…”
She saw me talking to Ellen! Thank fuck for that! My relief was short lived.
“And I didn’t want to disturb you while you were on the phone.”
Phone? What phone? Shit. Exactly. She thought I was talking to someone because she could see me engaged in something that looked like a conversation, although it had been rather truncated.
Was now the right time to tell her that I had been seeing her bloody relatives for the last two days, had even made dream love with one of them?
“You look a little pale. You okay?”
Not really, no. I’d just been sitting next to a woman who had been dead for sixty years and could’ve been my twin. I think that could have been a factor in my pallor. Actually, I was surprised I was still lucid.
“Clare! Come on.”
Freddie Howell was shouting from her car, and I could feel my hackles rise.
“I’ve got to get back!” he added.
“I’ll be there in be a minute, Granddad.” She looked at me apologetically. “Sorry, Rebecca. He wants to get back to the home. Too many memories for him here.”
I bet there were, and none of them good.
“I was thinking…” Her eyes shifted nervously around the inside of my car before briefly landing on my hands.
A smile crept over her face, and I realised she had noticed the business card I was holding. “You were thinking?” I prodded.
Sparkling brown eyes looked into mine, and I was transfixed. It was as if I could see right inside her.
“I’ll be heading out as soon as I’ve got Granddad settled.” Her voice was gloriously addictive, soft and rich and full.
“And?” My tone lowered suggestively.
“How about we meet for lunch?” She paused and I waited for her to continue, which she did. “There’s a lovely pub on Adam’s Road, not far from here.”
Another pause, and her eyes seemed to be prompting me for an answer. I was too occupied with staring at her to comprehend the message.
“Erm… The Blue Bell Inn?”
God. She was beautiful. So perfectly beautiful.
“Or maybe not?” she added hesitantly.
It sort of drifted into my subconscious as she was pulling her head out of my window. Reaching out, I grabbed her and pulled her back until her face was mere inches from mine. “I’d love to.”
Being so close to her, within kissing distance, I wanted to bridge the small gap between us. Take the initiative and brush my lips over hers. Luxuriate in the softness I knew would be waiting for me.
I licked my lips in anticipation, and she did the same. Claire’s eyes flitted to my mouth and then back to my eyes. I could see she wanted to kiss me too. I couldn’t miss it, just like she couldn’t miss the fact I wanted to kiss her. Considering neither of us had actually said we were gay, it was a huge assumption, but one I was sure of.
Her face moved closer to mine, and her eyes fluttered shut. I knew it was coming, and that the sensation would be magical, what I had been waiting for my whole life.
“Clare!”
The old bastard!
Clare’s eyes shot open and she rapidly pulled back, cracking her head on the top of the doorframe in her hasty retreat. “Shit. Sorry.”
I hoped she was apologising for swearing and not for nearly kissing me. That was one thing I hoped she would never be sorry for.
“I’ve got to go. About one?” She waited for my nod, then smiled. “See you there.”
She walked backwards, her eyes fixed on mine. I couldn’t seem to tear my eyes away from her, either, even after she’d gotten into her car.
Minutes later, she was driving past me. I held up my Sat Nav to show her I was finding directions for The Blue Bell Inn, and she gave me a thumbs up before mouthing, “One.”
I nodded and held up a single digit.
Freddie glared at me, his eyes full of hatred, and I fully expected him to stick his middle finger up as the car passed, but he was using all of his energy to try and intimidate me. It might have worked when he was twenty, but I had a feeling I would be fine now that he was in his eighties.
I snorted. I couldn’t believe I was thinking about an old man like that. Not even in my wildest dreams had I ever thought about hurting another human being, never mind someone who could barely walk unassisted.
“Turn left.”
The disembodied voice from my lap made me jump, and I dropped the useless piece of shit that was my Sat Nav.
“I’ve got to turn around first, Susan.” I tried to act cool, but my hand was shaking as I stuck the oblong device onto my windscreen. Considering all I had experienced of late, I was surprised I was unnerved by a mere piece of electronics.
The engine roared to life, and I pressed the accelerator to give it another kick. I slammed the gear into reverse, my attention fully engaged on the action of backing up. There were a few bushes knocking about, and I didn’t want to drive into them.
As I was looking back, Annabel’s house seemed lost, so old and deserted that I felt a pang of sadness wash through me. I knew deep down that she had waited all her life in the hopes that Ellen would come back. It was never to be. How sad was that? How desperately heart breaking?
But…I’d met Clare. A grin split my face as I moved the car forwards. I needed to reverse again, as the area I’d parked in was not as big as I’d first thought. Instead of moving back, I put my handbrake on. I still had two and a half hours before I had to meet Clare, so I wasn’t in a hurry. I decided to sit and try to make sense of what had happened, past and present.
Had Freddie found out about the affair between Ellen and Annabel? If so, why just kill Ellen? Why didn’t he do anything to Annabel? I tipped my head in thought. It could have been because by killing Ellen, he would also effectively be killing his sister.
Fuck. I knew things like that did happen in the world. People did evil and wicked things to other people for many different reasons, too many reasons to list. But to kill someone because she loved someone else? What had happened to acceptance, understanding? Even letting the person they professed to love be happy without them?
I’m not saying it wouldn’t hurt to know he wasn’t her one and only; the agony of being second best would cut deep. But murder? Yes, I understand that things can get out of control, that sometimes things are said and done that we wish we could take back. But to take a life? To see the light fade from the eyes of someone he said he loved? No. I couldn’t understand that, and I didn’t think I ever would. Granted, I had never been in that situation, never had someone I loved with my all tell me that I wasn’t good enough, so who was I to judge?
There was one thing I knew for sure, and that was that I would never hurt Clare. Clare? Why was I linking the thought of someone being my all to a woman I had known for an hour at most?
A sigh released some of the pressure I hadn’t noticed building in my chest. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t attracted to Clare Davies, really attracted to her. But…my all? I think I was jumping the gun a bit with that thought, although there was a little voice trying to disagree with me coming from somewhere inside me.
It was time for me to leave. Better to be early to meet Clare. With my travel history, better yet would be to get to The Blue Bell without getting lost.
I slipped the car into reverse, released the handbrake, and moved backwards. My mind was elsewhere. My thoughts were all over the place. I found this out the hard way.
I didn’t look ahead of me as I put the car into first gear and began to move forward. Why would I? I was on the driveway on my own. It wasn’t as if I was on the road, was it?
There he was—tall, dark, and in front of my car. His dark brown eyes widened as I lurched towards him, my feet slamming onto the brake and the clutch at the same time. The car skidded and pitched forward just enough to thud into him. Hands splayed over my car bonnet and he fell forward, his face contorted with surprise and pain. I lifted my hands from the steering wheel, for what reason, I don’t know. I think I screamed, but I’m not sure.
