The Write Dream (Storage Ghosts) (2 page)

The
old woman suddenly stopped and closed her eyes. The figure vanished. A few
seconds later the young woman reappeared, fresh faced and eager to do her
sewing.

Grace
smiled, the woman seemed content enough.

Grace
jumped as Sylvester Sylver called out, “Sold! To Big Bob!”

She
hadn’t realised that the bidding had started. She was glad Big Bob had won it.
Perhaps she could visit his shop and speak to the Victorian woman, see what her
life had really been like.

The
next few units were of no use to Frankie. He told her they needed modern
things, household goods, perhaps some jewellery or clothes.

“If
we find antiques I can put them on the website,” he said. He pointed, “This
locker’s no good, it’s full of war stuff. Can you see the army kit bags? And
the helmets? Not for us. I hope we find something today, I want to fill our
shelves up.”

A
bitter sweet scene was being played out in the war locker. A group of soldier
ghosts were lounging on their bags, some were reading letters, others were
writing them. They hadn’t aged above the age of thirty.

They
looked so young and full of hope. Grace turned away, she couldn’t bear to look
at them.

The
last locker was opened.

There
were groans of disappointment as the bidders saw the contents.

Frankie
pulled a face, “Looks like personal stuff, not even much in here. I can’t even
tell what’s in those boxes. Never mind, we won’t always find the lockers that
we want.”

Grace
couldn’t take her eyes away from the locker. A ghost woman was sitting on the
floor, she had an open notebook next to her. The woman was sobbing as if her
heart were broken. The sobs bounced off the metal walls. The sound twisted
Grace’s heart. She could feel the woman’s despair.

Grace
said to Frankie, “Can we get this one? Please? You said you wanted jewellery
and clothes, I can see some in those bags and boxes.”

Frankie
peered closer. “So there is, I’ll bid but I’m not bidding much.”

“Thanks,”
Grace said, not taking her eyes off the woman. She was itching to go into the
locker and talk to her.

No
one else was interested in the locker and Frankie got it for £20.

“I’ll
pack the things into the van, you go and settle the bill,” Grace offered.

Frankie
gave her a funny look. “You never offer to pack up. What’s going on? Do you
want to try on that jewellery or something?”

“Something
like that. Go before I change my mind,” Grace said and gave him a little push.

She
waited until everyone had moved away. She stepped into the locker and walked
over to the woman. She crouched down next to her and said, “Hello.”

The
woman looked up in surprise. “You can see me?”

“I
can. Are you okay? Well, obviously you’re not. Can I help you?”

The
woman tried to smile. Grace could see the tears on her cheeks. She didn’t even
know that ghosts could cry. “I don’t think anyone can help me, it’s too late to
do anything now.”

Grace
sat down on the floor. “I’ve helped people before who have ... passed away. If
you tell me what the problem is I might be able to help.”

The
woman looked down at the notebook. “I don’t actually know what the problem is.
I know it has something to do with my son, Andrew. Every time I think about him
my heart feels like it’s being squeezed. I’m not sure why. I feel like there’s
something I need to do, to help him in some way. This is his notebook, where he
wrote his stories. There are more in these boxes.”

Grace
looked over at the other boxes. “Are these Andrew’s belongings?”

The
woman shook her head. “Most of them belong to me. I don’t know why they’re in
here. I thought Andrew might have wanted to keep them. Do you really think you
can help me?”

“I
can try. My name’s Grace. I work at an antique shop, well, it’s more of a bits
and pieces shop now.”

“I’m
Marie Braithwaite. I used to work at a primary school until I,” Marie gave a
small grimace, “passed away. Are you going to sell my things in your shop?”

“If
we can find your son I could see if he wants them,” Grace said.

Marie
smiled and opened her mouth to speak. She was interrupted.

“Grace!
I knew you wouldn’t pack anything away! Are you talking to the walls?” Frankie
walked into the locker.

Grace
stood up. “I was just looking inside the boxes, seeing if anything heavy was in
them.”

Frankie
gave a snorting noise and picked up the nearest box. “Light as a feather. I
don’t know why you wanted this locker, looks like a load of old rubbish to me.”

Grace
looked down at Marie ready to mouth an apology. Marie wasn’t there.

Grace
hoped that Marie would stay attached to her things as they took everything back
to the shop. She had a strong urge to help her.

Chapter 4

Back
at the shop Frankie insisted on helping Grace unpack the boxes.

“If
I leave it up to you these boxes will still be here next month!” he said.

“I’m
sure I can manage,” Grace said. She looked around the shop, Marie hadn’t
materialised yet.

Frankie
waved a hand in front of her face. “Hello! Earth to Grace. Are you with us?”

Grace
shoved his hand away. “Haven’t you got anything else to do? I can handle
unpacking on my own.”

“You
don’t even look as if you’re fully awake. Why do you keep looking around the
shop? If you’re looking for that old teapot it’s in the kitchen.”

“I
wasn’t looking for it.” Grace remembered something. “Have you put your new video
clip online yet? The one with Sylvester Sylver?”

Frankie
dropped a box on the floor. “I’d completely forgotten about that! Did Sylvester
look good? What am I saying? He always looks good.”

Grace
decided to add a little lie to speed up Frankie’s exit. “He seemed very
interested in what you were doing. I think he might like to see the video. You
could email him a link to your site. He might even become one of your
followers.”

Frankie
left the shop so quickly that Grace thought she could see speed lines behind
him. She heard him thunder up the stairs as he raced towards his room. He was
still living in the stock room even though he now had enough money to pay rent
somewhere. He’d told Grace that he’d got used to the short commune to work.
Grace knew he just couldn’t be bothered moving his things to somewhere new.

Grace
carried on unpacking Marie’s things.

She
had a lovely collection of clothes and jewellery. Grace didn’t want to put them
on the shelves in case they found Marie’s son. Perhaps she could take the items
home with her and tell Frankie that they needed repairing before they could
sell them. She could keep them safe then.

Grace
came to the box with Andrew’s notebooks in. She opened up the first one. A
child’s higgledy piggledy writing covered the first page. Grace could just make
out the words ‘teddy bear’. A sudden chill shot through her. How old was
Andrew? It wouldn’t be easy to track down a child, and then speak to him.

“That
was his first story.” Marie appeared at Grace’s side. “He was determined to
learn how to write. He used to practise his letters over and over. I think the
teddy bear in this story was called Fred and he loved jam sandwiches.”

“How
old is Andrew?” Grace asked.

Marie
gave her a sad smile. “He’ll be 19 now. He was 14 when I died. It was cancer.
Came on too quick to do anything about it.”

Grace
could see that it was hurting Marie to talk about her own death. She wondered
when it became easier for ghosts to talk about such things.

Grace
turned the page of the book. Her eyes widened. “Wow! He was good at drawing,
he’s even put the fur on Fred.”

“That
was me. I was his official illustrator. He wrote the stories and insisted that
I drew the pictures. Teddy bears were easy, you should see some of his later
work! I had to draw imaginary worlds.”

Grace
flicked through the book. She nodded as Andrew’s writing became clearer. Fred,
the teddy bear, was soon joined by fellow teddy bears. They went on adventures
together, including a trip to Space.

Marie
pointed to an illustration. “Fred went into Space to visit Bramble Planet, it
had the best strawberry jam in the Universe. Fred had to use all his teddy bear
cunning to get some jam from there.”

Grace
laughed. “It sounds like he had a great imagination. Are your thoughts becoming
clearer yet about him? Do you know why he needs help?”

Marie
tapped the notebook. Her finger went straight through. “It’s something to do
with his writing. If we could find him then I might have a better idea. He
should be at university by now. He’d already made a list of the ones he wanted
to go to, the ones with the best creative writing courses. He knew he was going
to be a writer. Maybe he’s already had some work published! Can we check
online, I’m sure we’ll find his name somewhere.”

“Okay,
that’s a good idea.” Grace closed the notebook and put it back in the box. She
walked over to the counter and reached underneath. “I’ve got a new laptop.
Frankie, my brother, got this for me. For some reason he didn’t want me to use
his.”

Grace
gave Marie a quick grin and then powered up the laptop. “I’ve been on his
laptop before. I know what he looks at, I always feel the need to wash my hands
afterwards. Does Andrew have the same surname as you? Does he live nearby?”

Marie
joined Grace at the counter. “He has the same surname. My brother, Brian, was
going to look after him. We’d arranged everything before I ... left.”

Marie
gave Grace Brian’s surname and address. Grace typed everything in.

Marie
smiled. “If I had any breath to hold I’d be holding it! I can’t wait to see how
he’s doing with his writing.”

Grace
said, “I think I’ve found something.”

She
clicked an image. It flooded the screen.

“No!”
Marie shouted. “No! It can’t be!”

Chapter 5

The
picture showed a smiling Andrew Braithwaite standing outside a shop. To his
left were an older couple, also smiling. The name of the shop was ‘Thompson’s 
Security’.

“What’s
he doing there? Is this some sort of joke?” Marie said.

Grace
looked closer at the image, she clicked on a website link. It brought a smaller
image up, along with some text. “This is a security business, his name is
listed as an employee. Didn’t you say your brother’s name was Brian Thompson?
Is that him in the picture?”

Marie
pressed her lips together tightly and nodded.

Grace
said, “Looks like the company belongs to him and his wife. Andrew seems to be
working for them.”

“It
can’t be. He’s supposed to be at university. He’s going to be a writer. Why is
working for Brian? And how did Brian manage to start his own business?”

Grace
said, “That’s a lot of questions. Things change in five years, perhaps Andrew
is happy working with his uncle.”

Marie
shook her head vehemently. “Can’t you see it? The dark grey cloud around
Andrew? It’s carrying his sadness. He might be smiling but he’s not happy.”

Grace
peered at the picture. She admitted that his smile did seem a little forced. “I
can’t see any grey cloud.”

“It’s
there. Something’s wrong. Something has happened to him. Where has his dream of
being a writer gone?”

Grace
looked at Marie. She said as gently as she could, “Maybe he doesn’t want to be
a writer any more.”

“No!
He was born to be a writer. You haven’t read his newer stories, he has an
amazing imagination. Read those notebooks! Please, you’ll know what I mean
then.”

Marie
had such an insistent look on her face that Grace said, “Okay, but you need to
know that losing a parent, or parents, can change a person’s life. They don’t
think about things the same way.”

Marie
gave her a searching look. In a softer voice she said, “Oh, Grace, I’m sorry.
You lost your mum and dad, didn’t you? I can see the sadness surrounding you
now.”

Grace
waved a hand and tried to smile. “I’m dealing with it. Let’s look at those
notebooks again.”

Grace
laid the notebooks out on a table. “Which one should I look at?”

Marie
put her hand on a purple book. Grace put her hand on top of Marie’s, hoping
that something would happen. Something had happened before when she’d touched
something at the same time as a ghost.

Grace’s
hand sunk through Marie’s and rested on the book.

Marie’s
eyes widened. “Grace, what’s happening? Where has your shop gone? Where are
we?”

Grace
looked around at her new surroundings. “It looks like we’ve gone inside
Andrew’s book. Don’t worry, it’s just a vision. I’ve helped ghosts before and
this is what happens. Nobody can see or hear us. We can move our hands off the
book now.”