Ghostwriting (5 page)

‘You didn't find the conclusion, I take it?' Liam attempted to guide her back toward the sitting room, but Amy would not be led.

‘I can't do it, Liam. Not only is it impossible, it's not right! This isn't just some work of fantasy that you can guess the outcome of.'

‘You don't have to justify your reasons to me, Amy,' Liam assured her. ‘I'm sure Asta will find someone to finish the manuscript —'

‘You wouldn't let her do that, would you?' Amy was even more horrified by that notion.

Liam held up both palms as if to say, What choice do I have? ‘Mother's ghost must be appeased.' He retrieved his bags and headed for the kitchen.

‘Why don't you do it?' Amy trailed him. ‘You're Olivia's son, that would be appropriate.'

Liam offloaded his dance bag on to the kitchen floor, and his keys and groceries on to the servery bench. ‘I'm not a writer.'

‘Neither am I.' Amy felt her reluctance diminishing by stating this.

Liam smiled a knowing smile. ‘But you aspire to be.'

‘A fiction writer. I am not enlightened with your mother's insight and wisdom. In fact I can't even get inspired by my own ideas.'

‘Have you read the manuscript?' Liam began unpacking the contents of the bags on to the counter.

‘Parts of it,' Amy replied warily, seeing where this line of conversation was leading. ‘Don't say it!'

‘What?' Liam smiled at being caught out. ‘What have you got to lose? You might even get inspired!'

Amy's soft brown eyes narrowed as she looked at Liam in a new light. Her knight-cum-saviour image of him was dissolving rapidly; now he seemed more like the devil's advocate, come to lead her straight into the depths of hell.

 

The Grail Seduction
traced the spiritual mysteries and symbolism in the Grail legends from the early Vedic, Egyptian and classical myths from which the motif of these sacred vessels had derived, through to the Christian – Arthurian saga, and the Grail's absorption into Rosicrucianism, alchemy and our modern world via Jung.

Amy became more and more engrossed, not by the subject matter so much as the red underscored sections of the handwritten text. These parts of the work were accompanied by notes — Olivia had been working on the conclusion.

Before Amy realised it she was in front of the photocopier, copying the pieces of the jigsaw puzzle she was to put together. Perhaps the challenge would not prove so nightmarish after all — there was certainly no harm in giving it a shot.

She piled all the photocopied pages together, returning the original manuscript to the box. As she did so, she found Olivia's gold pen lying in the bottom of the carton. This was surprising, as the pen lived on a chain around Olivia's neck and Amy had rather thought Olivia would have been buried with it. A smile graced Amy's face as she held the golden pen up to the light, her dream of writing a bestseller wafting her away to a heavenly space.

She was snatched from fantasising about book launches, literary lunches and awards by the phone ringing. Amy set the pen aside on the desk to take the call. It was Olivia's agent calling to see if she'd had any luck in finding the missing text.

‘I'll call you, Asta, as soon as I have any word.' Amy was trying to get rid of Asta quickly, so as to get on with the task at hand.

‘You know what we will have to do, if you can't find it, don't you?'

Asta's query made Amy furious, sending her inspiration out the window and, in its place, her feeling of dread returned. ‘I'll find it, Asta, and if I don't, then you can do as you see fit. Goodbye.' She hung up in her ear. As soon as the handset hit the
receiver, Amy was filled with remorse. ‘There I go, again … Why do I allow people to push my buttons like that?' Her eyes turned to all the pieces of paper that comprised her puzzle, and she gave a heavy sigh. ‘Now, how to get excited about this again?'

From the notes Olivia had made beside her text, it was obvious that she was far more disposed toward the alchemic perception of the Grail. This tradition referred to the Grail as ‘The Philosopher's Stone', which represented unification with God and was the mystical substance of self-transformation. Jung had explained the Grail quest as the search for truth and the real self, but alchemy was the art of attuning consciousness to higher states of awareness whereby direct contact with the divine was possible.

Amy switched on her computer to make some notes; she considered it her computer as Olivia never touched it. The spiritualist had denied having techno-fear; she claimed the computer interfered with her vibrational frequencies and she had placed a mass of crystals around it to absorb the excess electromagnetic radiation it emitted. Amy had suggested moving the work station to another room in the house, but Olivia preferred that they work together — probably so she could keep an eye on her.

‘It figures that you'd bloody well leave me on my own, just when I really need you,' Amy scoffed, creating a new file on the computer for her notes on Olivia's summations.

 

Liam hadn't spied Amy since she'd disappeared into the office six hours ago, so he thought it best to go and check that she hadn't done herself in.

Before he'd even ascended the attic stairs he could hear her stomping around, yelling curses at his mother.

‘If it wasn't bad enough that you dropped dead before finishing this accursed thing. With your dying wish you ask me to do the impossible! Though, incidentally, I am not convinced you did.' Suspicion mingled with her anger. ‘Asta wants this manuscript completed awfully bad —'

Liam gave a timid knock on the door.

‘Christ!' Amy had forgotten all about Liam. She wiped the tears of frustration from her eyes with the sleeve of her jumper. There was no mirror in the office to check how dreadful she looked, so Amy grabbed a CD, but gazing at her reflection just made her want to burst into tears all over again. She slouched into her desk chair and grabbed a tissue to blow her nose. ‘Enter at your own risk.'

Liam suppressed his rosy demeanour as he walked inside to assess the damage.

Head bowed low, Amy's face was hidden by her straight, dark brown hair which fell to just past her shoulders. She discarded her tissue and came out of hiding, turning her swollen, red eyes his way.

‘I'm going to burn it,' she announced in jest, forcing a grin.

A look of empathy dulled Liam's smile as he wandered over to give Amy's shoulders a rub. ‘I'm sure it's not that bad.' Then he noticed the blank page on the computer screen. ‘Well, maybe it is …'

‘I made a whole pile of notes,' Amy sniffled. ‘I thought it was going really well!' Her tears began to build for a second coming. ‘But when it came down to the actual writing … it's useless, it just won't happen.' She let the tears flow, and grabbed another tissue.

‘You're in the wrong state of mind, that's all.' Liam crouched beside her and placed a comforting arm across her shoulders. ‘Take a break, have a bath, read your notes, get inspired! If writing is what you want to do with your life, then you have to learn to have fun with it. You can't expect to do great work when you're so tense.' He resumed massaging Amy's shoulders and a groan of painful pleasure escaped her lips. ‘This just won't do at all.' Liam pulled her up out of the chair. ‘Come on. Anything worth doing is worth doing well — you need a thorough working over.'

As Amy was still working on the assumption that Liam was gay, she couldn't see any harm in it. ‘Any assistance would be greatly appreciated,' and she placed herself in his hands.

An hour rolled around to find Amy feeling like a pile of jelly that had been spread across Liam's bed. Her skin tingled from the stimulation of the
massage, and her senses were reeling from the fragrant oil he'd used.

‘Did you know that creative energy and sexual energy stem from the same place?' Liam stroked the fair, soft skin of Amy's lower back. ‘The root chakra that is located behind your spleen.'

‘Is that right?' She had no idea what he was babbling about and she didn't really care.

‘Indeed. In both Hindu and Chinese alchemic traditions it was believed that one could achieve immortality and enlightenment through Tantric yoga … that is, intense sexual stimulation without succumbing to orgasm.' Amy gave a semi-interested grunt in response, so Liam extended the length of his stroke to encompass her whole back. ‘They believed the generative organs were instruments of supreme magical power. And, if at the point of climax the energy can be controlled, orgasm is experienced in the mind and is absorbed into the system, granting an individual extra Chi, or life force. A glimpse, you might say, of your Holy Grail.'

With all this talk about sexual stimulation and the amazing sensations Liam was creating in her back, Amy was starting to feel rather aroused, liberated even. She gave half a laugh at his tutorial. ‘I should try it,' she mumbled.

The feeling of lips pressing into the small of her back sent Amy's senses reeling. And then she savoured another kiss higher up her spine, and then
another. It wasn't like her to succumb so easily, but she had no desire to stop him. Amy had had a gutful of feeling ordinary, useless and safe, she needed to feel desirable, reckless and extraordinary for a change.

Liam crawled up to lie beside her. He brushed the hair from her face, and looked her in the eyes.

She prised her eyelids open and smiled at him. ‘So you know something of this ancient path to transformation, do you?'

‘A practising master of the art,' he assured her, his smile beaming even brighter than usual.

Amy turned to him, sliding her arms about his neck. ‘No wonder you're so happy all the time.'

Stage Four: Taking Care of
Unfinished Business

As the hours passed, Amy's inhibitions took flight; making love to Liam was like a slow, fluent, emotive dance, which transcended the physical realm and led to a place where spirits met. Amy had never before experienced sex in an awe-inspiring way, but now that she'd plunged into the sacred depths of her sexuality, life would never be quite the same again.

The bed had a warm glow in the wake of their giant outpouring of emotion and energy, and Amy felt she would be quite happy to stay wrapped up in this bliss forever. She looked to Liam who was dozing beside her. ‘So, I gather you're not gay.'

Liam would have laughed at this, had he not been so stuffed. ‘Who told you that? Asta?' Amy nodded, and Liam rolled his eyes. ‘Asta thinks anyone over thirty who isn't married is gay. I'm just never in one place long enough to commit to anyone, a permanent relationship just wouldn't be fair on the other person.' He closed his eyes, kissed her forehead and snuggled back in to go to sleep.

‘You've never considered settling down, then?' Amy ventured.

‘And give up my reason for being? Never, that would be suicide,' he yawned.

Amy eyes suddenly filled with tears. No, she scolded herself, don't spoil this feeling by getting upset. Just accept it for the beautiful experience it is, and be happy in the hope that you may know such pleasure again before he leaves.

She smiled, cuddled up beside her wondrous lover, and closed her eyes.

In ancient India they developed a medicine they call Ayurvedic, ‘the wisdom of life'. They believed that from the union of the male and female principles arose an enlightened being.
Amy's eyes shot open. ‘Oh, my God!' She scurried out of bed in search of a piece of paper and a pen.

‘What is it?' Liam sat bolt upright.

‘It's coming,' she announced in a panic, pulling on one of Liam's shirts that was lying about the room. ‘I have to get to the computer.' She went to
rush out the door, but then dashed back to kiss Liam. ‘No reason for alarm, go back to sleep.' She bolted out the door.

Liam sat there bemused for a second before flopping back into the warm comfort of the bed.

 

Once Amy reached the office, she switched on the computer before she'd even switched on the light. ‘Come on, come on …' She implored it to boot up faster. ‘Shit, it's taking too long.' Amy grabbed a piece of paper from the printer. Her eyes were lost in a frantic search for something to write with when she spied Olivia's gold pen. ‘Perfect!' She seated herself. ‘Let's go.'

The next time Amy looked up the sun was rising. ‘Wow.' She glanced at the computer to learn it was half past six in the morning. ‘Five hours? You're kidding!' She looked to the pages of text scattered on the desk before her and smiled broadly as she marvelled at her achievement. After piling the pages neatly, she had a stretch in preparation for reading her night's work.

‘Is it safe to enter?' Liam's voice called from outside the door.

‘It most certainly is!' she announced with glee.

Liam staggered in, balancing a large tray of spoils from the kitchen, complete with a pot of tea. ‘We forgot to eat last night,' he explained, with a cheeky grin.

‘Who needs food!' Amy threw her arms up in the air and had another satisfying stretch.

Liam, having offloaded the tray on the desk, took up Amy's pages. ‘Is this it?'

Amy nodded, rather proud of herself; still, she couldn't help but let a little doubt slip into her miracle. ‘It could be complete crap, of course …'

‘Can I read it?' Liam headed to the lounge with the papers.

Amy curbed her first reaction, which was to protest; she let go of her doubt with a wave of her hand. ‘Sure. Tea?' And she turned her attention to the tray.

She realised she wasn't worried whether the chapter was good or not, or whether it got used or not, only that she'd done it and it felt good. For those five hours, she had been transcendent. It was as though she had merged with some higher being, and it was more compelling and awe-inspiring than any sexual relations ever could be, even considering her most recent encounter. And whilst wrapped up in this heavenly blanket of her soul, she had touched her dreams and made them manifest.