Dead Loss

The sky turned black and the street was awash with bouncing hailstones, which danced on the slate-grey pavement like jumping beans. The shabby cafe was an escape; not his usual choice of establishment, but it was dry. He removed his sodden raincoat and sat at an empty table. He ordered a cappuccino to while away the time and to await the cease in the downpour.

    Darren Armitage was fast approaching middle age. He normally ate lunch at the office, but not today. Today was different. Today, he wished to be on his own. His experiences of the last three nights had disturbed him. He had not related his visions to his wife, Joy, believing perhaps that they may be nightmares. He browsed through the menu, the paltry offerings not inviting to his delicate stomach.

    What he did not notice, was the leather-coated woman, who was running across the road to take shelter in the graffiti-covered bus stop. The downpour never relented, as the woman wrestled with her damaged umbrella against the cruel conditions. She cursed at the umbrella, as if it would obey her ranting. Her eyes turned to the cafe window. She had to take a second look to confirm her fears. Darren was sitting at a table, but who he was with bothered Melanie.

    A woman with long, wild, brown hair was sitting opposite her brother in law. She looked so out of place, with numerous flowers in her hair, and John Lennon type spectacles resting on her pert nose. There were several empty tables in the café, but there had to be a simple explanation, surely. Darren would not cheat on her baby sister; not after all these years. Probably a work colleague, she thought, her eyes now focusing on her mobile phone.

    Again, she looked towards the girl, intrigued to see that no dialogue was taking place. They just sat in silence, seemingly ignoring each other.  Melanie tapped in the numbers and hoped that she was doing the right thing.

    The twins were playing on their Playstation when Darren arrived home. He received his usual, “Hi, Dad,” from the boys, their eyes not leaving the television screen. He ambled into the kitchen and kissed Joy on the neck, as she was tossing the salad. She never responded, and Darren headed for the fridge to quench his thirst.

    “Something wrong, darling?” he asked, drinking the milk from the bottle. He received no answer. He approached his wife, placed his hands on her slender waist and looked into her hazel eyes. “Have I forgotten something?”

    “Who was the girl you were with at lunchtime today?”

    Darren paused and released his grip.  “Girl, what girl?”

    “How many lunches do you have, Darren? The girl with flowers in her hair.”

    “Hey, now slow down, Joy, I had no lunch. I went to a dingy cafe to keep dry, and I certainly wasn’t with any girl.”

    Joy lifted her hands to her face and shuddered. “You’re lying. You were seen.”

    “I was seen? What the hell are you talking about? I had a cup of coffee alone.”

    “Since when did you start going out for your lunch?”

    “Only today. I had something on my mind and needed some time on my own.”

    Joy began to weep, her hands shaking as she turned back to the salad.

    “Darling, I’m telling you the truth. I swear.”

    She slammed down the salad bowl on the worktop. “Melanie saw you!”

    “Melanie? She’s mistaken, honey.”

    “Don’t you honey me. Fifteen years of marriage…fifteen years. Why, Darren? Why?”

    “Right! I’ll settle this once and for all.” He picked up the telephone and dialled, tapping his fingers on the table, his impatience apparent. “Melanie, is that you? What the hell’s going on? What are you playing at? I come home from the office and Joy’s in a state. What goes on in that mind of yours? I was in the cafe alone.”

    “I saw her, Darren; I’m sorry, I didn’t want this to happen, but I had to tell Joy. She’s my baby sister.”

    “You’re mistaken, Mel. There was no girl in the café. Two lorry drivers, but no girl.”

    “I’m sorry, Darren. I hope you two patch things up.”

    He slammed down the telephone and stormed out of the kitchen. Joy chased after him, sobbing.

“Where are you going?”

    “To the pub. There’s no inquisition to face there.”

    “Oh, yes, you go to the pub; your solution to everything isn’t it? The washing machines not working, I’m off to the pub. My mother’s coming for dinner; I’m off to the pub. Will she be there? Will she?”

    “For the last time, there is no girl. Now, you believe what you want to. I need a drink.” He slammed the door when he left the house. “Don’t wait up,” was his last comment.  

 

He fell over the doorstep as he opened the door, and put his finger to his lips. He had drank alone, and tonight, he had one too many. He gripped the banister and struggled to make headway up the staircase, his vision blurred, and the house spinning. Halfway up, his progress was halted. Someone was standing on the landing.

    A boy looked down on him. He looked to be between eight and ten-years old.  He was wearing one of those Fauntelroy suits with a bow tie; the ones with the large collar. His hair was cut straight across his forehead…a strange dated haircut.

   “Who the hell are you?” slurred Darren.

    The boy never spoke. Darren tried to focus his eyes on the boy. His initial distorted thoughts were that he had caught a burglar in the act, but what burglar dresses like that? And this was just a small boy.  Darren continued on his way and the boy faded, before disappearing completely.

    Darren, at last reached the landing and checked all around. He staggered to the twin’s bedroom, and even checked under the beds. He felt a hand on his shoulder and let out a muted scream. He turned to face Joy.

    “What’re you doing?”

    “I’m looking for the ghost.”

    “The ghost? You’re bloody plastered. Come to bed before you wake the twins.”

    She helped Darren into their bedroom and undressed him. Tears were forming in his eyes as he caressed his wife.

    “Joy; I would never ever cheat on you. I love you.”

    “I know you wouldn’t. Perhaps Mel was mistaken… Drink is not the answer. You haven’t been yourself the last two or three days… Darren, have you anything you want to tell me?”

    He looked like a schoolboy who had been scolded when he lifted his head, his red eyes swollen, due to his crying. He lay on the bed and Joy stroked his hair.
    “Joy, either I’m going mad, or we’re haunted by ghosts.”

    “Don’t, Darren. Stop it now. You’re scaring me.”

    “I’m serious. These last three nights, I’ve seen different ghosts. Tonight was the fourth.”

    “You’re pissed. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

    “I know what I see, but why? Why me?”

    “Christ, you’re serious.”

    “The first night, a man appeared to me at the end of the bed. He wore a black blazer and white slack, with a boater on his head. A cravat hung around his neck. He looked like one of those Hooray Henry’s.” 

 
    “Did he say anything?”

    “No, that’s just it. None of them have said anything… He just stared at me, unsmiling, his eyes so full of sadness. He must have been there for ten minutes before fading away. Then the next night, it was a bloke in a top hat and black suit. He had one of those handlebar moustaches and was carrying a cane… Then last night, it was a woman, who was wearing a Victorian dress. Green it was, with puffed sleeves. She had on a bonnet, and believe it or not, she was carrying a bloody parasol. She looked familiar, but I couldn’t say where from. Then there was tonight; the young boy… What does it all mean, Joy? Am I going insane or are they real?”

    “Sleep, Darren. Tomorrow, we’ll talk about it. Sleep, darling.”

 

The following evening, they pulled into the long driveway of Melanie’s house. Darren turned off the engine and sat for a moment, sighing heavily.

    “Come on, darling. Its for your own good,” urged Joy.

    “I shouldn’t have come. This is crazy.”

    Joy continued. “He’s a good friend of Mel’s; besides, what have you got to lose?”

    “You mean, apart from my prestige and dignity?”

    They rang the doorbell and were greeted by Melanie, who kissed her sister on the cheek and eyed Darren up rather gingerly. She was not expecting him to be in the throes of joy; not after her phone call yesterday. “Come on in, he’s waiting.”

    They entered the dimly lit lounge, which was decorated in pink. Mel had a thing about pink. A roaring fire blazed in the open grate. The warmth was welcome to the couple, who rubbed their hands together.
    Darren looked towards the man sat on the pink sofa. He had grey hair and was dressed casually in a grey cardigan and slacks. He looked about forty-five, but Darren suspected that he must be younger, after Joy had mentioned that he was an old university pal of Mel’s. He raised himself up from his seat and shook hands with the couple; his eyes never leaving Darren.

    Melanie returned with a couple of bottles of wine and served her guests. The room was lit by candles, the pink colours giving the room a warm glow. Bach was gently streaming from the impressive stereo unit. Anyone could perceive from the room that Mel was unattached. It was definitely a woman’s house.  

    “This is Paul Levitt. Paul, meet Darren and Joy. Paul and I go back a long way. He’s now a successful hypnotist.”

    “Yes, I want you to be relaxed. I’ll be frank with you; I may be able to hypnotise you, but if there is any deception, then this exercise is futile. I need to know before we start if you have been completely truthful. From what I gather, Mel says that she saw you with another woman, which you deny emphatically. Also, you claim to have seen ghosts. Four in all I believe?”

    “Perhaps five,” corrected Mel.

    “Five! I saw only four,” insisted Darren.

    Levitt poured another glass of wine. “Mel has something she wishes to tell you. She is special…very special. She has kept this from you for a long time.”

    “Yes… Joy, Darren…I’m psychic.”

    “What!”

    “I’m sorry I kept it from you, Joy. I realised from my university days. You see, several friends, Paul and me used to conduct séances. At first for a bit of fun, and then; well then it got serious. You see, I discovered that I could see dead people. Sometimes I could actually communicate with them.”

    Darren laughed. “Wait a minute. I think I see where this is leading. You think the girl in the café may have been a ghost?”

    “Its possible, Darren,” said Mel. “Joy trusts you and believes you’d never cheat on her.”

    “And you. What do you believe?”

    Mel continued. “Joy talked to me today about your experiences. That’s why I suggested this meeting.”

    “But hypnosis. Don’t you think you’re taking this a bit far? You say you can communicate with the dead, so why use hypnosis?”

    “Paul is brilliant at what he does. If you want to find out about these ghosts, he’ll delve into your subconscious mind. The answers may be in there.”

    “Nobody is forcing you, Darren,” uttered the hypnotist. “Its entirely up to you.”

    Darren looked across to his wife. “I don’t know.”

    “Your choice,” said Levitt.    

    Darren was seated on a footstool, his back to the blazing fire.

    Levitt sat opposite, the shadows of the flames contorting his rugged features. “Please close your eyes. You will ignore any sound, apart from my voice. If you hear anything, it will only make you feel more relaxed. You see only darkness, emptiness, a complete blank… You’re standing at the foot of a hill, looking towards the horizon, greenery everywhere. The sky is blue, and wispy clouds are travelling across it.”

    Joy frowned and chewed on her fingernails as the hypnotist continued.

    “A gentle breeze tickles your face… The air smells clean and wonderful… You turn around slowly… You now see the green contours of the hill, reaching for the sky. There is an object on the top of the hill… Darren, I want you to walk up the hill… The object is getting closer and you can see it more clearly… It is a wishing well… Can you see its white stone and red roof? Peer into the well, Darren. Look carefully… It isn’t a well after all, but a lift. A lift with a solid roof and armchair… Sit on the chair, Darren…The lift is descending, and you feel relaxed. The walls are getting darker and darker as you descend into the perfect blackness. Your mind is relaxed and at peace… As I count down from ten, your body will become even more relaxed… Ten, your body will become twice as relaxed… Nine, it is four times relaxed… Eight, seven, six, relaxing all the time… Five, deeper… Four, three, two, deeper and deeper…so relaxed… One.”

    Levitt left his seat and walked towards Darren. He examined his eyes.

    Mel held Joy’s shaking hand for support. Outside, the downpour had started; the howling wind throwing the rain against the window, and startling Joy for a moment.

    “Now, Darren, where are you?” asked Levitt.

    The words that escaped from his mouth were not his, but the murmurings of a child.
    “I’m by the river, tossing stones and making ripples.”

    “Who are you?”

    “I’m James. I do so love the river.”

    “What is the name of the river, James?”

    “The River Thames of course. What other river is there?”

    “James, what year is this?”

    “Why, 1817 of course.”

    Joy held her hand over her mouth. She swore that the fire had grown, as the pink room was blinking with the rhythm of the flames. The window rattled violently with the force of the whistling wind.

    A loud scream coming from the lips of Darren made them all jump. “Noooo! The water; it’s so cold… Help me, please!”

    Joy flinched again, when the voice changed to that of a woman.

    “Doesn’t the Queen look splendid in her beautiful dress?”

    “Who are you?” asked Levitt.

   “Sarah.”

    “Where are you, Sarah?”

    “Outside the palace. Look, can you see her?”

    Joy was startled. Hearing a woman’s voice come from the mouth of her husband had her spooked. Mel could see that she was disturbed and clutched her hand more tightly. The room fell silent; the only sounds could be heard from the crackling fire and the ticking of the carriage clock.

    “What a sad day this is!” boomed a deep voice from within Darren.”

    “And why is it a sad day?” asked Levitt, taking a sip of his wine and loosening his collar.

    “He is dead! He is dead!”

    “Who’s dead?”

    “Haven’t you heard? Charles Dickens has past away today. He had a stroke, the poor soul.”

    Levitt placed his face close to Darren’s. He was trying to determine whether he was faking. He could usually tell.

    “Such a queue. I only hope this is worth it,” said another male voice; an upper class twang to the accent.

    “Why are you queuing?”

    “I simply must, darling. The Ten Commandments is playing at the Elite. Cecil B DeMille is such a genius, don’t you think?”

    “Who are you?”

    Darren fell silent. The flames blew inwards and Joy gasped.

 “That’s enough for now,” stated Levitt. “At the snap of my fingers, you will waken, Darren”

    Darren opened his glazed eyes. “Well, what happened?”

    Levitt spoke. “Here, have a glass of wine…. Four people talked to us through you. Four people from various eras… Now, I’ve seen people attempt to fake being hypnotised before, but you did not show the symptoms of a fraud.”

    “What people?”

    “A young boy. His name was James. Then a woman who was watching Queen Victoria, I believe, if it follows the usual pattern.”

    “Pattern?”

    “Yes, I’ve seen this before… Do you believe in reincarnation, Darren?”

    “I’ve an open mind.”

    Levitt deliberated. “How can I put this?” He took another sip of his claret. “I believe Darren, that these people were actually you in another life.”

    There was a prolonged silence.

    “Are you serious?”

    “Indeed I am… As I’ve said, I’ve seen it before… Don’t you see? First of all, there was the boy. He sounded about eight or nine-years-old. It appears that he met a tragic end in the waters of the Thames. When he died, he was born again as Sarah, the woman who witnessed Queen Victoria at a special occasion. That puts the date somewhere in the 1820’s… When she died, she became the man who spoke of Charles Dickens death. That I believe was in 1870. He died, and assumed the life of the man who spoke of the Ten Commandments. 1920’s, if I’m not mistaken… Why did they speak to us from specific times and places? Could it be that they died on that day? We know the child did… My mistake was to not ask the names of the people… Do you realise what we have here? You could trace back in time your history. What an opportunity this presents for you, Darren. If I could hypnotise you again, at a later date perhaps, we could find out exact dates and times. Discover who you were.”

    “I’m not sure I want to.”

    “But, Darren; you have the chance to unravel one of life's mysteries. Like, where do we come from? Who knows how far we can go back in time.”

    Joy placed her arms around her husband and kissed him. “You say you’ve hypnotised others and came across similar results. Why then, didn’t they let you pursue your investigation?”

    “Because, Joy, they were afraid to… Darren, it’s your shout. Think about it.”

    Darren mused over the facts. “The woman, the one with flowers in her hair. Where does she fit into this?”

    “I imagine she followed on from the man in the 1920’s; don’t you see. The era is right. She could have been one of those hippies, flower children, or whatever they liked to call themselves.”

    “So why didn’t I see her in the cafe that time?” quizzed Darren.

    “That, I can’t explain… Maybe she didn’t want to reveal herself to you at this time.”

    “So why didn’t she speak through Darren just now, asked Mel.

    “Perhaps she would have if we went on.”

    “Hold on,” insisted Darren. “Why do my memories only go back as far as the boy?”

    Levitt shrugged. “Perhaps they don’t. You’ve only just started to see these ghosts. Something must have sparked off a chain reaction. Maybe someone didn’t want to die, or believes he or she is still alive. While, he or she roams the living world, perhaps they’re dragging with them the past… I believe you’ll see more and more spirits, going even further back in time.”

    “I’m not sure I’m ready for that.”

    Levitt tied his scarf. “I must go now. There is no hurry for your decision. I’ll be in touch, Mel.” He kissed her on the cheek and was gone.

 

A thousand thoughts were going through Darren’s mind when he drove home from the office. Everyone in the accounts department had noticed the change in him His mind had not been on his work, and his usual chirpy nature had deserted him, as he withdrew more and more into himself.

    He turned on the window wipers, and his thoughts turned to his latest visit last night. A military man in a red uniform with gold braiding had shared his bedroom. The ghost was wearing a tall, black hat, and a sword was hanging from his scabbard.  Darren assumed that he was a soldier from the Napoleonic wars. Again, he said nothing, and eventually faded away.

    This time, Darren had studied the face. There was definitely a striking resemblance between the soldier and himself. Tonight was to be special. Tonight, he would allow himself to be hypnotised again. He had to know more.

    The snow came down even heavier, and he pressed his face against the windscreen. The car felt strangely cold, but not the effects of the weather conditions. His icy breath was visible as he battled with his heater.

    Darren checked his mirror and saw the face of a woman in the back seat. Assorted flowers adorned her wild hair, and a string of beads hung from her neck. It was difficult to put an age to the face. Darren stared at the woman, her large eyes peering from behind the Lennon style spectacles. She was emotionless, her sad demeanour suggesting a disturbed mind. Darren swore that he could see tears running down the woman’s face and onto her long, grey, fur coat.

    “Who are you?” he asked, taking his eyes off the road for one second.

    That’s all it took; one second in time. He hit the black ice and skidded across the road, hitting the central barrier. The car somersaulted and burst into flames. Darren could not feel his legs, for he was suspended upside down in his seat, the seat belt holding him in place. The strong odour of petrol was all around, and his stare remained focused on the fading woman in his mirror. He felt the heat off the flames, licking at his body, so hot, but he sat motionless, awaiting death. The woman smiled kindly before vanishing completely, and then Darren saw blackness.

The joyous woman smiled proudly when her husband picked up the newly born baby. He kissed the child and looked into his eyes; such happy eyes. The nurse and midwife offered their congratulations. What they did not see, was the multitude of ghostly, prying guests that were gathered around them. Another era had dawned.