Shine, page 8
‘Enough is enough, Rosa,’ she said softly. ‘Those candles. They are so wrong! I told you before – it’s unfair to the world of the spirits! Your mother will not be happy to be called back.’ Then she said sorry again. ‘I’m sorry, sorry, sorry.’ She kept saying it, like a mantra. But she wasn’t sorry, was she? She was glad. She’d always hated the thought of Mother coming back. She’d always been afraid. But why did she have to be afraid? The spirits were dead, weren’t they? What could ghosts do to us? Maybe it was Mother she was afraid of. Maybe she just didn’t want any COMPETITION.
The front door banged downstairs.
‘Yaya? Rosa?’ Father’s voice drifted up to us. ‘I’m home!’
I flung another dagger look at Yaya and whipped past her, practically flying down the steep staircase.
Even if Father didn’t like the candles, he would back me up. Tell Yaya the candles did no harm. I could count on Father to feel guilty. Wasn’t I his lonely, isolated child? He would only want to make me happy.
Inside me, a small girl threw back her head and bawled. Mother! Mother! How are you ever going to find me now?
When I got to the bottom of the stairs a gust of rainy weather struck me. The front door was open and a wet, salty breeze was blowing in. Father bustled past me with a stepladder under one arm and a drill in his hand.
What’s that? But Father didn’t see me signing. He was too busy positioning the ladder on the step outside the front door.
Next to his briefcase in the hallway was a large box. The label said: Weatherproof Home Security Camera Kit with Monitoring Software for Phone and Computer.
‘You don’t know how to install that,’ Yaya said on the stairs behind me. She didn’t sound at all surprised to see the camera kit.
Father rolled his eyes. ‘Of course I do,’ he said. ‘If I can finish medical school, I can install CCTV. Besides, it comes with detailed instructions.’
‘Where?’ Yaya said. ‘Where are the instructions? You haven’t even opened that box.’
Father shrugged, glancing over his shoulder at her with that smug I-know-what-I’m-doing look he always had when he was doing DIY. His eyes settled on me and refocused.
‘Oh, sweetie, I didn’t see you there! I’ve got something here for you.’
How could he look at me and not see? He was so wrapped up in his own stuff he didn’t notice the outrage on my face.
He clambered down from the ladder, reached into his briefcase and produced a small box. A mobile phone.
‘This is for you, Rosa,’ Father said. ‘Enjoy.’
I stared dumbly at the picture of the mobile phone on the box. Who did Father think I would need to call?
Yaya patted me on the shoulder but I shrugged her hand off.
I signed, But we’ve already got a phone! On the wall of the kitchen. In fact, we never used it since neither Yaya nor I had any friends in the real world. Except, of course, when Yaya rang Father at work to nag him about his dinner getting cold on the table.
‘But this one is just for you. This way you can text me if you need me. I’ll show you how to text later when we set it up. I want you to be able to contact me without needing Yaya to talk on your behalf. In case of emergency,’ Father said. ‘Any emergency.’
I frowned. Why? I signed. Why only now?
‘I . . . well, I have to admit the doorbell ringing last night got me thinking. I realized you were dependent on Yaya to get in touch with me if . . . well, if something happened. We can’t be too careful, you know.’
I stared up at him. His eyes flickered then he looked away as if he was embarrassed.
Yaya clapped her hands. ‘This is so good, so good, Doc. Now Rosa, we won’t be so scared because we know Doc will come running in case we look out the window and see a burglar or even a ghost!’
I waited for Father to explode with laughter, waited for the snort of derision, waited for him to say, ‘Stop your superstition, woman!’ like he always did.
But instead he just nodded. ‘Yes, text me. Text if you see anything, anything at all.’
19
AFTER SUPPER, FATHER and Yaya dived straight into battle over how the new security camera should be installed. Father crouched over the wiring in the hallway while Yaya hovered over him like a bothersome wasp, reading glasses on the tip of her nose, reciting from the manual, ‘It says left to right! Why did you do right to left? No, not that screw. This one!’
They were totally engrossed, bickering over the drilling in the doorway, bickering over the wiring in the hall, and then bickering over the monitor in the kitchen.
Which was when I carefully wrapped my scarf round my neck and slipped out the front door.
The breeze blowing in from the sea smelled saltier as I picked my way along the side of the house and down the long sandy path to the beach, flanked by reedy sea grass. The air felt thick and wet and I closed my eyes briefly. Its cool touch on my skin felt good, washing away all my chaotic feelings.
My anger about the candles dwindled and stilled. Everything was going to be all right. How could it not be?
The black sky was covered with a skin of cloud, a soft liquid moon drifting in and out of the gaps. Whenever it shone clear, the concrete of the promenade ahead gleamed like a white ribbon. But everywhere else was just shadows.
It was so dark that when I looked in the distance I couldn’t see the join of the horizon and the sky. The waves sighing on the shore were invisible to me.
Street lights stood along the promenade like soldiers in a shabby dress parade. At the end of the promenade the famous sign glowed under a lamp.
I was careful to stand just outside the light. It felt less exposed somehow.
The village twinkled like a cluster of tiny fireflies at the far corner. That was where Danny would be coming from.
But there was no sign of anyone.
Relax, Rosa. Perhaps he was taking extra care combing his hair. To impress me. I bit my lip. Perhaps I should have taken extra care with my hair. I suddenly wished I had a mirror.
But wasn’t this the oddest turn of events? A few months ago, if you’d told me I would be meeting a strange boy on the beach at nine in the evening, I would have laughed like a drain. Me, out at night? Me and a boy? You must be joking!
Goosebumps rose on my arms, even though the breeze blowing from the sea was warm. I rubbed my arms until the bumps went away.
Of course, I was going to have to tell Father and Yaya that I’d made a friend on the Internet. That I’d disobeyed every rule in the book about stranger danger.
Thinking of Yaya, my empty windowsill suddenly presented itself and hot anger surged in my stomach again. The nerve of her taking all my candles away! With all the fuss about mobile phones and CCTV I hadn’t had a chance to talk to Father about it.
Tomorrow, Rosa, tomorrow. One thing at a time. Don’t worry, Father will get your candles back. He wouldn’t want you to be miserable – even if he doesn’t believe in ghosts.
Ghosts! I glanced around involuntarily. All Yaya’s whispered tales of lost souls and phantoms keeping step in dark alleys suddenly had my heart racing again. My hand crept into my jeans pocket, which was still full of Yaya’s paranoid salt.
I yanked my hand out and shook myself. Silly Rosa. This is not the time to develop a fear of ghosts. You need to focus. Danny should get here soon. What are you going to say?
I pulled the pad out of my pocket.
Please don’t be angry, I wrote. I’ve got the Calm.
Please don’t be angry? Why should he be angry? I flipped to another page.
I’ve got the Calm. Sorry.
Too self-pitying.
I’ve got the Calm. Surprise!
Too flippant.
I wrote on page after page. But nothing I wrote seemed to strike the right note. And then the rain noises changed to a spatter and black spots appeared on the pages of my notebook. This wasn’t just a wetness any more, but proper, earnest rain. I stuffed the pad back in my pocket and readjusted the scarf, winding it over my head and round my neck. Where was Danny?
There was a different quality to the rumble of the sea now, the steady splashing of the waves seemed to be separating into many individual noises.
Don’t, Rosa. Don’t pay any attention to it.
But I listened, closing my eyes. It sounded like . . . like voices. Murmuring. Calling.
Rain streamed on my head and I brushed the water impatiently from my eyes. Despite the tropical heat underlying the weather, I could feel a coldness welling in the pit of my stomach. My hands slowly turned into ice, great freezing shards at the ends of my arms.
Stop it, I scolded myself. You’re frightening yourself. How many times had I myself told Yaya: spirits can do NOTHING to you? They’re DEAD! Yaya, didn’t you yourself say that they’re just souls in transit and the Earth is their waiting room?
The rain stopped. Turned itself off. And a sudden breeze whipped my hair over my eyes. I tossed it away, looking around me impatiently. Why wasn’t Danny here yet? How long had I been standing here like a fool?
But the coldness was spreading throughout my body now. And then a trickle of electricity slowly rippled through me. I could feel it up to the roots of my hair. It felt just like . . . no, you must be imagining things, Rosa.
But that little tiny panicky voice was squeaking in the back of my head. You do know this feeling, Rosa. It’s the same you had that night, many years ago in the market. When you saw Mother’s ghost.
The whispering of the waves deepened. So many voices. All calling at the same time. I stared towards the shore.
Was it rain or some trick of the wind?
The blackness seemed to be moving.
I narrowed my eyes to slits, trying to blur everything, trying to pretend that there was nothing taking shape on the sand.
But it was there. A shadowy something. A someone. And it was walking slowly towards me.
The hairs rose on my arms. It’s Danny, isn’t it? But would Danny be so silent, so . . .
The shadow resolved. That wasn’t a boy’s shape. It had hair billowing and skirts blowing about. It was a woman.
My heart leaped in my chest like something on a spring. And the blood surged hot in my veins even as my teeth began to chatter.
She tilted her head, looking at me and then she began to hurry across the sand, her arms outstretched, the scarf wound round her neck fluttering like a flag.
I edged away from the bright pool of lamplight. All those years I’d planned what I would do when Mother’s ghost finally came. How I would run to her, throw my arms round her. How I would take her hands in mine.
But I did none of those things.
I saw Mother and I ran away in terror.
20
MY HEART WAS an atom bomb. It detonated in my chest, phwoom, its mushroom cloud straining against my breastbone.
I couldn’t breathe. But I kept running, the cold sweat burning my back, the tears streaking down my face.
As if in sympathy, the skies opened again. But this time it was like God had tipped a great bathful of water onto the Earth in one great gush. The skies poured on and on, harder and harder. By the time I’d struggled my way up to the house, there was a steeliness to the rain – it slashed at me like talons, the water cascading over my face and up my nostrils.
I stopped at the house, leaned my head on the breeze-block wall. Closed my eyes.
You coward, Rosa.
I tried to picture Mother walking slowly up the slope of the beach. Picking her way through the sand, her skirt blowing about her, arms held out gleaming in the street light’s glow, hair whipping in the rising wind, the voices in the sea muttering louder and louder. I imagined the disappointed phantom, alone on the sand, one hand raised towards her unfaithful daughter. Why are you running, Rosa? Don’t you love me?
It’s unkind to summon the dead, Yaya kept telling me. And how I had mocked her. Ha-ha! You’re just scared, Yaya. Scaredy cat!
Well, the last laugh was on me because now I was scared too. Now I understood what Yaya meant. Now I knew what it was like to be afraid.
I splashed my way up the rest of the path to the front door.
It was only when I was standing there, staring at the brass lock that I realized. I didn’t have a key. But then there was a whirring noise and I became aware of a tiny pin-light of red above my head. Father’s security camera.
The door swung open and I shrank back as Father loomed, his face contorted with anger.
But he pulled me quickly into the house, slammed the door shut and wrapped his arms around me.
He hugged me so fiercely I swear I could feel my ribs creaking. I felt a wetness trickling down my neck and realized he was crying. And if I hadn’t been so shaken I would’ve laughed. Aren’t you being a bit over the top, Father? But he made me feel better, he made me feel safe . . . so I just let him hug me until he held me away and began to rant in a hoarse voice, his eyes raw and red.
‘You can’t do that, you can’t just leave the house without telling us! I thought something terrible had happened to you. I thought you’d been taken—’
Taken? What was he talking about? Taken by whom? I signed.
I felt like all the blood had receded from my face and I could hear my teeth chattering. I must have looked a fright. But Father was so engrossed in his own upset he looked right through me.
‘Taken! Or hurt! Or mugged! Or—’
I threw my arms round him, pressing my cheek against his. His shoulders were like coiled wire, tight and tense. Poor Father. He did his best, didn’t he? He didn’t deserve another scare so soon after yesterday’s doorbell event.
I wanted to say, Father, I saw Mother. On the shore. She tried to speak to me. You were wrong about the spirits. You were wrong, there are such things as ghosts! Mother came. To me!
But I couldn’t tell him, could I? Because what did I do when the moment I’d been waiting for all these years finally arrived?
I ran away.
I left Mother there, on the beach.
I clung to Father as if the world was about to end.
He leaned backwards, looking down at me, his eyes soft, cloudy blue with worry and love. ‘I don’t know what I would have done if something had happened to you,’ he whispered. ‘What were you doing out there, Rosa?’
I stared up into his sad face and guilt pierced deep into my chest. My signing came up small and full of remorse.
I needed air, my hands lied. Needed to go out. Sorry, Father.
The old Rosa would have said, SHE’S OUT THERE. ON THE BEACH. MOTHER’S GHOST! The old Rosa would have dragged Father out to the promenade. But I didn’t want to go back. I was too afraid.
There was such relief in Father’s eyes. ‘I guess Yaya and I were being insufferable about the security camera,’ he said ruefully. ‘Sorry, sweetheart. We got a bit carried away. It’s installed now. You won’t have to think about it any more.’
He peered at me. ‘You’re looking exhausted,’ he said, stroking the hair away from my forehead. ‘I guess it’s time for bed. Just . . . just don’t take chances like that again. Next time, let me go with you . . . or take Yaya along.’
I nodded. Yaya’s anxious face peeked in from the kitchen door. I smiled wanly at her and she opened the door wider, as if she was about to join us. But after all my deceit I just wanted to get away.
Going to bed now. Good night, I signed quickly.
Father nodded. I love you, he signed.
I bit my lip. I love you too, I replied.
He kissed the top of my head and let me go.
I rolled about restlessly on the bed, one thought melting into another. I should just tell Father and Yaya everything. About Danny, and about Mother on the beach. I had to. It would be like handing over a massive suitcase I couldn’t carry any more, all my fear and my worry and my guilt. They were the grown-ups. Let them figure out what to do next.
But how do you sleep after something like that? I could hear every drop of rain, every rattle against the window, every thud on the floor.
Then I remembered where it all began.
Danny.
Danny never turned up. Danny was a no-show.
Disappointment sat on my chest like a boulder.
Well. That was that, wasn’t it?
When the crunch came, Danny didn’t deliver. He was just having a game with a girl on the Internet. Just like Father and Yaya warned.
Stranger danger. Danny had decided to be a stranger.
I laughed grimly.
Danny wasn’t for real.
And Mother . . . Mother was for real, but I had run away.
21
SLEEP WOULDN’T COME and wouldn’t come and wouldn’t come.
I found myself glancing at the window, fearful that I might see ghostly fingers parting the curtains and Mother’s disappointed spirit hovering there. Why did you run away, Rosa? Why did you leave me?
I screwed my eyes shut, wishing that slumber was a blanket I could simply pull over my head. Please, just let me sleep. I want to sleep.
And then at last I realized I was drifting into slumber, my body sinking deep into the mattress, my lids pressed tight over my eyes.
As I fell Yaya’s voice began to whisper into my ear. ‘Listen, Rosa, listen . . .’ and I realized I’d begun to dream. ‘Rosa . . . you like ghosts, yes? Well, you will like this one. This is a good ghost story.’
No! No ghosts! I didn’t want to hear it! I knew this story – I’d begged Yaya to tell it often enough. But not now. Please, not now. I thrashed and tried to wake myself up again, but there was no stopping it. The story was telling itself whether I wished it or not.
Oooh, Rosa, this story is probably true because Mrs Santos, my librarian at primary school, told it to me and a librarian would never lie, yes?
Mrs Santos and her husband bought a house down the road from our school. It was an amazing buy – so cheap, and yet it had a pretty garden and a beautiful kitchen with large windows.
If they felt a tiny change in the atmosphere when they entered the house, a kind of tightening and a slight drop in the temperature, they shrugged it off as stress. Who wouldn’t be a little bit stressed when purchasing property?
