The Boy Who Lived With Ghosts: A Memoir (26 page)

That’s why Dr. Wilmot is here now. He didn’t seem to be very happy getting called out in the middle of the night by my mum.

“I’ve given her a sedative. She’ll sleep now. Is there anything at all that brought this on? Anything?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Are you sure?”

“We had a row. But that’s nothing unusual. She thinks we have dangerous germs that she will catch if she shares our dishes. And she threw her Camp Coffee at the kitchen wall. She also says that there are
things
talking to her.”

“What sort of
things
?”

“Water. Colors…”

“How long has this been going on?”

“Oh, she’s always in some dream or other.”

“No, her concern about catching germs from you. And the voices?”

“Months. Maybe a year or more. She thinks she’s too good for this place.”

“I’ve written out a prescription for her. Take it to the chemist in the morning. She should take one a day. We’ll see how that goes. We may have to increase the dosage.”

“What is it?”

“Valium. I don’t know if you’ve heard of it. Its clinical name is benzodiazepine. We used to use something called barbiturates but this has a much higher therapeutic index. It’s also an anticonvulsant. And it’s better than barbiturates for treating depression.”

“Depression? She’s not depressed.”

“She is depressed. And we have to get to the cause of it or it will get worse.”

“I thought it was hormones. With her periods coming on.”

“That’s what we both thought. And it might still be hormones. We’ll see. Bring her in to see me in a couple of days. I have to go. It’s nearly three in the morning.”

Mum stayed downstairs and smoked cigarettes after the doctor left. I don’t understand why no one asks the right questions. I have been hearing screams coming from the attic for all this time and Margueretta says there is something in the house trying to kill her and she needs a lock on her bedroom door and tonight it is obvious that something got into her room, even though the door was locked, and was throwing her against the door trying to kill her. So they gave her a sleeping pill and no one asked her what happened.

Something is really not right in this house and no one is listening to me. I know I have been up into the attic and there was nothing there but the thing is obviously very clever and it could easily hide behind the water tank or in a dark corner.

And sooner or later it will come back down and try to kill someone again.

71

I
have convinced Mum to let me sleep outside in our backyard. We do not have a tent so I am going to sleep in the coal bunker. I have cleaned it out and put a layer of grass in the bottom. There are several problems with sleeping in a coal bunker. For one, some bloody cat crept in through the shovel hole and took a shit on my new grass bed today. I don’t think it was Misty because she still likes to squat down in the kitchen to take a shit, mostly under the table. I have therefore wedged the old Hotpoint up against the coal bunker shovel hole. That should keep any animals out.

I told Mum that I have to prove that I can survive like this in the wild so that I can get my Cub Scouts Survival Badge. This is actually a lie and there is no such thing as a Cub Scouts Survival Badge, as far as I know. I do feel guilty about lying but I know this is the only way Mum would let me sleep in the coal bunker and she has even agreed to me having a small campfire to keep me warm and to cook food over. And she has bought me a whole packet of Wall’s pork sausages from the Co-op and I can have as many potatoes as I want.

I am going to make things as primitive as possible because in the wild I would only be able to carry the barest minimum of equipment. So I am therefore allowing myself one blanket, my penknife, and some string.

I have not told Mum that this is all part of my secret plan to learn how to live in the wild. I need to make another attempt at running away from home and never return. I have had enough of Margueretta beating me every day but I am also very worried that something terrible will happen to me if I continue
to sleep in our house with that thing that wants to kill someone. So I’m hoping that I can prove that I can survive out here. Then maybe Mum will let me build a full underground shelter that I will live in permanently but that will just be another lie because I will actually be living in the wild and will never be seen again. But she will think I am in my underground shelter in the backyard and she won’t worry about me being missing for the rest of her life.

Akanni wants to join me because he is now three years old and he wants to copy everything I do. But he’s too young to sleep outside in our coal bunker.

Danny also wants to join me but his dad said he is not letting him sleep in a fucking coal bunker.

“That’s the first fucking time my fucking dad has cared what I fucking do. But like he always fucking says…you’ve got to move up in this world or else you’re fucking moving down. Sleeping in a coal bunker is not moving up. And he should fucking know.”

So I’m sleeping on my own in the coal bunker. It’s quite chilly and the sky is very dark tonight but my campfire is keeping me warm and the orange glow from the burning wood is lighting the little area I’ve cleared behind the bunker. I put two potatoes in the bottom of the fire and they’ll be ready soon. But best of all, I made a point on the end of a stick with my penknife and used it to roast a sausage over the flames.

There’s plenty of wood for the fire because we have an old broken wooden fence that’s at the end of our garden. And it was easy to start the fire because I poured paraffin on it from the can in the scullery. Mum said I was not to use paraffin under any circumstances as I could set myself on fire. So I waited until she was watching the telly. She worries too much.

I’ve put a candle inside the coal bunker for later because it’s very dark in there. It’s also quite cold in there. But for now, I’m sitting by my campfire, leaning against the coal bunker, and eating another sausage. I’ve hooked one of the potatoes out of the fire, and it’s cooling beside me. The potatoes are so hot; I could keep one for later and use it to warm my hands inside the cold
coal bunker. Living in the wild is better than anything I’ve ever known. Even better than that time I saw a dead man.

I’m getting into the coal bunker and I’m taking my potato with me. The candle is good but it’s so cold in here. I’m trying to sleep in my blanket but I can feel the concrete base under my back slowly freezing me. If I could have my campfire in here, that would work.

It feels like I haven’t slept at all but I think I just woke up. I’m sure I just woke up. I’m so cold. I’m getting out and maybe my campfire will still be alight. It is. A few more bits of wood will get it stoked up again and my hands will thaw out slowly.

I can see Joan Housecoat’s kitchen window, all steamed up and glowing. They’ve got a coal bunker too but they use theirs for coal, which I suppose we would do if we had any coal. Their garden isn’t overgrown like ours but they hang their washing out on a line like we do. Joan’s bloomers are huge, flapping away on the washing line. She has more than two pairs.

The potato tastes good. The skin is burned into a crispy black and it tastes like charcoal. I’m wiping some of the charcoal on my face for camouflage like they do in war films. I don’t want anyone to see me. I think I’ve covered most of my face so now I’m sure no one can see me.

But it does feel like someone is watching me even though I’m all alone by my campfire, beside the coal bunker. I wish Danny was here. He should have told his dad the same lie about the survival badge. But he doesn’t go to Cub Scouts. He could still have come up with something convincing because he’s a really good liar. I just don’t think he wanted to sleep in a coal bunker.

When I run away from home again I am going to ask Danny to go with me, same as before. Being in the wild on your own isn’t such a great feeling even though I love my campfire and my potato.

It’s strange how the reflection from the campfire makes it look like there is the ghost of a woman in a long, white gown standing beside Joan Housecoat’s coal bunker. And it makes the woman who is not there look like she has a yellow face and long, gray hair. If she was there, she wouldn’t be able to see
me because of my clever camouflage. It looks like she’s watching the sparks from the campfire as they float up into the dark night sky—if she was there.

And she looks like she is floating towards me and she’s staring at me. And now she’s reaching out her arms and howling like a ghost as she comes up to the low fence that separates our gardens. If she was there, she wouldn’t be able to get over that fence even though it is very low.

Now she’s climbing over that low fence that’s only a few feet away from me. And she’s wiggling her long fingers on her outstretched arms and floating really quickly towards me. And she’s looking at me even though she is not there and no one can see me because of my clever camouflage.

72

I
am not ever sleeping in that bloody coal bunker again. That old woman in a white gown floating in the backyard was not a figment of my overactive imagination as Mum said when I woke her up in the middle of the night. She is in fact Joan Housecoat’s mother and she is about to die. And that is why she has moved in next door with Joan and she has to be kept locked up because she is a fucking loony and she will wander off into someone’s garden and scare the living bloody daylights out of them when all they are trying to do is have a sausage by a campfire and sleep in their coal bunker.

Now perhaps Mum will believe me when I tell her about these things instead of immediately telling me that I have an overactive imagination.

“Ooo-er, her time has almost come, poor thing.”

“I know the feeling. I’ve nursed two of them till they died,” Mum replied.

“Two? I can barely cope with one! Ooo-er.”

“It’s always the same in the end. Have you made arrangements?”

“Yes. I’m going to use the Co-op.”

“I used the Co-op with Pop. And Grandpa. The Co-op had a discount on a double plot.”

“Ooo-er! That sounds good. But I only need the one.”

“I had the same situation. But you can keep the second one for the future.”

“Well, that would be Fred. If anyone is going next, it will be Fred.”

“Well, there you go. Two-for-one.”

“I could never bury Fred with my mother, if that’s what you mean! He can’t stand the sight of her. Never could.”

“Well, he’ll never know, will he?”

“He would know. The Co-op account is in his name. Anyway, I came round to ask for a favor.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Could you run up to the Co-op for me and get some Dr. White’s? The extra large ones.”

“Oh, that doesn’t sound good, Joan. You poor thing.”

“Ooo-er! They’re not for me. I dried up years ago. Mother is double incontinent, and I’m going to try to stem the flow at the front with Dr. White’s. That’s all I can think of. She’s leaving wet patches on the sofa.”

“It’s worth a try, isn’t it?”

“Did I see Dr. Wilmot here the other night?”

“It was two o’clock in the morning!”

“Well…I heard his car.”

“Yes, he was here for Margueretta.”

“I knew it! I heard all that screaming. These walls are paper-thin, you know. Go on. What happened?

“She’s highly strung. It’s just her hormones.”

“Did he give her anything? It sounded like someone was strangling her! I think she needs to take something for those screams.”

“She’s taking Valium for now. We’ll see what that does.”

“Valium? Ooo-er! I take that myself. It’s good for your nerves. Everyone around here takes it. You should try it yourself. They call it the happy pill.”

“I might just do that. My nerves are shot to pieces, I don’t mind telling you.”

“Well, I’m not surprised, really. Bringing up four kids—and no man in the house. You’re a blooming saint, that’s what I say. A blooming saint.”

“I’ve had enough of it, Joan. I’m getting a job. A full-time job with the Civil Service. I worked for them before I was married. It’s all arranged. We can’t live like this anymore with no money for anything. And I need some time for myself before I lose my mind. So I’ve also joined some evening classes.”

“Evening classes?”

“Local History on Tuesdays. And Old Time Dancing on Thursdays.”

“Old Time Dancing. Now that sounds alright to me. What sort of dancing is it?”

“The Gay Gordons, foxtrot, waltzes. All the old favorites. You have to have a partner to enroll.”

“A partner? What, a man?”

“Yes. So Mollie is going with me. We’ll take turns at the men’s steps. There aren’t any men available. Well, none that I know, unless you count the reverend at the Methodist Church!”

“Ooo-er! Imagine that. Doing the foxtrot with a man of the cloth. Did you ask him?”

“Of course not.”

“Sounds like you will be even busier than ever! Four kids and a job and evening classes. Ooo-er! I couldn’t do that.”

“No one could. So I’m giving up the refuge-for-troubled-children. After that experience with Ngozi, I just couldn’t take the risk with another problem child coming from a warring tribe. I’ve done my bit. God knows I’ve done my bit for troubled children.”

“True. But what about little Akanni? He’s grown so much hasn’t he? How old is he now?”

“He’s three and a half.”

“Doesn’t someone need to be here to look after him?”

“Oh, he can’t stay. He will have to go back to his real mother.”

“Ooo-er! And he calls you mummy, and he seems so happy here.”

“Yes, but I’m not his real mother. He needs to call me Auntie Emily now. And his real mother is coming over on Saturday to take him back.”

“Ooo-er! Well, I’ll be sure to come round and say good-bye.”

The hinges on his box bed have rusted so badly that I don’t know if the doors will close when we fold up his bed on Saturday.

73

T
here are two plastic Co-op bags by the door. We put his clothes and the Lego and the teddy bear in them. The teddy bear is called Little Bear. We put the sippy cup in one of the bags too but he can drink from a big boy’s cup now. He has to call her Auntie Emily but he keeps calling her mummy the way any little boy would. She said he is going away for a while, just for a while, so he’s holding onto her dress.