The Writer (4 page)

Maybe a ghost family would be better than no family at all.

Four

“He’s brilliant, isn’t he?” says a voice nearby. “One of the best horror writers I’ve ever read.”

Looking up from the back cover of the novel I’m holding, I find to my surprise that a man has come over to me in this hidden-away corner of the bookshop. With a faint smile and a cautious expression, he seems almost nervous.

“Totally,” I mutter, worrying that I might be blushing as I set the book down. “He’s one of a kind.”

Turning to look back across the store, I see that the staff are still setting up the small stage where John is due to give a reading in a few minutes’ time. He hates any kind of publicity, and he only makes these semi-annual appearances at the local bookshop because of some ancient contractual obligation that he’s been unable to shake. Already, I can see him pacing anxiously by the side of the stage, muttering sharp, one-word answers to anyone who dares approach.

“Doctor Jason Hodges,” the man says, holding out a hand. “Or… I’m sorry, maybe I shouldn’t disturb you.” He takes a step back. “Forget I came over. I just saw a fellow fan and thought I’d say hello.”

“It’s fine,” I say with a faint smile. “I hope you enjoy the reading.”

Once he’s wandered over to a different part of the store, I take a deep breath and pick up another of John’s books, mainly just to use as a prop so that – hopefully – no-one else will disturb me. Jacqui would go ballistic if she could see me right now, but the truth is, I’ve got no desire to get into a casual conversation with anyone, not even some handsome doctor who seems to share my interest in John’s work.

***

“God, that was awful,” John mutters as he takes a sip of tea. “I’m a writer, not a performer. Why the hell do people want to see me go through that torture? If they actually gave a damn, they’d stop showing up to these readings. At least that way, I might be able to stay happily under my dark little rock and just work on the damn books!”

“You were great,” I tell him, forcing a smile even though I’m uncomfortably aware that Jason is loitering nearby. “Anyway, it’s over for another year, so that’s a positive, right?”

“Fans,” John says darkly. “I hate them. Readers are wonderful, but fans? I don’t understand the mentality at all.”

“They just want to see what you’re like,” I point out, as Jason edges closer, clearly determined to introduce himself. “They want to know the man behind the books.”

“That’s none of their business,” he replies. “Everything I want to say about the world, I say through my writing. If I could just say it all on a stage, out loud, I wouldn’t bother writing the damn things in the first place, would I?”

“Excuse me,” Jason says, interrupting. “I just wanted to congratulate you on a great performance.”

I flinch, waiting for John to blow up at this sudden intrusion.

“I’m glad someone liked it,” he replies, surprising me by turning and shaking Jason’s hand. “What are you doing here, anyway? I warned you not to come.”

“I had to see you in action,” Jason replies, glancing briefly at me.

“Jason,” John continues, before turning to me, “I’d like you to meet a good friend of mine, Beth Clarke. Beth, this is Jason Hodges. Jason happens to be my doctor, but he’s more than that. He’s one of those rare people these days who actually have an ounce of literary taste.”

“We’ve already met,” I say shyly, shaking Jason’s hand.

“I didn’t realize that we shared this connection,” Jason replies. “I think John’s mentioned you a few times, though. You’re his neighbor, right? The one who helps him with his writer’s block?”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” I tell him.

“Without Beth,” John interjects, “I’d never have finished
The Ghost of Fang Moor
. She helped me get through all those knotty little plot problems.”

“Maybe you could give him some more help,” Jason says with a smile. “The world is crying out for a new John Myers novel, but it’s been so long -”

“I’ll get there in the end,” John mutters. “I’ve got all these ideas percolating in my head, I just need to wrangle a few of them into something worth sharing with the world. So far, all I’ve got is a bunch of scenes and characters and no way to tie them together.” He sighs. “And what the hell, if I don’t manage to get the damn thing done, it’s not like the world is dangerously short of new books, is it? Maybe I won’t release anything else ever again, I can just write for my own pleasure and not worry about how my work is received by the public.” Hearing someone call his name, he looks over at the stage and scowls. “Great. My wonderful agent is demanding my attention.”

As he shuffles over to her, I find myself standing awkwardly next to Jason, struggling to think of something to say.

“I should probably make a confession at this point,” he tells me after a moment.

I turn to him.

“When John told me your name, I realized…” He pauses. “We’ve actually met before, although under the circumstances, I’m not at all surprised that you don’t remember.”

“Really? I’m… sorry, I’m bad with faces.”

“Two years ago,” he continues, “I used to work regular shifts in the emergency room at St. George’s Hospital. I was there the afternoon when…”

His voice trails off.

“Oh,” I say, feeling a shudder pass through my body as I realize what he means.

“Sorry,” he replies, “I probably shouldn’t have said anything, but I was worried you might recognize
me
and then… I was trying to defuse the awkwardness, but I guess I made it about a hundred times worse.”

“No, it’s fine,” I tell him. “I mean… Sorry, that whole day is a bit of a blur.”

“I did everything I could,” he continues. “With your daughter, I mean. I was the one who…” Again, his voice trails off. “Well, this is awkward, isn’t it? I just… I remember being in the room with you when the senior attending physician broke the news. I want you to know that there isn’t a day that goes past without me thinking about that awful accident, and whether there was anything else that could have been done, even though…”

“I’m sure,” I reply, glancing over at John, hoping against hope that he might come and rescue me.

“There really wasn’t anything else we could have tried,” Jason adds. “By the time your daughter got to us, it was too late.”

I nod.

“The damage to her head was -”

“I’m sorry,” I tell him, interrupting before he can go into any more detail, “but I need to go to the bathroom. Would you excuse me?”

Without giving him time to say anything else, I slip past him and hurry to the door at the far end of the room. Once I’m safely in the women’s bathroom, I stop and stare at myself in the mirror for a moment. I’m not crying, which is good, but I definitely look a little pale. When I come to these events with John, it’s usually so that I can distract myself from memories of what happened to David and Hannah. The absolute last thing I needed was for that guy to bring the whole subject up again, and I can’t help thinking about Hannah on his table while he desperately tried to save her.

Not all ghosts are dead people. Some are flesh and blood, but that doesn’t make them any more welcome.

***

“I’ve been instructed to apologize to you,” John says a little later, over the phone. “Jason called me a while ago and he said he felt he’d upset you a little.”

“It’s fine,” I tell him, as I set my toothbrush back into the glass by the bathroom sink.

“No, it’s not fine,” he replies. “Still, it’s not really Jason who owes you an apology, it’s me. I should have realized that putting the two of you into the same room would be a mistake. It’s just a huge coincidence that my doctor happens to be the man who…” He pauses. “Well, you know, I should have warned you, or warned him, or just kept the pair of you apart. I guess I just thought maybe it’d be good for you two to meet.”

“I don’t want anyone walking around on eggshells,” I tell him, heading through to the kitchen. “These things happen.” As I pour myself a mug of water, I look over at the window that overlooks the alley that runs between our houses, and sure enough I spot John standing in his own kitchen. “Hey, neighbor,” I say with a faint smile. “I see you.”

Turning toward me, he gives me a brief wave.

“I guess I was playing match-maker,” he says after a moment. “I’m sorry, I just thought it might be good for you to remind yourself that there’s a world out there. If you ever feel like meeting a guy for dinner, Jason would be a great choice. He’s one of the most considerate people I’ve ever met.”

“I’m sure he is.”

“Did I mention that he’s a doctor? He’s a doctor. That means he’s got money, and at least some degree of intelligence.”

“I’m fine as I am,” I tell him. “Thank you for your concern, though.”

“I just hope it didn’t freak you out too much,” he replies. “I can totally understand how something like that must be upsetting. Are you sure you’re okay staying alone in the house tonight? My spare room is always available, you know.”

“I have to…” I pause as I realize that although the offer is tempting, I need to get my life back in order. “I think I can sleep in my own home,” I tell him finally. “Thanks for the offer, though.”

“I should go,” he continues. “I’m heading up to my cabin tonight to spend a few days working on the current masterpiece. I won’t be gone too long, though, and you can always phone me if you need anything.”

“I think I’ll survive,” I tell him.

He pauses, staring at me through our adjoining windows for a moment.

“Okay,” he says finally. “Well, I’ll probably be in touch while I’m up there. God knows, I’ve got enough plot problems with this book, I need your common sense approach to these things. Seriously, Beth, I don’t think I could ever get this stuff done without you.”

“You’ll be fine,” I tell him, giving him a quick wave. “Good night.”

With that, I turn off the kitchen light and, after a moment, I see him do the same in his house. Slipping the phone into my dressing gown pocket, I take a sip of water and pour the rest away, before turning and -

Spotting a shape in the opposite window, I pause for a moment. I’m not certain, and it’s too dark to really see too well, but I can’t shake the feeling that John is still there, still standing by his window, still watching me in the darkness. I squint, hoping to get a better view, but finally my eyes adjust to the light and I realize to my relief that I was wrong: there’s no sign of him, which I guess means that I just allowed Jacqui’s dumb warning to sink in a little too deep.

Heading through to the corridor, I stop for a moment outside Hannah’s room. I know I should just leave the door closed, but against my better judgment I reach out and turn the handle before gently pushing the door open and looking through at her undisturbed bed. The room is dark, but a patch of moonlight is showing through the window and casting light across the duvet. My instinctive reaction is to be relieved that there’s no sign of anything, but after a moment I realize to my surprise that a part of me is actually sorry: I’d love nothing more than for Hannah to come back to me, even if it has to be in ghost form, but I guess there’s no chance of that.

“Night,” I whisper, before pulling the door shut.

In the distance, I can hear a car pulling out of the next driveway. I guess John is heading off to his cabin, and I can’t deny that I feel a little less secure knowing that he’s away. Still, heading to bed, I tell myself that I need to be more independent. There’s nothing here that can hurt me.

For the next few hours, I spent an increasingly fruitless time in bed, keeping my eyes closed and trying to find a comfortable position. Unfortunately, I can’t stop listening to the silence of the house, and although I don’t hear anything remotely out of place, I feel as if I’m completely awake. Eventually I sit up and look at the alarm clock by the bed, only to see that it’s barely midnight. Staring ahead into the gloom of the room, I can’t stop thinking about Jason’s comments when he was talking to me in the bookshop earlier, and in my mind’s eye I can see him standing over Hannah’s body on an emergency table, with blood everywhere and a nearby monitor showing a lack of heartbeat.

Damn it, why did I have to meet him tonight? And why did he have to tell me who he was?

Realizing that there’s no way I’m going to be able to sleep right now, I climb out of bed and wander over to the door. The house remains reassuringly quiet, and even as I head out into the corridor I feel as if I’m completely alone. By the time I’ve made a cup of tea in the kitchen and headed through to the front room, I can tell that I’m wide awake and that sleep is clearly many hours away, so I grab my laptop and set it down by the sofa, figuring that I’ll watch a show for a little while. Before I sit, however, I happen to glance over at the window, and that’s when I realize that there’s someone standing outside in the driveway.

I pause, staring at the dark shape, telling myself that it’s a trick of the light. The front room is still dark, so I doubt the person can see me, but the more I stare the more I realize that it’s definitely a human figure, standing at the bottom of the driveway and seemingly staring straight at the house.

Heading over to the window, I try to stay calm as I keep to one side and peer out. My heart immediately jumps a beat as I realize that not only is there a human figure out there, but there’s a second figure standing next to it, shorter this time.