Read Walking with Ghosts Online
Authors: John Baker
Walking with Ghosts (35 page)
Then everything fell inward and the rage and despair renewed their crackling fury. The ghost at the upper window remained in view for an instant, and was then sucked inside.
The sirens grew louder and ambulance and fire engine both came into the street. The men in their uniforms jumped to the ground and began running back and forth with hoses and ladders and axes. Sam watched the paramedics from the ambulance tending to Charles Hopper.
When Hopper had been loaded into the ambulance, Marie came over to Sam. A police car had entered the street behind the fire engine, and the two officers were questioning residents about the cause of the blaze.
‘Head them off for a while,’ Sam said to Marie. ‘I’m gonna get back to Dora. Give me an hour.’
Marie half turned to look at the policemen. ‘You’ve got it,’ she said. ‘It was my fault, Sam. I should have left the bandaging till later.’
He touched her arm. ‘It’s best like this. His job was done.’
41
She returned after your operation, Dora. You did not recognize her. You opened your eyes and looked around for Sam, but there was only a strange girl. Diana, your daughter. Gradually you put the parts of her face together, and managed to speak.
‘Where’s your cowboy?’
She smiled at you. ‘They’ve taken him away,’ she said. ‘He went crazy.’ He had developed an aversion to clothes. The police picked him up in a bar, stark naked, drinking stout. ‘I was fed up with him, anyway,’ Diana said. ‘He was a fake.’
‘Where’s Sam?’
‘Outside. I’ll tell him you’re awake.’ She walked to the door and then came back to the bed. ‘Sorry I didn’t come to the wedding, Dora. If I’d known you were marrying such a lovely guy...’
Your life is spinning away from you now. The reality has been Sam and the last months. The rest was a bad dream: Arthur, your parents, the pear tree and the cement factory. You cannot remember if the parties and the drinking and the streams of young men happened or not. Perhaps they were all like Dylan Thomas, something that someone else remembered and projected on to you. But Sam, he was real, he is real, and you can hear his breath, feel his hand on the quilt. If you opened your eyes, Dora, you would be able to see him.
Time stops now. It is no longer a linear experience. It is a spiral. You drift in it, dream-like. The images of the past are insubstantial, phantoms. When you rise to the surface, to the present moment there is Sam. Without him you are dead.
He is dragging you back now. His voice is insistent in your ear. ‘Dora. Dora, wake up.’ His face is close to yours. You would not return from the spiral for anyone else. It takes all your strength to open your eyes.
‘Billy?’ You don’t hear your own voice, Dora. It is far away. Sam Turner, your man, your great detective has been out looking for Billy.
‘Yes,’ he says. ‘I found him.’
Sam has a black eye. You smile, remembering the time you had a black eye from Sam. Accidentally, when he couldn’t get out of his own way.
You close your eyes again, back into the spiral. There is a smell of burning. They talk amongst themselves, Sam and Diana and Celia. You cannot make out their words, but it is good to have them around you. The spiral falters, changes into a lower gear, and continues. Sam has found Billy. He is back in town. All the way from... You can’t remember where.
You smile at the thought of him. Smile like he was sun on your face.
Sam leans over the bed and kisses you on the cheek. That smell of burning again. He has not shaved and his whiskers are rough on your face. You tell him: ‘Figs and whiskers.’ His face registers surprise, but he kisses you again. You remember with a start that you have never told him about Dylan Thomas.
Figs and whiskers?
The words are reflected on his face. He does not know what you are talking about.
The spiral falters again, shudders, and stops. There is a loud rustling sound, like wind filling the billowing sails of a boat. Or it could be autumn leaves, a dense swirl of them caught up in a stiff breeze. Then stillness.
Lady Day lifts her face to the lights. Her eyes are closed as she sings, ‘What A Little Moonlight Can Do’. You never heard her sing it so slow. Or with so much understanding.
You leave the bed and look back at it. The cadaver of the old woman is completely still. Sam is kissing it, but he draws away suddenly and looks around the room for you. He knows you have gone. He slumps in the chair and buries his head in his hands.
There are so many things he does not understand.
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