Shani Struthers - 44 Gilmore Street

Despite the further information, Ruby stood firm. She explained once again to the stranger who’d come calling that hers was a ‘problem’ she was best off taking elsewhere. Whilst she did, she refused to look at Theo or Cash. She didn’t like turning away those who asked for help any more than they did but the girl didn’t look distressed, merely curious – until now. Now a shadow darkened her face.

“Your reputation’s good, really good. Please help me.”

Ruby was curious. “How do you know that?”

“I’ve seen your website.”

“The testimonials you mean?”

Ellie nodded.

Cash had designed their website as modern, fresh and welcoming, emphasising the normal in paranormal. Clients were usually happy to be quoted as long as only their first name and town appeared. ‘Psychic Surveys have made such a difference to our lives, my daughter can sleep in her room again, which means we all sleep!’ and ‘I was suffering from constant headaches in my new house, depression too. After Psychic Surveys performed a spiritual cleansing I feel much better’ were typical of the comments included. Despite their website, however, and their high street presence, the usual route people came to them was via private referral.

“Do you know anybody we’ve had dealings with?” Ruby asked.

“No, I don’t.”

So you believe everything you read. She thought it but didn’t say it. It was just lucky that in this case what she’d read was true. Still, it indicated gullibility on Ellie’s part and strengthened Ruby’s resolve.

“We can’t help you.”

Not just troubled, Ellie was shell-shocked by her blatant refusal.

“But… those feelings, the despair, the horror, the fear, it’s like they’re getting stronger with each flashback, they’re beginning to frighten me too.”

“As I said, someone who specialises in—”

“You’re a specialist!”

“I am but not in regression.”

Ellie started gnawing at her lip.

“It’s just… I think something happened to me, something awful.”

Still Ruby tried to reason with her. “If so, it was in a past life. You’re not in any danger now.”

“I don’t think that’s true. I don’t know why, but I’m really uneasy. Whatever happened, whoever did it, they weren’t brought to justice.”

Ruby couldn’t believe it. “How can you possibly know that?”

Ellie floundered but to her credit not for long. “Call it instinct. Something that you obviously draw on too.”

“Ellie—” But before Ruby could continue Theo held up a hand, all trace of amusement on her face was gone.

“Ruby, perhaps we ought to have a discussion about this case in private. Granted, it’s unusual but we’ve never shied away from the unusual.”

“Theo, we haven’t got time to get side tracked, to deal with… with…”

“An unsolved crime?” Cash offered.

Damn it, he was right – an unsolved crime, if indeed that’s what this was and not simply delusion brought about by the power of suggestion. There was every chance Ellie was a highly imaginative girl, that a seed had been planted in her head and from it an entire lifetime had grown.

Deciding she’d had enough for one morning, Ruby sat up straight and did her utmost to adopt an air of authority – a ‘ glamour’ as Theo called it – an old psychic trick that made you look more formidable than you perhaps felt. “If we’re talking about an unsolved crime you’d be better off seeking help from the police as well as a past life regressionist. We deal with ‘hauntings’ for want of a better word, domestic—”

“Spiritual clearance. Yeah I know. Which is exactly why I’ve come to you.”

If the girl interrupted her again, she’d scream. More so because Theo and Cash seemed annoyingly impressed by how determined Ellie was.

“Look—”

“No, you look,” said Ellie, and, for someone whose exterior was timorous, the fire in her voice was startling, “I don’t want to appear rude, I swear I don’t, but if it’s hauntings you deal with, then I do qualify for help.”

“I still don’t understand why.”

“Because in answer to your original question, yes, I am being haunted.”

“By who?”

“By me,” Ellie answered. “I’m being haunted by myself.”

Get the fuck out!

Hearing Ness groan, Ruby had to suppress a smile – the poor woman looked physically pained and little wonder. How many times had they been told to ‘fuck off’ by the spirits? More than she cared to remember.

The new owner of 44 Gilmore Street, a terraced house near Brighton Station, originally built for rail workers, Ruby guessed, had first called her on the phone to detail what she described as a ‘negative presence’ in her home.

“I’ve been watching Afterlife on catch-up , you know that TV series about that psychic woman, that’s what gave me the idea to call you. It’s also got that man in it from The Walking Dead . Ooh, I love him, what’s his name?”

Thankfully Ruby hadn’t had to rack her brain as to his identity as the woman – Samantha Gordon – suddenly remembered.

“Andrew Lincoln, that’s it! Oh, God, he’s gorgeous.”

Although Ruby agreed, she nonetheless brought the conversation back round to business, it was the middle of the day, she had other things to do.

“A negative presence you say?”

“What? Oh yeah, yeah, seriously, it gets really spooky in here at times, and I keep thinking I keep seeing him, out of the corner of my eye. It feels like he’s glaring at me, you know? My daughter, she keeps feeling really uneasy as if someone’s glaring at her too. It’s like he’s always there, in the shadows.”

“How do you know it’s a ‘he’?”

“It’s the bloke who used to live here before I reckon, an old bloke. The place was a right mess when we brought it, you should have seen it. Hadn’t been decorated since the beginning of time I’ll bet. That’s why we got it cheap at auction. Not that anything ever is cheap in Brighton. The cost of property and the cost of parking… they’ll be charging us for breathing fresh air next. My husband, he’s always saying it.”

“Mrs Gordon,” said Ruby, again trying to focus their conversation, “would you like Psychic Surveys to carry out an initial survey of your house?”

“Oh, yes please, well that’s why I’m ringing isn’t it?”

Ruby was beginning to wonder.

“You’ve seen our website, you’re aware of our charges?”

“I have and I am,” Samantha confirmed. “I’m very open to these things, you know, the spirit world and all that. I’ve told you I watch Afterlife and I truly believe that that poor woman goes through hell because of what she can see.” There was a slight pause. “Is it hard for you too?”

Ruby paused. Ah, the tales I could tell… But this was not the time.

“It’s what you make of it, Mrs Gordon, you can choose to find it hard or you can channel your gift towards something useful. I prefer the latter, helping the grounded to move on, which in turn helps the living. It’s far more constructive. Now, I could fit you in this coming Tuesday if you’d like, 10 a.m.?”

“That’d be perfect,” Mrs Gordon replied happily enough.

And now it was Tuesday. It was well past 10 a.m. and the spirit – certainly that of a man as Samantha had guessed – was swearing at them, the venom in his voice all too obvious. Thankfully, Samantha wasn’t here. After an hour of nothing happening she’d seemingly got bored and excused herself to go and meet a friend for coffee at Divalls Diner, just around the corner.