Shani Struthers - 44 Gilmore Street

“I won’t be gone long,” she’d said, “but it’ll give you a chance to, you know, crack on with things. Call me if anything happens, you’ve got my mobile.”

The first hour had been fairly quiet, little wonder Samantha had got bored. Ruby had called Ness in to help her on this occasion. Usually, when carrying out an initial survey she went alone or took one other member of the team with her. They’d make a connection, find out what was grounding the spirit and assure them it was ‘safe’ to move on, thereby encouraging them to leave, to go home. More often, it took a visit or two to persuade them – the part of their soul that held onto its ‘humanness’ could be very territorial. This spirit certainly was. In the second hour, things had kicked off. Big time.

You slut!

There he went again. His voice – only audible to the clairvoyant – was low, gravelly, as if in life he’d been a chain smoker. Certainly, as soon as she’d entered the house she could smell cigarette smoke, so could Ness, despite the Gordons being non-smokers. There was nothing necessarily paranormal about that though. If whomever had lived here before had been a heavy smoker, the smell would linger in the atmosphere for a very long time, even if the walls had been given a lick of paint. No longer ‘a right mess’ as Samantha put it, the house was light and bright with each room a different colour, although all were tastefully neutral in shade – a good choice thought Ruby, as all rooms were tiny and dark shades would enclose them further. Apparently, they’d had to rip out carpets, curtains, everything that wasn’t nailed down basically.

‘Mind you,’ Samantha had said, ‘we removed quite a few things that were nailed down too. You know the saying, leave no stone unturned.’ If only they’d left something of him though, something that would enable them to connect further, to get an idea of why he was being so belligerent. Handling objects wasn’t always necessary but sometimes they provided a handy insight into their owner’s life. The practice was called psychometry and in a case such as this, every little helped.

Ignoring the copious amount of profanities spewing from the spirit, Ruby tuned in again, tried to capture the essence of the man. She knew Ness was doing the same. The information they had was that the previous occupant of 44 Gilmore Street had lived there for over forty-five years, it was only ever him who lived there. He wasn’t married, seemed to have no children, and kept himself to himself. As yet they had no idea what his occupation was but he’d died in his early eighties, alone at home, a heart attack the cause. It had been several days before he’d been ‘discovered’, neighbours noticing that the curtains to his living room remained closed. This wasn’t wholly unusual, but he did open them on occasion. Growing suspicious, the police had been called. The stink that hit them upon entry told them all they needed to know.

It appeared to Ruby he’d lived a sad life, a lonely one. Or maybe she was doing him a disservice. Maybe he was happy on his own? Some people were. But happiness was not the feeling rolling off him right now, his emotions were black, there was anger, hatred and confusion. Ultimately, however, there was fear – just what was he afraid of?

“Ben.” That had been his name, Benjamin Hamilton. “We’re not here to antagonise you, we’re here to help. You’ve passed. You’re in the realm of spirit now, no longer connected to your physical body. Perhaps that’s why you’re confused. If your passing was sudden or unexpected—”

Get out!

“Tiresome soul, isn’t he?” Ness muttered. Being called all the names under the sun was truly beginning to grate.

Taking a deep breath, Ruby tried again. They were in the kitchen, where his presence was strongest. She was surprised about that, because he’d died in the living room, sitting in his chair, in front of a blaring TV, flies gathering around him – attracted by the aroma of decay. Perhaps he wondered round the house, some spirits did, whilst others remained tethered to the exact spot they’d met their end – there seemed to be no hard and fast rules, no black and white. As they’d been in life, each spirit was unique.

“Ben, you need to let go of this realm, there’s nothing more for you here. Can you see the light? If so go towards it. You’ll find peace there, you’ll be welcomed. You’ll be going home. That’s what the light is, Ben – it’s home.”

You know shit!

Ruby flinched. The voice – his voice was right by her ear. Previously there’d been distance between them. She hadn’t expected him to come this close, hadn’t felt a sense of him rushing towards her. If only she could see him, get an impression of who he was – she’d have to dig around, see if she could find a photo. There must be one. Maybe the press had used one when reporting his death. A photo would help to demystify him, a disembodied voice was often unsettling; she was human and could admit that. Seeing the whole package would be better. Manifestation, however, didn’t seem to be on the cards. She got the impression Ben didn’t want to show himself. He wanted to hide, or maybe he was toying with them. That was something else the spirits did – thinking they had the upper hand and exploiting that position. More often than not though, it was a protection mechanism, they wanted to stay, or thought they did, and so would do anything in their power to scare away those who could sense them. But if they stayed they’d grow more frustrated by their limitations, become more destructive. It was then that interaction with the living could prove fatal. Fear could kill a person. She knew that. Failure wasn’t an option.

Ness was picking up on her thoughts. “Ruby, don’t be so hard on yourself. If we make no headway today, we come back again.”

The words were barely out of her mouth when a roar sounded in Ruby’s ear, setting every nerve ending she possessed on edge. Ruby looked at Ness, saw alarm on her face – she’d heard it too. Between them, they started to ramp up protection levels to maximum. Before making a psychic connection, it was imperative to surround yourself in white light, drawn straight from universal source and visualising it as an impenetrable shield. Ruby also wore a tourmaline necklace, an heirloom from her great-grandmother, and one of the strongest protection stones. Ness, preferring snowflake obsidian, had a huge chunk of it on her finger. Black tourmaline spray was another ‘Ness staple’, used to cleanse the atmosphere, to form another line of defence. They’d doused the house with it on their initial walk-through – the smell both comforting and clean.

“Ben, let me reiterate, we are here to help you, please allow us to do that. We’re not afraid of you. Don’t be afraid of us. We mean you no harm.”

The atmosphere, already oppressive, became even more so. Her words were angering Ben. A common enough reaction, spirits often became defensive initially. Patience and perseverance were integral, that and refusing to take any abuse from them either, be it verbal or physical, although thankfully it was rarely physical. The amount of energy required on a spirit’s behalf to become physical, to interact, was just too immense.

Not that that stopped Ben.

The blow to her stomach caused Ruby to double over. As she did, the breath left her mouth in a whoosh. In an instant Ness was by her side. Jed – a black Labrador that had attached himself to Ruby over a year ago, a dead black Labrador that is – materialised and started fussing over her too.

“Jed, Jed, I’m okay. Ness, I’m fine.”

Despite her protests Ness looked furious.

“You are not fine!” She whirled round, faced what they could not see. “Ben, I’m warning you, we won’t stand for this!”