Bryony Pearce - The Weight of Souls

“I didn’t even like him.” I shrugged.

“Sometimes that makes it worse.” Dad pressed forward. “Do you feel... guilty?”

“Why would I?”

Dad cleared his throat. “No reason.” His eyes froze on my white glove. “You didn’t tell me your condition had returned.”

I shoved my hand behind my back. “It was yesterday.”

“Still.” His chair pinned me to the stairs as he reached for my arm.

I snatched it out of reach. “Do you really need a sample?”

Dad dropped his hand. “No, that’s not it. I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“I’m fine, Dad.” I tried on a smile. “Hannah’s coming over later.”

He glanced at my gloved hand again. “You aren’t… going out?” Out after a killer . He hated saying it and didn’t believe it anyway.

“Not yet.” There was a loose thread on my glove from all my picking. I tugged at it, avoiding his eyes.

“Good.” He glided back, gave me some room. “I have to do a bit of work – a teleconference with the bank. They want to talk about diversifying the mutual fund we got with your mum’s life insurance. And I need to check on our stocks and shares, make sure her family money is still working as hard as it can.” He rubbed his hands through his hair and glanced at his office. “We’re fine financially, but my research has thrown up a couple of ideas I want to run with, so I’m going to set some wheels in motion with the patent office. Anyway, when I’m off the phone, I thought I might take you out… and Hannah of course. We could go down the river. I know you usually prefer to stay in, but it’s such a nice day.”

Was it? I’d spent the whole journey home watching for Justin and keeping an eye out for other restless dead. I looked out the window and saw the sun streaming through Mum’s ivy in a lacework of green and gold.

I closed my hand around the Mark on my fist. Normally I’d argue to stay in and order a pizza and it was true that I didn’t want to risk getting a second Mark, but I’d seen Justin hanging out at the river before. He hadn’t been at school, so I’d have to start looking further afield.

“OK, Dad.” I smiled at him. “We’ll go out.”

“We will?” For a moment surprise made his face comical. Then he grinned. “You can push me from Hammersmith Bridge and I’ll feed you guys at the Blue Anchor. What do you think?”

“Sounds great, Dad.” I remembered that there was a good view from the tables there. I could sit and keep watch while I ate. “I’ll call Hannah.” I jumped to my feet and Dad’s arms pumped purposefully as he rolled towards his office.

“I’ll be as quick as I can,” he called over his shoulder. “It’ll be great to have a date with my favourite girls.”

I sniggered. “Right.” I ran upstairs already pulling off my uniform and his wistful tones trailed me up the stairs.

“It’s been such a long time.”

My burger was growing cold and I was half listening to Hannah and Dad talking about school, half watching out of the pub window. There had been no sign of Justin. Dad grunted irritably and placed his pint meaningfully on the table.

“Are we keeping you from something, Taylor?” he snapped.

Hannah laughed uncomfortably. “She’s always like this, Mr Oh, I think it’s her eczema. It’s distracting when it’s bad.”

“How many times have I asked you to call me Gabriel?” Dad reached for her hand, squeezed it and withdrew. “Oh was Emma’s name, she wanted me to take it when we got married, a family tradition. Now when people say it, well… it reminds me what I’ve lost.”

“Sorry.” Hannah looked mortified. “I can call you Gabriel. It’s a nice name.”

“I didn’t mean to upset you.” Dad took a drink of his beer. “If we can just stick with Gabriel, or even Gabe, from here on out…”

“Of course.” Hannah looked at me, panic stricken.

“You’re right, Dad, it is a nice day.” I tried to focus on his face as I changed the subject, but my eyes kept slipping to the walkway outside. Was that man in jeans and a jumper really dressed for the weather? Was that woman casting a shadow?

Dad sighed and rolled his eyes at Hannah. “It’s just like being with her mum, she never gave me her full attention either. I started to feel like the most boring man alive. And now she’s older, with the glove and that hair, it’s easy to think I’m out with Emma.”

“The glove? Did Taylor’s mum have eczema too?” Hannah frowned at my hand.

“I’m sure she’s told you.” Dad smiled at my friend. “Emma shared Taylor’s condition.”

“No.” Hannah twisted her drink so that it made wet circles on the wooden table top. “She never said.”

“Oh.” Dad cleared his throat awkwardly. “Well, that’s her glove Taylor wears.” It was his turn to change the subject. “Is that a rowing team at the bar?”

Hannah gave me a final glower, before leaning to look. “Oh yes. Tay, check out the muscles.”

“Muscles?” I grabbed gladly at the change in direction. “Where?”

But my gaze never reached the bar. There was an old man in one corner. He had been slumped over an empty pint glass since we came in. As I watched, a waitress emerged from the kitchen area and started clearing away empties. She had a smile and a word for every customer, but not this guy. He nodded at her when she picked up his drink, but she didn’t even acknowledge him.

My heart started to sink. The corner in which he sat was shadowy and I hadn’t seen him looking at us, but still…

“Hannah, do you see that old guy over there?”

Hannah squinted. “Which one?”

“Under the picture.”

“I can’t see who you mean. Anyway, I’d much rather be checking out biceps than some old bloke. What are you thinking?”

She leaned back towards the bar with an exaggerated sigh that made Dad laugh. Then he touched my hand. “Taylor?”

Hannah couldn't see the old man. We had to leave. “I’ve finished, have you?” I said brightly, pushing my burger away.

“Well, yes. But I thought you might want pudding.”

“No thanks.” I twisted to grab my coat from the back of my chair. “Let’s walk back while it’s still nice. Hannah wants to dye her hair anyway.”

“Hannah?” Dad looked at her. “Do you want anything else?”

I widened my eyes in silent warning and she sighed. “No thanks, Mr… Gabriel… I’m OK. We can head back.”

Dad snorted. “I’ve got to get the bill, Taylor. We can’t just run from the restaurant, sit back down.”

“We’ll meet you outside.” I grabbed Hannah and backed towards the door. The old man had raised his head, but made no move to follow.

As I reached the exit I stopped. Why hadn’t he come after me?

“You still can’t see the old guy with the red scarf?” I asked.

Hannah peered around the pub. “I must be blinded by the lovely rowers, who I would’ve been happy to watch for longer,” she grumped.

“Huh.” I tilted my head at the dead guy. With a wry smile he raised one hand, but made no other move. Maybe he was newly deceased. I waggled my fingers in tentative response and he returned to regarding the beer mat that had sat under the empty glass. I exhaled, relief lightening my shoulders.

I’d never had a ghost just let me go before.

“Taylor, that was rude.”

Dad was so annoyed with me that he hadn’t even let me push his chair on the way home. Hannah had done a stint then he’d rolled himself the rest of the way. Now she was in the bathroom getting the dye out of her bag and his arms were shaking.

“Dad–”

“Even on the way home you were hardly paying attention to your friend. Let alone to me.” The bags under his eyes had grown, tiredness made him look older. “I just wanted a nice meal out, to spend some time together and you couldn’t even do that. I know why you made us leave early.”