Adrift - 1. Chapter 1

“Can’t see you… can’t see you…”

Chris peered through his upraised hands. The dead woman was still there, standing in the shallows, reaching for him, eyes bulging in a face of pallid blue… drowning forever. Chris screwed his eyes shut.

“Leave me alone!” he cried.

There was no sound but for the gentle lapping of the waves at the sea-smoothed pebbles and the rustle of a faint sea breeze. Chris took a deep breath and uncovered his eyes. The woman was gone.

Chris breathed a sigh of relief. Now, there was nothing before him but shingle, seaweed and grey sandstone cliffs, and a sky the featureless white of autumn. It was that strange, mellow time of year before the weather gets really cold, when the trees go golden brown and everything seems to be drifting, oh so gently, to sleep. At his back, the village slumbered gently in the morning cool, quiet apart from the faint tendrils of smoke rising from some of the chimneys.

A voice. “Are you okay?”

Chris looked up in surprise. A boy was walking along the shore towards him, battered trainers crunching across the shingle. He looked to be about seventeen, like Chris, dressed in a check shirt, skinny jeans and a hoodie with a gemstone pendant about his neck. He had brown eyes, clear skin and gently swept dark hair. Sort of attractive, Chris thought, and… not entirely unfamiliar.

Where had the stranger come from…? Chris could have sworn he was alone on the beach until a few moments ago.

“I’m fine,” Chris replied, lying feebly. “Just kidding around.”

The new arrival shook his head. “There’s no need to pretend. I saw her too. She looked… pretty intense.”

Chris stared. “Wait… what?”

“I can see the ghosts too.”

Chris shook his head. “Wow. This is incredible! I thought it was just me…” He paused, thinking for a moment. “So, how long? I mean, since when?”

“Since I was fourteen,” the other boy replied. “It took some getting used to. How about you?”

Chris scratched his head. His memory had been foggy lately. Maybe it was the headaches.

“I’m not sure… not long.” He frowned, looking the other boy up and down. There was definitely something familiar about him. “I know you, I think… don’t I?”

The other boy held out a hand. “I’m Tom,” he said. “Tom Charlton.”

“Right!” Chris took the other boy’s hand and shook it a little awkwardly. “We went to school together, didn’t we?”

Tom nodded, offering him a rather endearing smile. “I think so. Chris, right? Chris Payne?”

“Only, you left…” Chris frowned. “People said you’d gone crazy.”

Tom shrugged. “Yeah, well, starting to see ghosts will do that to you. My parents moved us to Bristol. I think they hoped I’d leave all the crazy stuff behind, but… turns out the ghosts just came along with me. We all missed living by the sea, so, now we’re back.”

“I like your… thingy,” Chris said, gesturing towards the other boy’s pendant.

Tom glanced down at it with a faint laugh. “Yeah. It’s supposed to enhance communication with the spirit world. Like I need any help with that. Still, it’s also supposed to bring good luck, and I think it’s pretty.” He looked up. “So, what’s your story, Chris? Why are you out here on this beach all alone?”

“My family’s never around,” Chris replied. “I get bored hanging round at home. I like to come out here and watch the waves.”

“Aren’t you cold?” Tom asked, inclining his head towards Chris’ clothing.

Chris glanced down, taking in the light polo shirt and shorts he was wearing. In truth, he hadn’t really thought about it. He shook his head.

“Not really.”

“Must be nice not to feel it,” Tom murmured. He paused, looking thoughtful. “I don’t think I’ve seen you at school since I came back?”

Chris shook his head. “Nah, I’m learning animal care at the college.” He smiled. “Not academic enough for A-Levels, I guess.”

Tom stepped slightly closer. “That’s brilliant, though,” he said quietly. “I reckon someone who’s good with animals is someone you can trust.”

“Thanks,” Chris said, flushing slightly with embarrassment. “That’s cool of you to say.”

Chill out, Chris, he thought. The other boy’s gentle interest and close proximity was making him start to feel wiggly. He’s just being friendly. You need to get your hormones under control.

That was the problem with never having had a relationship. It made you super awkward and sensitive. Of course, it was even worse when you were into boys. What straight people never seemed to understand was that every potential prospect had to be prefaced with an even bigger question.

“So, um… what are you doing down here, Tom?”

Ugh, so lame to reflect the other boy’s question back at him like that… but at least it would keep the conversation going for a little longer.

“Me? Oh, I’m just taking the air. Getting out of my own head for a bit. The ghosts… it gets too much sometimes.”

Chris shuddered. “You’re telling me. What do they want?”

Tom shrugged. “Mostly they just want help. I do what I can.”

“Help with what?” Chris asked. “They’re dead.”

“But that’s the point,” Tom said quietly. “It’s why they’re still stuck here. Often it’s because of how they died… because they’ve never been found, or there’s a message they need to pass on, like… that somebody hurt them. Somebody who got away with it. Like… the guy who fell from there, do you remember?”

He waved up at the low cliffs at the end of the beach, where the coast path ran up past a few isolated cottages. A small section of the cliff looked like it had crumbled away, and the beach below was scattered with a few larger, less weathered rocks.

Chris frowned. There was something at the back of his mind, but he couldn’t place it. “No, I… must have missed that one.”

Tom shrugged. “I only heard about it from my classmates. The police decided it was probably an accident. But… what if it wasn’t? What if he fell because he was being chased by someone? He’s the only one who would know.”

“Wow,” Chis breathed, “that’s dark.”

“It’s not always like that,” Tom replied nonchalantly. “Sometimes, it’s just a bit of unfinished business, you know? Like they needed to tell someone they loved them. But… there are a few who don’t even know they’re dead yet.” He gave Chris a vulnerable look. “They’re the hardest ones to watch, in a way. I see them, walking around, re-enacting their daily lives. They even look sort of normal… until they realise.”

“I… haven’t noticed any of those.”

Tom nodded. “They’re harder to spot… no injuries, you know? But, after a while, you get to know the look.”

“How don’t they see it?”

“I’m not sure. It’s sort of like… they see what they expect to see.”

Chris shoved his hands in his pockets, looking at the other boy contemplatively. From the way Tom was talking, he’d clearly had to cope with way too much already in his short life.

“And… you’ve been dealing with all this on your own?”

“Yeah, I learned not to talk about this stuff around my family. It freaks them out too much. So…” Tom smiled slightly, “it’s sort of nice to meet someone I can talk to about it.”

“I… don’t mind,” Chris said, his cheeks reddening again. “If you’d like to, you know, hang out a bit… I’d be up for that.”

Get a grip. Just because you think he’s cute…

Tom shuffled his feet, smiling at him a little awkwardly. “Yeah, I think I’d really like that.”

Chris blinked. Was that a signal…? Did he just send me a signal?

To cover his confusion, he bent down and picked up a small, flat stone, then flicked it out over the waves, attempting to skim it. It sank without a trace.

“Damn,” he muttered.

Something about it seemed to impress the other boy, all the same.

“That’s cool,” Tom said with a smile. He picked up a stone of his own and launched it.

“Not bad!” Chris said, raising his eyebrows in surprise. “Three bounces.”

Tom laughed. “Glad to know I have one talent. I’ve always sucked at sports.”

“Me too,” Chris replied. “Always the last one to be picked for the team.”

They exchanged a quick smile, and Chris felt a whisper of energy pass between them. Out of his comfort zone, he backed away from it a little.

“So, um… I’ve got to go, I guess,” he said. It wasn’t true, but he needed space to think. “Do you want my number?” He reached for his pocket, and his heart lurched a little as he found it empty. “Oh, I… lost my phone, I guess.”

Frowning, he cast his eyes around the beach. There was no sign of it.

Tom shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I won’t be hard to find.”

“I’ll… look for you this evening, then?”

Tom smiled. “On the beach. Count on it.”

Chris waved goodbye and climbed back up the concrete slipway, a surprised spring in his step and a spark of excitement glimmering in his chest. The autumn break suddenly seemed rich with possibilities. All the same, he needed some time to get his confused thoughts together.

Chris’ family home was a terraced property only a few doors away from the beach; a traditional fisherman’s cottage with whitewashed walls and a front yard decorated with old buoys, fishnets and flowerpots. The house next door was still on the market, a crooked ‘for sale’ sign tied forlornly to the gatepost between their front paths. Chris frowned slightly. Mr. and Mrs. Perrin were an older couple, long-established in the village; he wondered what had persuaded them to sell and move on.

High prices? Lot of holiday lets round here…

An elderly man was shuffling down the far side of the road. He wore an old, navy-blue seafarer’s jumper and his skin, beneath his flat cap and wispy white hair, had a greyish pallor. Now that Chris thought about it, he felt he’d seen him several times in the last few days, always repeating the same aimless journey, never seeming very aware of the world around him.

Morbidly, he wondered. Could the old man be one of Tom’s unknowing dead?

* *

A few hours passed.

As the pale autumn light began to leave the sky, Chris levered himself up off the sofa and psyched himself up to go out again. Tom would be expecting him.

He had spent the day adrift in doubts. Left with only himself for company, his mind had turned round in ever-decreasing circles. Whatever excitement he had felt this morning had been supplanted by a near certainty that the wonderful but frightening energy he had felt between them had just been a product of his own fevered imagination.

After all, nobody’s ever taken that much of an interest in me before. Why would that change now, after just one conversation?

But even so, he thought he might have made a new friend. That was still worth pursuing, right?

As he stretched his arms and arched his back, Chris’ eyes fell on the framed family photo that hung above the radiator. There they all were, Mum, Dad and his little sister Lizzie, smiling with Chris atop one of the highest peaks of the Brecon Beacons. It was a sunny day, the uplands covered in a coat of windswept grass and the distant valleys dotted with white sheep like flecks of dust. The photo must have been taken by a passer-by, a helpful stranger whose identity was lost in time.

Chris frowned.

Where were you today, guys? I really could have done with someone else to talk to about all this.

He tried to imagine what Lizzie would have said, in her straight-talking, thirteen-year-old way.

‘Stop over-thinking it, Chris. Maybe he likes you, maybe he doesn’t. What’s the worst that can happen? You’ll make a bit more of an arse of yourself than usual. Big deal, move on. Go and get him.’

He smiled slightly. Thanks, lil’ sis. I owe you one.

Chris set out into the street a few moments later, taking a deep breath of the fresh evening air. He tried to imagine what it would be like to move away from the coast, as Tom had been made to do, but he couldn’t. The sea was too much a part of his DNA: the salty tang of the air on a breezy day, the distant cries of the gulls, the gentle lapping of the waves against the stones, the rich organic scent of fresh seaweed deposited at the tideline. No wonder Tom and his family had ended up coming back to the coast; they must have felt its call.

He made his way back to the seafront and walked down the concrete slipway, his feet crunching over the scattering of small pebbles where it merged with the shingle, and cast his eyes about the beach. There was nobody there. He sagged slightly in disappointment, but not in total surprise.

So, he was just messing me about after all. Never mind. Life goes on.

But then he heard quiet voices, and he looked up towards the little village green that sat above the beach a bit further along. Tom was sitting on a bench there, with one hand resting comfortingly on the shoulder of a weeping child. The young boy, who looked about six or seven years old, was clutching a bedraggled-looking teddy bear under one arm.

His curiosity piqued, Chris hurried across the shingle and scrambled up onto the seawall. As he approached, he saw the little boy hand the teddy to Tom.

“Thanks, Owen,” Tom said. “I’ll make sure they get it.”

Tom reached up and wiped a tear from the little boy’s cheek. The little boy threw himself forward to give Tom one last hug, then he released him, giving Chris an uncertain glance. Seeing the far side of the little boy’s face for the first time, Chris halted in shock. His otherwise charming features had been torn asunder by an ugly red gash that ran from his forehead to just below his ear.

“Go on, Owen,” Tom said gently.

The little boy nodded and walked away along the seawall, his head hanging low. As he walked, he seemed to fade away and disperse, until all that was left was so much stardust.

Chris looked on, confused and battling with his own strange emotions. “He… just…”

Tom nodded, brushing away a tear of his own. “Yeah, he’s gone.”

Chris slid down onto the beach next to the other boy. “Why?”

Tom sighed. “He finally found his teddy.”

“I’m… sorry?”

Tom gave him a sad look. “He was crossing the Cleddau Bridge with his parents and dropped his bear. The river took it. He said he didn’t mean to run out in front of the oncoming car… he just wanted to know where his teddy had gone.”

“What did he want?” Chris asked.

“For me to give his parents this,” Tom replied, gesturing at the bear, “and to tell them he’s sorry he died. He made it back home, but… he couldn’t do the last part on his own.”

“You mean… it’s real?” Chris asked, reaching for the teddy.

“Feel it for yourself.”

Chris did. It was stubbornly solid, its synthetic fur matted and crusted with salt.

“So, ghosts can touch things,” Chris murmured. He gave the other boy a searching glance. “Why did giving you his teddy make him disappear like that?”

Tom sighed. “Because he was finished. This was the one thing he still needed to do.”

Chris stared at him. “That’s what happens… when you help them?”

Tom nodded. “No reason for them to stay anymore.”

“That’s…” Chris tailed off, lost for words.

Tom gave him a sad smile. “Yeah.”

“How do you deal with it?”

“Sometimes, I don’t think I do. Although…” he smiled nervously, “having a cute boy to talk to about it could be a big help.”

Chris choked. “Um…”

Tom flushed. “Sorry… did I read you wrong? Forget I spoke.”

“No!” Chris said hastily. “I just wasn’t expecting it. You know, this is sort of new territory for me.”

Tom smiled. “Yeah, I remember feeling like that. It’s just that I’ve seen so much now, I’m… sort of less inclined to overthink things. Life’s short. You’ve got to grab happiness where you find it.”

Chris nodded, thinking of the little ghost boy. “Yeah… I’m starting to see that.”

“So, you’ve never been chatted up by a boy before?”

Chris shook his head. “Nope. Never been chatted up, never been on a date…” He sighed. “Certainly never been in love.”

“That’s sad. Does it bother you?”

“Sometimes,” Chris replied, but he smiled. “There’s still time, right?”

Tom nodded thoughtfully. “Right.”

The cool night breeze rose a little, ruffling their hair slightly with the freshness of autumn.

“Want to… I don’t know, walk for a bit?” Chris suggested vaguely. “You don’t want to, you know, get cold…”

Tom chuckled and zipped his coat a little tighter. “Speak for yourself, Chris. But, sure… I could walk.”

They got up and began to walk along the darkened village street, in the sparse light of the streetlamps, heading along the wooded valley that surrounded the village. Tom carried the little boy’s teddy tucked neatly under one arm; apparently, he meant to keep his promise. Dimly, they could hear the brook trickling behind the cottages on the left. Up ahead, cheerful lights and conversation emanated from the village pub.

Chris drew to an uncertain halt as the pub doors burst open and two unpleasantly familiar figures came rolling out, laughing in a loud, laddish way and shoving each other rambunctiously about the street. Something about the sight of them chilled him more than usual, and he had the strangest urge to turn tail and run.

“What’s up?” Tom asked.

“It’s Gareth and Charlie,” Chris hissed back. “Third years at college. They’re always running me down and heckling me for being gay. Once or twice,” he added, holding thumb and forefinger millimetres apart, “I thought they were close to hurting me for real.”

“Just keep walking,” Tom assured him. “It’ll be fine.”

“Two’s company?” Chris asked.

Tom nodded. “Something like that.”

They carried on. The two older boys’ muddy, drunken eyes looked up and tracked them as they passed.

“Hey, it’s the psycho!” Gareth jeered. “How’s life on the funny farm?”

“Get a life, guys,” Tom retorted, forming an ‘L’ against his forehead.

Gareth and Charlie sniggered rudely, but let them pass. Chris and Tom left them behind, turning onto a little bridge over the brook. They paused to lean on the wooden balustrade, watching the water chuckling over the rocks and fading summer vegetation.

“That was brilliant, Tom!” Chris grinned. “They didn’t even hassle me at all.”

“Not such an easy target now, are you?” Tom said with a smile.

Chris regarded him gratefully for a moment. “It’s so cool to hang out with someone who accepts me for who I am – you know, who’s lived it. Especially someone as, umm…”

…cute as you?

Awkward.

Tom snickered. “I think I’m getting you… and yeah, I’d be happy to ‘hang out’ some more. What are you doing tomorrow?”

Chris shrugged. “Existing.”

Tom smirked. “Well, that sounds amazing… why don’t we ‘exist’ together?”

“Sure… and do what?”

Tom shrugged. “Low tide’s at ten. We could walk round to the next bay, see what’s going on… although, I should warn you, the ghosts can find me at any time. We could get hijacked.”

Chris nodded. “Hey, it all sounds cool to me.”

Tom grinned. “It’s a date.”

Chris gave an embarrassed laugh and looked away, flushing slightly.

“Come on…” he mumbled, then he jumped as he felt Tom lay a hand on his arm.

Tom shook his head in amusement. “I mean it. It’s a date.”

* *

Faced with such an exciting and daunting prospect, Chris had expected to dream a little, but his sleep was as grey and featureless as it always seemed to be these days. Maybe it was his newfound gift, Chris wondered; perhaps, at night, part of his consciousness was still out there, roaming with the ghosts. Instead, when he crawled his way fitfully back to wakefulness, all he brought with him was the headache, back again as it was most mornings.

No matter. It usually only took a bit of fresh sea air to blow it away.

Chris made his way down to the beach a little while before they were due to meet, to give the breeze some time to work its magic. The tide was already quite well out, and the bank of grey shingle receded into a flat expanse of firm golden sand veined with streamlets as the brook broke down on its way out to sea.

Chris walked down to meet the waves, leaving faint footprints in the firm, damp sand that faded away as they backfilled with water. The fresh air was already performing its daily miracle; he could feel the pain at the back of his head receding by the second.

At the water’s edge, Chris closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of the sea, from the crashing of the waves as they broke upon the shore to the fierce, windswept cries of the gulls that wheeled overhead. The fresh morning breeze ruffled his fringe, lifting his soft brown hair out of his eyes. A pair of oystercatchers flew along the coast, uttering their fluting, whistling cries as they went.

There was a brief suggestion of running feet behind him, and then someone tagged him on the arm. Chris’ eyes flew open in surprise and he turned to see his new friend grinning at him. A pale autumn sun shone down over the village, casting flickering highlights against the streamlets in the sand.

“You came!” Tom said.

“You thought I wouldn’t?” Chris asked.

Tom shrugged. “Hey, I never know what to expect.”

“You mean you’ve done this before?”

Tom smiled. “Not like this.” He looped an arm through Chris’ and began to tug him along the beach. “I think the tide’s low enough already. Come on, date.”

Chris laughed awkwardly as he fell into step beside the other boy. “This is so weird.”

“Weird how?”

“I just didn’t expect this, you know? Twenty-four hours ago, I could never have imagined…”

Tom looked at him curiously. “…that someone would take an interest?”

Chris nodded. “Something like that.”

Tom shrugged again. “Hey, it’s hard for guys like us to get started, especially in a small place like this. I get that. But if straight kids can get used to it, so can we.”

Chris laughed. “Straight kids…” he repeated.

Tom smiled. “What’s so funny?”

“Talking about it so casually. With someone else, I mean. I’m so used to dealing with this on my own.” He snickered. “Anyway, don’t you think straight is such a stupid word?”

Tom nodded. “Yeah. They’re the bent ones, as far as I’m concerned.”

They exchanged a sideways glance, and then they both burst out laughing. As he did, Chris felt a strange lightness in his heart, and he wondered when he had last felt this good. It seemed like a long time ago.

As the spring tides receded, they had pulled the water’s edge out past the projecting cliffs that normally separated their haven from the adjoining bay, where a larger village sprawled out along the seafront, backed by estates of modern bungalows and holiday homes. A handful of businesses clustered by the slipway, including a chip shop, a watersports store and the sort of low-grade gift shop that the British seaside seemed to do best, where you could get your cheap, flimsy plastic buckets and spades or knock-off Crocs for bargain basement prices. The place was too small to even sustain a fairground or amusement arcade; so, on paper, there was little to interest two seventeen-year-old boys.

Chris, however, had grown up without any of those things and had never missed them. When he wasn’t closeted at home watching the television or playing videogames, he was out on the shore or on the coast path, at one with nature. Experienced at climbing boulders and dabbling in rockpools, he could name dozens of species of birds, plants and sea life. Newly acquainted though they were, he sensed, in Tom, a kindred spirit.

Seeming to recognise this, they ignored the shops and stuck to the shore, laughing, joking and hugging the lapping waves, darting inland now and then when a larger wave broke and threatened to inundate their feet. This early in the autumn morning, the beach was deserted, save for a middle-aged woman who was using one of those plastic arm things to throw a tennis ball for a black Labrador. The dog pelted ecstatically across the firm sand, overjoyed to be able to unleash its powerful muscles and run at full tilt.

As Chris and Tom approached, the dog changed course and ran up to them. Tail wagging enthusiastically, it dropped the rather slimy-looking ball at their feet, tongue lolling in a canine grin. Chris moved to pick it up, but Tom reached it first.

“I’ve got this,” he said with a smile.

Tom took the ball and hurled it back towards the owner. The dog pelted after it, scooping it up in its enthusiastic jaws and beginning to trot back towards them.

“Here, boy!” the woman called; the dog glanced reluctantly over its shoulder, then loped back to her side. “Morning, Tom!” she added with a wave.

Tom waved back. “Morning, Mrs. Davies!” Turning back to Chris, he flapped his hand ruefully. “Yuck, dog slobber.” He extended it towards Chris with a playful smile. “Want some?”

Chris shook his head. “Um, no thanks. Wash it off in the sea or something.”

Tom grinned. “Whatever you say…”

He rinsed his hand in the shallows and brought it back out, dripping. He began to flick water at Chris, who drew back, laughing slightly.

“Stop! What did I do?” he protested, batting the other boy’s arm away.

“You’re not afraid of a bit of water, are you?” Tom teased.

Chris backed away slowly. “No, it’s just… don’t start a fight you can’t win.”

Tom raised an eyebrow. “That sounds like a challenge.”

Chris stooped and soaked both hands in the shallows. “Okay… you got my attention.”

Now it was Tom’s turn to back away. Looking a little flushed, he gave Chris an uneasy smile. “I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”

Chris nodded. “Hell, yes.”

He sprang forward, sprinkling the other boy’s face liberally with seawater. Laughing, Tom cringed back behind raised arms and then darted aside. Ducking low, he scooped up a fresh payload and then advanced on Chris, startling him by grabbing his upper arms with clammy hands.

“Gerroff…!”

“Make me…!”

They wrestled at arm’s length for a while, neither quite daring to get any closer. Drawn by the commotion, the dog ran back over to them, barking excitedly. The brief distraction was all it took: the two boys finally overbalanced, tumbling to the ground and landing on all fours in the wet sand. They both yelped and sprang to their feet as a breaking wave washed past them, soaking their knees and feet with cold water.

“Shorts not seeming like such a stupid idea now?” Chris grinned as the other boy brushed ineffectually at the sand stuck to his darkened denim.

“You’re crazy,” Tom replied, but he couldn’t quite help smiling as he caught Chris’ eye. They hesitated for a moment, their gazes raking over each other, and Chris flushed a little, sensing the unusual intensity in the other boy’s attention. There it was, again – that strange sense of an energy passing between them.

Somebody please wake me up. I think I AM dreaming!

“Practicing your dance moves, Tom?” Mrs. Davies chuckled as she stepped in to retrieve her dog, which had finally calmed down a little and was standing more quietly in the shallows, watching them with polite interest.

“Um… something like that,” Tom replied with an awkward smile.

Mrs. Davies reached for the dog with lead outstretched. However, before her fingers could close around its collar, the animal shot off again. Coming to a halt halfway up the beach, it stared anxiously at something up on the seafront.

“What’s got into him now?” she murmured, setting off in pursuit.

Chris and Tom followed the dog’s gaze, and Chris heard Tom’s breath catch in his throat as they saw what had caught the animal’s attention.

The ghost of a young girl was standing at the railings, staring unhappily out over the beach towards them. Her brow was pale and sheened with perspiration, but her neck was livid with ugly purple bruises. Her jeans were stained with something that might have been blood. Chris’ heart gave a horrible lurch as he realised she was no older than Lizzie; with her halo of mid-length, light brown hair… well, for a moment, it could almost have been her.

When Tom finally spoke, his voice was little more than a whisper.

“This could be ugly…” he breathed. “Maybe you’d better sit this one out.”

Chris shook his head and laid a hand on the other boy’s arm. “You’re done doing this on your own.”

Tom gave him a grateful look. “Thanks, Chris. All the same, let me go first, okay?”

Releasing his arm, Chris nodded. Tom set off towards the girl like a man condemned, and Chris followed a few metres behind him.

* *

Chris hung back while Tom had a whispered conversation with the ghost girl. When he turned back to Chris, his face was pale, his expression strained.

“I’ve… got to go and take care of this,” he said.

“It’s okay. I’ll come with you.”

Tom nodded. “Lead the way,” he whispered to the girl.

Solemnly, the girl set off, leading them on a winding route through the housing estates behind the seafront. Chris walked by Tom’s side, observing his troubled frown, the tense set of his shoulders. A few small birds fluttered around the plain but tidy gardens, watching them skittishly from the ridge tiles of the passing houses.

The girl finally stopped halfway up an ordinary-looking cul-de-sac, pointing at an ordinary-looking, semi-detached house with a lean-to garage and grey pebbledash render. There was an air of sadness about the overgrown front lawn and faded curtains that hung in the windows, half-open, half-closed, as if the people who lived there could no longer find it within themselves to look after their home.

Tied to the front gate, ink smudged and smeared by mist and rain despite the plastic wallet they had put it in, was a home-printed sign. It showed a faded photo of the girl in happier times.

‘MISSING,’ the caption read. ‘Carys Hughes, age 13. Last seen at home 30 September. Please help us find our daughter.’

“Shouldn’t you just go to the police?” Chris whispered.

Tom shook his head. “Too slow. It’s her mother she wants to tell. The police would go after the body first, but there’s more evidence in the house… at the first sign of trouble, he’d find a way to bury it.”

Chris frowned. “What…? You mean, it was someone here…?”

Tom took a deep breath and walked up the garden path, knocking determinedly on the dirty plastic front door.

The door swung open and an intimidating, thickset man in a faded rugby shirt appeared. Tom quailed slightly at the sight of him.

“Yes?” the man said, regarding his visitor with a curious frown.

“Is… your wife home?” Tom asked quietly.

“Gwen!” the man called over his shoulder, “there’s some kid here to see you.”

He stood aside slightly as a tired-looking woman appeared from the back of the house but, despite Tom’s hopeful glance, he made no move to leave. Clinging to the woman’s arms were a boy and a girl with blond hair, who looked so close in age that they might have been twins. Chris judged them to be about ten years old. There was an unhappy, anxious air about the whole family; but, under the circumstances, it was hardly surprising.

The ghost girl walked up to stand on the lawn, regarding her mother and siblings with a painful mix of yearning and sadness.

“I’m… sorry to trouble you,” Tom said, addressing the mother, “but I have some information about your daughter.”

The whole family stiffened visibly.

“Yes…?” the mother said quietly.

Tom glanced unhappily at the two younger children, as if he’d rather break the news when they weren’t around, then looked awkwardly at his feet. “I’m sorry, but… I think she’s dead.”

There were quiet moans from the twins, who clung tighter to their mother.

The man moved forward slightly, placing himself partially between Tom and his wife. “How do you know this?” he growled. “You’re upsetting my family.”

Tom looked up, a determined set in his jaw despite the fear in his eyes. “There’s a body, sir,” he replied, “and I think you know it. It’s in the nature reserve, deep among the willow bog, where you thought nobody would find it.”

The mother stared at him in shock. “That’s outrageous,” she whispered.

“Agreed.” The man’s ruddy face purpled. “How dare you come up here and accuse me in front of my family?” He advanced on Tom, fists clenched. “Get off my property!”

Tom backed away, sidestepping the man desperately so he could still address the mother. “Please…” he implored her. “You have to listen to me! Don’t trust him.” He gestured at the twins. “They could be next…”

The mother drew protective arms around her children, who were pawing desperately at her, tears in their eyes. “Stop it!” she cried, “you’re scaring them!”

The man grabbed Tom by the hoodie, bearing down on him with furious eyes. With no real idea of what he was going to do, Chris tensed to help.

“I won’t ask you again!” the man snarled.

“There’s a flashdrive in the garage,” Tom called over his shoulder. “It’s taped to the table under the bench vice. He recorded himself with her. He…”

The man had heard enough. He hurled Tom bodily onto the lawn, and drew his foot back, as if to –

But Chris was already on the move. He had no fighting experience, no skills to speak of, only an overwhelming desire to help his new friend. He shoulder-barged the man, hitting him hard in the chest. Winded, the man fell to the ground, his eyes wide and startled.

“What the…” he growled, looking around in bewilderment as Chris crouched down to help the other boy to his feet. Pulling the dazed Tom’s arm around his shoulders, Chris heaved him back up and dragged him back towards the street.

It was only then that the man seemed to notice that his wife and children had gone; the open door stood empty. Chris supposed she had taken advantage of the distraction to run to the garage to find the evidence Tom had told her about. He hoped she had.

“No, Gwen…” the man muttered furiously, scrabbling at the ground in his attempt to get back up, and Chris had time to wonder if they had only put the rest of the family in greater danger. But then, finally spurred into action, the ghost girl ran forwards. She kicked the man hard in the chin, sending him slumping back, insensible, against the concrete path. Hurrying to secure the front door, she whipped the house keys out of her father’s jeans pocket and hurled them up onto the roof.

With an expression of profound relief, she turned and walked more slowly towards them just as Chris was setting Tom back on his feet and helping to brush him down.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

They turned, as one, as the garage door swung up from the inside and a car slewed out, wild-eyed mother at the wheel, with her crying children strapped into the back. She turned untidily out into the street, and then, with a brief screech of tyres and a lingering tang of petrol-rich exhaust, they were gone.

“I’m sorry…” Tom panted, “about your father.”

The girl shot a disdainful look at the man, who was just beginning to stir.

“I have no father,” she replied. “You’d better go, before he wakes up.”

“Will you be okay?” Chris asked.

But the girl was already beginning to fade, to become less substantial, somehow.

“I’ll be fine,” she replied distantly. “It’s over for me now.” She gave him a sad smile. “I hope you have a happier ending than me.”

Tom tugged gently at Chris’ arm.

“She’s right, Chris,” he said. “Let’s get out of here.”

* *

Tom looked pale and shaken. Watching him with concern, Chris supported him as they retraced their steps towards the seafront. After a minute or two, Tom shook him off gently.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I’m alright to walk.”

An unspoken agreement seemed to have passed between them that their date, as they had originally planned it, was over, and they turned for home. Chris didn’t mind; after everything he’d just seen and experienced, the visit to the larger village had lost its appeal.

“How do you deal with stuff like that, Tom?” Chris asked.

Tom gave him a weary smile. “It doesn’t normally get so violent.”

“You put yourself in serious danger. That guy looked about ready to mess you up.”

Tom shrugged. “You had my back, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, but… what if I hadn’t been there?”

Tom gave him a sideways look. “It wouldn’t matter. I couldn’t live with myself if I stood by and did nothing, and he ended up hurting another member of his family. Could you?”

Chris shook his head. “I guess not, but… knowing that is one thing, actually doing something about it is something else.” He hesitated, flushing slightly. “I think you’re… pretty special.”

Tom laughed slightly. “Thanks, Chris. That’s cute.”

There was silence for a moment.

“He… raped her, didn’t he?” Chris asked after a while. “That man.”

Tom nodded. “Yeah.”

“How could he do that to his own daughter?”

“Stepdaughter,” Tom amended. “Not that that should make any difference.”

Chris sighed. “There’s real sickness in this world.”

Tom nodded. “Amen to that.”

Chris clenched his fists. “When I imagine someone doing that to my sister Lizzie…” he said bitterly.

“But they haven’t, have they?” Tom asked. “I mean, she’s fine, right?”

Chris nodded, strangely confused for a moment. “Yeah, I… I’m sure she is.”

Tom put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “You can’t spend all your time dwelling on the worst things that people do,” he said, “it’d send you crazy. I should know.” With his free hand, he gestured around at the cliffs, the rockpools and the waves lapping gently against the sand. “You have to remember that most of the world is beautiful. It’s… one of the ways that I deal.”

Chris exhaled slowly. “Wow, you know all the best things to say.”

Tom smiled. “Do I?”

Chris nodded. “See? I said you were special.”

Tom snickered. “Flatterer.”

Chris hesitated, thrown for a moment. “Hey… I’m not playing some game here. I just… like hanging round with you, that’s all.”

“Even the ugly parts?” Tom asked.

“Yeah.”

Tom smiled. “Me too.”

Chris could feel himself beginning to flush again, and he turned away in embarrassment.

“Man… why can’t I keep my head together around you?”

Tom stopped walking for a moment.

“I’ll tell you why,” he said. Placing his hand on Chris’ for a second, he leaned in and planted a brief, soft kiss on his cheek.

Chris felt as if his heart had skipped a beat, and for a moment the ground seemed to waver beneath him. “Oh!” he said. Awkwardly, he laughed. “Um… wow.” He turned to the other boy, wondering if he should reciprocate. “Do you want me to…?”

Tom smiled again. “In your own time.”

“Thanks,” Chris replied. “I, um… don’t think you’ll be waiting too long.” Now even more embarrassed, he laughed again. “Wow, did I really just say that?”

Tom grinned. “Good times,” he said. “Go with it.”

They had made it back round to their own, smaller haven. Chris felt a pang of disappointment, wondering if they might be about to part company again, but instead Tom swerved towards a rocky outcrop at the foot of the cliff. Finding a flat section of rock, he hefted himself up onto it, then sank down with his feet dangling over the edge and gestured for Chris to join him.

“Look, I said I deal…” Tom said as Chris sat down, “but I probably will see that poor girl’s face again in my dreams tonight. I don’t get off that easily.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Chris asked.

Tom shook his head. “What else is there to say? You’re right, no kid that young should have to go through all that.” He paused for a moment, then gave Chris a slightly playful look. “I’d much rather you did something to, you know… take my mind off it completely.”

Chris smiled uncertainly. “Like, you know, a game of I Spy? Charades? Twenty questions?”

Tom snickered. “Yeah,” he replied. “That’s it exactly.”

Chris leaned forwards a little. “I don’t really know how to, you know… do this…”

“It’s fairly simple.” Tom pointed at his mouth. “These are my lips. You just, sort of, pop yours against them… like this…”

“Oh, I see. So, I… mmm…”

Tom drew back smirking slightly.

“Hey,” Chris protested, “that’s cheating!”

They both broke out into nervous laughter.

“Okay,” Tom snickered. “You try it, then.”

Chris did.

* *

Do I have a boyfriend now…?

It was like some strange but rather wonderful dream. They larked about together on the cool, autumnal beach, sending water splashing and pebbles skittering with their feet. The few passers-by gave them a wide berth, occasionally casting a strange look in their direction, but they were both past caring.

At length, however, Tom confessed that he was expected at home.

“I said I’d go out with my family this afternoon,” he sighed. “I’d better stick to it, or they’ll worry I’m up to my weird ghost shit again.”

Chris smiled. “Well… aren’t you?”

Tom laughed. “Yeah, but they don’t need to know that.”

“Seems like a bit of a reach to assume that’s why you’re late.”

Tom shrugged. “They worry kinda easily these days. Sensitive, you know.”

Chris nodded. “I guess they would be.” He hesitated. “Will I see you again tonight?”

“Count on it. We are not done here.” Tom moved a little closer. “Just… one more for the road?”

Chris leaned forward to give him a quick kiss, which was starting to feel like the most natural thing in the world, then he stepped back with an embarrassed giggle.

Tom smiled. “What will you do for the afternoon?” he asked casually as he turned to go. “Spend some time with your family?”

Chris shook his head. “Nah, it’s like I said. They’re…”

“…never around,” Tom said, nodding thoughtfully. “I remember now. Don’t you get on, or something?”

Chris shrugged. “We’re cool. They’re just… busy, I guess.”

Tom scratched his head. “Well, try not to get too lonely without me, okay?”

Chris laughed. “I’ll live.”

Tom looked pensive for a moment, but then he set off with a wave. Chris watched him until he’d climbed the concrete slipway and disappeared into the village.

He took a deep breath of sea air and turned to face the open horizon, basking in the freshness of the day as he had that morning. The other boy’s sudden departure had left him with a faint feeling of emptiness, but it couldn’t suppress the fierce joy that now coursed through his being.

To be wanted… it was like a more powerful drug than he could ever have imagined… so much so that he felt his grip on the normal world begin to slacken, as if his being was rising to another plane of existence entirely.

* *

Somehow, the day passed.

Chris returned to the beach as darkness was falling. There was no sign of Tom yet, so he wandered down to the water’s edge to wait for his friend. Behind him, the lights of the village flickered gradually into life. A few gulls wheeled overhead, ghostly white in the gloomy dusk sky.

But, Chris reflected, he had no need for imaginary ghosts when the real ones were all too present: the drowning woman was back, reaching endlessly for him in the near darkness.

She just needs help…

Slowly, cautiously, his heart in his mouth, Chris edged towards her. The woman gazed at him with a desperate sort of hope.

“Do… you need something?” he ventured.

The woman coughed, spitting out a lungful of real water, which splattered down into the remnants of the breaking waves. Her hair was wet and matted and her complexion deathly pale, but she took a ghost breath and looked Chris in the eye.

“Please…” she whispered. “My family needs to know… I didn’t do this on purpose.”

“On purpose?” Chris repeated.

“I’d been depressed, but I was getting better. When I took the boat out that day, I meant to come back… I swear. I’d already made the decision not to leave them.”

“It’s alright,” Chris said, taking one of the woman’s cold, damp hands in his own. “My friend and I… we can help you. We can tell them.”

The ghost woman gave him a grateful look and clutched his hand in return. “Thank you. You have no idea what it would mean to me…”

“But…” Chris hesitated. “If they thought you meant to hurt yourself, will they believe us? I mean… is there anything we can do to prove it?”

The woman thought for a moment. “The tickets!” she exclaimed.

Chris looked at her in confusion. “I’m sorry?”

The woman took him by the shoulders, her colourless eyes strangely excited. “In the bottom of drawer of my bedside table, there’s a photograph album. I’d been collecting memories of all the times I remembered being happy with my husband and children. In the back of the album, there are tickets for a family trip to Disneyland in the spring. If they see those, maybe it’ll make a difference.” She sighed. “It was meant to be a surprise. I was looking forward to it so much!”

Chris nodded. “All right. Where can we find them? Your family, I mean…?”

In hushed tones, the woman described where she lived. Chris listened intently, nodding to show that he understood.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “If I can see them happy, or at least see them start to accept the truth, I… think I’ll finally be able to rest.”

“You’re welcome,” Chris said in a small voice.

The woman gave him a smile that was infinitely sad but full of hope, then she turned and was gone. Lost in thought, Chris crouched in the shallows, letting the dying waves lap against his hands and wash them clean.

“That was cool of you,” said a voice.

It was Tom; he must have snuck up on them while they were talking.

“Wow…” Chris said, turning round to face him. “How long have you been there?”

Tom smiled. “Long enough to hear her message. We can take care of it, for sure.” He stepped forwards, and startled Chris by running a hand up into his hair. “I missed you today… and then I come down here, and find you being cooler than ever.”

Chris flushed and gave him an awkward smile in return. “Come on, man… I was just doing what I thought you’d do.”

“Yeah, but…” Tom spread his arms. “Look how far you’ve come since yesterday morning!”

He moved forward, and then they were kissing again.

“Can we go somewhere?” Tom murmured. For some reason, he was almost crying; a tear glinted visibly at the corner of his eye. “I’m… tired of waiting.”

Chris’ heart leapt to his mouth once more. “Um… we could go to my place, I guess? There’s nobody home.”

Tom nodded. “Cool.”

Feeling slightly dazed, Chris took him by the hand and led him back up the beach, and they set off up the deserted village street, which was silent apart from the rustle of the wind through the fading leaves of the autumnal trees.

In a matter of moments, they were outside his front door. Realising that he must have his keys at home, Chris fished out the spare from beneath a flowerpot under the living room window, and then they were inside.

“So… this is my house,” Chris said lamely, leading Tom into the living room with all its familiar things. Chris found his eyes drawn to the family photograph above the radiator once again, but Tom’s eyes roved around the rest of the space, taking it all in.

“It’s very nice,” Tom said quietly.

For some reason, the sight of the room seemed to have made the other boy sad. Maybe it was because it was so empty and dark.

“Do… you want to come upstairs?” Chris asked.

Tom nodded. “Sure.”

Returning to the hallway, Tom shed his shoes. Watching him, Chris did the same, although it felt strange, as if he hadn’t done it for a while.

That’s silly. It must just be nerves. I haven’t really been sleeping in my shoes… have I?

Chris led the way, padding quietly up the carpeted stairway with Tom just behind him. He led the other boy across the landing and into his room, where he flicked on the dim bedside lamp and sat down self-consciously on the side of the bed, gesturing for the other boy to join him.

Tom slid down onto the bed beside him and took one of Chris’ hands in his own.

“So… you’ve never been in love?” he said quietly.

Chris shook his head. “Never. At least, until…” he tailed off.

Tom smiled. “Until what?”

Chris shrugged. “It’s early days.”

Tom nodded. “It is. But, sometimes… all we have is now.” He leaned forward and took hold of Chris’ polo shirt. “What do you say?”

Chris swallowed hard. “I think I say… seize the day.”

Tom gave him an embarrassed smile. “I’ve never done this before,” he said. “Least of all with… you know. But… I don’t see why we can’t, and... I think it may be something we both need.”

He took a deep breath and began to lift Chris’ polo shirt from his body. Overwhelmed by his firing senses, Chris tuned out his confused thoughts and gave in to the moment.

* *

Chris’ eyes flickered open to a pale morning light. For a moment, he basked in the glow of the previous night; being with Tom had been every bit as wonderful as he could have hoped. Once again, he felt that strange lightness of being, as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

But then he noticed two things at once. Firstly, he was fully dressed once again – when had that happened? And, secondly, the other boy was gone.

Had he done something wrong? Maybe Tom had only just left. Anxiously, Chris scrambled out of bed and hurried downstairs, hoping to catch up with the other boy. For a second, he searched in vain for his shoes, only to realise that they were already on his feet.

He hesitated for a moment, more confused than ever, but then he shook his head. There were more important things to worry about. He stepped forwards and pushed through the front door; stepping out into the street, he set off in the direction of the beach at an untidy run.

He found the other boy at the bottom of the coast path, leaning over the low stone wall that separated the path from the cliff. Gazing down onto the beach, he was clutching at his gemstone pendant with a faraway look on his face.

“Tom…?” Chris asked, approaching him uncertainly. “Are you okay?”

“Oh… hi, Chris.”

Tom looked up, and Chris realised with dismay that the other boy was crying once more.

“What’s up?” he asked, reaching up to brush them away.

“I hoped I was wrong,” Tom murmured, “but… I can’t run away from the truth.”

Chris frowned. “What truth?”

Tom took his hand. “Come with me.”

Nonplussed, Chris allowed the other boy to lead him back down towards the street. They descended the concrete slipway together, and then they were on the beach, crunching over the shingle and firm sand. Picking their way past the rock pools, Tom led Chris to the litter of fallen boulders he had pointed out on their first morning together.

“Do you really remember nothing about the accident?” Tom asked. “I mean, I wasn’t here. I had to learn about it second hand. But… in a small place like this, an event like that was massive news. Everyone else I’ve spoken to about it remembers it like it was yesterday.”

Chris shook his head. “No, I… like I say, I must have missed it somehow.” He ran a hand distractedly through his hair, searching his memory. “Unless… I mean, you know… my memory’s been a bit weird lately. I think it’s something to do with the headaches.”

Tom sighed in frustration. “Don’t you want to know why you get the headaches, Chris?”

Chris stared at him. “Of course I do! Well…” he hesitated. “I mean, it scares me a bit. It could be something really serious, you know? I could find out that I’m dying, or something.”

Tom seemed to sag for a moment; he looked unhappily at his feet.

“You’re not dying, Chris,” he said.

Chris frowned. “How do you know that?”

Tom stepped forward and grasped Chris’ hands. “Just think! Where are your family? Where are they really?”

“I don’t know! They’re just… busy, I guess.”

Tom shook his head desperately. “They’re not busy, Chris. I asked around. They’ve moved away.”

Chris laughed. “Don’t be daft. They wouldn’t move away and leave me behind.”

“They moved away because it was too painful for them to stay here!” Tom cried. “I reckon I’d have done the same, if I’d lost someone like that.”

“Lost someone…? Lost who?”

Fresh misery coursed across Tom’s face, and he cast his eyes skyward, searching desperately for strength.

“You died in that accident, Chris. It was you. You don’t remember it hitting the news because you were the one who fell!”

The words hit Chris like a body blow. He released the other boy’s hands and backed away from him, shaking his head.

“You’re wrong,” he whispered fiercely. “I’m not dead! I’m…”

“Chris, please…” Tom begged him.

Desperately, Chris covered his ears. “Leave me alone!”

He turned and ran, heading for home. Dimly, he was aware of Tom following him from a distance, but he paid no attention.

He’s wrong, or he’s lying. They’re just away. The house… it’s just the same!

In a matter of seconds, he was back at his front door. Fishing the spare key out for a second time, he blundered into the house, but then his hand fell to his side, the key falling uselessly to the carpet.

“No…” he breathed. “It’s not possible…!”

The living room was empty, the picture above the radiator gone; all that remained of the family home he had once known was a tired and faded carpet, with a few darker patches where the furniture used to be.

“I told you.” It was Tom; he was standing in the doorway, looking at Chris with sad eyes. “The unknowing dead see what they expect to see.”

“But…” Chris floundered. “My room… the bed…”

Tom shrugged. “They left a few things behind in there, for sure. Nothing really personal, but the furniture… maybe it was just too many sad memories to take with them.”

Chris stared at him helplessly. “I…”

Tom stepped back outside, gesturing gently for Chris to follow. Reluctantly, Chris did.

“Look at this,” Tom said, gesturing to the ‘for sale’ sign outside the house next door. “Really look at it, I mean.”

Chris stared at the sign, focusing all his concentration on it. It was then that he realised what the other boy must have noticed all along.

“It’s tied to our side of the gatepost,” he mumbled.

Sadly, Tom nodded.

Chris jerked as a massive blast of pain whipped through his head from the back to the front. As a reflex, he clapped a hand to the back of his head, and looked at his fingers with horror as they came away bloody.

“What’s happening?” he gasped.

“Reality is catching up with you,” Tom replied quietly. “I don’t think we have long now.” He extended a hand towards him. “Come with me… please?”

Wordlessly, Chris closed the door on his family home and allowed the other boy to lead him away.

* *

They came to rest at the bench on the seawall where Tom had released the little boy Owen from his wanderings. Tom motioned for them both to sit down, but Chris resisted him. He leaned on the railings instead, his brow knotted in a tight frown.

“Are you starting to remember, now?” Tom asked quietly. “Were you chased?”

Chris closed his eyes, searching. His scattered memories began to coalesce around a half-remembered jeer.

“Hey, queer boy! Come back, we only want to talk!”

Yeah, right…

“Gareth and Charlie,” he mumbled.

“Figures,” Tom sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“Is that why I’m still here?” Chris asked miserably. “Because of how I died? So they can be brought to justice?”

“It’s hard to do that, with no witnesses and no proof,” Tom murmured. “But I think… maybe it was something else.”

Chris gave him a curious look. “Like…?”

Tom slipped a hand into his own. “Remember how you said you’d never been in love?”

Wordlessly, Chris nodded.

Tom shrugged. “Well, I think… now you know the truth, and you’ve had a chance to be, you know… completely yourself…” he tailed off miserably and released Chris’ hand, looking away.

Chris stared at him in horror. “So… what, just like that, I’m going to disappear?” He looked down at his hands, to see if they were beginning to fade away. “God… I’m not ready…”

But that strange feeling of lightness was back, and it was growing stronger. Tom raised a tear-stained face to him, seeming to know, somehow, what was happening.

“What happens next?” Chris cried. “Where am I going now?”

Tom shook his head. “I wish I knew, but… you’ll be okay, Chris. I think the hardest part is over.”

Chris glanced down at the beach, where the waves still lapped ceaselessly against the sand.

“This is why I can see the ghosts, isn’t it?” he said miserably. “Because I am one.”

Tom nodded. “I think so.”

“But… what about the drowning woman? Her message…?”

“I’ll take care of it.”

Chris sighed and wiped at his eyes. “I wish we could have spent more time together.”

“Me too,” Tom murmured. Tearfully, he clapped a fist to his gemstone pendant. “But, wherever you end up… try to remember that I loved you for a day.”

Desperately, Chris reached for the other boy. Tom reached back, but Chris’ hand passed uselessly through his. Dejectedly, he gave up and allowed his hand to fall to his side.

“I loved you, too,” he whispered.

Tears glistening in the pale morning light, Tom blew him a silent kiss. Forlornly, Chris returned the gesture… and then he was rising, fading, until there was nothing save for the autumn breeze, the lapping of the waves and the distant cries of the gulls on the wind.