Un Lun Dun

“You were on the bus,” Deeba said. “With that man.” Hemi looked sheepish.

“Alright, yeah…I did sort of follow you on the bus. But just because your mate’s…y’know, the Shwazzy,” he said. “I wanted to know about you, and anyway…” He stopped suddenly. “What do you mean, ‘with that man’?” he demanded.

“And you followed us on the roofs. And you stole Za

“Hold on! Alright, granted I was sort of behind you on the roofs, too, but how dare you call me a thief! I was looking out for you on the roofs, you dozy ingrate. Who do you think whistled up to the bridge when those junkies were coming? I blatantly never stole nothing! And what do you mean ‘with that man’?”

“You tell me.” Deeba’s voice was guarded.

“I knew it! You’re saying I was one of them grossbottlers.” He put his hands on his hips and shook his head. “Outrageous. Blame the wisper, right? It was me who stopped that bloke!”

“Why…?”

“’Cause he was trying to hurt the Shwazzy! I mean…’ cause…y’know.”

Deeba said nothing. She thought back to what had happened: the ghost-boy, or half-ghost-boy, emerging somehow from nowhere— sending the attacker neatly into Obaday’s head. She’d never actually seen him touch Za

“Like you lot would’ve listened to the wisper.” He raised an eyebrow. “You just said I was following you, and I don’t even know where you came from! You came here! This lot called me as soon as they saw you,” he said. “They know you’re too deaf to hear them. Now put down your bleeding umbrella, tell us what you want, and bog off[2].”

“Sorry,” said Deeba. “But I know what you lot do. I don’t want anyone taking my body. I just have to find something out—”

Hemi interrupted.

“You really do take the Michael[23] don’t you? Why’d any of us want your nasty body?”

Deeba was taken aback. In fact, many of the ghosts were shaking their fists at her angrily, mouthing what looked like swearwords.

“You barge in here,” Hemi said, “spouting nonsense, and then you demand help?”

“I…I’m sorry,” Deeba said. “I was told—”

“What next, you going to join in with the rest of them saying we’re in league with the bleeding Smog?”

Deeba looked around the gathered ghosts. “You…don’t want to possess people?”

“For Deadsey’s sake, of course not!” said Hemi. “Look, you,” he said to Deeba, jabbing his finger at her. “I’m not going to tell you no one from Wraithtown’s ever nicked a body. Just like you can’t tell me that no one from UnLondon’s ever stolen clothes. But do you see me blaming you all for that? Do you?”

“So…why do you live next to living people if you don’t want that?” Deeba eyed the ghosts.

“They don’t choose to stick around!” Hemi said. “After we die, a few of us just wake up again. Sometimes for a few days, sometimes centuries. Isn’t that right?”

A ghost by his side in an ancient dress nodded and rolled her eyes.

“And most of us end up here,” Hemi said. “So what? At least we can talk to each other here. And then we get accused of everything! Next thing we know, there are gangs of UnLondoners snipping at us with exorscissors! D’you know how often some UnLondoner passes over and wakes up in Wraithtown? And then when they see what’s going on, we have to hear all about how sorry they are, blah blah, they had the wrong idea about us, yak yak. Of course, by then it’s too late.”

There was a long silence. Of course, it might have been a hubbub of angry ghosts, but to Deeba, it was a long silence.

“Well…sorry,” she said. “I was told wrong.”

“Whatever.” Hemi sniffed.

There was another silence. Deeba waited for Hemi to ask her what she was doing there. He didn’t.

“Maybe…you could help me?” she said at last. Hemi eyed her.

“Me help you?”

“Please.” She began to speak more urgently. “It’s really important. I need to check something. Someone told me there was…Is there like an official list of all the dead?”

Hemi, and several ghosts, nodded.

“Yeah,” he said nonchalantly. “In the records office. Wraithtown’s a borough of Thanatopia— that’s the city of the London and UnLondon dead. We can’t move to the city center yet— don’t know much about it— but we’ve got access to some of their offical files. The dead are way more organized than the living.”

“Cool,” said Deeba. “Listen…I really need to find out if someone’s on that list.”

Hemi struggled not to look interested, and failed.

“Why?”

“Because I was told he was dead. And that he died before I’d met him. But he’s definitely not a ghost. So I want to know what’s going on.”

43. Flickering Streets

The giraffes bleated hungrily in the distance as Hemi led Deeba through the unstable streets of Wraithtown, past shops and offices clouded with their own remembered selves. Most of the spectral entourage dissipated. There were only a few flickers of ectoplasm as a curious dead or two flitted around Deeba.

“I ca

“Um, excuse me!” Hemi said. “This ain’t my business. And the way you’ve been talking about us, I think you’re dead lucky I’m helping you at all.”

“ ‘Help,’ ” Deeba muttered bitterly. “Half my cash…”

“Yeah.” Hemi gri

“I am out of here the second we’re done,” Deeba muttered.

“Oh boo hoo,” said Hemi. “No, please stay.” They eyed each other.

“I know, I know,” Hemi said occasionally to one or another wisp they passed. “It’s alright, she’s with me.”

“We’re not used to heartbeaters in Wraithtown,” he told Deeba.

They passed phantasms of streetlights, in old styles, where illuminations had been and had gone. Little groups of ghosts gathered at street corners. They stood— or wafted, their legs disappearing— in costumes from throughout history.

“When you talk about them, you keep saying ‘us,’ ” Deeba said. “But you’re not like the rest.” Hemi looked away. “Someone told me that you’re half…How come I can hear you?

Plus…” Deeba reached out and shoved him.

“You’re solid.”

Hemi sighed.

“Mum was a Londoner like you,” he said. “Born two hundred years ago, died a hundred and sixty-five years ago. Dad wasn’t dead at all. He was an UnLondoner, came to Wraithtown out of curiosity.

“Mum tried to spook him. So she was all floaty sheets and woooo! and wooaaah! and so on. But he wasn’t scared. The way they told it…he just fell for her, right then. And so one thing led to another.”

“But how? If she wasn’t even…solid…”

“Some ghosts can get physical. A bit. A few. She was one.” There was a silence.

“Problem was,” he said glumly, “his family didn’t like it, and her friends thought she was sick. They managed to make everyone angry.”

“You the only one?”

Hemi shrugged.

“I du

“So you live here with your parents?”

“Mum went to Thanatopia when I was ten. Dad said she tried to stay, but when that tide takes you…Dad disappeared a bit later.” Hemi spoke briskly. “Some locals didn’t like him living in Wraithtown. Maybe they scared him out. Or worse. Or maybe he did what he had to to be with Mum again.”

“Sorry,” Deeba muttered, shocked.

“Don’t matter,” he said, perhaps too brightly. “There are some great people here. Even if there are some dead who don’t like me because I’m half-alive, that’s not all of them. It’s the living who really don’t like me around, ’cause I’m half-ghost. I can look after myself. Full ghosts don’t eat, but I do. Luckily my ghost half makes it easy to, ah, go shopping out there.” He winked.

[2]

Bog off: Go away.

[23]

Take the Michael: Mock, make fun of.