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“Of course.” Ha
“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 Ha
“The glove? Did Taylor’s mum have eczema too?” Ha
“I’m sure she’s told you.” Dad smiled at my friend. “Emma shared Taylor’s condition.”
“No.” Ha
“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?”
Ha
“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…
“Ha
Ha
“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?”
Ha
“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. Ha
“Ha
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 Ha
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.
Ha
“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 a
“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.”
“There was a–”
“This is getting out of hand.” He rubbed his trembling fingers through his hair. “Do you treat Ha
“It’s not something I talk about,” I snapped.
“Not even with your best friend?” Dad glided forward. “I know what women are like and I know how important friends are. Your mum had her sister. She didn’t share her illness, but she knew about it. You don’t have a sister. As far as I can tell, you only have Ha
I hung my head. “What am I meant to say? By the way, I see ghosts.”
“Of course not.” Dad sighed. “There’s no such thing and don’t be clever. Maybe I can speak to her. I can tell what we know: that it’s genetic, that you have hallucinations. You don’t want to lose her.”
“Right, and telling her I have hallucinations, that won’t freak her out.”
“It’s Ha
“Dad!”
“You aren’t giving her enough credit.”
“Leave it.” I glanced towards the upstairs bathroom. “I’m handling this.”
He shook his head. “I’m worried about you. You’re going to end up alone.”
“I mean it. If I want Ha
“I’m ready.” Ha
“Coming.” I glanced at Dad and sighed. “I really didn’t mean to ignore you.”
Dad looked at his dead feet. “Like I said, Taylor, I’m used to it.”
That night I fell asleep to the memory of words from Oh-Fa’s journal. I clenched my fists as I curled up in bed. If only I had enough of me left to keep my dad from feeling so alone.
As the day teetered on late afternoon our employer called us back. Our excited mutters were silenced when he stood with his arms spread; a showman with an elixir to peddle.
“I have it.” His round glasses glinted in the blazing sun. “Nefertiti’s tomb is…” He paused, enjoying his moment. “Right here.”
“Where?” Sunbird’s head bobbed and the Professor gri
“Anubis is pointing with his flail. The tomb is right beneath our feet.”
Sunbird roared at us to gather our tools and sledgehammers, but his instructions were u
Yet as the Professor directed the first hammer blow into Anubis’ jackal snout I became apprehensive. Desecration of the image of a god, even that of a foreign deity, did not seem providential.
As the ancient stone boomed and shards of rock shattered on stone far below, a hole opened up beneath the carving and I, temporarily surplus to requirements, made my retreat.
“This is your early warning.” I looked sideways at Ha
“I know.” She fluffed it with her fingers. “Mum hated it.”
“Excellent,” I gri
“So – early warning?” She swung her bag higher on her shoulder.
I cleared my throat. “I’m skipping out at lunch.”
“What?” Ha
“It’s an eczema thing.” I flashed my gloved hand briefly in front of her. “Doctor’s appointment.”
“You have a letter?”
I blinked. “I don’t have to show you a letter, do I?”
She sighed. “I guess not. Mrs Pickard will want one though.”
“I’ve got a letter.” I’d been forging Dad’s signature for three years. Mum always took me out of school when the Marks made it necessary, but Dad, not so much.