Ghost Diaries 1_Gigi's Guardian_Paranormal Romance Read online

  “Don’t tell Ivan and Thelma,” I begged the others.

  “As if we would,” Maude said reassuringly but I caught the wicked gleam in her eye. I knew the story would be all over the place in no time. I wouldn’t have minded, if it had done me some good. Gigi’s not protected against pregnancy. She should use a sheath for the next month. The only way I can remind her is when she’s dreaming and she only dreams when she makes love. The chicken and egg situation. Will she remember or take a chance? Knowing Gigi, I’m sure she won't even think about it. Fortunately, I didn't need to worry - nothing happened. Why? Because going to the opera proved a blessing in disguise. Gigi quarrelled with James. A successful evening, as far as my task was concerned, but unpleasant.

  Gigi felt well enough to go with James, even though she was weak and a bit weepy. If she’d been thinking properly, she’d have rung him up and cancelled, but she dragged herself out of bed and got dressed.

  James told her to wear something ‘suitable’. He didn't specify what. She didn't like to show her ignorance by asking; he seemed so fed up with the whole thing. She asked Adele, who had been to the opera a couple of times, many years before. She lent Gigi a flowered skirt, longer than those she usually wore - not hard. Gigi put on a bright pink blouse, high-heeled sandals and white plastic hoop earrings. Adele did her make-up again and she looked less like a sickly ghost.

  “Her outfit won't do, you know,” Maude warned me, “People who sit in good seats are very well dressed and they have a box.”

  “What can I do?” I wailed. “She doesn't own the right clothes and she shouldn’t be going at all.”

  “Don’t do anything,” Leilani advised. “She’s got to break up with James sometime and, with the pill situation, now would be an excellent time. You want them to do so in the end, don’t you?”

  I did. Breaking them up was part of my job, but the consequences suddenly struck me hard. If Gigi broke up with James, I wouldn’t be seeing Ivan any more! Leilani was still waiting for my answer and I had no intention of sharing my feelings with anyone yet. So I just replied, “I do, but she’s going to be embarrassed. She’ll be miserable, especially as she’s not over her illness properly.”

  “Can’t be helped. Grit your teeth and bear it.”

  Off we went and Maude proved to be correct. When Gigi met James, she knew at once she was not wearing the right thing. He wore an immaculate dinner suit with a black tie. He greeted her perfunctorily. She glanced around and saw that most of the women had on long formal dresses and expensive jewellery. Silks, velvets and taffetas were everywhere. One woman in particular, a lovely blond, removed a floor length cloak to reveal a matching grey velvet dress, edged with lace. Diamonds glittered round her neck. Gigi felt uncomfortable and, when they were shown to their box, she just wanted to die. Everybody can see you there, of course. She looked completely out of place. Her outfit would work well in many places, but not at the opera. She sank down in her seat, trying to make herself less noticeable. She kept her eyes on the stage, to avoid seeing the other people and hoped the performance would not last long. She wanted to go away and hide.

  James made me cross. He did nothing to help her. In fact, he stayed virtually silent, during the first half. She slid a timid hand into his, but he did not respond, unlike Ivan, who was kissing me.

  “Poor girl,” Ivan murmured to me, “I hate being in the wrong place at the wrong time, wearing the wrong thing.”

  “Oh? When did you do that?” I asked, sensing an interesting tale but he didn’t elaborate.

  “Too long a story for now, I'll tell you later. We’ve other things to do at the moment,” and we did. I never did get to hear the story because, in the end, events happened too fast.

  Gigi couldn’t concentrate, although the music was lovely and she would enjoy it in different circumstances. She wished she understood the story; it might have taken her mind off her troubles, but the words were in Italian. Things got worse in the interval. A couple of James’ friends came up to their box, people Gigi had never met before. She could not have born to meet Selina again in such circumstances. James introduced her in a less than enthusiastic manner. Everybody talked about the performance and the soloists, but they used technical words which she did not understand. So, rather than make any more mistakes, she only said she enjoyed the lovely music. They seemed surprised and she became aware how different her accent was from theirs. They kept looking at her expectantly, but she could not think of anything else to say.

  She started to get angry. Why hadn’t James described the kind of things women wore to the Opera? She would have borrowed the right dress. How was she expected to know? James should also have helped her with his friends, instead of leaving her to fend for herself. She did not listen to the music in the second half, she just brooded. The singing seemed to go on forever. She couldn’t get out of the place quickly enough when the last note died away.

  She stormed at James, “I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life. Why didn’t you tell me what to wear?”

  “You're not the only one! You turn up late, dressed for the beach. You talk to my friends as if you can’t string two words together.”

  “I didn't understand the things they were talking about. I thought I'd better say as little as possible.”

  James was angry too, Ivan explained to me. He hates being embarrassed in front of people. He realised he should have told her what to wear. He hadn’t been looking forward to going, so he hadn’t wanted to talk about it. Damn Rupert for forcing the tickets onto him. He wished he had been able to think of an excuse quickly enough. When his friends stared at Gigi with so much curiosity, he suddenly saw her through their eyes. She looked cheap and flashy. He kicked himself for bringing her to such a place. The men worked with him and the story would be all over the office tomorrow. They'd say he was out slumming with this little coloured girl. Embarrassment made him cruel.

  “You are stupid, aren’t you?”

  “Thanks a lot!” Gigi was crying now with mortification. “How should I know people wear long dresses and jewels like something out of the 1890s not the 1960s? You didn't warn me.”

  “I never warned any of my other girlfriends either.”

  “They’re probably as toffee-nosed as you are.”

  Gigi was in such a rage, she spun on her heel and ran down the street, leaving him standing there alone. He made no attempt to follow her.

  “Don’t go.” Ivan stopped me as I started after her.

  “I must.”

  “Nothing will happen to her. The underground station is round the corner. She’ll catch a train home.”

  “Ivan, she’s so upset. I want to be near her.”

  “You can't do anything, except watch her cry. I know a much better way of spending the evening.”

  “You men are all the same. You only think about yourselves." The words slipped out and Ivan drew back as if I had slapped him.

  “I’m sorry,” I apologised, “I didn’t mean to say that.”

  “You thought it, though. I didn’t realise you felt about men like that,” he said stiffly.

  “I don’t. It's only the heat of the moment. I was empathising with Gigi. Thoughtless of me, but don’t you understand? I can’t stay, much as I’d like to. I won't put my own feelings before hers while I’m still her Guardian. I must be with her when she needs me. That’s in the rulebook. The client’s interest always comes first.”

  “Trust you to remember that bit. I was looking forward to tonight.”

  “Me too,” I said, miserably, “but I must go with her.”

  “You do realise this is the last evening we will be together for some time?”

  I nodded, close to tears.

  “I planned something rather special, but you’re obviously not in the mood.” His voice had a sort of playground whine, like a little boy who had lost his toy and my temper flared.

  “You’re the same as James,” I retorted. “Why didn't you open your mouth and tell me before. But y
ou’re quite right. I’m not in the mood, so I’m going to do my job.”

  “We’d better leave, before either of us says anything more,” he said as I stalked away.

  By the time I got to the hostel, I regretted my hasty words. I wondered about Ivan's surprise and I was disappointed I would not find out. I also worried about what on Earth I could say to him the next time we met. I won’t be able to avoid him forever. Gigi’s affair with James isn't finished yet. My face must have been a picture. As soon as I walked into the room, Maude and Leilani pounced and asked me what happened. I shook my head; I was too unhappy to tell them.

  “I’m sorry, Gigi,” Adele apologised after she heard Gigi’s story. “When I went to the opera, we sat in the gods. Nobody cared what we wore up there. I never saw the posh part of the audience. By the time we’d got down all the stairs, everybody had left. I didn’t know.”

  “He did, though! It’s not your fault.”

  Adele said something which made Gigi stop crying and listen to her with attention. “James is the kind of person who cares about appearances and the proper way of behaving. You grew up in a different society, a more casual one. You’re an outsider in his world, as he’d be in yours. Things can still work out for you, though, if you both want them to.”

  “How?” Gigi wailed.

  “Stay in his world and put up with more evenings like this, until you learn the way to act. You’ll make mistakes from time to time, but you won’t make the same mistake twice. Or you can go back to your own world, where you are the comfortable one. He might come with you. Does he ever do the things you want to do?”

  “No,” Gigi mumbled through her tears. “We usually do what he wants to do, but I haven’t been with him long.”

  “It takes a while to know another person. This evening will end up as a memory you laugh about together, if he cares for you. Give him time.”

  “He may never ring me again.”

  “Both of you need to apologise, if he does,” Jane smiled. “Everyone quarrels. Lovers’ tiffs and all that...”

  “...makes the heart grow fonder...sometimes,” Adele finished the saying off.

  “This isn't the end of the world.”

  “It might as well be for me.”

  “Tell me, Gigi, do you want to keep going out with someone who acts as if he’s ashamed of you? A person who is supposed to care for you, but doesn’t try to protect you when you make a mistake?”

  “I would, if the man is James.” Gigi wiped away fresh tears. “I love him. Until tonight, I thought he loved me too. Now, maybe I’ll never hear from him again.”

  “You will.” Jane slipped an arm round her shoulders. “Listen. Sometimes saying sorry is easier in a letter. You can take several goes to get the words right and you don’t need to watch the person read it. Write to James. If he accepts your apology, you'll both be happy again.”

  “Why should she say sorry, when he was the one who hurt her?”

  “She loves him and somebody has to make the first move. He’ll respond, if he loves her. If he doesn’t, Gigi knows where she stands. That’s better than waiting for the telephone to ring.”

  “Wow,” said Leilani, when the girls had all gone to sleep. “How sensible of Jane. Now if she would only use the same kind of logic about her own affairs.”

  “Give her a chance, she’s trying. She wrote to Uncle Hugh asking for his advice and she’s hasn’t got an answer yet. Be patient.”

  “Patience was never one of my virtues.”

  “You have virtues?” Maude ducked the pillow Leilani threw at her.

  I hated to see Gigi upset, but it was good the first crack in her relationship with James has occurred. The best thing now would be for him to ignore her letter. Too much to hope for, I suppose and I wouldn’t see Ivan again, if he did. I’d be dreadfully unhappy, in spite of having ‘words’ last time. Fortunately the schedule is quite definite; this is not the end of the affair. I’ll polish up my own apologies and hope Ivan is doing the same.

  Gigi wrote to James the next day. She took ages and screwed up several pages of notepaper, but the horrible task was done at last. She gave the final draft to Jane to read. Then she ran down to the Post Office, before she got cold feet. The earliest possible day for her to receive an answer is Monday. So she decided to go out with Finn on Sunday, to take her mind off her troubles.

  22nd October 1967, Sunday afternoon, London.

  Gigi was still brooding when she met Finn outside Hampstead station, but you can’t be depressed around Finn for long. They walked through the village and up to the Heath. He soon had her laughing and holding his hand. The day was grey and the air was crisp and clear. Amber leaves flamed against the sky and the ponds shone like beaten silver plates. The beauty made her relax at last.

  Thelma and I wandered along behind, enjoying the day and eating roast chestnuts. “They’re so ‘autumny’ if that’s a real word.” Thelma offered me the bag. “Chestnuts seem to hold the true essence of the season. I love them.”

  By the time we got to the top of the Heath, Gigi was almost herself again. Finn described the antics of his fellow students and she mimicked her customers in return.

  “See what I mean?” Thelma remarked.

  “He’s just the thing for her at this moment. I hope she's sensible enough to realise it.”

  I was more cheerful too. For no reason I can explain, I found myself telling Thelma about Ivan. She seems to know so much; she reminds me of my grandmother. I would be uncomfortable confiding in Maude or Leilani, although they are my friends. I suppose I just had to tell someone.

  “Ivan’s a lovely boy,” Thelma murmured when I finished. “He doesn’t hold grudges. I met him eons ago. His mother, Marie-Françoise, is one of my closest friends.”

  “I wish I hadn’t said those words to him.”

  “Worse things have been said in the past, usually by women. He’s probably forgotten yours by now.”

  “The number of women who seem to fancy him bothers me.”

  “Ivan’s too handsome for his own good. I agree they trip over themselves to attract him. He wouldn’t be human if he didn’t respond, occasionally. He’s acquired this terrible reputation, but I’ve noticed something unusual.”

  “Oh, what?”

  “His affairs are always brief; they rarely last more than a few days and he never mixes business with pleasure. If he’s working, he usually keeps his mind strictly on the job, but he hasn’t done so with you. Out of character for him.”

  “You mean...?”

  “He’s not just flirting with you. He feels something and you obviously care for him. Time he settled down. His mother has wanted him to for centuries.”

  “That makes me feel even worse about the other night.”

  “My dear, a few careless words aren't enough to spoil things between you. What sort of a relationship do you think you have?”

  “A fragile one, I suppose.”

  “Ivan doesn’t do ‘fragile’. Not enough patience. He says what he thinks and, if you stay together, there’ll be some bonny rows. One thing I am certain of, though, your words won't end it, unless you want them to. Another chestnut?”

  At the top of the hill, Finn made Gigi pose with her back to the city. “You're like the Snow Queen in the fairy tale,” Finn told her as he focussed the lens. Gigi was wearing her favourite white coat, with its fur hood, and long white boots. She shone like silver against the golden red of the trees.

  “What fairy tale is that?” She’d never heard of it before.

  “It’s Russian. The Queen in the story is beautiful, but cruel. Now stay still for a moment.” He clicked the camera. “One more.”

  They wandered down the wooded paths, stopping every so often to take photographs. Finn snapped several of the trees and ponds, which were his excuse for bringing her here. He took far more of Gigi, though. They walked along, scuffling up the fallen leaves like children.

  “I could never do this at home,” Gigi told him. “T
he leaves don’t change all at once as they do here. They're beautiful.”

  “You’re beautiful too.”

  “Silly!”

  “Wait till you see the pictures. David Bailey would envy me, snapping someone like you.”

  “At least you didn’t take my picture after the demo!”

  “Being dishevelled suited you, but I thought you’d probably kill me.”

  “How true.” She shivered, remembering the police horses charging towards her.

  “You’re cold. Let’s get out of the wind.”

  They found a small café in Hampstead High Street which was warm and steamy. Gigi relaxed and told Finn about her life in Antigua, the beaches, the palm trees, the sunshine and the sadness.

  “Do you want to go back?” Finn asked.

  “I’d rather stay here, but my mother isn't a patient person and one day she'll order me to come home. Besides, look.” She held out her hands.

  “Nasty.” He examined her fingers. Her skin was red and peeling on the inside. “How long have they been like this?”

  “Several months. Dye irritates them, but I can’t avoid it. Creams don't work and the rash is getting worse. I'm not sure I can keep going. Without a job, I’d have to go home right away. I’m not trained to do anything else.”

  “I’ll try to find you something that will help.”

  “Please. That’d be wonderful if you could. Thanks. What about you? Do you want to stay in London?”

  “No. I’m off home at the end of this year, if I pass my final exams. I’m doing my houseman stint in Cork. My uncle is waiting for me to finish, so I can take over his practice. He wants to retire and go fishing.”

  “You sound happy about going home. I wish I was.”

  “I live in a beautiful place. Most of my family and friends are still there. I like London, but I don’t want to spend the rest of my life here. I’m not the immigrant type, I suppose.”

  “I must be. I love living in London.”

  “You should see my home. It's a small village, surrounded by hills and farms, on a bay. My uncle treats mainly work-related injuries and women having baby after baby.”