“I think I’ve got a client for you.” Ruby said while she was ringing up my fags and chicken tikka sandwich.
“Well, tell them to ring, just like everyone else.” I told her, pocketing my change.
“She’s not like your usual ones, Reg.”
Now, I love Rubes, she’s got the word out about my side business. Somehow she’s able to direct everyone that needs a ghost removing my way. But she always takes the long way round to explain things to me. I dunno, maybe she just likes the sound of her voice. I mean, I quite like it too, she’s got that husky, been smoking for forty years and loves a pint, voice. This morning, though, I had to get over the other side of town to mow a big garden and I didn’t have time to piss about with her like I usually would.
“I don’t have usual ones, darlin’. I have weirdos, scared kids, confused parents. I’ve cleared a homeless shelter and a dog kennel. What exactly do you think my usual is?”
“They all knew they had a ghost and they all came on behalf of themselves.”
Alright, she had me there. She also had my interest.
“Tell whoever it is to call me, I’ll meet them at the Queen’s after I’m done.”
Ruby rolled her green eyes at me “She’s an eighty-odd year old woman. You can’t take her to the Queen’s.”
She was right there. Even with a stern talking to about the state of his glasses, I wouldn’t trust Terry not to spit in the old dear’s sherry.
“Fine. Get her to call me and we’ll work something out.”
“I already told her you’d meet her in Milly’s this afternoon.”
“Oh, you did, did you?”
She gave me a wicked grin “You be on your best behaviour, Reg. I let Milly know you were coming and she’s going to make sure there’s a slice of Death by Chocolate waiting.”
That made my mouth water. Milly makes the best cakes in town, but whenever I have time to go in, there’s never any chocolate ones left.
“You are a sneaky wench and that’s what I love about you.”
“I know.”
“What time am I supposed to be there?”
“I thought you’d probably be clear by four. Is that alright?”
“Yeah. I’ll see her then. How will I recognise the right little old lady though?”
Ruby snorted “She’ll spot you, mate.”
I thought about that for a half second, bald, built, six foot five, not exactly the usually clientele Milly’s gets.
“Fair point. Cheers, Rubes, I’l see you tomorrow.”
The garden turned out to be a piece of piss, old man Harris had a ride on mower I could use, so I spent an enjoyable morning chugging along. I tidied up some of his borders too, even though he hadn’t asked me to. I had the spare energy after all.
That meant I was able to get to Milly’s just after half three.
Milly is a delightful woman who, unfortunately, is mostly resistant to my limited charms. The things I’d do to have that woman make me cakes every day number in the thousands. She’s in her mid forties, always has her hair tied up to keep it away from the food. She wears those glasses like librarians from American films set in the fifties.
“Here you go, Reg.” she slid a giant slice of Death by Chocolate down in front of me. Honestly, I came very close to dribbling on it.
“Thanks, Milly. Do you know what this lady I’m meeting looks like?”
“Yeah, Magda’s one of my regulars. I’ll send her over when she gets here. You want a tea?”
“Oh, yes please. Strong and sweet, if you would.”
She gave me a wink and wandered off.
I proceeded to demolish the cake as politely as I could. My polite wasn’t exactly up to the standards of the genteel standards of the other diners. All of them over sixty, half must have been into their late seventies and up. To be honest, I wasn’t quiet, I smacked my lips, sighed and thoroughly enjoyed every bite. It was all I could do to stop myself picking it up with both hands and taking large bites out of it.
I was so involved in the cake I never saw Milly ninja her way over and leave the tea.
After finishing, I closed my eyes to savour the last taste of it on my tongue. When I opened them again a refined looking lady stood opposite me. She wore a suit, that was a surprise. Dark blue, cut to fit her. Grey hair that was shoulder length, straight and well cared for. She looked like money.
“You certainly enjoyed that.” She said her voice clear, only a tiny waver of age in it.
“I did. Would you be Magda, darlin’?”
She nodded and indicated the seat.
“Absolutely, have a seat. We’re here to have a chat after all.”
Magda slid gracefully to sit down, but I did spot her wince as her knees bent. Age is a bugger.
“I’m not certain that you can help.” She stated, not with disbelief in her voice, more resigned than anything else.
“Well, neither of us will know that until you tell me what the problem is. If I can’t, I can’t, but I might know someone who can in that case. Talk to me.”
She looked at me, a piercing inspection that showed me without doubt that this was still a very sharp lady. “Ruby says you are an exorcist of some kind.”
Ah, Ruby, always trying to pretty me up.
“No quite, I make ghosts leave. It’s generally a straightforward process.”
“Are you a man of religion?”
I laughed at that and pointed to myself “Do I look like a vicar? No, love, I’m a simple man. Hard work, dirty work, I use my hands for everything.”
“No, I suppose you don’t at that.” She looked confused, which meant she was going to ask the question “So, how do you use your hands to make ghosts leave?”
“I punch them.”
Her mouth pinched, she thought I was here to make a joke of this. Not the first time someone has reacted like that. “I see. Well, if you are done wasting my time.” She stood, I didn’t.
“I’m not wasting your time.”
“Mr Carroll,” she put haughtiness, anger and disapproval in those two words, I was impressed, “I have come to you because of a very serious situation I cannot explain. The well being of someone dear to me is at stake. I do not appreciate games.”
“Did Ruby show you my card?”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“If she had you would see I advertise myself as a ghostpuncher. Its not a joke, though I understand why you don’t believe me. If it makes you feel more comfortable you could say I exorcise spirits through direct intervention.”
“And what, pray tell, does that mean?”
I grinned “It means I punch them until they decide to leave.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously. Doesn’t work on all ghosts. Those ones that just appear, float about, make noises and vanish, I can’t touch. I can try giving them a stern talking to, but that rarely works. Has on occasion but I can’t promise anything. Now, the buggers that move stuff, touch things, the poltergeist ones, those I can touch.”
“Why?”
I shrugged “Not entirely sure. My guess is laws of nature and stuff. If you are solid enough to touch something, then something can touch you back. I touch them with my fist. At speed. Repeatedly.”
She smiled at that, a thin one but it was the happiest she had looked since she sat down.
“Now then, tell me about the problem.”
Magda sat back down, wincing again.
“Its my sister, Lucinda. Her husband died two months ago and the things she’s been saying since it happened, well, I’m not sure what’s happening.”
“Start at the beginning. Don’t worry if you forget something, just give me the basics, we can fill in the rest later.”
“She could simply be grieving. I understand grief can do terrible things to a mind.”
“It absolutely can. I’ll tell you right now that you wouldn’t be the first to think there is a ghost only to find out that that’s not the case. I keep an open mind. I’m here to help you, not fleece you.”
Relief on her face, sometimes people just want someone to believe them.
“Start at the beginning, when her husband died.”
“Francis died of a heart attack at home two months ago. Lucinda found him.”
Died at home, definite possibility it was him then.
“She came to stay with me that night, I had to insist. She only called to let me know, didn’t want me to visit her. I insisted, I can be quite persuasive when I choose.”
I smiled, I could feel the force of her personality, I didn’t doubt she could have run the country if she chose to.
“The next day she wanted to go home. I understood that, they had been married for over fifty years, had lived in that house nearly the entire time. It was home, even without Francis. But I did make her agree to talk to me every day. Lucinda doesn’t have any close friends and she and I had struggled to maintain contact for much of the last twenty years. Honestly, its been different ever since they married, but that’s to be expected isn’t it?”
I struggled to keep my face still, this sounded too familiar but I didn’t want to jump the gun.
“We have been speaking on the phone every day and, Mr Carroll, I don’t like what’s happening with her.”
“What is happening?”
“At first it was little things, she lost her keys and couldn’t come out to meet me for lunch. Then she found them almost exactly where she thought they were. She would make herself a cup of tea, she says, but when she went to drink it, the mug was empty. She says she is struggling to keep her routine without Francis. She is deathly scared that she is losing her memory, it has always been her biggest fear after seeing what Alzheimer’s did to our mother.”
“I can understand that, horrible illness. Nothing you’ve said so far screams ghost to me, why do you or her think there is one?”
“She fell down the stairs.
I waited.
Magda dabbed at her eyes, stopping the tears before they could escape. She sucked in a breath and started speaking.
“Lucille was supposed to be coming to my house to stay for a few days. She said she wanted someone else to watch her, to see if she was slipping. She was so scared that she was getting dementia. Then she sent me a text to say I should stay away. That I was making everything worse with my concern.” She covered her mouth, trying to hold in her cries. I was out of my seat and kneeling next to her in a moment. I’ve got big arms, but I’m told that a hug from me is comforting, it makes people feel safe. So that’s exactly what I did. I wrapped my arms around this woman I had only just met and let her cry into my chest.
I looked up and saw several people staring at us, I glared back. Have I told you about my eyes? They’re blue and when I’m happy, I’m told they twinkle. When I’m angry, I’ve had people say they are the scariest thing in the world. It was the second version of them I directed at the gooseneckers.
They all looked away quickly.
I saw Milly at the counter nod at me and without a word she brought us over two fresh teas and some tissues for Magda.
I held her and let her cry, not begrudging a moment of it. If I couldn’t do anything else for her, I could do this.
When she was composed enough, she squeezed my arms and lifted her head up. I stood back up and returned to my seat.
“I’m sorry.” She began.
“Don’t apologise, you’ve nothing to be sorry for. Can you carry on?”
She straightened up, and I saw that strength in her again.
“Yes, I can.” She took a moment to collect her thoughts “When I received that text I started crying, a lot harder than I just did. It was devastating to me. Then another one followed, saying I was a terrible sister, that I had been out of her life for most of it, I didn’t need to worm my way back in now. That didn’t sound like Lucinda at all. So I rang her.”
Magda sipped her tea, using the moment to steady herself. I let her, staying silent but listening.
“Her phone rang through to voicemail. I tried again and again. For an hour I rang and got no answer. Finally she picked up. Her voice was weak and she was crying. She said she had fallen down the stairs and needed help. I drove straight round there. Her front door and back door were both locked, I could hear her moaning in pain through the letterbox. I was forced to call the police and fire brigade to break in. She had crawled into the lounge from the foot of the stairs, only a distance of five metres, perhaps, but we didn’t know why at the time. They took her to the hospital in an ambulance, she had broken her hip.”
That was bad, I knew that much. If Lucinda was close to her sister in age, they called that a life limiting injury.
“I told the doctors about the messages and how they were out of character. I told them about the lapses in memory and they sent someone to assess her. The doctor said she showed no signs of Alzheimer’s, I was so relieved and thought she would be too. She wasn’t. She was convinced there was something wrong with her, absolutely convinced. When I asked why she said that to start with, she had no memory of sending those vile texts. She insisted that she was so happy we were in regular contact again. That the only way she could have written them was if her mind was betraying her.”
I broke my silence “Do you believe her? Do you think the doctors are wrong?”
“I’m afraid I really don’t know, Mr Carroll.”
“Call me Reg. Now, I have some questions, and you have to be honest with me. If you try to hide or minimise things, I might not be able to help.”
“Of course.”
She answered too quickly, I think she knew what I was going to ask, had already prepared herself to edit history. That was no good. So I went with the bluntest opener I could think of.
“Francis was an abusive piece of shit wasn’t he?”
“Yes. Oh, I mean, I don’t know. I certainly never saw anything.”
I shook my head “What did I just say? Honest answers, darlin’. You’ve said as much with what you’ve skipped over as you have with what you’ve said.”
“I, wouldn’t like to condemn a dead man.”
“You’ve been brought up too well, Magda. You didn’t see you sister much after they married. Stopped talking on the phone as much, yeah? You said she has no close friends, I’ll bet she hasn’t had any for a long time. Didn’t work, kept a lovely home for Francis. Isolated from the world. Any of this sound familiar?”
I got a small nod in return.
“Not your fault.”
“I could have done something!” She yelled, overly loud in the small cafe.
“What? What could you have done? You couldn’t drag her out, she was a grown woman. You answered when she called, stayed in touch, refused to be driven away completely?”
She nodded.
“So, you were there if she ever managed to make that choice herself.”
Nod.
“Now, tell me what she told you about falling down the stairs. You said that was the important part. Not the strange texts. Not her being convinced doctors were wrong. What happened when she fell down the stairs?”
I could see she was gathering her strength, this was the bit that she expected me to laugh at her, dismiss her for. So many people are scared to describe things out of the ordinary because they are scared of being embarrassed, being mocked. It always breaks my heart a bit to see it. When someone’s in pain, you don’t make them feel worse, you stand strong for them and tell them its ok.
You bastards know who you are.
“She said she had her bag packed and was at the top of the stairs when she felt a push. Just a nudge really. Enough to over balance her and send her down the stairs. Then she said there wasn’t one, that she was just a silly old fool who slipped. She bounced down the stairs and felt things break, it must have hurt so much. But she didn’t cry for help, didn’t call out. Who was going to hear her? She said… she said…” Magda dissolved again and I was back at her side before the first sob.
“She said she’d learned no-one comes when you cry. That no-one cares if you scream. That’s what he spent decades telling her, isn’t it?” I said.
Magda couldn’t speak, just nodding into me.
Milly appeared with more tea. Bless that woman.
When she had recovered I stayed beside her, crouched as she finished her story.
“Lucinda tried to stand, to get herself some paracetamol, if you can believe that. She thought a simple painkiller would work. But the pain was so much and even then she says she didn’t scream out. That she had to stay quiet. That was when she knew she needed an ambulance, but she couldn’t find her phone. She was certain she had had it in her coat pocket, but it was gone. That was when I started to ring. She looked for the sound and could just see it on the coffee table in the lounge. That’s why she crawled there. It took her so long because every inch was an agony. She had fractured both of her wrists as well. Somehow my strong, brave sister crawled all the way into the lounge. I don’t even want to imagine what pain she was in.”
More tears, another hug. I could do this all day if she needed, but I knew what I needed afterwards and it was going to be a pleasure to get it.
“When she finally reached the phone, she found a pile of pills, already out of their packaging in a pile next to it. All the medications she and Francis had been on. She was in so much pain, so scared of her mind even then, because she had forgotten where her phone was. She didn’t remember taking the pills out, but she must have. She just wanted it all to end, to stop hurting, to stop being scared and there was the answer. There was even a glass of water ready to help her swallow. She said she came so close to just taking them all. Then she saw that it was me ringing, saw how many missed calls there were and chose to answer instead.”
Magda dried her eyes, finding focus again.
“I don’t believe my sister is suicidal. I don’t believe she planned that far ahead. She had been getting brighter than I had heard or seen her in years. I think, well…” she trailed off, not sure how to finish that thought.
I knew exactly what she was thinking, because I was thinking the same thing.
“Have you got the keys to her house?” I asked.
“I have, why?”
“Because you were right, there’s a ghost in that house. He’s been haunting her for decades. I’m going there right now to send him on his way.”
“Oh, but we haven’t discussed payment. I’m not certain what your rates are, but I’m sure I can find the money.”
“One pound.” I told her.
She was surprised “So cheap?”
“I’d do this one for free. But you and your sister don’t want to feel like you owe me, you want yourselves set free. So, one pound. The keys, the address and I’ll meet you back here when its done.”
She handed the keys and a one pound coin over. The house was a good twenty minute walk away.
“I should be back in an hour, hour and a half, tops. Have some of Milly’s delicious cakes. I’ll see you soon.”
I stood and left before she could start to thank me.
I didn’t need her thanks.
I needed to beat the shit out of a prick that should have gotten gone while the getting was good.
8 Marwell Close was a standard terraced three bedroom. Nothing about it stood out from the other houses. Well maintained garden in front, brick work faded but maintained. I suspected the inside would look just as neat and tidy, I knew what kind of man Francis had been.
“Just remember, he’s his own kind of prick,” I told myself, “he’s not your Dad.”
I unlocked the door and pushed. The door resisted.
Oh, so he was going to be like that, was he?
I slammed my shoulder into the door and yelled “Open up, Francis, its the fun police.”
The door swung open and I stepped inside before closing it behind me.
He was waiting in the lounge, stocky, running to pudgy. Craggy face of a life long smoker.
“Hi, Frank. I’m just going to make myself a cuppa. Don’t mind me.”
He just glared at me, in silence. I don’t know what he thought was going on, but I doubt he imagined I could see him.
The kitchen was through the lounge so I walked past him, got to the kettle and started to make myself a brew.
He followed, glaring at me. I waited to see what he was going to do.
He glared some more. That was boring.
“Come on, Frank. Do something. Do a trick.”
I heard him mutter “My name is Francis.”
Oh, now I had him.
“Franko? Franky baby? Frank? Come on out Frank-o-tron, I’ve got something for you.”
He picked up a mug from the table cocked his arm to throw it at me and bellowed “My name is Francis! What have you got for me?”
I exploded from my slouched position and slapped him across the face.
He fell backwards, landing on his arse and dropping the mug.
“You can see me.”
“Quick on the uptake, aren’t you, sunshine?”
“You hit me.” He was incredulous.
“Slapped you, Frank. Hitting comes later.”
“Why did you slap me?” He whined.
“Because if I start hitting you, I’m not going to get the whole story. I want you to tell me what the plan is. Why are you still tormenting your ex-wife?”
“She’s not my ex-wife. She’s my wife. She’s mine.” He screeched.
I slapped him on the other cheek, if he was alive he’d have a nice big handprint on each now.
“No, mate, she’s not. If we generously, very fucking generously, mind you, give you even the slightest bit of ownership over her, you’re dead now. She gets to be free of you.”
Franky boy shocked me then by flying backwards through the wall and vanishing.
“No, she doesn’t.” He screeched.
I rolled my eyes “Yes she does, you waste of space. Even if she dies, she can choose the door and then she’s gone. I doubt they’d let you do that to her on the other side of it.”
“She can’t have the door. She can’t! She can’t! She can’t!”
“You sound like a toddler who doesn’t want to share his crayons. Come on out, you coward. Come on, Frank, aren’t you a manly man?”
He came at me through the ceiling, it would have been a good sneak attack if he hadn’t screamed “My name is Francis!” on the way down.
I caught him by the neck, taking a punch to the top of my head as I did so. I used the momentum of his fall to swing him down and slam him into the floor. I tightened my grip around his throat and delivered a surgical blow to his eye, one for the times I was certain he had blacked her eye.
“Yes, she can have the door, Frank.” It was pissing him off, I wasn’t going to ease up now. “You don’t get a say in her afterlife.”
He was gasping for air he didn’t need I rolled my eyes, tutted at him and eased my grip a little.
“I get a say. I get all the saying. She’s mine, now and forever.”
“Why couldn’t you have just gone through the door? Land of milk and honey and all that shit. Why stay here? Do you hate her that much?”
“Hate her? I love her. She’s mine forever.” He tried to spit at me, I watched it fade away as soon as it left his lips and punched him in the nose.
He howled.
“Not as much fun when you’re up against someone who can fight back, is it?”
“You surprised me, that’s all. If you let me up, I’ll show you what a real man does.” He was feral, furious. He was exactly how I wanted him.
“Tell you what, cocker, tell me what you were up to and I’ll let you up. Give you a chance to prove how much better than me you are.”
“No you won’t.”
I sighed “Stop judging everyone based on what you’d do. I know you’re a cowardly shithead who’d lie, but I’m telling you the truth.”
He inspected my face, looking for a sign. I thought he looked like a rat, sniffing for rubbish. Whatever, I just wanted the truth out of him.
“Fine. It’s all her fault I’m dead anyway, why should she live while I’m dead?”
“Frank, you had a heart attack. How did she cause that?”
“She made me chase her! Undercooked the mash again, silly bitch. I told her it was time for a belting and she tried to run away. I chased her up the stairs, got me belt off and got in a good few hits when my chest exploded. That was me, done.”
“I see.” I didn’t, but it was the least encouraging thing I could think to say.
“She shouldn’t have run. She knew I had a bad heart.”
“So she needed to be tortured? Wouldn’t you have been having a better time through the door?”
“What door? All I saw was a trapdoor, I could feel the heat, it smelled vile. I wasn’t going through that.”
Now, that explained a lot. I’d never come across someone with that choice before, although I’d always assumed it might be an option.
“Oh ho, Frank me lad. Looks like you were a very naughty boy. Doesn’t explain why you tried to kill Lucinda though, she could still go through the door to get away from you.”
He laughed, it was evil and I really had to hold myself back from starting the beating right then.
“Oh no, I wasn’t trying to kill her. I was going to make her kill herself.”
“How does that change anything?” I was puzzled, suicides still got the door as far as I knew.
“She’s a good, devout Catholic woman. She’d never commit any other mortal sin, but suicide? I could make her do that. All I needed was to make her think she was going the way of her mother, that weak bitch. Convince her that she had to betray God at the last and then she’d either stay here with me or we could both go through the trapdoor. Either way, she stays mine forever.”
I let go of him and stood back, trying to control the absolute rage flowing through me. I’d heard of evil before, seen some nasty stuff overseas, but I had never encountered anyone who plumbed the depths of hell before. He deserved the trapdoor. Deserved everything he was going to get.
“Stand up.” I couldn’t hold my anger in check, my voice was shaking with it.
He climbed to his feet.
“Put your fucking hands up.”
He smiled, so sure of himself and then kicked at my leg. I took the blow and drove forward with an explosive jab to his gut, as he bent I stepped in and smashed him in the ribs. From then on, I was a blur of violence and precision. I worked every vulnerable spot, balls, eyes, nose, stomach. I used my elbows, my knees, I allowed him no respite.
He began screaming and tried to cover up. I ripped his arms down and jabbed him solidly in the jaw. He dropped to the floor, wailing and I closed in and gave him a good fucking shoeing.
“Stop. Please, stop.” He wailed.
“Is that what she screamed? Is it?” I kicked him in the balls so hard I thought I’d broken my toe.
I did stop then, breathing heavily.
“Not so much fun when it’s someone who can fight back, is it? When you’re up against someone who knows what they are doing. You’re a worthless coward and I’m going to come back every single day and do this to you. You can stay here for eternity, but every day will be pain like this. Then I will die in this house and I will continue to beat you, except then, I won’t have to stop for food or drink or a rest. Do you understand me, you disgraceful excuse for a man? If you stay here, I will make sure she stays gone and your only contact with anyone will be my fists and my feet.”
“You said I could fight you.” He sobbed.
“We did fight. You lost.”
“I can’t go down there.” He sounded scared, good.
“Down there or up here. Neither one is going to be pleasant. I, on the other hand, will have the absolute time of my life.”
“Why are you doing this to me?”
“Same reason you spent your life torturing the woman who loved you. Because I can.”
I saw it in his eyes then, the realisation that I wasn’t joking. That this was his future.
The trapdoor appeared by the coffee table, he’d had a moment’s hesitation and that was all I needed.
I punched him in the head, stunning him before grabbing him by the ear and dragging him over to the trapdoor. I’d only ever touched a door once before, doing exactly this to get rid of a ghost. I just hoped I could touch the trapdoor too.
I could.
I flung it open and smelt something so noxious it made me gag. All I could picture was misery and pain.
Frank saw what I’d done and began to feebly attempt to bat me away.
“Please don’t.” He begged.
“I’m betting she said that to you. Did it ever stop you?”
I didn’t give him a chance to reply, I threw him in and closed it on his screams. The trapdoor vanished, but just as it did, I’m sure I heard a belch.
Magda was waiting for me at the same table. I ambled over to her, grinning, today had been a good day’s work.
“Is it done?”
“Its done. He’s gone. Lucinda can move home whenever she wants.”
Magda smiled “Oh, she’s not moving home. She’s going to live with me from now on. We had already decided that. She plans to sell the house. I was just scared he would follow her to mine and that she would never be free.”
I laughed, Frank had lost before I ever met him. He had decided to haunt the house, Lucinda was out of his reach. That was why he’d been hiding her keys and stopping her from leaving.
“What is so funny?” Magda asked.
“She had already beaten him. Your wonderful sister had already won, she just didn’t know it.” I explained how and why.
Magda beamed and started laughing with me.
Reg Carroll
Will Return
In
Ghostpuncher III: The Fatal Punch of Death
© Robert Spalding 2020
Ghost Stories by Robert Spalding 