A Pocket Full of Posies (Book 1)

Chapter Twenty-One (Part 1)

It turns out I didn't do as shit in my exams as I'd assumed. I didn't manage a two-one, but passed with a high two-two. Considering I entered uni determined to achieve a first, that's appalling, but considering I thought I'd literally failed, I've got no complaints. Besides, first year doesn't count. The only painful drawback of my grade is the awkward meeting I had to endure with my personal tutor, who always has to look at his computer screen before acknowledging me because he never remembers my name.

I achieved all A's at A-Level, so me getting a two-two in first semester is the equivalent of satanic kitten torture, if my tutor's reaction is anything to go by. I assured him it was just a rough patch aided by a mental breakdown, and I think he thought I was kidding, but I'm not sure I was. The meeting is over and done with anyway, so I just want to focus on not screwing up this semester quite so badly.

A week has passed since my dramatic performance at Ava's party, and having just finished a session with the boxing society, Tom and I are currently sitting in a booth at The Cavern reading up on some uni work. The original plan was to do this at the library, but Tom started whining about it being too quiet there which, I mean, is kind of the point, but whatever. I don't think either one of us is actually doing anything uni-related anyway.

Tom's spending his time staring at his laptop screen and giggling to himself, so it's probably fair to assume he isn't, and I'm spending it searching up my parents on the internet. I've been trying to find information on them all week, and holy shit is it difficult. There's just nothing anywhere. I was hoping researching them might spark some memories, or even just hint at what the heck they have to do with what's going on at the moment, but it's been an enormous failure so far.

Finding stuff on my mum has been easier than my dad, but none of it is especially extraordinary. It's all stuff I already knew, really. Finding something on my dad--literally anything--is like looking for polar bears in the Sahara Desert. It's like he never even existed. Part of me thinks that's a massive alarm bell because that's not normal, right?

I realise that there are varying degrees of information available about people on the internet, but that side of my family has always been a weird one. When my grandmother was still alive for the few years after my folks died, she always claimed not to know much about my dad's family. She'd met them before, but hadn't seen them since I was around three or four-years-old. She thought they were a bit weird, and my dad disagreed with the way they wanted Annabel and I to be brought up, which caused tension, and eventually estrangement.

As an eight-year-old kid who couldn't remember who the heck anyone was anyway, I didn't care enough to ask her to expand further. I've no idea if by my dad's family she meant his parents, or his parents, brothers, sisters, aunties, uncles, cousins, dogs, and fish. I have no clue how big that side of my family is, let alone if anyone from it is still around. I sure don't know where the hell they were when I was left orphaned before I'd even reach double digits.

Regardless, my research seems to be getting me nowhere, and it's beginning to piss me off so I shut my laptop, sit back in my chair, and sigh. Tom finally looks up from his own screen, and it seems to take him a while to remember where he is. And probably who he is. I mean, it's Tom.

"Not going well?" he asks, to which I respond with a questioning look. "Work?"

"Oh, yeah," I mutter. "Not really."

"Same. I was just watching this video where a guy put wellies on his dog, and then threw it into the snow and it started going mental and running headfirst into massive snow piles. It was hilarious, man."

I'm pretty sure that's animal abuse. It's definitely not uni work, anyway. I don't think Tom quite catches my disinterested vibe because he's soon joining me on my side of the booth with his laptop to show me this apparently hilarious video. Yeah, definitely animal abuse. Once I've finished humoring him, I go up to the bar to buy us a couple of drinks, and return to find Tom sniggering at more animal videos.

"You decided on tonight yet?" he asks me as I hand him his half pint.

"Yeah, I'll come," I say with a shrug. "Could do with some comedy for the evening."

He's referring to a ghost hunt--sorry, a spirit walk--the paranormal society are organising. A few months ago, I would've preferred to drink my own urine than participate in this kind of bullshit, but I figure why not? In all honesty, I think I've just reached the point of desperation where I'm willing to try anything that gives me any remote chance of figuring out what the hell is going on at the moment. A tour of the city and its alleged most haunted places seems like it could be relatively useful, so I'll give it a shot.

"You need to embrace ghosts, man," Tom says as he shakes his head at me. "I feel way more connected to my grandmother since I got into all of it; it's like she never died."

"The one with the towels?"

Tom nods eagerly, and I still don't think he quite grasps how difficult it is to take his bathroom haunting grandmother with a towel fixation seriously.

#

We're not even ten minutes into this ghost hunt, and I can honestly say it's one of the most boring, uncomfortable experiences of my life. I don't know why I expected any different, really. I knew this lot had some screws loose from my last outing with them. To begin with, they're still wearing capes. Okay, I'm being a bit mean; in fairness, most are reasonable enough, it's just that the ones who aren't quite so down to earth are in another solar system all together.

We're doing this as part of a tour, so it's at least not wholly unprofessional, but everyone from the society are getting over excited over nothing. We've only visited one 'haunted' attraction so far, and that was a well that was used back when the city was just a village, and I was hoping for some kind of demonic girl climbing out of it scenario, but sadly there was nothing. The second stop happens to be Ava's family pub.

At the news of this, our tour guide becomes especially excited, and questions Ava on pretty much everything. It's quite intrusive, really. In fact, Ava herself seems a bit miffed, which is something I can't say I've ever seen in her before. As Ava answers the guide's questions while we stand outside the pub, I try my hardest to look enthusiastic about this whole experience.

For late February, it's not too cold, especially with our group being huddled together as we gaze at the old building. Ava mentions an elderly barman who haunts the pub, which catches my attention because I've seen the guy. Other than that, it's all stuff she's said to us before.

As we move on, it occurs to me that this city is filled with more hidden side streets and alleyways than I realised. I've generally ever only wandered the city's main streets, minus the time Annabel led Jamie and me through an unknown route in an attempt to escape a murderous poltergeist, so had no idea its side streets were this complex.

As I continue going through the motions of the ghost hunt, nodding and looking impressed where nodding and looking impressed is expected, I notice Ava still has a slightly soured look on her face.

"You all right?" I ask her when we've stopped for the fifth destination on the tour--only one has actually been haunted so far, minus Ava's pub, and the spirit there was an old woman who just looked bored.

"Something is wrong," she replies simply.

I wait for her to expand, but it's Ava, so she doesn't. "What d'you mean?" I question.

She sighs. "I don't know."

She says nothing more, and I don't think there's anything more to get out, so I don't press further. Strange. Jamie's been nagging me to seek Ava's, or least her family's, guidance with my recent paranormal predicaments ever since my freak out last week. Naturally, I've refused.

I've come to the conclusion that there is definitely something different about them, and that there are at least some paranormal bones in their bodies, just not anything that would be of any use to me. What's going on with me is personal, something they wouldn't have the answers to. As I'm running through these thoughts in my head, I feel a tap on my shoulder, and turn to see Jamie eyeing me. Speak of the devil.