Rare Sight

Hi! Thanks for visiting. I hope you enjoy 'Rare Sight', which I loved writing - I've already written an early draft of the next book in the series. And now for the blurb: Joe Simmonds didn't ask to see spirits. It doesn't help that a teenage ghost called Georgia turns up, claiming to be the aunt he didn't know he had - and that she was murdered.
Add in a vengeful dead grandfather, an unscrupulous spirit trader and a couple of nasty murders, and Joe has a hard time just staying alive, as he learns what Rare Sight is, and how to use it.
Cover design by the talented Mark Dyball (though I've spoilt it by cropping!); image copyright Dundanim/Dreamstime


21. Chapter Twenty-one

“So what…? The spirits protected you from Tanner and your granddad?” said Yousef.

They were sitting on their usual bench in the playground.

“Yeah – and I reckon Tanner must’ve died in that fire,” said Joe.

“But what about your granddad? Couldn’t he still come back? I mean, a fire’s not going to harm him, is it?”

“I dunno what they did to him. Maybe he’s been sent back to… wherever he came from. Everything feels calmer. I mean, it’s been what? Nearly a week? And I haven’t had any of those weird visions or anything. He seems to be leaving me alone. But there’s something odd that keeps coming back to me.”

“What?” asked Simon.

“Well… I know I was wrapped in a roll of carpet and rolling off the edge of a cliff, but I thought I saw Georgia there, just for a minute.”

“What was she doing?”

“She was behind Tanner and she was winking at me. She was waving some box I hadn’t seen before…”

“You mean…?” said Simon.

“I dunno. I mean, it seems mad, but I do keep wondering if she was exorcising Mr Burroughs – you know, trapping him in the box. But I probably imagined the whole thing. Georgia’s gone now, anyway, so it’s not like we can ask her.”

“What about your dad?” asked Yousef. “Is he still around?”

“Yeah – he’s taken a flat round the corner from Gran’s, so it looks like he might be planning on sticking round for a while.”

“Did you hear that Forester’s gone?” said Yousef.

“Gone? Really?”

“Yeah. Just handed in his notice and vanished, apparently.”

“What do you think he was here for then?” said Joe.

“For you,” said Simon, and the others looked at him. He shrugged. “Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it? He didn’t want you to have to go through all this on your own.”

“He wasn’t much help,” said Joe. “Except for that shape-shifter in the attic.”

Yousef looked at him. “You managed,” he said. “You didn’t need him – not in the end, anyway.”

“I suppose not. Would’ve been nice if he’d bothered to turn up for the dramatic final scene, though.” He pointed to the dressing on his neck, which was covering a remarkably small wound. Like the damage to his hand, it had healed more quickly than the doctors could explain.

The bell rang and they grimaced at each other. Freddie was the first to stand up.

“I still reckon you’re all nuts you know,” he said, “all this talk about ghosts and fights on the balcony or whatever it was… Anyway, bet you can’t walk sideways like a crab with your coat on backwards and…”

“He’s off,” said Simon and they rolled their eyes as they trailed after Freddie. “What’ve you got next?”

“Double history,” said Yousef and Joe together and they looked at each other.

“Wonder who we’ll have,” said Joe.

“Maybe someone who’s useless with ghosts but actually knows how to teach,” said Yousef. They caught each other’s eye.

“Yeah, right,” said Joe. “Mind you, right now, I reckon I’d give anything for a really boring double history lesson with old Forester.”

“Don’t start making wishes you might regret,” said Yousef, giving him a shove as they went back in to school.

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