Is Anybody There?

An unseen resident causes chaos in this mysterious short story by Suzanne Ross Jones.

Strange noises, flying books – was I really receiving messages from the hereafter?

HE’S nice enough,” I told Aiden as we chatted over coffee about the man who had asked me out. “But I’m not sure.”

The short silence made me think Aiden was about to agree it was too soon, but then he sighed. “Catherine, it’s time.” So even my best friend thought I should start dating again. There were no excuses left.

That was why, in the end, I accepted Struan’s invitation to dinner.

“Thanks for a lovely evening.” I smiled as he walked me to my door.

Not sure of current dating etiquette, I wondered if I should offer him a handshake, peck his cheek or invite him in for a cup of tea.

I decided the smile would have to do.

“I had a great time,” he said. “Maybe we could go out again?”

“Maybe.”

I was still smiling as I left Struan on the doorstep.

It was too soon to start imagining a future with him, but for the first time in a while, I felt a glimmer of optimism. Perhaps a new romance might be possible at some point.

I leaned back against the front door.

“Well, Cameron, I’ve taken the first step. Just like you wanted me to.”

An almighty crash from upstairs made me gasp.

I lived alone. The house should have been empty.

Heart thumping, I peered up the stairs towards the source of the sound – not sure what I was expecting to see.

“Hello?” I called cautiously. “Is anyone there?”

No response. But would a burglar really shout back?

I picked up my umbrella from the stand at the foot of the stairs, brandished it as a weapon, and ascended cautiously.

Maybe I should just phone the police, or call Aiden.

He would be happy to help check the place out, I was sure, but some compulsion drove me on.

I checked my bedroom first. Empty.

Then the spare bedroom. Same story – nobody there.

I hovered outside the closed door of my library – the room that had once been Cameron’s study.

The intruder – who had been remarkably quiet over the last few minutes – had to be in there.

One hand held the umbrella high, the other fluttered to the door knob.

“Cameron,” I called, though I knew nothing could be less likely.

Cameron had been dead for two years. Two years, three months and 11 days, to be exact.

I was still counting. Probably always would.

I let out a breath I hadn’t even realised I’d been holding, and went in.

I looked around, not quite sure what I was expecting to see.

The shelves of books lining the walls, the desk with its pens and pencils and papers, were all exactly as they should be. Apart from . . .

My heart started to thump again as I noticed something lying in the middle of the floor. A photo I recognised at once.

I gently picked it up and touched the face I loved so dearly.

Our wedding photo – one of the many I had dotted around the house. This one had always been my favourite.

“You gave me a fright,” I told him as I put it back on the window-sill, where it lived with other favourite snapshots of our life together.

Any thoughts of ghostly interventions were dismissed by me as wishful thinking when a breeze caught the heavy curtains and made them nudge at the frame.

I must have forgotten to close the window before going out.

Was it daft to be disappointed that he wasn’t haunting our home?

Pulling the window shut and securing the latch, I went to get ready for bed.

****

My second date with Struan went as well as the first. We seemed to be firm friends by the time he dropped me off at my door.

“Cup of tea before you head off?” I asked, wanting to prolong our chat.

In the kitchen, I was busy with the kettle when we heard it. A loud crash upstairs.

The hairs stood up on the back of my neck.

“I must have left a window open,” I said, though I was sure I hadn’t. “Maybe next door’s cat got in.”

“It could be a burglar,” Struan suggested, and I frowned at him.

My feeling of foreboding was strong. I had to see what had made the noise.

Struan followed closely behind. The book nearly hit him in the face as I opened the door to my library.

I think he might have coped with that, but what

he couldn’t cope with was the fact the room was empty and the window closed.

No sign of a burglar, or even of next door’s cat. He went pale with fright. “What’s going on?”

“I’m not sure.” Summoning up every ounce of courage, I pushed the door a little further.

“Maybe we should . . .” Struan didn’t wait to find out what I was about to say. He nearly broke his neck in his rush to get down the stairs and out of the front door.

Turning back to the room, I tried to work out what might have happened.

Last time, it had been pretty easy to see why the photo frame had landed on the floor. This time? A flying book was a mystery.

But there had to be a rational explanation.

I picked up the volume that had so very nearly assaulted my date. It was a new thriller, for my “to be read” pile.

“Coward’s Escape”. A coincidence, surely.

In any event, at least it had shown Struan for what he was – a man who ran away.

That wasn’t the sort of man I could ever have a relationship with.

Not when Cameron had been so brave and such a strong presence in my life.

****

I related the whole tale to Aiden when he came around for coffee next Saturday morning.

“He left before you found out what had caused the noise? Before knowing for sure if there was an intruder?”

“Well, we’d had a peep into the library and there was nobody there.”

“But he didn’t wait to find out what had happened.” “No, he didn’t.”

“What was it? What made that book fly at him like that? There has to be an explanation.”

Aiden was my closest friend. He had been Cameron’s closest friend, too; surely he would understand?

“I think Cameron’s come back,” I said.

Aiden sat silently, weighing up what I’d said.

“I know you miss him. I do, too. But what you’re suggesting isn’t possible, Catherine.”

“I know. There must be some rational explanation. But I can’t think of it.”

“Grief does funny things to people sometimes,” he told me gently.

“I learned to live with my grief a long time ago.” “I know.”

“I didn’t imagine it,” I asserted.

“I’m not saying you did. But there has to be a reason for the book flying through the air.

“Maybe a juggernaut trundled past and caused the shelf to vibrate.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“At that time of night?” “An earth tremor, then.” My own hand trembled as I lifted the coffee mug and took a sip.

“I think there’s more to it.”

Aiden took my free hand and gave it a squeeze.

“I know you want to believe he’s still here. I do, too.” Aiden shook his head.

“But don’t throw your life away for a fantasy. You promised him you’d move on.”

“And I will. One day.”

But not yet.

****

It took more than six months before I even thought of dating again. Even then, I wasn’t sure.

The house had been quiet recently, but I couldn’t forget the incidents that had made me believe Cameron had been upset.

But Archie managed to breach my defences with his good looks and effortless charm.

When he asked me out, I remembered the words Cameron had uttered.

“Live,” he’d urged as I’d cried. “For both of us.”

Archie and I took a picnic to the park. The sun shone, and the day passed quickly.

Before I knew it, the afternoon was over, and Archie was dropping me off at the door.

“I’ve really enjoyed today,

Catherine,” he said as he took both my hands in his and slowly leaned forward.

But just as his lips grazed mine, there was a crash from upstairs.

I shut my eyes. I’d upset Cameron. Again.

The book on the library floor this time, another thriller, was called “Liars And Cheats”.

This was the proof I’d needed that Cameron was upset I was dating.

A few weeks later, glancing through the local newspaper, I realised what a lucky escape I’d had.

There, staring up at me from the pages, was Archie posing outside our local courthouse.

Only the caption said his name was Mark Smith – a conman charged with duping rich widows out of their fortunes.

I sighed. I was hardly rich, but he obviously hadn’t realised that.

And I was obviously a terrible judge of character.

I could only thank my lucky stars that Cameron had been watching out for me.

****

Cameron didn’t leave, despite my promise to avoid any hint of a new romance.

He was still there in the warm homely feeling I got when I entered the house.

He was there in the occasional book I found on the study floor.

“The Magic Of Starting Over”. I read the newest title to have tumbled from the shelf.

“I don’t think so, Cam.

I’ve learned my lesson. From now on I’ll have my memories of what we shared. That’s enough.”

“Never Giving Up” flew off the shelf the following week. Followed by “Fighting For A New Life”.

“I’m at a loss as to what to do,” I told Aiden.

“Cameron wasn’t happy when I dated but, now I’ve decided not to bother, he’s not happy about that, either.”

“I’ve been thinking,” Aiden admitted, looking a bit uncomfortable.

“Yes?”

“The recent book titles have been positive. Encouraging, even.

“If it is Cameron who is moving these books, what if he needs to see you settled before he can move on?”

That hadn’t occurred to me. I had been so glad he’d decided to hang around that I hadn’t given any thought as to why.

“I know you want to believe he’s still here. I do, too”

The thought was still in my mind as I picked up a book from the library floor the next day.

“The Devil You Know”. Another thriller.

But a photograph was peeking out from between the pages. There was Cam, smiling, along with . . .

The devil I knew. Well, hardly a devil, but he was someone I knew very well. Someone who Cameron had known and loved, too.

“Tell me,” I said the next day when Aiden arrived on my doorstep.

“How would you feel about going for a drink with me one evening?”

I ushered him into the hallway and glanced up the stairs, holding my breath for a crash.

Nothing. With a sigh of relief, I turned my attention back to Aiden, who smiled. “I’d like that very much.” For the briefest moment a brilliant light spilled down the stairs and flooded the hallway.

As it faded, a stillness filled the house.

“Did you see that?”

“Yes. Yes, I did.” Aiden glanced towards the glass pane in the front door, no doubt hoping for a rational explanation – like maybe a sudden ray of evening sun.

But I knew. Cameron, safe in the knowledge I’d heeded his message at last, had finally moved on.

The End.