Page 13 of Dancing with a Ghost

"My mother loved the name, but my father said it was too much. That someone from our station should have an important name."

"Bullshit. Your mother was right. It's a good name and suits you. I'm Toby, but I think you know that already. Toby Ellison-Smythe to be precise. We're part of the Cheshire Ellison-Smythes, but we don't have their money. Mother insisted she and my father put all their money into this place. Some relative or other left it to her, and she turned it into a hotel."

I listened to him talk, a much safer option than what had just transpired, enjoying the slight lilt to his voice. It was refined but a bit country, too.

He turned to face me again. "Tell me about you. Where were you from? How did you get here? Why aren't you fading away? Do you need to go rest or something?"

All the questions were making my head spin, and now I thought about it, why wasn't I fading away?

"I don't know how I'm still here." And now I thought about it. I really was feeling good. None of the tiredness I usually felt, no need to go rest. I looked down at my hands, certainly not expecting them to be so…..solid!

"I'm originally from just outside London, a place called Chelmsford. I grew up there with my parents, two sisters and a brother. They're all younger than me. Or they were, before you know, I died."

"If you're dead, why can I see you and feel you? Why aren't you all wispy or floaty? You're so…..you know," he poked me in the arm, and his finger hit actual flesh and bone. "You're so meaty. And I mean that in a good way."

A huge grin broke across his face, and I couldn't help but smile. He was funny and smart and any man would be lucky to have him.

"I have no idea, but I know I've not been this 'meaty' in a long while. Not for nearly eighty years, anyway. What year is it now?"

"2022. We're just coming to the end of September."

That sounded about right. I'd 'died' mid October 1943, so we were coming up to seventy-nine years a ghost. Didn't mean I wanted to wait around until the last minute to find my kindred soul.

Kindred soul. What a strange phrase, and now that I'd said it, I remembered Sister Mary mentioning the same. She said I needed to look formykindred soul and when I did that, I'd become whole again, become myself. The memories of what she'd said were still hazy, but piece by piece, I was starting to fit things together, like a puzzle.

"Will you ever be real, Matthias? Will this be the only way we can be together? Be friends?"

I shrugged my shoulders. I had no idea. I hoped not. I wanted to experience everything this time had to offer. There was so much to learn, and I loved learning.

"Did you die here?" he asked, a little tearful now, his eyes watering.

"I think so, although I'm not sure dying is the right phrase. I was…." I tried to think of the word. Tried to recall the word she'd used. "Harvested? She said she was harvesting souls and bodies."

"Seriously? You were harvested? And who the fuck does that to people?"

"I don’t know. It's so unclear. I can't remember, Toby. I'm sorry. I just remember the name Sister Mary." I'd remembered more than yesterday, and I'd remembered more than the day before, so bit by bit, things were fitting into place.

He turned to his nightstand, picking up what I knew to be his phone, stabbing at the buttons.

"I hate technology, but sometimes this is the only way to find things out. Encyclopaedias are just not available these days." He poked around a bit more, his tongue sticking out of his mouth as he worked. "Fat fingers and tiny letters." He muttered.

I sat quietly while he worked, waiting patiently to see what he had to say.

"Okay, so I'm not getting much here. Just that Ellison Manor used to be a hospital during the war. How did I not know this?"

"I don't know. I just know I moved up here after my crash. They treated me down South, then transferred me here. The rest is a little obscure right now."

"It says here that several armed forces died while being treated at Ellison Manor, more than deemed usual." He muttered to himself as he read, his eyes scanning the tiny screen.

"No mention of a Sister Mary or harvesting souls. Not that I'm surprised. I should speak to my mother, ask her if we still have the records. They sold it to an Ellison-Smythe after the hospital closed. I wonder……"

He was quiet for a good while and I considered leaving him be, but finally he threw his phone aside.

"Will you stay with me a little longer? I think I need to sleep more. Yesterday was a killer and after dealing with that prick, Aaron, I could do with a couple more hours. Say you'll stay?"

"I can do that." And I could. I'd stay as long as he wanted me to. I continued to watch him until his breathing became deep and rhythmic and he finally slept.

Chapter Seven

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