Home Guard

Chapter 8

Ghosts of the past

It was a great dinner party, Lyn had really pulled it together this time. She had followed Mrs Beeton’s Book of Household management to the tee. Potato and leek soup, stuffed zucchinis, chicken wrapped in bacon. Beef croquettes, parfait and coffee and fondue. The wine had accompanied each course and John had fantastic music grooving along. It was to be the perfect night. Jim and Bec were safely tucked up in bed and their neighbours and friends were fun and easy company.

The conversation had gone from music, politics and history to religion as was the way with a mixed group with mixed interests.

Pink Floyd, Malcom Fraser and the Crusades of the Knights Templar all coming forth as the red flowed freely.

Ever had a seance? Rob the new neighbour broke casually as if he was asking have you ever been to the shops.

A what? Chills go up Lyn’s spine but she was instantly intrigued, No tell me have you Rob?

Oh yes, a few

Did they work? Lyn asks bewitched

Depends on who’s in the room, Rob replies with a double meaning clear

I’m up for it, said John overhearing and full of bravado.

Sally run next door love and grab the ouija board will ya pet? Says Rob with fondue sauce running down his chins. No time like the present. She returns with a board about the size of a 12 inch pizza with the alphabet around the edges and numbers in the centre. Family heirloom. Rob says as he answers the question from John in advance. Lyn reads the board out loud. Yes, no, hello goodbye. Sounds like a mans’ conversation

A space is cleared on the dining room table and Rob takes them through the process.

One finger lightly each on the glass, and we simply ask questions, I’ll go first. Are there any spirits here tonight?

Only Drambuie pipes up John laughing at his own joke

No response

I’ll try says Ruth, Lyn’s big sister. Peggy are you there?

No response

Hello, says Lyn quietly

The glass vibrates under their fingers and slowly moves across the yellowed board to… Hello

Who’s pushing the fuckin glass? C’mon this is bullshit, snarls John as his charming veneer turns to fear, it doesn’t work, you’re a mad bastard Rob

Rob says nothing just shrugs and sculls his wine.

Want to keep going?

Fuck that! says John and starts to get up. As he breaks the away from the group, something else joins in

The glass starts to move by itself, slowly at first then faster and faster as it spells the words… c..a..d..a..v..e..r …..a..l..l..e..n.

John goes white and tries to keep a brave face. The smoke filled room is stifling. Who’s Allen? Says Rob to the group.

Curly…whispers John, trained with him in Malaysia. John turns his back on the party and starts to hug himself and rock.

The upside shot glass flew off the table and shattered into the open fire.

Lyn screamed and John yelled out Jesus Christ!

Reckon Curly was Russian? Asks Harry bemused. It took a fair bit to shake him

Oh Harry, Ruth hushes him. Not now.

Throwing the glass in the fire is a Russian thing, Harry went on

Russian to get his point across, Lyn threw in her pun with a nervous laugh

John was quiet for the first time. He had mentally left the scene. He was in Malaysia with a group of 20 year-old skinny boys drinking beer and having stolen rickshaw races. He was next to Curly as they said every second bloke step forward. He had looked worried as they confirmed his gut. Ok you bastards you’re going for a holiday to Vietnam. The rest of you are coming with me to the Thai Border. We’ll catch up with them next intake. He was supposed to see Curly again.

Well. How was that? Rob asked knowingly

John offered nothing.

Well we must be off love, said Ruth as she quickly gathered her things and ushered Harry towards the door before he could say anymore. Thanks for a lovely night.

Even though everyone left that night. Not everything left.

John was haunted.

The magic of Christmas

The sniper doesn’t move from his position. He has assumed his surroundings. His careful breathing controlled and in tune with the trigger. Waiting. Watching for his target. He will not be distracted. Squeeze don’t pull, remember. Footsteps. A voice. A head… Squirt! Squirt! Squirt! Jim fires his brand new water rifle like mad. Right into the eyes of his father, who is supposed to laugh like crazy and chase him around the house saying that’s my boy. I’m so proud of you.

The rifle is wrenched from his sweaty, wet hands. It flies better than his new toy plane. End over end until it is in two pieces in the veggie patch. Next to the zucchinis.

Later that day John steps in dog s**t on his way to retrieve it. It flies again.