Ghosts

By Paul Le May

In the 1940's a young girl is haunted at night by ghosts. Later in life she awakens with no memory on a deserted island paradise with a young man similarly haunted by past memories. 
Elsewhere the military launch a secret Apollo mission to the moon aiming to complete a project began by President Kennedy. 
Fast forward to 2048 and Earths first mission to the asteroid belt is interrupted by the repercussions of the earlier events.

• Language: English
• Publisher: PLM Publishing
• Release date: Nov 7, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386177203

Book preview

This ebook is a work of fiction and any resemblance to actual events or persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

Ghosts

Copyright: Paul Le May

First edition; October 2019

Second edition; October 2023

Written by Paul Le May

Ghosts

In 1940’s England a young girl is haunted at night by ghosts. Later in life, she awakens with no memory on a deserted island paradise with a young man similarly haunted by past memories.

Elsewhere, the military launch a secret Apollo mission to the moon aiming to complete a project reaching back to the Eisenhower Presidency.

Fast forward a hundred years and Earth's first mission to the asteroid belt is interrupted by the repercussions of these earlier events.

Table of Contents

Description

Title Page

Copyright Page

Message from the Author

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Epilogue

Authors Note

Also by this author

Prologue

Christmas was only a matter of weeks away, the first since victory had been declared in Europe and the Far East. For the first time in many years, families would be able to celebrate without the spectre of war hanging over them.

With the upcoming house move in the new year, money was tight for Gerald Packer, but he was happy this evening as he arrived back from work. He had bought his little girl a Home Play Set during the lunch hour that day, and he knew he had the materials to make a yoyo at the weekend. With the doll he’d bought the previous month they now had three good presents. 

There would still be a chance to buy fresh fruit and they had their chocolate ration. Emily would have a proper festive Christmas.

Good evening darling. He said putting the package down on the hall side table.

Taking off the Crombie he gave his wife Mary a peck on the cheek and turned to hang the coat up.

Emily's been crying again. I tried to calm her but she wants to see you. She said.

Mary’s fingers softly touched the already-wrapped present.

"Gawd almighty. Not the ghosts again?

Perhaps it'll change when we get out of this draughty old house and into the country."

The move out into Kent could not come soon enough. A cottage they’d own that his late uncle had bequeathed to him, with a small orchard and vegetable plot. He could commute to London to his publishing clerk's job while Mary supplemented their meals with homegrown produce. Without rent to pay they’d have more disposable income and the air would be cleaner for their children.

"I hope so. Her dreams seem so vivid. Sometimes it scares me when I'm here with her and you’re working late.

I hate this house now."

I’ll go up and see her in a minute. He squeezed Mary's arm reassuringly.

What's for supper?

Pork chops. I used the last of the meat ration. And I've made you a pot of tea in the sitting room by the tree.

Thank you.

He put his slippers on and went through, followed by Mary, making straight for his freshly poured tea.  As he sipped it he admired the tree they’d decorated as a family a few days earlier. The coloured bulbs flashed on and off every ten to fifteen seconds. The reds and greens reflected on the silver glass baubles creating an illusion of far more than there were.

Just a few pine needles had dropped onto the edge of the large square of carpet that covered most of the floor. Higher up along the picture rail paper chains that Mary and Emily had sat making at their small dining table were now hung with thumbtacks, along with several balloons.

Ahhh. That's lovely. He said showing his appreciation for the hot fresh tea.

The East End’s foggy again tonight. Gets in my throat.

Across the room, a roaring coal fire radiated heat that warmed the whole downstairs and made his cold cheeks sting as it brought them back to life from the cold night air outside.

Looks like rain later, that’ll help clear the air. Mary answered.

Hope so.

He took another sip of his tea and put the cup back in the saucer.

Righty oh. I’ll pop up and see Emily while you finish supper.

Mary smiled. He was a good husband and a good father. So many had come back from the war and struggled to settle back down. Worse, many hadn’t come back at all. Gerald's injuries had been light in comparison to a lot and he had recovered well after his discharge almost a year ago. He’d done his bit in the landings the previous June. Now Mary was happy to have her husband back home. She knew she was luckier than most. The war may be over, but thousands of servicemen were still posted overseas in Germany and the Far East. Yet another Christmas spent away from home.

Emily lay in a tight ball with the covers pulled tight over her head. She tried to be quiet but every now and then a sniffle gave away her presence. She listened intently and peeked through a tiny spy hole she’d made between the sheet and pillow. A small amount of light drifted in from the landing single electric bulb her mother had left on allowed her to check for the ghosts.

She’d heard the sound of the heavy wooden front door closing, a rattling letterbox cover, and then voices drifting up from downstairs. She couldn't make out who or what was being said but it made her feel comfortable. She knew her father was home.

Then she saw him. With sudden relief, she threw back the covers and sat up.

Daddy. She almost shouted.

He sat on the edge of the bed and cuddled her.

Hello little’n he said with a big cheerful smile.

Have you been good for your mummy today? He straightened her night dress over her shoulder absentmindedly.

Yes. We did counting and then I helped make some rock cakes.

Did you. That's very clever. Santa will be pleased. Hopefully, he’ll bring you a lovely present on Christmas morning.

She went quiet for a moment, looking down. Then she spoke quietly.

I don't want a present. I just want Santa to make the ghosts go away.

He tried not to sigh.

Well. I’ve had a good look around and they’ve gone for tonight. No ghosts.

He gently pushed her back onto the bed and tucked in the striped sheets. Finally pulling up the Candlewick bedspread to add another layer to keep her warm.

So. You should go to sleep now and I’ll sit downstairs with mummy and make sure they don't come back.

She smiled as he reached forward and kissed her on the forehead. Then he ruffled her thick long dark hair before laughing and heading to the door.

"I’ll leave the light on for a while longer.

Goodnight."

Goodnight Daddy. 

Happy her father would protect her now he was home, Emily snuggled under the warm blankets and allowed the tiredness to wash over her. Happy thoughts of dolls, playing with friends and the coming Christmas fleeted in a jumble through her mind as sleep finally took her into its comforting embrace.

It was late, very late when Emily awoke. Through her peephole, it just seemed like blackness now the landing light was turned out. She tried hard to see, but it was impossible. Instead, she held her breath and listened. She could hear her heartbeat, boom boom, boom boom, and the pitter-patter of rain against the windows, like hundreds of little tapping fingers.

She thought about making a dash for the light switch, but it would be cold in the room and she didn't like being cold. And what if the ghosts were there? They would see her because ghosts could see in the dark.

A floorboard creaked and Emily whimpered. She tried again to see out from under the blankets now her eyes had become more accustomed to the darkness.

This time an eye looked back. A big, dark, oval eye blinked, a tiny glint of light from the outside street reflecting off its damp surface.

Emily screamed and screamed but it was only heard in her head. No sound came out. It was the ghosts, she knew it was the ghosts, they could stop her from moving or making a noise just by looking at her. 

The ghosts had found her. They would take her away again. Then in the morning, she’d wake not knowing the terrible things they’d done to her in the underworld.

Daddy!

Part One

Chapter One

He woke with a start but didn't move. Just stared up at the sky. It was blue, almost too blue, not a cloud in sight. The warmth-giving sun still lay low down to the horizon. It was early morning and he was lying on grass. He could feel the individual blades when he clenched the fingers of his right hand.

From somewhere in the same direction as the sun came the squawking of sea birds, and the rumble of small waves washing up on a beach. There, he could pick out the slight sea breeze on the bare skin of his face and hands. His hair ruffled as it gently gusted. He could even smell and taste the salt in the air.

It felt like he'd snoozed near the coast on a summer holiday. Except he didn't remember going on a holiday, or even a day trip to the seaside.

In fact, he couldn't really remember anything.

Hello?

A girl's voice said inquisitively as if she wasn't sure he was truly awake. He wasn't sure he was either. His senses felt heightened, everything just a little too real. Like a vivid dream. He wasn't even sure the voice had been real. And it wasn't one he recognised.

Finally, he sat up and looked around. He had been right, he was at the coast. Sitting on short grass that petered away into sand several feet in front of him, before vanishing beneath an aquamarine sea a couple of hundred feet further on. He stared out over the smooth golden beach for a moment. It was pristine and beautiful. No sign of litter or noisy holidaymakers. It was like one of those brightly coloured holiday brochures in the window of Clarkson's Travel.

Finally, he looked for the girl, finding her sitting cross-legged behind him, marginally to his right. Rich long black hair like a gipsy topped a round, naturally pretty face. Large brown eyes looked back at him expectantly.

No make-up. She didn't look at all like most of the girls he met. They plastered on blusher, and eye shadow, and glued their hair in place with lacquer sprays. He wondered for a moment if she was Italian or Spanish, but then he remembered her voice. It had been English, accented like his own. London or possibly Essex.

She looked slightly apprehensive, still waiting for him to answer her.

Sorry. He said, realising he should say something.

"It took me a moment there. 

Where are we?"

She glanced about as she answered.

I don't know. I woke up here ‘bout half an hour ago. I was hoping you’d know. 

Disappointment tinged her words as she realised. He didn't.

He stood up and brushed his stay-pressed trousers and nylon shirt down before checking the loosely fitted tie was straight. He held his eyes on the paisley pattern for a moment wondering about his clothing. It didn't feel casual. Should he be in an office, or a shop maybe?

He put the thought to one side and looked up and down the beach. Fine golden sand stretched away in each direction. Up behind it grasses and trees grew up filling in a lush backdrop. Then some way off, a small hill lifted upwards pushing grassy clearings and small copses skyward. At a glance it looked quite beguiling, but at the same time disquieting as he didn’t recognise any of it. 

He looked back at the girl as she stood up, still keeping a discreet distance from him. She looked apprehensive, the same questions he was having played out equally on her face.

He couldn't help but notice she had a curvy figure. Her blue slacks and blouse followed her lines closely, showing her shape off well. She wore black flat shoes and like him could be from an office. A typist? He considered. Or perhaps a shop assistant.

Finally, he decided to voice his confusion to her.

Sorry. I don't...

He thought hard. I don't know how I got here.

Then with a slight panic added. I don't know where I was before.

He looked around them again trying to see someone else, a house or beach hut. His eyes darted wildly hoping to catch a glimpse of something helpful. A sign maybe. But there was nothing.

Is there anyone else here?

She shook her head.

No. I don't think so. I haven't seen anyone other than you. I woke up next to you on the grass a little while ago. No one else has been by.

Her lip visibly quivered.

I can't remember where I came from either.

He could see a touch of fear in her eyes. Something that was running to touch him.

And... I can't remember what my name is.

That was ridiculous. But then he thought for a moment.

Oh Bloody hell.

A rush of adrenaline invaded his blood as he met her stare.

Neither can I.

He started to pace, desperate to remember, checking his pockets for anything that might help. No wallet or cigarettes. They were empty.

I don't know my name, what my job is or where I live. Why don't I know?

The girl watched him, seeing the same desperate search for memories she had gone through only minutes earlier.

"That's what it's like. I tried to remember things while you were still... Asleep.

What do you think’s wrong with us?"

She had moved closer to him now, deciding he wasn't a threat.

He ran his hand through the mop of mousy brown hair that hung down to his shoulders.

I don't know. Maybe we've been drugged or something. But someone must have brought us here. I bet they’re still around.

He glanced about again, almost convinced someone would appear further along the beach.

So what should we do? She asked.

He considered for a moment, feeling it was his responsibility to take charge.

Okay. He declared.

We need to have a look around and find someone.

And with that, he started along the beach with the girl following. Her wariness of him had waned as she accepted he was in the same predicament as she was.

You got any cigs? She asked hopefully.

No. Pockets are empty.  Sorry.

Sod it. She responded more to herself as she felt the waves of craving sweeping through her.

It wasn't as easy going as he had expected, his brogues sunk into the fine sand and made it hard on his legs, the calves especially. 

Beside him, she had the same problem, along with the added gritty sensation on her feet. Tiny golden particles found their way over the sides of her soft leather shoes and worked down to her toes.

She wasn't as convinced as this young man that there were people around. She was also concerned about how hot it would get. It was still fairly early in the day but it was comfortably warm without being overbearing, but that could change if they had to walk for hours.

She kept that thought to herself, instead letting her attention drift more to their surroundings.

Gently splashing waves from a sea that looked more tropical than the English Channel. The squawking grey-white seagulls that swooped overhead seemed normal enough. Were gulls the same the world over?

Clear vivid blue skies, just a wisp of light cloud along the horizon reminded her of some faraway package holiday destination she might see on Television. Only here the colours were rich and vivid rather than shades of black and white.

Spain? She wondered.

HELLO? The lad suddenly called out.

He was confident someone would appear any moment.

"HELLO?

ANYBODY ABOUT?"

The girl let him get on with it as she turned her eyes inland looking for more clues as to where they might be. Grasses of mixed length separated the beach from low-lying shrubs and trees. She could see fruits of some kind. They looked to be laden with them. 

"HELLO.

ANYBODY THERE?"

He kept on walking, every minute or so shouting out in undaunted anticipation of an answer.

HELLO.

The girl followed but more and more she saw little point in his direction. And the incessant shouting began to annoy her. Did she have to be stuck with a prick?

What I would give for a smoke. She muttered.

Irritation came at her in waves along with a tightening at the back of the throat. She wondered how long had it been since her last cig.

HELLO.

She looked back at the trees. The fruits looked to be a mix of apples and peaches. Some might even be oranges. When this idiot stopped marching and shouting she would go and have a look. Food and more importantly water could soon be an issue if it got hotter towards mid-day.

HELLO.

He continued to shout until the lack of nicotine finally drove her to the point of desperation.

I think we're alone. Give it a rest will you.

She snapped.

Half an hour of walking. Her feet hurt and she had decided it was all a waste of time.

He was taken aback. But a wave of anger continued building inside him and he bit back.

We’re not alone.

It wasn't so much with her, but anger born of frustration that he needed to vent.

That I'm sure of. Someone brought us here and they're still around somewhere. 

She stopped dead at the edge in his tone and met it head-on.

Well, I'm not walking any further on this horrid sand.

Somewhat shocked that this girl wouldn’t do as he wanted he stopped and looked at her. He saw determination set in her face and realised she may just stay put while he went on if he pushed it.

He calmed a little.

Not your typical bird are you. He said out loud.

It was nearly nineteen seventy. A new decade was coming, things were changing fast, he decided.

You one of those feminist types? He asked.

Her eyes darted towards him and away again, then she huffed. She didn't even feel the need to argue with him. Instead, her thoughts turned to the discomfort in her shoes. 

He looked on as she balanced precariously on one foot and then the other to pull off the slip-on and empty out a stream of sand. It made him realise that