‘It doesn’t mean anything,’ he protested. ‘I was lucky.’
‘Unnaturally lucky! Premonitions of the future, unnaturally lucky, and you can see ghosts, can’t you? That’s why you asked about the Church Grims. You’ve seen one, haven’t you?’
Callum shook his head, his lips pressed together. He couldn’t answer. All his life he’d avoided talking about his strange abilities, as if keeping silent about them made them less real. But now that didn’t seem to be working any more. His abilities were pushing their way into his life, whether he liked it or not.
‘Say no if the answer’s no!’ Melissa commanded, her big eyes wide. Callum stared back at her, trying to gauge her mood. She wasn’t angry and she wasn’t sceptical. She was . . . well, the only word for it was excited. She thought this was an adventure. Maybe even fun.
Callum looked away. It didn’t feel fun or exciting to him.
‘Go on – say no! Tell me you can’t see ghosts!’
‘I can,’ Callum said fiercely. ‘All right? I can. I see ghosts everywhere.’
It was an embarrassment and a huge relief, all at the same time, to say it aloud to another person – to a human, not a bird or a cat. Or a ghost.
‘Wow,’ Melissa breathed, and fell silent.
Callum couldn’t bring himself to say anything more. He stared at the fire, sipping at his own mug of hot chocolate, his knees drawn up close to his chest.
After a moment, Melissa stirred.
‘Can you see them here? Now?’ she asked softly.
Callum shook his head slowly. ‘No. Inside this house is the only place I feel safe.’
‘Wow,’ Melissa repeated with feeling.
Callum was a little perplexed at her eagerness to believe him. ‘How come you don’t think I’m crazy? It doesn’t make any sense – seeing ghosts, seeing the future. And you’ve only got my word for it.’
‘You proved it to me yourself. You stopped me from getting hurt.’
A glimpse of Melissa lying at the foot of the stairs, her skull shattered, a bloody mess, flashed across Callum’s mind. He tried not to react, but she must have read something in his face, because she suddenly went very still.
‘Oh my God, it was more than that, wasn’t it? You saved my life. You saw that something terrible was going to happen to me and you stopped it happening.’
Callum gritted his teeth and said nothing.
‘Didn’t you?’
He didn’t have the energy to argue with her. His shoulders slumped forwards in defeat.
‘You don’t want to believe it yourself, do you?’ Melissa said suddenly. ‘That’s why you’re so miserable about it. You don’t want it to be true.’
‘I don’t understand why you believe it,’ Callum said. ‘You’ve got no proof at all. You don’t see the ghosts, you don’t have the visions, your hands don’t start to tingle when something terrible’s about to happen.’
‘Do they really?’ Melissa asked, with intense interest. ‘So you can tell if a vision’s coming on?’
‘I think so.’
‘Can you feel it now?’ she asked.
‘I . . . well . . .’
Callum had never seen Melissa look so determined. She was concentrating on something.
‘Are your hands tingling now?’ she asked fiercely.
‘Yes . . .’ Callum stared at Melissa. His fingers were electric with pins and needles. ‘Yes, they are – What are you doing?’
Then another vision seared into his brain. Melissa’s hand in the fire, her head back, screaming in agony, the skin of her fist charred with bubbling blisters . . .
Callum shook his head, trying to shake the horrific image away. But beside him, Melissa was already reaching out towards the hearth. Pushing her hand towards the burning coals.
Without thinking, Callum rolled over on to his side, knocking her off balance. Then he grabbed her hand and held it down.
‘You idiot!’ Callum gasped. ‘What are you doing?’
‘You knew!’ Melissa crowed triumphantly. ‘You stopped me!’
‘But you weren’t just thinking about doing it – you were going to do it! If I hadn’t stopped you, you’d have actually done it!’
Callum thumped her fist down on the floor between them, holding it firmly. Melissa stared back at him, her chin tilted defiantly.
He suddenly realised he had underestimated her. A lot. She was brave, and determined, and for some reason she trusted him – trusted that he could see the future. She’d been willing to risk burning the flesh off her hand to make her point. To prove to Callum, once and for all, what he was. Perhaps someone like that deserved his trust too.
‘I said I wanted to help you,’ she whispered.
Callum let go of her hand.
‘All right.’
Chapter 12
‘Hasn’t your gran ever said anything? About you being a chime child, I mean. She must know when you were born.’
Callum shook his head. ‘People remember the day you were born, not the exact time – or if there was a full moon.’
Melissa hesitated. ‘What about your mum’s family?’
‘They’re all in Cornwall. I haven’t seen them since she died three years ago . . .’ Callum trailed off. He didn’t need a vision of the future to know what Melissa would want to know next – how she had died. But he realised he didn’t mind telling her. Telling her about the ghosts had been harder.
‘I haven’t seen them since my mum’s funeral,’ Callum went on. ‘They never liked Dad and they shut Mum out after she married. When Dad left she stayed up north, because she had a good job. She was like me, I guess, a bit of a loner – an outdoor type. I suppose that’s where I get it. She was into mountaineering and that sort of thing. She was killed on a climbing trip in Wales along with three other people. I was supposed to go too, but that morning I decided to play cricket instead.’
‘Must be the worst thing ever, losing your mum.’
‘Well, you learn to live with it. But I still miss her.’
Melissa hesitated. ‘When you see ghosts, do you -’
‘No.’
‘I wondered if maybe you could ask when you were born.’
Callum shook his head. ‘I’ve never seen her. Besides, I can’t talk to ghosts. Most of the time they don’t even know I’m there.’
Most of the time.
The conversation came to an awkward halt.
‘I know!’ said Melissa suddenly. ‘The time when you were born must be on your birth certificate.’
‘Maybe,’ admitted Callum. ‘But I’ve no idea where it is. Besides, we don’t need a piece of paper to say I’m a chime child. I think you’ve already proved that. And I don’t think Gran would be convinced anyway. She doesn’t believe in magic or anything like that.’
‘All the kids at school say she’s a witch!’ Melissa blurted suddenly, her big eyes very wide again.
‘Well, they say that about you too,’ Callum retorted. It was true, and Melissa must have known it. ‘And they say she’s a gypsy, which is rubbish, and they say Mr Gower has an artificial leg, which I bet is also rubbish.’
‘You can sort of see why people might think your gran’s a witch,’ argued Melissa. ‘I mean, living out here in the middle of nowhere with only you and the cat.’
‘Having a cat doesn’t make her a witch, any more than wearing crystals makes you one!’ Callum snapped. ‘She doesn’t know a thing about the supernatural – after I saw the Grim I asked her if there were any local legends about Marlock and she told me to look at a book of old photos of Stockport!’
‘Sounds like she’s in denial,’ said Melissa. ‘A bit like you. Or else she’s hiding something.’
Callum squirmed uncomfortably. He hadn’t forgotten how strangely interested Gran had been when he told her about being followed by the Church Grim, even though she’d tried to explain it away. And then there was the crumbling black and silver book hidden on the ledge above the window . . .
‘Don’t go in for a career in MI6,’ Melissa said. ‘Because your poker face is rubbish. What are you thinking about?’