A Pocket Full of Posies (Book 2)

Chapter Six (Part 2)

"Thanks Felix!" Annie beams as she stands up.

I want to ask her what Darcy meant, and where she's going, but the child version of myself lets me down once again by saying nothing. I watch as Annabel disappears into the house via the patio doors, while I stay sitting on the dry grass. I start picking at it, pulling it out of the ground.

Nineteen-year-old me is screaming, willing my younger self to follow after my sister, or find out how close in time we are to the accident, or whether we're in Ireland or Sheffield, or just anything useful. But I just keep pulling out grass.

"What's eating you, pal?" a voice speaks from above, and I lift my head to see my dad kneeling down in front of me.

I can't get used to the accent. I never noticed how much alike we looked. His eyes are big and green like mine, but they don't look half as bug-like on him, and his facial structure almost mirrors exactly what mine has shaped into as I've hit adulthood. Little me turns away and shakes my head at the ground in response to my dad's question. I pick at more grass. A finger lifts my chin up, and my dad raises his eyebrows.

"I pinky promised," I mutter this time.

Not being funny, but why am I so wet?

"Hm, I'm going to guess this has something to do with your sister?"

"She had a ghost friend and she--"

"Oi, spirit friend, Felix. It's not nice to call them that, remember?"

He'd hate nineteen-year-old me.

"Yeah, one of them, and she told me to say what she was wearing, and I said you told me not to, but she said it was okay and made me pinky promise not to say, and she wasn't gonna say either."

Sheesh, I was a snitch. A brief look of what I read as irritation passes through Dad's face, but it's gone in a flash, and his gentle smile returns.

"It's okay, pal, you're not in trouble. Just promise you won't do it again, okay?" He pauses, and his smile grows. "Pinky promise?" He holds out his pinky finger.

I link my small finger with his, and a smile grows on my face. He winks at me, ruffles my hair, and puts his arms out to pick me up, but I get the feeling I might be getting a bit too big to be carried. Then again, I'm not as old as I was in my last vision, and a stranger carried me through a forest in the middle of the night in that.

My dad takes me to the patio and places me back onto my feet. "Your mum's nagging me about food even though no one's hungry," he says with a smile still intact on his face. "How about you do me a huge favour and find some crisps in the cupboard to pour into a bowl?"

"Can I have a pack?" I reply with a burst of excitement.

It's somewhat of a reassurance that my childhood self viewed food as a top priority. It's nice to know I haven't changed that much.

My dad laughs. "Only as long as they're not prawn cocktail flavour, those ones are all mine."

I practically run into the kitchen, almost smacking right into the dining table in the process, and start rummaging through the kitchen cupboards. It's a modest kitchen; bigger than I would've thought based on the house from the outside, but nothing flashy. It's cosy. Homely. I'm emptying a packet of salt and vinegar crisps into a big plastic bowl when I hear hushed voices. I pause midway through pouring, and for once, the child version myself is doing the right thing. The voices continue.

"... know it's scary... don't worry... trust me."

I stand up, abandoning the half-filled crisp bowl, and wander into the hallway. The voices are louder. They're coming from upstairs. I head up quietly, again relieved that my past self is doing exactly what I want.

"It's worth it, seriously."

I follow the voices until I reach a door at the end of the upstairs hallway. I can tell the voices are female, and despite the accent, recognise one as Annabel. The white door to the room the voices are coming from is slightly ajar, so I tip-toe over to it. As I peek inside, I see it must be Annabel's bedroom. There are posters of celebrities dotted around the walls, clothes strewn across the beige carpet, and a double bed takes up one half of the room. Sitting on it are Annabel and Darcy.

"Think of the stuff we could do, especially with my brother around." Annabel's voice is excited, and the back of her head nods enthusiastically as she speaks. "Look, the spirit I spoke to explained it perfectly. I'll introduce you to him, and then you decide for sure, okay?"

Annabel waits for Darcy to respond, but she doesn't. Instead, her eyes lift from my sister and lock on the doorway I'm standing in. My sister whips her head around, and all of a sudden, she's on her feet. She's storming over to me, a frown on her face.

"Get out of my room!"

Just like that, the door is slammed in my face, and then I'm sitting up in a bed in the middle of a remote island north of mainland Scotland with Tom snoring a few feet away, and sweat dripping from my forehead. I have to catch my breath. Holy--What the hell just happened? I shove the mound of duvet off from on top of me, and leave the bed.

I walk into the bathroom, and switch the light on. It's too warm. I lift my shirt off, but I'm still too warm. Why did I sleep in my jeans? God, I'm stupid. My hands are shaking slightly. I turn to the large mirror that takes up almost an entire wall of this bathroom, and almost jump at the sight because I see my dad staring back, and it takes me a moment to realise it's me. It's just my reflection. I wasn't just imagining the bone structure thing then.

"Okay, it's fine. This is fine," I say to myself as I pace back and forth. "This is good, if anything."

I stop to look in the mirror again. My hair is a wild, dark mess on top of my head, and the fact I've not shaved in almost a week is really starting to show. I stare at my scar from the accident, stare at the spot where my eyebrow hair won't grow, at the raised skin that creeps down towards my left eyelid. I look paler than usual, and dark shadows engulf my eyes that stare back at me through the mirror. I want to drive my fist right through the damn thing.

What happened to the version of myself who, only a few days ago, stood at the scene of my family's accident and was so sure he was going to fix this mess? It's like this evening has completely thrown me. First the Tracker, then that dream, or vision, or whatever the hell it was. I need to get back on track. I need to regain my focus. I need a bloody shave, too.

I figure I must have finally cracked because that's exactly what I do. I return to the bedroom completely blind as my eyes try to adjust from the bright light of the bathroom to the blackness of this room, and search my bag until I find my razor and shaving cream. I return to the bathroom, and get started. As I run the blade down my cheek, my mind runs a marathon.

There's no definite evidence that what I just saw actually happened. Clara told me back at the manor house that only a spirit can bring my memory back, but maybe there is another way. I'm not exactly industry standard with this whole ghost business, so it could be different for me. It felt exactly like a vision too, with me having zero control over anything that was happening.

"Shit!" I grunt as a dot of blood bursts out of my skin.

I flip the cold tap on and run the razor under it, then grab some toilet roll to dab where I cut myself. It didn't feel like a regular dream, either. It wasn't hazy, and it remains just as clear in my head now as it did when it was happening. I can recall every detail. It can't have been a normal dream, it can't have. I feel excitement building at the thought. It might be real. Shit, maybe I'm remembering. Maybe I'm going to remember everything, and we won't have to trigger Annabel's memory, or travel to bloody Ireland to meet this family.

Then I realise. It might be real.

My thoughts race to the end of the dream, to Annabel sitting cross-legged on her bed in her dungarees and bright yellow top, her head spinning towards me as panic and anger explodes onto her face, as she runs to slam the door. It might be real. What if the spirit talker who turned wasn't me? What if it was Annabel?

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A/N: Could this be a huge relief for Felix? Shift the whole dead parent blame to Annabel, and then all is hunk dory? What could this mean, going forward?