Love In The Wrong Dimension (Romantic Ghost Story)

  Copyright © Anette Darbyshire 2011

  All rights reserved.

  No reproduction without permission.

  This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters and events are fictitious. Any resemblance to real people, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  I regularly publish articles about ghosts, romantic books and a lot more besides. You can also get updates (the good and the bad) on the progress on my next novel by clicking below from your Kindle, PC or Mac !

  www.anettedarbyshire.com

  This book is dedicated to my wonderful family, whose love and support have kept me sane whilst writing it.

  A special thanks to John Darbyshire for all your help, especially with the wonderful cover you designed. I couldn’t have done it without you.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Epilogue

  Love In The Wrong Dimension

  Do ghosts fall in love? Jemma Haley is about to find out….

  Chapter 1

  Jemma opened her eyes to find a little crowd had gathered around.

  “It’s okay,” she said, laughing awkwardly. “I’m fine.”

  She looked up at the anxious faces peering down at her.

  “Honestly, I’m fine,” she insisted, trying to look casual. Jemma hated it when she did something clumsy, which was quite often, and her usual way of dealing with the humiliation was just to pretend that nothing had happened. But now, with all these people laughing at her, she was starting to feel a bit embarrassed. Although on second thoughts, they weren’t actually laughing. In fact, they all looked pretty horrified.

  “She’s dead,” a girl cried.

  “Who, me? No, I told you, I’m fine, and will you please stop staring at me.” She was getting annoyed now. Hadn’t they ever seen anyone fall over before, and why did they keep looking at her like that?

  Confused, and feeling increasingly uneasy, Jemma started to get up, and now, instead of looking at her, the crowd were staring at the spot on the floor where she had fallen. As she followed their gaze though, she finally saw what they saw…. her body was lying lifeless on the floor, with a woman checking for her pulse and someone else calling an ambulance.

  “But I’m fine,” she whispered, although this time she knew she wasn’t fine at all.

  Shocked and stunned, all Jemma could do was stare down at her own body, trying to make sense of what was happening, hoping that perhaps this was just some weird dream, and that she would wake up any minute.

  And then it finally hit her; this was all real, and she really had just died. As she stood watching the bizarre scene in front of her, she realised that if she really was dead, but was also still here watching all this, then it could only mean one thing. She must be a ghost.

  “Oh heck!” she exclaimed, with a rising feeling of panic. “What the hell do I do now?”

  THREE DAYS EARLIER…

  “The bats have left the bell tower.”

  “Huh? Bats?”

  Slowly, Jemma opened her eyes, and an intense pain seared through them, into the deepest pits of her already sore head.

  “I must have died and gone to hell,” she groaned, although it wasn’t very easy talking when you had grown fur on your tongue.

  “Got a bit of a headache?” Alice grinned at her, looking annoyingly fresh and chirpy. “Serves you right for finishing off the punch.”

  “What was in that stuff anyway, rocket fuel?” Jemma raised her head off the sofa, “Ooohhh my head, turn that racket down, pleeease.”

  “How can you call this a racket?” Alice looked outraged as she turned down the volume. “They’re some old 80’s group called Bauhaus or something, and they’re amazing. Anyway it’s a damned sight better than the rubbish you were dancing to last night! Here, I’ve made you a coffee.”

  “Thanks.” Jemma gratefully took a sip of her coffee, and looked around the large, comfy living room, strewn with empty glasses, wine bottles and stale crisps; always the sign of a good party. Gradually, the events of the night before started to come back to her.

  “Where’s Jack?” she asked. Jack was the guy whose party it had been, and he and Alice had spent most of the evening putting the world to rights. They had been the last remaining guests at four o’clock that morning, and Jack had kindly let them stay over as he didn’t want them walking home on their own.

  “Clearing up in the kitchen,” grinned Alice. “Guess what? He’s asked me out!”

  “Really? My god, you don’t waste any time,” gasped Jemma. “I can’t believe you even chatted him up, let alone agree so quickly to go on a date with him, you’re normally quite shy. Seriously though babe, I’m really pleased for you, he’s cute.”

  As Jemma watched her best friend’s cheeks glow, she thought about her own disastrous love life, or rather lack of one. They’d been invited to this party last night by a friend, and on the way there, they’d been joking how this was the night that Jemma would finally meet the love of her life. Only it seems that on this occasion, it was Alice’s turn to meet Mr Right.

  “Do you remember what we talked about last night?” Alice’s voice was serious now.

  Jemma took another sip of her coffee and looked blank, “No, I don’t believe I do.”

  “Come on, Jem, I know you do, we made a pact and I’m not about to let you forget about it.” As Alice was being so insistent, Jemma figured it was no use acting dumb.

  Last night, under the influence of rather a lot of alcohol, they’d made some stupid pact about changing their lives, and, if Jemma remembered correctly, she had impulsively agreed to enrol at college and get herself some qualifications so she could get a better job.

  At 28, Jemma’s career consisted of a mixture of waitressing, cleaning and supermarket jobs. Nothing wrong with that, but she felt it was time to experience this thing called job satisfaction, and that meant doing something positive about it, instead of just moaning about being bored and broke. The trouble is, it’s very easy being positive and proactive when you’re enjoying the effects of a very tasty punch, it’s quite different the next day when you’re nursing a rather large hangover.

  “Yeah alright, but let’s wait until we get home, we can discuss it then. Right now, all I want is some painkillers and my bed.”

  “Did someone mention bed?” Jack popped his head round the door, grinning and Alice promptly went a deep puce.

  Jemma could see why Alice liked Jack so much, he was completely her type. Alice liked her men with long hair, and Jack’s floppy dark hair was just long enough to meet with her approval. He wore the same alternative style clothing that Alice liked, and apparently had the same taste in music.

  “Jack, thanks for the party last night, and for letting us crash on your sofa.” Alice smiled demurely at him. “Maybe we can meet up again some time?”

  Jemma nearly choked on her coffee, Alice was never this forward, she really had got it bad.

  “Well, if you’re still interested, I’ll see you next week, you’re coming over on Wednesda
y aren’t you?”

  This time it was Alice’s turn to look blank. “Am I?” Alice had clearly had more punch last night than she’d realised, thought Jemma.

  “You know, for the psychic workshop. You said you were interested in developing your psychic skills. Remember?” There was definitely no flirtation in his voice, just the friendly efficient manner of a mentor welcoming a new student.

  Jemma looked at Alice and knew exactly what she was thinking. She had mistaken Jack’s invitation to join the paranormal group he runs from his house, for something more romantic. Poor Alice, she looked mortified.

  “She’ll be here, won’t you, Alice?” Jemma insisted, knowing that Alice was about to make some pathetic excuse not to go.

  “Er yes, of course. Right, see you next week. We really must go now.” Abandoning her coffee, Alice grabbed her jacket, and ushered Jemma to the door as quickly as she could.

  Once outside, Alice wailed, “Oh shit, Jemma, I remember last night talking about meeting up, but I had completely forgotten the bit about the workshop on Wednesday. I’ll never be able to face him again, he must think I’m completely stupid.”

  “Look, don’t worry about it, he’s a guy. He probably has no idea that you fancy him, and you will see him again, because we’ve got a deal, remember?”

  “Maybe we were at bit hasty,” Alice backtracked, sheepishly.

  “No, it means a lot to you to find someone who can help you with this psychic thing, and now you’ve met this great guy, who’s invited you to join his group. It’s perfect and you’re going. I’ll keep my part of the deal, if you do. Tomorrow I’ll enrol at college, okay?”

  They walked on in amiable silence, each of them lost in their own thoughts. It was a lovely morning, the roads were quiet because it was Sunday, and the warm September sunshine felt welcoming and soothing. The girls decided to walk on up to Belsize Park and have breakfast in their favourite café. Their coffee was so strong it could grow legs and walk on its own. Just what they needed right now.

  The walk from Swiss Cottage, where Jack lived, to Belsize Park was just long enough to help clear their heads. By the time they reached the café, Jemma had managed to convince Alice that Jack really had no idea that she had got the wrong idea about him, and that with a bit of subtle flirting, he was still within reach. Feeling much better, Alice went in to order while Jemma tried to find an empty table.

  This part of Belsize Park was one of Jemma’s favourite areas of London, with its wide tree-lined pavements, and several cafés and restaurants spilling out onto the pavement. Young cosmopolitan couples were sitting at the Parisien style tables, quietly enjoying their morning coffee, whilst reading the Sunday papers, looking suitably fashionable and cool.

  “Ooh that’s better, I feel almost human again.” Jemma sat back in her chair and basked in the warm sunshine. It was amazing what some caffeine and a bacon sandwich could do, and now, sitting contentedly watching the world go by, Jemma started to feel a bit more positive about this college idea.

  Ambition wasn’t something that had seemed that important to her before, and she had always been happy to plod along, earning her way as and when she could. Maybe losing her mum at a young age had left her without the direction she needed to work for her GCSE’s. When she went to live with her aunt in Tunbridge Wells, she was pretty much left to her own devices, and when she discovered boys, cigarettes and cheap cider, she stopped going to school altogether.

  Alice came back out with another couple of coffees. “Penny for them?” she said.

  “What? Oh, I was just wondering what I’m going to do at college. I’m not exactly the academic type, I’m not really good at anything.”

  “Don’t put yourself down,” scolded Alice. “You’re a lot cleverer than you give yourself credit for, and I’ll bet there are loads of things you’ll be good at. How about doing some sort of foundation course that lets you try out a few subjects before you decide for real? A bit like ‘try before you buy’.”

  “Hmm, I guess I could do that. In fact, it’s not a bad idea, why didn’t I think of that?”

  “Because I’m psychic and I know what you want before you do.” Alice winked at her friend and held up her coffee cup. “Here’s to us, babe.”

  Jemma picked up her already empty cup and they toasted their new lives. “What are you going to do after this workshop? If you do have a gift, how are you going to use it?”

  Alice’s eyes lit up. “Well, I’d love to be a healer, and perhaps also help people who have lost loved ones by working as a medium. Maybe the people I meet on Wednesday will be able to help me.”

  “Oh, so you are going then?” grinned Jemma.

  “Oh absolutely, if you enrol at college tomorrow, I’ll be there on Wednesday, and I’ll be as cool as a cucumber around Jack.”

  “So what’s the story with Jack then? How come he lives in that big house all by himself?”

  “Well, I don’t know too much about him, but I think he inherited the house from his grandparents. He lives there alone because no-one else will live there, every time he finds someone to share with, they leave after a few weeks.”

  “Why, do the ghosts scare them off?” laughed Jemma.

  “Actually, yes. Seriously, the house is haunted, I felt it last night. That’s how me and Jack got talking, I said that I could feel some sort of presence and asked if the house was haunted, and he told me that he believes there are two, or maybe even three, ghosts there.”

  “Oh come on, you’re not serious are you? Alice, there’s no such thing as ghosts.” Although Jemma begrudgingly accepted Alice’s beliefs, she certainly didn’t believe in all that stuff herself. “The only spirits I came across last night were in the form of a very potent punch!”

  “Right, come on.” Alice stood up and stretched. “Let’s get back to the flat, if you have any more of that coffee you’ll be like a hyperactive gecko!”

  “Gecko?”

  “Yeah, climbing the walls.”

  When they got back to the small flat they shared in Camden – well Chalk Farm really, but Camden sounded so much cooler – Jemma went to her room for a rest. She had a serious hangover to recover from and besides, it was her turn to do the washing up. Jemma was allergic to washing up, and tidying, and hoovering. In fact, any household chores really. She had learnt a long time ago, that if she was tired and retreated to her room for ‘a rest’, then miraculously the chore had done itself by the time she came out again. Poor Alice couldn’t bear clutter. She was a complete ‘clean freak’, the exact opposite of Jemma, who believed that a little bit of clutter never hurt anyone.

  After a few minutes of tossing and turning in her bed, though, Jemma got up again, feeling too restless to sleep. Alice was right about all that coffee, she thought, making her way into the kitchen.

  “Here, let me help you with that,” she said and picked up a tea towel. Alice obviously hadn’t heard her come in and jumped at the sound of her voice.

  “I thought you were tired.”

  “Couldn’t sleep, I can’t stop thinking about going to college. Are you sure it’s such a good idea? I mean, I’m in my late twenties, totally set in my ways, and I’m not exactly the student type.”

  “That’s exactly why you need to do this, hun,” sighed Alice. “Your age is irrelevant, but you do need to unset your ways and I think you’ll find that once you find something you like, there’ll be no stopping you.”

  They continued chatting as they worked, and after a while, Jemma was surprised to see that they had finished the dishes. “It’s quite therapeutic this washing up lark, isn’t it?” She mused.

  Later that evening, sitting alone in her room, Jemma logged on to her laptop and did a search for colleges. She found a site that listed every college and university in London, along with a very comprehensive list of their courses.

  “Wow,” said Jemma, out loud. “I had no idea there are so many subjects.” She found herself getting more enthusiastic by all the possibilities that s
eemed available to her.

  Eventually, she found a small local college that offered a one year foundation course, which said it would help to improve her general education, and offered access to university degrees on completion of the course. Core subjects included English, maths and study skills, and you could then choose from a long list of more specialised subjects.

  Jemma, being the impulsive and spontaneous person that she was, decided there and then that she didn’t need to look any further, and immediately clicked on the ‘enrol now’ icon. Ah, just one small problem, the fee. She had completely forgotten that it would cost money, but hey, it couldn’t be that expensive. Another click. “How much?” She nearly fell off her chair in shock.

  This couldn’t be right, surely? It said that the one year foundation course was £1,250! Jemma felt completely deflated, she had been so excited about finding this course, and now she probably wouldn’t be able to do it. There was no way she could afford that.

  Hang on though. She remembered that one of her credit cards had just had the credit limit extended by £1,000, and last month she had managed to pay a bit off, so there was a chance she may just have enough on it to pay for the course. Just one problem though, where the heck was the card?

  She looked around her small room. Suddenly the clutter wasn’t quite so harmless, because somewhere in amongst the piles of clothes, stacks of magazines and heaps of shoes, handbags and make up was a small plastic card that was the key to her whole future. She had to find it.

  Over an hour later, her room looked like a hurricane had torn through it. Whereas before, the clutter had been relatively organised, now each pile, heap and stack was one giant mound of rubbish, but it didn’t matter because she had found the card. It was just a shame that she hadn’t looked in her top drawer first, before turning her room upside down, as that’s where she had absently left it last month.