Ghosts in the Morning - By Will Thurmann Page 0,9

the exertion of the rock-climbing or the howling wind, it was hard to tell. Or maybe he was just florid-faced. Too many whiskies for too many years, perhaps...no, not whisky, it would be real ale. Pints of real ale with his twitcher friends in pubs that smelled of wet dogs. The man had a moustache; thick brown hair perched on his top lip like a soggy turd. I hated moustaches. Uncle Peter had a moustache.

The man drew alongside me, and reached for his binoculars. As he did so, the point of his elbows caught me in the side of the ribs. I flinched but the man didn’t seem to notice that he’d struck me, or didn’t care. I gritted my teeth and stared at the man. He stared back, a mixture of impatience and contempt on his face. A cruel face, an arrogant face. He didn’t see me, he didn’t care, I was beneath him. He pushed past me, crossing to another rock, then turned his back and stared out to sea, binoculars raised.

I am invisible.

I felt the anger well, then a quickening as my blood starting to pump faster through my body. Like with the cyclist. My synapses started to crackle and I breathed deep. I turned my head, left and right, there was no-one around. I crossed the rock, the sound of my wet sneakers muffled by the wind, and I stepped behind the man. The rock jutted out over the ocean’s scream. A precarious place to stand. Unsafe, easy enough to have an accident, especially on a day like this. He didn’t see me, he didn’t hear me.

I reached up and put my hands on the small of his back. His jacket was one of those expensive waxed ones, green and greasy with the rain and the sea spray. He must have felt the pressure as he started to turn. I shoved firmly. For a brief millisecond, he seemed to hang in the air, like a startled marionette, then he was gone. I stepped carefully to the edge of the rock. His body looked small, all crashed and broken on the jagged rocks below. The sea continued to pound relentlessly at the coast, growing large with the incoming tide, then a huge wave swept in, white horses rearing on its crest and claimed the man from the rocks.

I turned around and headed back to my car. And just then I remembered. It wasn’t a parliament, no, that applied to owls. It was a murder of crows.

***

‘Where have you been, I’m starving?’

‘No, Graham, I would hardly say you’re starving,’ I said, pointing at his stomach. ‘Let’s be honest, I think you’ve got a few spare pounds there to keep you going.’

‘Don’t be facetious, Andrea. Besides, I’ve lost a bit of weight recently, actually,’ Graham whined, tapping his pot belly. ‘I’ve been going to the gym at lunchtimes now and again.’

I snorted. More likely spending lunchtimes with Nikki. I vaguely remembered something about her flat being close to the office.

‘So, where have you been? And what’s for dinner?’

I sighed. I didn’t really know where I had been. I had driven around in a fugue state, the car radio softly playing the latest pop drivel. I wasn’t really sure where I’d driven, nor of the route I had taken. I had probably driven around in large circles, it’s not like Jersey was that big, but I couldn’t be sure, there was a blur on my recall. I had been to the shop though, I knew that. I remembered the tinny, soporific music – songs I used to like destroyed in cheap cover versions by singers who couldn’t sing - and I lifted up the Marks & Spencer bag, and showed Graham the boxes within. Chicken dinners, sweet and sour sauce, microwave only, nice and easy. Separate boxes for the rice. I had planned to go to the fish market, some salmon perhaps, or some fresh king prawns, but I must have changed my mind. Perhaps my unconscious mind has steered me away from the prawns - I remembered from school that prawns were the scavengers of the ocean. They hovered up all of sea’s detritus, all of the dead bits, and I Imagined that would include rotting corpses.

‘Daniel phoned, he said he was going for a pizza with the boys, so...’ Graham said, realising that I wasn’t going to answer.

I shook my head clear, and reached into the nag. ‘Okay, okay, no problem, I’ll freeze one of these dinners, I