Ways to See a Ghost

she whispered. “Philip can hear you. If you can’t be quiet, stay back.” She crept on, until she could make out two figures standing in the corner of the field. One was Philip’s slightly plump shape, the other was eerily lit, mouldy green. She crouched behind a tall clump of thistles, staying very still, hardly breathing. Listening to what they were saying.
    “… even doing here? Standing around in this field.” Philip Syndal was speaking, sounding irritated. “It doesn’t even tell me
why
I have to do things, not any more. I’m sick of it!”
    “Have some patience, my boy.” Isis was surprised at Mandeville’s soft tone. It was as close to comforting as his raspy old voice could be.
    “I
have
been patient,” whined Philip, “I’ve been patient for years!”
    “I know, dear boy,” said Mandeville, his words spoken gently. “But soon you’ll be back to how you were when I first found you.”
    “Miserable in a care home?” snapped Philip. “Or do you mean half-mad with ghosts?”
    Everything suddenly made a cold, horrible sense to Isis. Mandeville had never mentioned knowing Philip, but he obviously did. Mandeville had to be Philip’s spirit guide, the one Cally was always on about, the one who helped him when he was a boy! He must have told Philip about Isis, and got her drawn into all this.
    “It won’t be like that now,” Mandeville soothed. “So many phantoms are gone. We’ll be able to work together, uncluttered. A beacon for the world.”
    Philip snorted. “I’ve already told you: when it’s out, I’m done. No more Psychic Syndal.”
    “But I need a channel! I want it to be you. I’ve cared for you all these years.”
    “Cared
for me?”
    “I tried, at least. And think of your public, don’t they deserve to know the truth about the afterlife?”
    “They don’t want the truth!” cried Philip. “They want Granny’s old recipes and next week’s lottery numbers! You’re just a fame-hungry old ghost, creeping around the psychics like the rest.” His voice drawled into a sneer. “Isn’t that how you found Isis the wonder-child?”
    Mandeville shook his head, sending out a greenish dust to glow against the dark. “Don’t I even get a little gratitude?”
    Now Philip laughed. “For
what?
You gave me to a monster. You said it would scare the ghosts away, well it did more than that. And it didn’t just find a little corner of my mind, like you said it would. It’s everywhere, in every thought! I only have times like now, when it’s taken flight, to think in peace. My life has been nothing, a slavery. I never wanted to do the stage shows, but I have to because it’s always hungry. Plus I’m a fraud; ghosts won’t come near me so I have to use tricks on the punters. And even that’s not enough, because I have to lure in any stupid ghost I can, just to prove I’m still useful to the thing
you
put inside me. I’m fighting for my life, for my mind, every day!” Philip was gasping, almost crying. “I would have been better off as I was. Madness would have been kinder than what you’ve done to me.”
    Behind her, Isis heard Angel’s squeak of fear. She’d followed, even though she’d been told not to. Isis pulled the little ghost onto her lap, looking around for a wash of colour, listening for the flap of noiseless wings.
    Out in the field, Mandeville sighed and Isis could taste the dust in the air.
    “I am sorry,” he said quietly, “I can’t tell you how much.I should never have removed it from the darkness. I thought its nature was to remain small and weak – I had no idea how its appetite would grow when it was this close to the living.”
    “So you’ve said,” muttered Philip, “about a thousand times.” Isis heard the swishing, crunching sound of Philip walking into the crop. She huddled down, praying he wouldn’t see her or Angel.
    “Don’t!” cried Mandeville. “Please, my boy. I’m still trying to help you.”
    The crunching stopped, Philip turned back. “You mean Isis? Yeah, well thanks for telling me about her. I persuaded it and it likes the idea. Hop into the new girl and leave me at last. A nice new shell for the hermit crab.”
    Angel touched Isis’s face with whisper-fingers. Isis could see how frightened the little ghost was. She clutched Angel tightly, shaking her head to show that she wouldn’t let that happen. Not ever!
    Mandeville made a strange wheezing noise, and green dust poured up into the air. “No! That isn’t