Ghosts and Lightning Read Online Free

place is a bug hutch.
    —Spider provider, I say, smilin.
    —Alien ant farm, says Paula.
    She clinks her spoon against the steamin teacup and lifts it to her mouth. Takes a little sip. —I got a fuckin fright, she says. —Serious, he flew right up at me. Yeh can smile all yeh want but I’m tellin yeh it’s not nice, flyin into yer face. What’s the point o moths?
    —Dunno.
    —They’ve no point. They’re pointless. Kill the lot o them.
    —I thought someone was murderin yeh yeh mad fuck. Or yer fuckin ghost was after yeh.
    Paula shakes her head. —No, she says, like she needs to confirm it. —Just that moth. Bastard.
    —I’ll sort it out after.
    —Never openin them windows again. He must o flew in.
    —Yill get over it.
    Paula sets down her tea and digs out a lump o butter and tries to spread it on her toast but all she does is bludgeon the bread into raggedy bits.
    —This butter’s solid.
    —I know. We should get Low-Low next time. It’s softer.
    —Yeah. We should.
    Paula squashes the butter back into the tub and takes a bite o the dry toast. It’s half nine in the mornin. Nothin’s changed. She sits there, starin through the patio doors at the back garden. Nothin’s gonna change, either. Her legs are crossed and one hand’s restin on her stomach. She looks tired and sad. Her hair’s hangin limp around her shoulders. If it wasn’t for the moth she probably wouldn’t be up till after twelve.
    —We have the place the way it is, Paula, I say. —We’re gonna have to do somethin. Paula says nothin.
    —I honestly do think yer drinkin too much, I say.
    Again, nothin. I hate when she does that. Ignores me. Makes yeh feel like a kid. Yid swear we were still in our teens, like, and I was askin her to turn off Sweet Valley High for Zig and Zag and she’d be sittin there brushin her hair, pretendin she can’t hear me. Always been that way. Sometimes things are cool, or they seem like they are, and then … ah sure who the fuck am I kiddin? She’s me sister. I’m her brother. It’s just the way things are, isn’t it? In an age when to be deeply philosophical is José Mourinho sayin sometimes yeh get three points and sometimes yeh get none, but then again sometimes yeh get one, maybe I’m overanalysin things.
    —What’s the story with that … like, this under the bed stuff? I say. —Is it for real or what?
    —Yeh just want me to humour yeh, Denny. I’m not gonna. Yeh know I’m not.
    —Yer mad.
    —Wouldn’t have it any other way.
    *
    I was seventeen and Paula was eighteen when she told me she was gay. She didn’t make a big deal of it or anythin, just came straight out with it.
    —I’m gay, Denny.
    Just straight up, like. I was eatin a battered sausage and I nearly choked. It took me a few seconds to get it down, then I skilfully re-routed the conversation:
    —Eh, did yeh get these in J.J.’s or out o the van?
    —Denny?
    —Wha?
    —I’m a lesbian.
    Paula never bothered with skirtin round issues. It still sounded weird hearin her say ‘lesbian’ though. Gay was bad enough, but lesbian was a hundred times worse. It sounded like a medical condition.
    —Since when? I said.
    —Since always, Denny.
    She took a deep drag on her cigarette and blew the smoke out through her nose. She was wearin a denim jacket and jeans, her hair newly dyed a bright, shiny purple.
    —Have yeh got a smoke? I said.
    —You don’t smoke.
    —I do.
    Me own confession was a bit less drastic than Paula’s but that was all I had. She rummaged through her handbag.
    —I’ve only two left, she said, but she tossed me one anyway. I put it to me lips and lit up, inhaled shallowly. Me ma was out at me mad aunty Denise’s. She wasn’t that mad at that time, though. Me ma would’ve killed me if she saw me smokin.
    —Are yeh sure? I said.
    Obviously that was a stupid thing to say. It was like somethin a character on The Wonder Years would blurt out. But that was the only reference point I had, the telly. Me ma and