Chapter Text
NEVER SEVENTEEN
Most ghosts didn’t celebrate their birthdays.
But Charles Rowland wasn’t ‘most ghosts’.
The tradition started on Charles’ seventeenth birthday. He was curled up, despondent and shivering, in the empty cupboard of the rooms they had recently appropriated, when Edwin found him.
Clearly distraught at Charles’ state, Edwin knelt down, hands fluttering helplessly.
“Charles? What happened? What is wrong?”
Leading up to the date, Charles had done his best to ignore it, to push away the emotions that he didn’t know how to parse (he was aces, surely — he had a great new best mate, and they were setting up a detective agency). But then the whole thing had ambushed him and swept him away when he wasn’t looking. Like a tsunami of sadness.
He felt like he was drowning.
It was the sudden unavoidable knowledge that he would never turn seventeen, that he would never have another birthday party, that there would be no presents, no cards, no cake, no songs, no friends punching his arms in the time-honoured tradition of birthday beats… His upper arms had always been madly bruised the next day, a physical reminder of his friends celebrating him: the painful, stupid affection of teenage boys.
No, he was dead, and his friends had been the ones to kill him.
“It’s my birthday,” he managed before he began sobbing again.
It was his birthday, and there would be no special parcel delivered to the school from his mother (a parcel filled with treats and gifts, smelling like home and love) because his mother was now childless.
He’d used to wonder at stories about ghosts who were always crying or wailing, but it made sense now. It was fucking tragic, and there was nothing he could do…
“Oh Charles,” Edwin whispered, looking stricken.
And that made it even worse. Usually he was the one cheering Edwin up, and now he was upsetting him. Charles felt even more useless.
And yet he couldn’t stop the words spilling out:
“And I — I’ll never get any older, will I?” he choked out in between sobs. “I had plans. Like, proper plans, important plans. But my life is over, I won’t get to… anything.”
Edwin, not surprisingly, did not have an answer for any of this. He sat down in front of Charles, hands carefully resting in his lap, and went very quiet.
Charles didn’t want to tell Edwin any of the specifics — how his main plan had been to get his own place as soon as he could, not just for himself but for his mum too. He’d wanted to save her. And now she was left in that house with his dad and might never leave. And what if his dad turned on her instead? Charles didn't know what he would do if that happened. Didn't know what he could do.
He shivered again, feeling failure etched into his very being. Charles should be there to protect her, to take the blows when his dad got angry—
(Stop thinking about it, stop thinking about it, there’s nothing you can do. You failed the person you love the most, and you can never make it right.)
“Did you have birthday parties?” Charles asked abruptly because he had no idea what was going on in Edwin’s head and he didn’t like the silence. And he was suddenly worried that Edwin would start asking questions, that he would do some ‘detecting’ and uncover the ugly underbelly of Charles’ home life. (Don’t tell, never tell, hide the scars.)
Edwin focussed on him with that slightly affronted look that he always got on his face when Charles asked a particularly stupid question about life in the olden days. “Most assuredly we had birthday parties.”
Had birthday parties. God, everything was in the past tense. His own parties might as well be as distant as Edwin’s.
“It’s just… I’ll never have another birthday party, will I? ‘Cause I won’t get any older. So… what’s the point?”
Edwin tilted his head, all the gears in his head clearly working overtime. “If you would like to celebrate the day, there is no reason why we should not do so.”
Charles blinked, wondering if Edwin was taking the mickey, but that didn’t seem likely… “Wait, for reals?”
“Certainly. An amusing diversion would seem a good way to distract you from an occasion that is clearly causing you distress.”
Charles wasn’t entirely sure what this meant — there were many long words and his head was very fuzzy, but he nodded cautiously.
Edwin thought for a moment more then got to his feet. “Come with me.”
Wiping his eyes, Charles stood on unsteady legs, uncertain but intrigued. (He’d follow Edwin wherever he went. And surely anything was better than blubbering in self-pity in a cupboard.)
Edwin led them to the mirror and then asked Charles to close his eyes: “I do not wish to spoil the surprise.”
Excitement was now beginning to build. Charles nodded eagerly as he obeyed, and Edwin took his hand to draw Charles through the mirror. Mirror travel was new, and they were not very good at it. It was anyone’s guess where they would end up. Maybe Edwin was just going for a lucky dip.
“Ah, it worked,” he heard Edwin mutter to himself, pleased and with evident relief, before swiftly adding, “Don’t look!”
However Charles could still hear. And the sounds that were now filtering through were… intriguing.
A little later Edwin stopped and let go of Charles’ hand.
“You may open your eyes.”
Charles tried to open them slowly, but once he caught a peek of their surroundings he stared in amazement.
In front of them was a large, sweeping lawned area, brightly green, and a lake of bluest blue, all surrounded by trees, and beyond the lake a castle. In the sky he could see little cable cars gliding along, and through the treetops he could glimpse what could only be the curved crests of rollercoasters.
It felt like they had stepped into a children’s book, wonder hiding behind every vista. The plaza they were standing in was filled with families, excited children running ahead of their parents, trailing balloons, their arms filled with treats and toys, impatient and near feverish with anticipation.
“Wait. Is this—”
“Alton Towers?” Edwin supplied, rather smugly.
Charles blinked in astonishment, unable to speak, as Edwin cleared his throat, clearly feeling a little self-conscious in his quiet self-satisfaction.
“I… may have been working on improving my mirror travel skills, and you have mentioned this adventure park several times as a most exhilarating destination. I was saving it for some kind of special occasion, however a birthday seems eminently suitable and will hopefully prove sufficiently distracting.”
“Mate…” Charles barely managed, feeling like he had been punched but, you know, in a dizzying, joyful way. How had he found a friend like Edwin? Wait, Edwin had found him! He was the luckiest dead boy in the world!
They ended up going on every ride, exploring every venue: the teacups and the Grand Canyon rapids, the Corkscrew roller coaster and the aquarium, the pirate ship and the penny arcade, the model railway and the wildlife museum… And they didn’t have to worry about queues or money, simply letting curiosity lead the way. Edwin (Mr. Organised as always) had gotten hold of a map, careful to make sure that they didn’t miss anything.
Charles might have let his eyes linger over the food stalls and the restaurants in silent longing, and the rollercoasters didn’t hit quite the same when you only had a spectral body, but on the other hand he had a proper friend to enjoy it all with. And they couldn’t get hurt!
The skyride was a particular highlight — Charles decided that he wanted to try balancing on the wire itself, and they both ended up pretending to be circus artists walking the high-wire, only stopping when they heard a scream and realised that someone could see them. They laughed so hard that they had to float back down to the ground.
When it got dark and everything closed, they stole a torch and walked through the expansive gardens (actually a small, hilly forest), exploring the winding, magical paths that felt like something out of a fantasy land, discovering everything from beautiful conservatories to a pagoda.
It wasn’t just the best birthday, but maybe the best day that Charles had ever experienced.
When they finally left, he glanced at Edwin: “Next year Disneyland?”
Edwin hummed noncommittally. “Let’s see. I would not want to spoil the element of surprise by confirming anything early.”
Charles grinned, already excited and fully convinced that Edwin was the kindest and cleverest boy in the whole world. His seventeenth birthday became a bright, wonderful, unrivalled memory in his mind.
Ever since his birthday had been a high point. A guaranteed day of fun for himself and Edwin, and as the years went on, Edwin usually provided excellent presents as well. The numbers they were celebrating rose, but Charles didn’t really pay any attention to that.
The fun always pushed down the unvoiced emotions below: the loss, the unresolved pain of his death, the feelings of failure and inadequacy.
Charles saw no reason why this state of affairs shouldn’t continue forever.
HAPPY FIFTIETH
Charles’ fiftieth birthday began in Cheapside where he and Edwin were following clues for their current case. But as the Bow Bells began to ring out the twelve gongs of midnight, Edwin turned to Charles with a ready smile, holding out a glove-clad hand:
“Happy birthday, Charles! Many congratulations on the half century.”
Charles felt a happy jolt and took the proffered hand, grinning at the firm and very serious handshake.
Something warm washed over Charles under Edwin's steady gaze, and he thought, absurdly, that it was probably about the best handshake he'd ever had. Not that that was something it had ever occurred to him to keep track of before, but it was just nice, wasn't it? To have Edwin Payne reaching for him, looking at him in that particular way of his like Charles mattered so much.
So... yeah, best handshake, simple as.
For a second Charles half expected him to pull out a present too (Edwin was aces with presents, he knew) but then realised that it was probably back at the office, and he shook himself a bit to dispel his wandering thoughts. Edwin, whose eyes had gone soft, briefly brought his other hand up to enfold Charles' in both of his own and squeezed once more before letting go.
"Thanks, mate. Fifty, yeah..." Charles did his best not to let the big number intimidate him, his smile wavering.
At his words the corner of Edwin’s lips quirked a fraction. “Indeed. Quite the milestone for a young whippersnapper like you.”
Charles' smile returned, brighter than before. Edwin was of course the birthday planner extraordinaire, having an unbroken streak of success behind him, but Charles had pulled out all the stops when Edwin had turned one hundred, so he was expecting something extra. Something more than the usual festivities.
Yes, today was definitely going to be totally aces!
And Edwin did indeed look… secretive.
Besides which Charles had noticed how Edwin and Crystal had been spending a surprising amount of time together recently, whispering (rather than arguing) when he caught them alone.
“Let’s head back to the office,” Edwin declared.
“Already?” Charles asked, and Edwin inclined his head.
“It is your birthday. We will not be working today.” Butter wouldn’t melt, but Charles really did know Edwin, and his friend might as well have brandished a large sign saying: THERE WILL BE SHENANIGANS.
“Brills,” Charles replied, doing his best to keep a straight face, and followed Edwin to the nearest mirror.
He really did love Edwin a stupid amount. Was how really all that important?
PARTY TIME
When they returned to the office, Charles realised that Crystal and Edwin had been outright conspiring.
In their absence Crystal had gone all out with banners and balloons and decorations, and as they stepped out of the mirror, she practically flung herself at him.
“Happy birthday!” she exclaimed and hugged him tightly, beaming. God, he wished he could feel. Couldn’t the universe allow him to feel the living world just for a day? As a birthday treat? Or at least just Crystal? When he’d turned sixteen he’d kissed loads of girls: a profusion of fun, cheeky birthday kisses. But things were… complicated with Crystal. He didn’t want complicated, he wanted fun and carefree…
Above all, she was so alive. So brightly, vividly alive. He leaned into the hug, as if he could magically absorb her beating heart and her wide-open future.
It was… everything he had lost.
For a second he could feel something clutching at his chest before stomping down on it, hard. He knew the drill: focus on the fun — he'd be aces again soon enough.
“This is amazing,” he said once she’d let go of him and he could look around properly at the decorations.
‘50’ they all said. He had been dead more than twice as long as he’d been alive…
Somehow seeing it written out made it more real. (He once more felt something twist inside and firmly pushed it down.) Edwin didn’t usually do banners or… anything with the actual number on. Although Charles had written ‘100’ on everything for Edwin’s big day — so presumably Edwin had wanted to reciprocate in kind.
Then Crystal handed him a large badge that also said ‘50’ and insisted he attach it to his coat.
“I guess this means I’m officially old,” he tried joking as he pinned it on. (Tell the joke yourself first to take the sting out of it. He had learned that a long time ago.) “Like, what do they call them — boomers?”
Edwin smiled patiently. “You are not a Baby Boomer; that is the label for those born following the Second World War. You are Generation X. Crystal here is Generation Z.”
“Huh,” Charles replied, remembering hearing the term ‘Gen X’ but never realising it applied to himself. “What are you? Generation…” he tried to do some vague alphabetical maths backwards, which made his head hurt. “T?”
“I do not believe my generation had a label. It is quite a modern invention.”
They were interrupted by a ghost stepping through the mirror. Charles immediately recognised Emma, the little Victorian girl who had brought them Crystal's case, and Crystal lit up: “Emma, welcome. You’re the first one!”
Emma graciously inclined her head before handing Charles a present. “Many felicitations on the day. My brother had one of these, so I thought you might like it too. Do be careful — it’s delicate.”
Charles (curbing a smile at the tone) carefully tore off the paper and then very gently extracted the present from the box. It was a colourful Victorian metal automaton: a monkey pushing a frog on a swing by way of a clever handle. He experimentally pushed the monkey, and the frog began swaying back and forth.
“Oh that’s brills,” he laughed, and Emma looked suitably gratified.
He was distracted by another ghost appearing. And then another. And another. In no time at all the office was filling up with friends and acquaintances, and more kept coming — shopkeepers and sprites and previous clients and business connections and countless people met during cases who they’d kept in semi-contact with — a seemingly endless stream, all of them bringing some manner of gift or greeting: fun trinkets, games, enchanted toys or weapons, charms and blessings and magical artefacts as well as a heap of detective-related paraphernalia.
After a while Crystal yawned and excused herself, declaring that she needed sleep and it was already long past midnight. At Charles’ disappointed expression she reminded him that sleep was important for the living. And she’d be back in the morning.
Charles conceded the point even if the idea of just going unconscious every night now felt weird to him… Sleep was something he couldn’t really remember anymore. He didn’t like to dwell on it.
At around 2 a.m. the post man appeared, making everyone jump, and emptied a truly enormous pile of letters and presents onto the desk before handing over a card of his own.
“Happy birthday, lad. Glad to see you coming on so well,” he said and then left as abruptly as he’d arrived.
Charles blinked at the mound of post, unsure of where to start, but Edwin assured him that they could open it all later: it wouldn’t do to neglect their guests.
He nodded, relieved, and knew it would be nice to have something extra to look forward to once the excitement of the party was over.
And so throughout the night, while the world of the living slept, birthday guests came and went, and Charles was buzzing.
Thinking back to his seventeenth birthday, he remembered the misery of thinking that he’d never have another party. How wrong he’d been. And this was beyond anything he could have imagined back then. He had more friends, a bigger life, than he had ever thought possible.
Indeed, he had a proper place in the world. And not just any kind of place — he was a detective with years’ worth of success stories behind him. The visitors didn’t just wish him a happy birthday, they’d reminisce about cases solved and past achievements, his and Edwin’s work: good, important work. None of the guests would be here without that work.
They had helped so many over the years…
Here, now, his old life felt unreal, somehow. Distant and remote. Had he really been a schoolboy once, worrying about studying and grades and trying to cram himself into a shape that his so-called friends would accept? A shape that had in the end been unattainable, the penalty for failing to conform brutal and merciless.
Here, now, he was valued and celebrated for who he was and the work he did without a thought for anything else.
The realisation did strange things to his insides. It was an emotion that he wasn’t really sure he could classify, something too big to examine at this moment. Like everything else about turning fifty it’d simply have to wait…
Looking around at their office, their home for more than thirty years and currently filled to the brim with chattering guests, it hit Charles yet again that they got to keep this. That they couldn’t be split up anymore, that they got to stay. This was theirs, for good. Maybe that was the best present of all. (As for the Night Nurse… well, he was still working on that. She’d come round eventually.) The quiet terror that had lived at the back of his mind for what felt like forever was slowly melting away. No more running: they were safe.
He felt like he might explode or maybe combust from happiness.
“Mate,” he said, catching hold of Edwin. “This is crazy! How did you manage… all this? Must have taken you forever to plan and organise!”
Edwin hummed, clearly gratified. “I certainly kept the postman busy.”
But Charles could tell how pleased Edwin was that the party was a success, and Charles felt that flash of warmth wash over him again. Edwin cared so much. Cared enough to invite all these people into their home, to voluntarily spend hours being sociable.
Charles was about to speak, needing to say… something, but then he was dragged away for some kind of dance that he was required to join in with and simply waved his gratitude at Edwin as the instructions began. His friend took up a spot carefully removed from the main proceedings and observed the ensuing antics with deep amusement.
Best birthday.
Eventually — at around seven in the morning — the number of visitors tapered off until they were finally all alone, just the two of them. Edwin’s relief was evident as he began clearing up after the invasion, and he shot Charles a swift, happy smile as he crammed yet another bundle of wrapping paper into their bin. Bright morning sunshine illuminated the office, and it felt like the day ahead was filled with endless possibilities.
Discovering a cushion in a corner, Edwin frowned at it and then held it out expectantly. Charles, who had instinctively moved to Edwin’s side, dutifully accepted the cushion before laughing at the absurdity and tossing it onto the couch to join all the others. (Crystal had forced them to get more, complaining at length that the couch was hard as a rock and didn’t have a back.)
Folding his arms, he shot Edwin a ‘seriously?’ look, earning him an arch expression that mellowed into fondness as Charles held his eyes. The moment stretched languorously, the distant sounds of early commuters filtering up from the street below and dust motes drifting through the shafts of sunlight. It was... peaceful. Charles felt the quiet settle over them, content in their little bubble. This was home. Him and Edwin, their past filled with adventures and their future stretching out in front of them, endless and unknown, except he knew that it included both of them, together.
Once more Charles felt that strange, intangible something between them: the empty space wherein resided Edwin’s confession and Charles’ lack of a response. Charles kept worrying at it in random moments, restless and uncertain…
Edwin had been so desperately earnest when professing his feelings, and Charles wanted — Edwin deserved — that same surety: a conviction so compelling that not even the horrors of Hell could delay the need for a declaration.
Unfortunately emotions were weird and slippery bastards, the distinction between ‘love’ and ‘in love’ as opaque as ever. But it was okay — they had forever. No need to tie himself in knots right now. He could simply appreciate being here with Edwin.
Although… he needed to thank Edwin properly for the party. The past seven hours had been mad brilliant. He remembered doing the same for Edwin’s 100th — contacting anyone and everyone that he could think of to come celebrate his friend — except back then they’d only been in business for ten years. Now, all these years later, their circle was so much wider, and the party had been so much bigger.
“Edwin–” he began, but then Crystal walked back through the door, a coffee in one hand and two small gift bags clutched in the other. Charles hesitated, but Edwin signalled ‘don’t worry, save it for later’, and Charles nodded his understanding.
As Crystal hung up her coat, Charles saw that she was dressed in something fancy (he didn’t know much about modern fashion, but he could tell that much), and his phantom heart skipped a beat. No one had dressed up for his birthday since he’d died. This was amazing!
“Happy birthday again,” she said and handed over the bags, stifling a yawn.
Noting the glint in her eyes, Charles wondered what was next and sat down on their little couch to unwrap the new haul.
It swiftly became evident that Edwin and Crystal had collaborated on the presents as well as all the decorations.
There was a device called a ‘Sony Walkman’ although it looked like no Walkman that Charles had ever seen, being a black rectangle about the size of his hand. But apparently it had music on it, and Crystal said she’d show him how it worked.
However he forgot all about music when he opened the second present: it was a framed photo of Buffy, which he stared at, flabbergasted. Because it wasn’t just a photo, it was signed. The signature read ‘Happy Birthday, Charles, Sarah Michelle Gellar xoxo’.
“Is this… real?” he asked as he finally looked up, staring from Edwin to Crystal.
“Oh, it’s real,” Crystal smirked. “Figured my parents’ money can be put to good use now and again.”
“You are not creating a shrine,” was Edwin’s only comment, his eyebrows severe and judgmental. Off Crystal’s look he added: “As I told you, he had quite the pash on ‘Buffy’ back in the day.”
“Buffy is the most perfect girl in the world,” Charles stated definitively. “No competition.”
A beat, then he looked up and added, with a wink and his most charming smile: “Sorry Crystal, nothing personal!”
“You must understand, Crystal,” Edwin carried on as Crystal cheerfully made a rude gesture at Charles, “that he is speaking with perfect sincerity. There have been… a few girls over the years, but the only one I think he would ever have left me for is Buffy. Who is thankfully fictional.”
Paying no mind to Edwin’s familiar grousing, Charles blithely carried on: “She died at sixteen, so she’d be able to see me. We could totally have made it work. Or y’know — if Xander hadn’t resuscitated her she’d have been a ghost too… Sixteen forever, like us.”
“Fictional,” Edwin repeated, and Charles didn’t need to look up at him to know the long-suffering look on his face. “She is fictional.”
Expertly continuing to ignore Edwin as he contemplated the photo, Charles thought that, if not a shrine, then at least a prominent position in the office. Buffy was not going in the backpack. Buffy was special. Most supernatural heroes were grim and male and full of anger or revenge. But Buffy was someone his own age, someone with a good mission, always ready with a quip and a right hook or a deadly blow. She had fun with it. Reverently he stroked the frame. (The photo was signed. That was insane.) Maybe he could start with a prominent position somewhere in the office, then add bits and pieces over time. He definitely had a stake somewhere…
Once he’d recovered from the photo, Crystal tried to teach him how the-Walkman-that-was-not-a-Walkman worked.
“I’m an old man — this is fiddly!” he complained. Crystal glared and said that he’d better not start making ‘old man’ jokes from now on and that if he could navigate an infinite pocket dimension, he could navigate this. Charles supposed she had a point even if he didn’t feel particularly confident after fifteen minutes’ patient (or not so patient) tutorial involving strange concepts such as Spotify and ‘creating playlists’.
“So like… mixtapes?”
Crystal looked at him blankly. “What’s a mixtape?”
“Now I feel old.”
She rolled her eyes so hard he could almost hear it. “Oh, shut up! I know what a mixtape is.”
However, in theory he had endless music at his fingertips, and that was the main thing.
Although he couldn’t help but wonder if there would be a present from only Edwin. Something… special. Or rather (because everything had been special and amazing so far) something Edwin-y and personal.
But there was plenty of time, and right now… music!
Unfortunately, just as they had finished creating a ‘playlist’ of Madness’ entire back catalogue, the Night Nurse showed up, smiling her perfectly insincere smile.
“Charles, I have been informed that today is your fiftieth birthday. It seems unnatural to celebrate the day of your birth since you are dead and have been for a long time, but apparently I need to wish you many happy returns of the day.”
She held out her hand, and Charles took it out of sheer habit. The handshake was short and brisk and business-like and weirdly disappointing. He’d had countless handshakes from all of their guests through the night, and this one was definitely subpar. (Edwin’s had obviously been the best. What could he say? Edwin set the bar high, as he tended to do.)
“Now, let’s get on with today’s work. Do you have a report from your excursion to Cheapside?”
At which point Edwin stepped forwards and declared that, since it was Charles’ birthday, they would be taking the day off.
“The whole day?” the Night Nurse asked, incredulous. “You have clearly already had a… celebration,” she indicated the decorations and the piles of presents as well as the unopened post and the small mountain of wrapping paper crammed into their bin. “What more could you possibly need?”
Edwin stood up even straighter. “I have prepared an itinerary.”
He handed over a list as Charles boggled at the care that had gone into this. But of course that was Edwin all over.
“We do not wish to spoil all the surprises for Charles, but we have planned a day of intellectual and cultural stimulation starting with Tate Modern.”
Charles’ eyes grew huge, and he had to stop a silly grin spreading across his face. Instead he quickly adopted a sombre expression, agreeing that, since he was now half a century old, this was a very suitable surprise birthday outing and he would definitely appreciate some serious modern art.
The Night Nurse (quite rightly) suspected that they were up to some kind of mischief, causing Crystal to speak up, eyebrow raised and using that deadpan voice she excelled at:
“You probably aren’t aware of this what with spending, like, centuries or whatever in the Lost and Found Department, but Yayoi Kusama is a very highly regarded artist. In this installation we are going to visit, she has created a space where the viewer becomes part of the phenomenological environment, experiencing endlessly multiplied forms, apprehending the object from various positions and under varying conditions of light and spatial context.”
She smiled politely with a perfect edge of bitchiness. “Unless you object to the boys exploring that kind of visual vocabulary? You are welcome to join us if you think we need a chaperone.”
The Night Nurse appeared to be struck mute before clearing her throat and saying that they’d all better be ready for work tomorrow at 8 a.m. sharp.
Once she’d left, both Charles and Edwin turned to Crystal, awed.
“Don’t start,” she said, holding up a hand. “I can do that in my sleep. I did pick up some things from my upbringing.”
“I still wish to commend you on your swift thinking and expertise,” Edwin said magnanimously, and Charles leaned back, regarding his best friend.
“I get it. My present from you is that you’re going to get along with Crystal all day.”
Edwin shot him a long look before humming vaguely. “That remains to be seen.”
“What, because it's your birthday the rest of us can't have any fun?” Crystal shot back, and Charles burst out laughing.
PHENOMENOLOGICAL EXPERIENCES
Since Crystal was with them, they had to get the Tube to Tate Modern, and Charles was almost bouncing by the time they arrived, grinning from ear to ear.
Crystal was less enthused and still whinging about modern art even as Edwin and Charles did their best to explain that this was different. They had been regular visitors ever since the exhibition opened two years ago and were dreading its departure in a year's time. At least the new location would only be a mirror away…
They had always loved mirror halls, and such venues had been great training grounds in the early days, starting at London fairgrounds and then going to the seaside once they were better at travelling further afield.
The Infinity Mirror Rooms were both breathlessly beautiful and a perfect playground for ghosts. Charles was not the best at mirror hopping, but here — skipping from one mirror to the next as if jumping between galaxies and constellations — it was less a question of concentration than exhilaration.
“Isn’t it brills?” he exclaimed, having executed a particularly showy flourish on a landing, and Crystal was forced to agree, stifling a chuckle. Charles preened.
“Fine. You have found one good modern art installation,” she conceded. “Although it’s much better with you two jumping around like freaks. Otherwise it’s way too… highfalutin’.”
“You,” Charles declared, “have been spending too much time with Edwin. But it was clearly worth it, even if your vocabulary has suffered…”
In response she socked him on the shoulder before grumbling that her stay was already over (visitors were carefully timed).
Considering that they had basically just arrived, Charles felt a little put out. Usually he and Edwin came at night and spent hours playing around. And it had been fun to show off for Crystal.
Edwin, having noticed that something was amiss, joined them, protesting that he hadn’t realised the tickets were for such a short amount of time. Why hadn’t Crystal said something back when they were planning the day?
Crystal shushed him with a glare and said it was fine. She hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep the night before, and her breakfast had been a single cup of coffee — she would be going to the café for something to eat and maybe a short nap.
Edwin shot a quick glance at Charles before forcing a polite smile and saying that of course that sounded like an excellent plan. He only wished she had mentioned this sooner.
“Look mate,” Charles tried once Crystal had left. “I don’t want you two to fall out-”
“Do not worry yourself,” Edwin cut him off decisively. “I should have checked with Crystal regarding the rules for the living. Please ignore our minor spat — this is your day. We will endeavour to do better.”
Looking for something to do now his audience was gone, Charles decided to try dancing through the mirrors — copying the steps he had learned that night — and it proved incredibly tricky and challenging. The mirror maze was a dizzying, dazzling place to disappear into, the reflections echoing out into infinity and colourful mirages replicating endlessly, so he kept getting turned around and losing his place.
Edwin took one long look at his exploits and decided to do his own thing.
“Aw, come on, mate,” Charles called out after him. “Dancing is fun!” (He knew a lost cause when he saw one, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t push the matter.)
“If you’d consider a simple waltz, I might be more amenable to your proposition,” Edwin announced over his shoulder, leaving Charles somewhat dumbfounded. Dancing with Edwin? Here? The idea sent his mind spinning. Although… not now. There were too many of the living all over the place. But at night, when it was quiet? He tucked the thought away for later.
Unfortunately their ‘frolicks’ (as Edwin termed them) were curtailed after another twenty minutes by a sudden, piercing scream. Charles froze in the middle of a fancy two-step before spinning on the spot to see Edwin disappearing backwards through a mirror.
A fraction of a second later, Edwin stumbled out of the mirror next to Charles and practically collided with him.
Looking around, Charles spotted an agitated woman babbling about seeing a Victorian boy emerging out of the kaleidoscopic depths. Was this part of the exhibit? Because then there needed to be warnings! Absolutely shocking, she was going to get her money back and no mistake! Bloody modern art, a load of rubbish the lot of it!
Fighting giggles, Charles grabbed hold of Edwin’s swaying form and manhandled him through the mirror in front of them, paying no attention to the destination whatsoever. They ended up in the homewares aisle of a supermarket and allowed their mirth to flow freely, leaning on each other for support.
“Remember Alton Towers?” Charles asked, wiping his eyes with one hand (the other still around Edwin), and Edwin nodded.
“Most certainly,” Edwin replied with a chuckle. “It is an unfortunate, if entertaining, side effect of visiting in the daytime.”
His face was lit up in amusement and his eyes dancing. It was a wonderful look and Charles wanted to keep it there forever. Wanted to keep Edwin right there forever, tucked into his side.
“Maybe we should haunt more art exhibitions?” Charles suggested — anything to encourage Edwin’s impish impulses.
The impishness vanished and Edwin shot him a severe look as he extricated himself from Charles’ supportive grip. “Charles. Art galleries do not need any more ghost stories about ‘Victorian children’.”
Charles pouted, feeling a totally normal amount of bereft at the sudden lack of contact.
“Course they do!” he argued straight back. “And hey, we could ask Emma to come with us, couldn’t we? I’m sure she’d love to freak people out.”
Edwin didn’t look convinced, so Charles tried to look as pleading as he could, reaching out to fix Edwin’s collar which was in a bit of disarray: “Go on, why not? Like… maybe next year?”
And yeah, he had Edwin’s number alright because Edwin went oddly quiet then pretend-grumbled before promising to consider it.
Grinning, Charles let Edwin find the way back to Tate Modern so they could fetch Crystal. He loved his birthday! Edwin was like putty in his hands.
BEST IN THE BUSINESS
Tate Modern was followed by something called an ‘escape room’.
Crystal had found a place where the owner — a thirty-something bloke by the name of Ryan sporting a beard, a man bun, and multiple tattoos — could see ghosts.
But as Ryan read out the rules, Charles couldn’t help but chuckle. “You’re gonna lock the door? You know we can walk through walls, right?”
This earned him a frown from Edwin, who quickly assured Ryan that they would follow the rules most faithfully.
“Course,” Charles agreed. “I was just sayin’…”
“The point of this exercise is the detective work,” Edwin stated decisively, his hands underlining his words with a flourish. “A diverting conundrum to test our skills and deductive powers.”
“Well, when you put it like that… Let’s get started!” Charles replied, suddenly eager.
Crystal smirked, clearly pleased with herself. “Knew you’d be a big enough nerd to want to work on your day off,” she observed.
Charles opened his mouth but caught a warning glance from Edwin. After which he honestly tried to pay attention to the rest of the instructions, but Crystal’s words had hit something.
No ghost ‘worked’. Ghosts didn’t have any physical needs compelling them to do… anything, really. Of course some ghosts were stuck in some way, trapped by a trauma or their unresolved issues, unmoving, usually tied to a specific place. But that was a completely separate issue. The way Edwin had explained it to him, ghosts who stayed out of choice — like himself and Edwin — usually had ‘unfinished’ work: they found a purpose that tied them to Earth and to a great extent became that purpose. Charles was a Dead Boy Detective: what he was and who he was almost one and the same…
He had to snap out of his thoughts when Crystal elbowed him.
Ryan had stopped talking, and Charles realised he had heard precisely none of the instructions (that was fine — Edwin would remember them). Then they were let into the room, and Charles shook off his musings to concentrate on solving the mysteries.
Edwin hadn’t allowed Charles to bring his backpack, which hampered them somewhat, but Edwin was a wiz with ciphers, Charles always enjoyed puzzles, and even Crystal got caught up, getting several of the more modern clues that stumped the boys.
“That was aces!” Charles exclaimed when they had finished. “It’s a bit like Cluedo, innit, but in a whole room and with puzzles… Can we do another one?”
Edwin was also brimming with satisfaction. “I am gratified that it was as enjoyable as advertised. Crystal, I must commend you on your suggestion.”
Crystal mouthed a silent ‘told you so’, and Charles hoped this meant peace was properly restored.
“However,” Edwin continued, “I am not sure if another room is available — I believe they were fully booked.”
At that moment Ryan came to let them out, exclaiming over how quick they’d been. Apparently they'd beaten all previous records at this location, which had Edwin bestowing his smuggest smile on the proprietor.
“We are the Dead Boy Detectives: we do have thirty-three years’ experience…”
“Wait, so… how does that work…” Ryan asked, clearly a little taken aback.
“We set up the agency in 1990,” Edwin replied with the clear implication that he didn’t think the man capable of doing such a simple sum. Charles had to fight to stop himself laughing.
“Blimey,” Ryan replied, missing the insult. “I was… four years old then.”
The numbers struck Charles anew. They really had been detectives for a long time…
“Now, we were wondering if it would be possible to solve another room?” Edwin asked. “We still have ample time before our next appointment, but we do not wish to impose if it would be too inconvenient for you. I believe Crystal would be happy to take care of any additional fees.”
Ryan seemed to hesitate but then glanced at Charles, eyes lingering on the ‘50’ badge for a long moment. “Well, seeing as it’s a birthday party, we might have another room — presuming you’d be as quick about it as you were with this one.”
“I see no reason why not,” Edwin replied, self-assured as always. “And we would be happy to aid you in restoring the rooms to their original condition since we are putting you out.”
An agreement was made although Crystal needed to use the bathroom before they could start on the second room.
As Edwin and Charles strolled through the wall from the freshly reset first room to the waiting area, Edwin leaned towards Charles confidentially, speaking in a low voice.
“I understand that there are numerous establishments like this all over London — and indeed the rest of the country and abroad. My thought was that when we have some time off, we could solve more rooms — at night of course. I volunteered for us to help with the resetting in part so we may know how to leave behind as few signs as possible.”
Charles nodded enthusiastically. This wasn’t just a one-off: it was a present that would keep giving! He aimed his brightest smile at Edwin and made a point of saying what a brilliant idea this was. Edwin’s gratified answering smile didn’t just light up his face but also seemed to somehow brighten the whole of the dull waiting area. Charles, feeling oddly self-conscious, did his best not to let his eyes linger on Edwin’s lips.
Charles had always been aware that Edwin was fit (he wasn’t blind, was he?), but lately something had changed. If Charles was honest, the whole thing was becoming a bit of a problem. How was he ever supposed to figure out if he was in love with Edwin if he kept thinking about kissing him? And sometimes, like now, an annoying, unhelpful little voice in the back of his head (fed up at the inaction and introspection) would start taunting him: do it, just do it.
The thing was that kissing Edwin would imply... so much more than Charles was able to vouch for.
LITTLE ELECTRONIC BLOCKS AND OTHER DISTRACTIONS
Having solved the second room, they wandered back up along the river, ending up at Borough Market and heading straight for a venue named ‘Plonk’ — a fab place located in the arches underneath London Bridge and Borough High Street and colourfully decorated by street artists. It had all manner of great entertainment: pool tables and arcades, crazy golf and ping pong, foosball and pinball. In short, everything a teenage boy could want.
Charles and Edwin often visited under cover of night when they wanted some fun, and it was strange to show up during the day when the living would be around. Charles wasn’t exactly sure how that would work, if he was honest.
“So,” Crystal announced. “This is where we’re spending the afternoon. I’ve hired the place until six o’clock.”
“You… hired it?” Charles asked, dumbfounded.
“It’s the kinda stupid shit rich kids like me do,” she shrugged. “It’s not that expensive.”
Charles blinked. To have the run of the venue for hours in the daytime was insane!
“Crystal. I don’t know what to say,” he tried because this was all… a lot.
“Hey, you’re my best friend,” she replied, laying a hand on his arm. “You deserve it.”
There was something going on, unspoken, below the surface of those words. Something stretching all the way back to a forest in Port Townsend, maybe. Although ‘best friend’... did that mean just friends? She’d made no further moves to kiss him or… anything else, and she was most definitely his best friend (after Edwin) so… that all tracked right? Right? God, it was confusing. At least Edwin had just straight-up told him how he felt.
And now he was getting stuck in his head again…
“Thank you,” he managed, and she smiled at him: that beautiful, radiant Crystal smile. He found himself smiling back, happiness blossoming in his chest. He had two amazing best friends, and he was spending the best birthday ever with them. Yeah, he was a lucky boy alright.
There was a large sign on the door saying ‘Private Function’, but when Crystal knocked loudly, an official-looking woman turned up to let them in.
“Hi, you must be Crystal?” she said, holding open the door. “Welcome. I presume the birthday boy and the rest of the guests will be along shortly?”
And shut the door in Charles’ face.
For a second he just stood there.
He knew this was how the world worked. He knew it. And yet it hurt all over again. Wanted to slam open the door and yell that he was the goddamn birthday boy! Wanted to–
“Charles?”
He felt Edwin’s hand on his arm and blinked. “Huh?”
“Are you… quite alright?”
Charles quickly plastered a grin on his face because being upset about a closed door was… nope, not going there.
“Course. Guess I thought it might be another case like Ryan, so it just took me by surprise?”
To his relief Edwin looked mollified, but before they could walk through the door, Crystal opened it again.
“Hey, why are you still out here? I got rid of… I don’t even remember her name. Come in!”
Looking around, it was clear that Crystal had paid extra as the whole place was festively decorated and there was another banner declaring ‘Happy 50th Charles!’ Charles felt that strange clutching inside once again and quickly shook himself to dispel the sensation.
“Okay, so we? Are having a crazy golf tournament,” he declared decisively, tearing his eyes away from the banner. After a second he became aware that he was clenching his jaw and fought to get his smile back. (Birthday. Two best friends. Lucky.)
Edwin had by now pulled out his notebook before pausing, uncertain.
“I… am not sure of how to add Crystal to our ongoing tally…”
He caught Charles’ eyes, and Charles realised the problem. Their crazy golf tally went back to their earliest days, before the agency even, and figuring out how to add a third player made his brain glitch.
Crystal looked from one to the other before sighing. “Right, while you sort that out, I am having some lunch.” She indicated the minor feast that had been set out, and Edwin’s attention shifted, his eyebrows drawing together.
“But you had breakfast only a few hours ago.”
Crystal glared: “I had a single croissant three hours ago, after which we walked all the way up and down the South Bank and solved two escape rooms. I’m hungry.”
For a moment there was a silent battle of wills, Edwin raising a single prissy eyebrow.
“I apologise. It must be very inconvenient having to constantly re-fuel.”
Crystal shook her head, clearly impressed: “I can’t believe you can make even an apology sound like an insult.”
Grinning his most disarming smile and feeling back on firmer ground, Charles slung an arm around Edwin’s neck and winked at her.
“He’s super talented like that.”
Crystal’s feigned annoyance segued into a chuckle, and she went off to get her lunch.
Untangling himself from Edwin, Charles eyed the spread on the table and felt another pang inside. He couldn’t really remember what food tasted like anymore either, or what it felt like to be hungry. Or full…
Resolutely turning away from the food, he met Edwin’s eyes: “Tetris?”
“Tetris,” Edwin confirmed with a smile and a nod.
Charles knew that the owners and regular patrons had spent a considerable amount of time wondering whose score was at the top of that particular scoreboard since no one had ever taken credit. So far no one had guessed that it was a teenage ghost…
Parking himself on a stool and draping himself over the console next to Edwin’s, Charles found himself simply getting lost in watching his friend.
There was something too delicious for words in seeing Edwin, the perfect young Edwardian gentleman in his smart and snazzy outfit, swearing at an arcade game with tinny 80s sound effects, garish colours playing across his handsome features as his hands moved elegantly over the controls.
“Blasted thing!” Edwin exclaimed as he messed up somewhere, and Charles smiled. He loved it when Edwin’s eyes got all cloudy with concentration, as invested as he’d be with a complicated spell or a thorny bit of translating.
He remembered first introducing Edwin to arcade games — back when arcade games had been commonplace and not rare ‘retro’ entertainment — and how his new friend had scoffed at such foolish modern frippery before succumbing to the allure of a tricky, technical thing to gain mastery over. It had helped enormously back in those early days when Edwin had needed something, anything, to take his mind off Hell.
They had come so far since then…
“Charles!”
He started, almost falling off his chair and half-phasing through the console he was resting on.
“What?”
Crystal was standing next to him, eyebrow raised in that way he knew meant ‘what the fuck is going on?’
“You okay?” she asked. “You looked…” she hesitated, “properly zoned out. Do I need to do a reading on this place?”
Charles stared at her, bewildered. “What are you on about? I was just watching Edwin play Tetris.”
“You sure?” Crystal folded her arms, accusation in her eyes as she turned on Edwin. “I understand getting caught up in a game, but you had Mr. Attention Deficit here in a trance. I’ve been standing here for at least two minutes — I had to yell to get his attention.”
Edwin looked as baffled as Charles felt, the game abandoned and his score in ruins.
“Crystal I can assure you…” his voice drifted off, eyes darting from Crystal to Charles, hands tightly clasped together in a clear sign of agitation.
But his attention lingered on Charles, studying him with peculiar intensity.
For a long moment they all three just stood there in a strange sense of suspension, no one moving.
“Right,” Crystal nodded, eyes narrowing like she was back in the escape room solving some obscure clue. “So that’s how it is. Gotcha. Don’t suppose you’re ready to talk about it?”
“Talk about what?” Charles asked, feeling utterly lost.
Crystal opened her mouth — then took a step back, holding up her hands.
“Actually you know what? Not my circus, not my monkeys. You do you.” She smiled, eyes bright and shrewd and full of some kind of understanding that Charles couldn’t parse. “So, crazy golf?”
Turning on her heel, she left Charles and Edwin staring at each other.
“What… was that?” Charles asked, and Edwin (hands still clasped together) attempted a wan smile.
“I am sure I don’t know. Crystal continues to be an enigma, I’m afraid.”
Charles scratched his head, deeply weirded out and unsure how to address any of it. “Fair nuff. Guess we’d better…” he said, hitching a thumb in the direction of the crazy golf.
Edwin visibly pulled himself together, regaining his lost equilibrium.
“Indeed. I think… I think I will simply start a new tally.”
“Good call,” Charles agreed, patting Edwin’s shoulder and allowing his hand to linger for a moment as he looked at the Tetris game, now back to the starting screen. “Sorry about losing your score.”
Edwin shook his head. “Not to worry. There will be other nights.”
There would. It made Charles unaccountably happy.
IT'S JUST THE SAME OLD SHOW ON MY RADIO
When they eventually left Plonk, Charles was practically bouncing still. Best birthday ever. And who’d have thought Crystal was so good at pool?
“What’s next?”
Edwin and Crystal exchanged a look, and Edwin brought out an envelope.
“Now this is technically Crystal’s since you and I won’t need one, but… this is the final item on the itinerary. Maybe even the main one?”
Frowning, Charles opened the envelope and then stared at the contents in shock.
“Wait-”
It was a concert ticket. For that night. For The Selecter.
“No. Way!”
“I believe this was the first band that you took me to see,” Edwin added. “Back in… ’92? Crystal did a lot of research on her ‘internet’, but this name jumped out at me. And of course the date was perfect.”
Crystal, smirking, was giving Edwin a run for his money in the smugness department. It was… Okay, Charles could admit that he might just have a type. “Let’s say it’s not easy to find original ska bands who are still together. But I did it: these guys are performing tonight!”
“That’s… insane,” Charles said. “I — I don’t know what to say. We’re going to a proper ska gig? For reals? Right now?”
“Happy birthday, old man,” Crystal said. “You only turn fifty once, so we wanted to make it memorable.”
Charles simply hugged her, too grateful to find words, but also… fifty. Fuck. (He pushed the thought down.) The important thing right now was introducing Crystal to ska! This was going to be epic.
Edwin got a hug too, and Charles might have held on a little longer than necessary, chasing those butterflies that hugging Edwin always gave him. Birthday hug, he told himself. Like an extra little gift. And he yet again wondered if there would be a present that was just from Edwin. He’d obviously had a hand in everything, but none of them were… Edwin.
They jumped on the Tube again, heading back north across the river, and Charles was vibrating with anticipation.
The gig was at The Roundhouse, but when they arrived he barely noticed their surroundings, simply grabbing Edwin's hand and phasing through the wall, happily leaving Crystal to queue on her own. “See you in there!” he called over his shoulder, too excited to hang around.
It had been ages and ages since he’d been to a ska gig. It was one of those things about being dead… You lost touch with the living world, with the people who knew what new bands were playing or where the ‘happening’ places were. And work came first of course. All of which to say there was an extra spring in Charles’ step as he made a beeline for his final present. Best birthday ever!
However when they entered the performance space, Charles’ steps faltered.
In his head, ska was… young people music. Teens, twenty-somethings. Top of the Pops crowds. Youngsters who looked like him, dressed like him. A specific tribe dedicated to a scene and a look.
But around him were... middle-aged men (grey hair, beer bellies, salt-and-pepper beards and inadvisable pony tails), and in place of defiant-looking girls in pencil skirts were motherly women in jeans and t-shirts.
He felt like he couldn’t breathe.
(Fifty, all the banners had said. Fifty. Half a century. He was old.)
Almost desperately scanning the crowd, his eyes lit upon a couple of teenagers dressed like proper 2 Tone Ska fans. But just as he felt the iron band that had clamped itself across his chest loosen a little, he realised that they were waving:
“Dad! Dad, over here!”
He watched as yet another middle-aged bloke made his way across the crowded floor.
“There you are. Dave and his kids are on the way; they’ll be here any minute. Gotta say you look aces, like we would say back in the day. Can’t believe my old coat is still in one piece — looks great on you, son…”
It felt like the Night Nurse snapping her fingers and dragging him under water: he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t move, all he could feel was the cold—
He barely noticed Edwin tugging on his arm and speaking words that didn’t register.
Shaking himself free he did the only thing he could think of — he needed to leave, to get out of there.
Making a straight line through the crowd and the nearest wall, he ended up in what appeared to be a bar.
Trying to calm down, resting his hands on the bar top and taking deep breaths (only dimly aware of Edwin appearing next to him), it took him a moment to realise that the bartender’s angry shouts (an unheeded background noise like everything else) were directed at him.
“Hey, kid. How the hell did you get in? This is adults only! Get out.”
At the words Charles felt something snap inside. Sudden fury flared up, and he braced his hands on the counter, glaring at the bartender with such intensity that the man took an involuntary step backwards.
“I am. Fifty. Years. Old!”
Recovering his poise, the bartender sneered back:
“Hilarious. Take your little boyfriend and fuck off to whatever cosplay convention you escaped from. Now. Or we’ll have to find your parents to come and get you.”
Charles’ features hardened, and he began walking through the bar.
“I am. Fifty. Years. Old. And my outfit is timeless!”
“Charles. Come.” Edwin said, grasping his hand even as he glanced at the bartender: “Mind how you speak to ghosts.”
The bartender spluttered, looking from Charles half-embedded in the bar to Edwin’s calm and disparaging features.
“Look, how was I supposed to know? Ghosts are usually older-”
“Children get murdered too,” Edwin cut him off coldly and pulled Charles after him through the wall.
They ended up in a quiet corridor and — still holding Charles’ hand — Edwin looked at him carefully, gently. So very gently.
“Charles. What… happened?”
Charles closed his eyes and shook his head, fighting a shiver that seemed to run through his whole body.
“I can’t—”
Taking a shaky breath, he tried to fight the tears that were burning in his eyes. He felt… sad and pathetic and young. (He was fifty. It made no sense.)
Desperate and lost, he grabbed hold of Edwin’s coat and buried himself in his friend’s neck. Edwin didn’t care that he was pathetic. He’d been pathetic when they’d met, and Edwin still liked him. He didn’t have to pretend with Edwin. Edwin even thought he was a good person, loved him despite everything. Went out of his way every year to help Charles past this fucking day. Except now that wasn’t working either, apparently.
He shivered again, harder. Felt Edwin’s arms hesitatingly encircle him and never wanted to move again.
“Charles,” Edwin said softly. “We can’t stay here. Crystal will be fretting.”
Fuck… Crystal. Charles didn’t want to see the disappointment on her face. The gig had been such an inspired present, and now he was just… screwing up the end of a brilliant day. He stifled a sob at the mess of it all. Crystal deserved friends her own age, not sixteen-year old ghosts turning fifty with anger issues and unexpected freak-outs.
“Can we go home? Just — just you and me?” he eventually managed.
“Of course,” Edwin said, still so very gentle. “But you need to let go, or we can’t mirror hop.”
Charles nodded, unfurling his hands, and let Edwin lead him further down the corridor to the gents where there was an adequate mirror.
Back in the office, Edwin settled Charles on the couch, wrapping a blanket around him as he continued to shiver, before taking Charles' hands.
“Charles. I need to talk to Crystal. I'll be right back. I promise.”
Charles nodded again, still not moving.
He wanted to do nothing except curl up and hide away.
