This is a work of fiction any resemblance to anyone alive or dead is unintentional.

“I’m just an old fashioned girl…” goes the song made famous by Earth Kitt, and at least the first line could describe me. When the others were out on the town, I would usually be found writing to my mother or reading or doing the Guardian crossword. It was an avoidance of socialising I suppose, but I still had stuff to deal with.

One of these was the inquest into Lisa’s death, where I was asked to give a statement by the coroner. I stayed to listen to the medical evidence, it was horrifying. She had multiple injuries including a ruptured spleen, multiple fractures of the spine, both legs and several ribs. There was damage to her liver as well. In short, she could not have survived her injuries even if a crash team had been standing by and even if, by some miracle, she had, she would have been paralysed from above the waist.

I felt some relief that I had truly done all I could and I was pleased she had died so peacefully given the horror of her injuries. Her mother also died and her father was still in hospital. It was a dreadful situation caused by someone talking on a mobile phone while driving despite this being against the law and common sense. A verdict of unlawful killing was made by the coroner and the young man involved would be prosecuted for double manslaughter. I left wondering what had been so important it was worth two people’s lives and severe injuries to a third.

We found out where Lisa and her mum had been buried and went to the cemetery to lay some flowers on the grave. As I put my bouquet down I saw myself at the accident scene and heard Lisa telling me I was too pretty to be a soldier, and how she wanted to be a nurse.

Then I felt her around me and she was smiling. For a moment time seemed to stop and I went very cold. In front of me stood Lisa and her mother, they both thanked me for my help and I distinctly heard her voice again, ”I want to be a pretty nurse like you.” It sounded as if she was stood alongside me saying it, and I could see her. I could almost have reached out and touched her, except I was frozen to the spot. “Then I heard her say, “Look, Mummy, Jamie’s brought us such lovely flowers. She is so kind.”

I stood trembling watching my two spectral visitors, aware of the warmth of the tears running down my face, when a touch on my arm made me jump. “Jamie, are you alright?” It was Sheila Brice.

I shook myself and dabbed my eyes. “Are you okay, you look very pale and were shaking?”

“Didn’t you see them?” I asked.

“See who?”

“Lisa and her mother, they were here, she spoke to me. She thanked us for our help and for the flowers, so did her mother.”

“No I’m sorry I didn’t see or hear anything, but it did seem to go colder for a few minutes. Ooh, that’s spooky. Have you seen anything like this before? Are you psychic?”

“My nan was but she died a couple of years ago, and we had a special bond, we seemed to know things about the other without anyone telling us. She knew there was something different about me, she used to say I was something special, like having a grandson and granddaughter in one. She used to do things like teach me to knit and I was the only boy in my class who could do cross-stitch.”

I thought of my grandmother and felt a warmth around me. “She used to see things, and said there was a tradition of the women in our family being seers, but it seemed to miss my mum, or she wasn’t interested. I used to think I saw things, but assumed later on it was pure imagination, especially as I wasn’t female.”

“But you are.”

“Am I ? Or is it just a convenience for a someone like me who failed to become male?”

“I thought we had got beyond all that self-pity stuff.” As she said this I huffed and puffed a bit. “You are female and you know it, and I’ll bet your nan knew it too.”

“Well, it was she who first called me Jamie, but then she was Scottish, like my mum only more so. But I always thought it was just a Scottish pet name for James.”

“Isn’t that Hamish ?”

“Maybe she could see something none of the rest of us did. I know she would have been able to cope with my new situation as well as my parents, because she loved me and because she would have wanted to see me happy.”

“Tell me, did your nan wear much green?”

“She had a lovely green dress that I absolutely loved. When it became too tatty to wear, we used it to make a suit for my teddy bear. He’s still wearing it. Why do you ask?”

“This is weird, but as you were talking about your nan, I got this very strong impression of a lady walking alongside you wearing a green dress. Ooh, this is too spooky, let's get out of here.” She shuddered for a moment and headed back to the car, I trotted behind, thinking ‘nice one nan.’

My experiences at the cemetery coupled with Captain Brice’s gave me
some further food for thought. I had no great religious belief, and as for attending church, it was only for specific things like weddings and funerals. I don’t know if I believed in all the ritualistic stuff involved in Christianity, but the idea of loving my neighbour seemed a good one. Sadly, I didn’t see too much of it in the world in which I lived.

Two millennia of Christianity and Christians were still killing each other, how much longer was it going to take? No, I’m a practical girl and I believe in trying to live peacefully with my neighbours. I’m not entirely sure about exactly loving them or turning the other cheek, but I try to coexist in peace.

A few days later, my peace was shattered. Part of my duties were assisting in a military hospital. We had a few weeks of theory and then a few weeks of practice. I seemed to cope with both relatively easily, however, it was soon to be tested. The camp at which I had completed my initial basic training and where I had first ended up in skirts, suffered a terrorist bombing. We didn’t hear the bang, being a few miles away, but Major Collins called us all together and told us to get ready for casualties and to clear any beds we could. We were still making preparations when the ambulances started to arrive. It was horrible.

Once again I was with people who were horribly injured or dying, most of them quite young. Thankfully, I was too busy to feel shocked, but it was awful. Sadly, I was also not trained up enough to be very much help, but I could do blood pressures and apply dressings, so that’s what I did. Some of the young men had suffered blast injuries and some had burns. One had severe burns to his face and there were concerns about saving his sight. The concern and care that was shown by the staff, medical, nursing, paramedics and ancillary was amazing, and while I was horrified at the injuries I was deeply impressed by those treating them. I felt proud to be one of them.

While I was getting some more dressings from a storage area, I saw someone wandering in a confused way ahead of me. Thinking that one of our casualties had got themselves lost I ran after them, but when I got there, the room was empty. ‘Oh shit,’ I thought, ‘it’s happening again’. A while later my description matched a young soldier who died in ICU.

The day flew past and I have no real sense of how long we all worked, as long as it took I suppose, but some of us were sent home at midnight for a few hours sleep and were asked to come back for six the next morning. It was tough, but that was what I was training for, I think.

Over the next three days, I worked about fifty hours and slept the rest, gulping down food when I had a chance, often I didn’t bother, I was too tired, but I learned quite a lot. I also saw two more ghostly soldiers, learning later that they were all of ours who had died, plus another at the local district general hospital. I didn’t see him. It seems my nan’s ‘gift’ was growing stronger, but I really didn’t have time to think about it, and I certainly didn’t want everyone to know about it. However, I did confide in Kate Henderson and Sheila Brice a bit later after things calmed down. I also corresponded with my mother about it, but she was sceptical suggesting it might be simply a manifestation of stress. Maybe she’s right but, I know which I‘d prefer to believe.