What she doesn’t see, but I do, is that Amy and Ange are having a great game of chasing after the butterfly. Oh very mature. How old are you two? I think to myself.
‘Well, it’s better than listening to that silly cow whine on about how she misses me, blah, blah, blah!’ Amy says. ‘Right, Ange, you go that way and I’ll go to the right. We’ll get the little bugger this time!’ she squeals.
This is all very odd and it feels as though I’m in two worlds: one the one hand, I’m like everyone else attending a funeral, sad that my friend is no longer with us, but on the other hand, I can see her prancing around in front of me in a turquoise-blue tracksuit with the words ‘Well Jel’ emblazoned across her bum in silver writing. Why can’t other people see what I can see? It would be so much nicer for everyone if they could see that their loved ones were well and healthy and chasing butterflies, instead of having to remember the way they looked the last time they saw them on earth. I daren’t say I can see her. Can you imagine it: me pointing and shouting, ‘There she is!’ Instead I keep quiet and try not to laugh when Ange and Amy collide and fall to the ground during their bid to catch the dastardly butterfly.
‘Senorita. The cremation is complete. If you will all come this way, we will begin the service,’ the Spanish priest says and directs us to a building where Amy’s service will be performed.
The building is not too dissimilar to a church: it has several pews in lines and a huge cross at the altar, with the Virgin Mary kneeling and praying by the cross. The room echoes to the clip-clop noise from Lorraine’s heels and as we all take a seat, the band follows us in, singing ‘You Raise Me Up’. Jack and look at each other and try not to laugh.
‘Dearly beloved, we are here today to celebrate the life of Amy. A vibrant young woman who was taken from us all too soon …’ the priest begins. He’s reading from a script, which annoys the hell out of me. He didn’t know Amy. He had no idea whether she was a vibrant young woman or whether she preferred to slob out in her pyjamas until noon. He doesn’t know that she can (could) bend her thumb right back to her wrist.
‘I can, you know, look.’ Amy demonstrates her party trick to Ange.
He doesn’t know that her tongue is so long, she can touch her chin with it.
‘Look!’ Amy shows Ange her other party trick.
And he doesn’t know that Amy once stole a pair of knickers from Lipsy because she wanted to be arrested by the sexy security guard, or that she knows all the words to every one of Westlife’s hits. He doesn’t know the real Amy at all.
He goes on to say what a trooper she was and how the hospital did everything they could to save her, and I want to say, No, you are so wrong, but I don’t. I look around the room and just see a sea of sad faces. It’s only then that I notice Amy’s ex standing, handcuffed to two police guards, at the back of the room.
‘What the hell is he doing here?’ I stand up and shout out. Everyone turns to see who is at the back of the room.
‘Why, the little bastard. Get him out of here, Sam!’ Amy shouts.
‘Get him out of here!’ I snap, marching up to the footballer.
‘I do nothing wrong. I am innocent. I just want pay respects to Amy,’ Demetrio Covas says. He’s dressed in a smart Armani style suit and looks well groomed – police cells in Spain must be more accommodating than those in England then.
‘Yeah? Well, this is from Amy, you slimeball!’
Thwack!
‘You go girl!’ Lorraine shouts.
‘Oh my!’ my mother says.
‘Oh crap!’ Jack says.
Ouch! I didn’t think a Spaniard’s face would be quite so bony, I think as I shake my painful hand.
‘Arrest this mad woman!’ Demetrio demands of the guards. ‘She assaults me!’
‘And you’d know all about assaulting people, wouldn’t you? This is the man who killed Amy, and if they don’t find him guilty of that and throw away the key, then perhaps you should look into his drug dealing affairs. He’s got a garage full of drugs on the Solara Avenue. Apartment 28.’ I repeat what Amy told me a few weeks ago, when reminiscing about her ex-boyfriend.
One of the guards talks into his radio and they pull Demetrio out of the room and haul him into the back of a police van.
‘Sorry about that, people,’ I say as I sit back down and regain my composure.
‘Nice right hook, kid,’ Jack whispers, ‘I didn’t know you had it in you.’
‘Me neither,’ I whisper back, ‘but I think we’ll need to pay a visit to the hospital when we finish here – I think I’ve broken my hand.’
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Finally the day has arrived – Jack and my wedding day. I would love to say everything is going swimmingly, but it’s not. Far from it, in fact.
Having packed Jack off to his uncle Dave’s last night, I came back to the cottage to find Clive sitting on my sofa, waiting for me. Damn it! With Amy’s funeral I’d forgotten to tell Gem about putting the vegetables on the window sill. Mind you, it’s not the normal thing you say to your house-sitter, is it? ‘If you can feed the cats for me, collect any post up, oh, and pop a few carrots on the window sills that would be great, thanks!’
‘Hello Samantha.’ Clive grins.
‘What do you want, Clive?’
I will not be intimidated by this man, ghost, whatever.
‘I told you, we have unfinished business,’ Clive says.
‘And I told you …’
‘To sod off, you moron! Now if I have to tell you again …’ Ange suddenly appears.
‘You’ll what? Get your scary new friend to say boo?’ Clive laughs. He really is an irritating man.
‘No, I’ll get my new boyfriend to sort you out. Danny!’ Ange whistles. The noise of a motorbike roars into my living room. There in his full leathers is Ange’s boyfriend, Danny. Clive looks as though he’s just wet himself as Danny climbs off his bike and slowly takes off his helmet. I have to say, as ghosts go, this is one cute one!
‘So you’re still annoying my girlfriend’s friend then, are you?’ Danny bends down and looks Clive in the face. Clive goes white – well, whiter than he normally is, considering he’s also a ghost.
‘No … I … I just …’
‘You just what?’ Danny says, still glaring at Clive.
‘Nothing,’ Clive says, dropping his head.
‘I thought as much. Now don’t let me see you bothering Sam again. Is that clear?’
‘Yes, sir,’ Clive mutters and disappears.
‘There, job done. If he bothers you again, just whistle.’ Danny winks at me, climbs back on his bike and zooms off through my patio doors.
‘My hero!’ Ange swoons. ‘Now come on lady, we have a big day tomorrow, so off to bed with you and get some much needed beauty sleep,’ Ange instructs me. I’m not sure whether that’s a compliment or not, but I did as I was told and the morning has arrived and I’m all of a dither! I’ve been sick twice this morning with nerves and the house is chock-full with people, both dead and alive, swarming around me with hair curlers, straighteners and make-up.
‘Now, did you decide whether you want your hair up or down, Sammy?’ my mum enquires, pulling my locks this way and that.
‘Ouch, Mum! Will you stop pulling my hair!’
‘You haven’t got much time, dear, so chop, chop, or you’re going to have to wear a hat!’
The doorbell rings.
‘Oh, that will be your brothers!’ my mum says, discarding my hair to answer the door.
‘Hey sis!’ Paul and Matt say in unison.
‘You’re not going like that, are you?’ Paul asks, looking me up and down.
‘Yes, Paul, I’m going to my wedding in my dressing gown with a red wine stain down it, and my Minnie Mouse slippers.’
‘Really?’ he pulls a face.
‘No, stupid. Anyway, you can talk. What happened to the suit I ordered for you?’
Paul is wearing a pair of surf shorts and a Hawaiian shirt.
‘What this? I’ll have you know this is my best outfit!’ Paul mocks outrage.
‘Don’t worry, Sam. I have his suit safe in the back of the car,’ Matt assures me.
I swore I wasn’t going to turn into one of those hysterical brides, but I’m now hyperventilating at the thought of my wedding all going wrong at the last minute.
‘I think I’m going to be sick again,’ I say as I rush past the throng of people in my living room and into the bathroom.
As I’m bent over the loo, I feel someone smooth the back of my head.
‘You’ll be just fine, Sammy Puddleduck. Jack’s a very lucky boy.’
It’s my dad, smoothing my hair as he always used to do when I was poorly.
I take a deep breath, stand up and compose myself. Right, let’s get this wedding started.
I’m being pushed and pulled in several directions as Valerie ties me into my dress and Mum dresses my hair with tiny red roses.
‘You don’t think I look like a raspberry ripple?’ I worry.
‘Sam, you look beautiful, darling. Now will you please stand still while Valerie does the last hook on your corset?’
‘I’m sure it wasn’t as tight as this two weeks ago when I had a fitting. I’ve put on weight, haven’t I?’
‘No, dear. It’s probably because you didn’t have the slip on when you last tried it on. Don’t worry, we’ll make it fit,’ Valerie says, through a mouthful of silver pins. ‘There we go. Turn round.’
I do as I’m told and everyone gasps.
‘Oh Samantha, you look beautiful!’ My mum starts to cry. ‘I wish your dad was here to see you.’
‘Oh, I’ll be there, Sammy Puddleduck. I wouldn’t miss it for all the tea in China,’ I hear my dad say and I smile, blinking away a tear before it threatens to roll down my cheek, spoiling my make-up.
‘The cars are here!’ I hear one of my brother’s shout.
Oh heck. This is really happening, isn’t it?
Oh crap; I think I’m going to be sick again.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
To the outside world it looks as though I only have two bridesmaids – Gem and Annette, who waddles rather than walks behind me. I have in fact got fifteen bridesmaids and two maids of honour, all dressed in long white Grecian dresses and they all look beautiful. Mrs Jackson’s daughter, Alice, looks adorable and is so pleased to be one of my bridesmaids. I just wish Mrs Jackson could see her as I do. Ange and Amy look absolutely stunning and take their maid of honour duties very seriously, ensuring that all the dearly departed are seated in the correct pews in the Abbey.
‘You look beautiful, Sammy,’ my mum says. ‘Now you’re quite sure about this? There’s still time to change your mind if you want, you know.’
‘I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life, Mum,’ I say as we walk up the steps towards the Abbey where Matt and Paul are waiting for me, to walk me down the aisle. They both look so smart and thankfully Paul isn’t wearing his surf wear, but a smart morning suit, with a white silk handkerchief folded into a small triangle poking out of his pocket.
My mum lets go of my hand so that my brothers can stand either side of me. I look behind me and there he is – my dad – in the flesh – well, kind of. He’s here. He promised he would be and here he is, dressed in the same suit as my brothers. He winks and smiles. He looks better than I have ever seen him before and seems to radiate a warm glow.
‘Matt, Paul,’ I whisper, ‘Dad’s here. Do you mind if he walks me down the aisle?’
My brothers look at each other for a moment and then smile and step aside and stand next to my mum.
My dad looks down at me.
‘Look at my beautiful little girl. I told you I wouldn’t miss this for the world.’
I want to cry. I want everyone to see that my whole family are here, standing with me, sending me off into married life.
‘Now come on, let’s get you married.’ My dad smiles and hugs me and it feels like a real hug. I must look rather strange though because not only does it look as though I’m walking down the aisle on my own, with my mum and brothers behind me, but I’m also aware that I’m leaning at a slight angle as I walk up the long aisle.
‘Sammy, straighten up!’ Paul whispers from behind me. ‘You look like you’ve had a stroke.’
I push back my shoulders and stand up straight. My dad laughs and looks over his shoulder at his sons and his wife. He looks so proud right now.
As I approach the altar it’s then that I see Jack, standing with his uncle Dave and best friend and best man, Dillon. Jack looks gorgeous. I haven’t seen him in his morning suit and he looks as though he’s just stepped out of the pages of GQ magazine.
‘Wow! He’s scrubbed up well!’ Ange says. And he has, he looks so handsome – oh God, I’m going to cry. Don’t cry, Sam, don’t cry, I tell myself as I approach him.
‘You look absolutely gorgeous,’ Jack whispers, as I stand next to him.
‘You don’t look too bad yourself,’ I whisper back.
‘We are here today to witness the marriage between Samantha Louise Katherine Ball and Jack Peter Lewis …’ the vicar begins.
I can’t believe we have finally made it. I feel giddy with excitement at the prospect of spending the rest of my life with Jack. I look around the Abbey and see a sea of friends and family, both dead and alive. There are all the spirits I accidentally let into our world, all dressed from different eras: little Tom the urchin, the Rastafarian, Simon, Gem’s husband, Pearl, Petra’s mum and the Viking, who I’m sure has a tear in his eye. They’re all here, along with many spirits that I have come into contact with on the radio station or in TV work. The pews are packed with my living and dead friends and I feel truly blessed.
When I look back at Jack, I see standing behind him is his mum, Marianne. She looks beautifully serene and so proud of her son. Despite trying to contact her, I haven’t been able to, and I have never found out exactly what happened to her, but it doesn’t seem to matter now.
‘Look after my boy for me, Samantha,’ she whispers.
I will, I think, and she smiles, wiping away a tear.
‘… If anyone here knows of any reason why these two people should not get married, speak now or forever hold your peace.’
‘Aghh!’ a voice shouts from behind us and both Jack and I spin round. It’s Annette.
‘So sorry! Don’t mind me. I think the baby’s coming! Carry on … I’ll just … aghhh!’
Smashing.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
All heads turn back to the vicar.
‘Carry on, she’ll be fine, she’s done this before,’ I say, as I see my mum, Miracle and Florence Nightingale rushing Annette out of the Abbey doors, while my mum is calling for an ambulance on her mobile. My dad looks as proud as punch at his wife taking charge of the situation. I have a feeling Mum could be heading for a career change as a midwife before long.
‘Shall we continue?’ the vicar asks.
‘Yes, yes, come on, or we’ll be here all day,’ I say. Jack looks at me and laughs.
‘What? We’ve been waiting for this day for ages.’
‘So, if anyone here knows of any reason why these two people should not get married, speak now or forever hold your peace.’
We all hold our breath, waiting for someone to shout out something again.
‘Great, now that’s out of the way, I proclaim you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.’ The vicar looks as relieved as I feel.
Jack cups my face in his hands.
‘I love you so much, Mrs Lewis,’ he says, before kissing me passionately on the mouth. ‘I love me too, Mr Lewis!’
You know people say they go weak at the knees? Well, I think I will soon need a new pair of kneecaps. I close my eyes and fall into Jack’s arms. The stress of the past year melts away and I wish I could just stay here, in his arms, forever.
‘Uh-hum,’ the vicar coughs.
‘Oh, sorry.’ I come up for air and smile at Jack.
> Our guests cheer and clap as we turn to them and proceed to walk back down the aisle. I look over my shoulder at my dad, who waves at me, blows me a kiss and then disappears. My non-living guests cheer as we pass them and one by one they disappear too, leaving just my friends and family who have a pulse clapping and sending their good wishes and I feel like I’m floating down the aisle as I hold Jack’s hand.
And yes, I’m the happiest and luckiest girl in the world!
END
EPILOGUE
Larry, my agent, managed to set up a diversion so that the press thought we were getting married in London. By the time they realised just where we were getting wed, we were long gone.
Steve and Bev at the Pig and Whistle did us proud: when we arrived at the pub on Jack’s motorbike, the reception guests were all standing in the pub garden with confetti and streamers to greet us. But first we made a diversion to the hospital to make sure that Annette was OK. Thankfully she was, and thanks to my mum’s quick reactions, they made it to the hospital just in time for Annette to give birth to the most beautiful baby girl, who she has named Angel. When we arrived, Jeff was by her side, cradling his newborn daughter in his arms and holding Annette’s hand. Call me psychic, but I have a feeling that despite Annette’s protests, this relationship could blossom very soon.
My deceased guests stuck to their word and went back to their own world as soon as we had taken our wedding vows, apart from Amy and Ange, of course. They spent the evening dancing on the tables in the pub and flirting outrageously with the male guests. Thankfully Dillon couldn’t see Amy exposing her breasts, or Ange bumping and grinding to Madonna’s ‘Vogue’ in a suggestive manner. If he had, I think he would have had a heart attack.
My mum’s wedding present to us was to send us off to Molokai in Hawaii for a fortnight and we had the best time ever. Just being able to wake up together and do nothing but lie on the beach all day was simply magical.
And the weight gain and sickness? Yes, you’ve guessed it, Jack and I are expecting our own pitter-patter of tiny feet in seven months’ time! How I will cope with childbirth is a different matter – I just hope my mum’s qualified as a midwife by then!
Oh Great, Now I Can See Dead People Page 23