Almost Dead In Suburbia

by Douglas Pearce

  For those who do not own a cat (realising that this is a contradiction, as nobody really does) the sound was akin to hiccups.

  Ralph sent a glare at the cat that was loaded with daggers.

  Emma returned a few minutes later carrying a tray with cups, saucers, sugar, milk, teapot, and chocolate digestive biscuits.

  Fred got up to help her, but Emma sensed him move and forestalled him.

  ‘You stay put, Fred Johnson. After twenty years like this, I can find my way around my own house, thank you very much. Even my dog doesn’t have to do that much any more, bless him.’

  ‘Hah, nothing visually challenged about this lady,’ Hendrix noted.

  Emma returned to her seat and patted the dog.

  ‘Shall I play mother?’

  She poured two cups, and added milk. ‘Still one sugar?’

  Fred nodded.

  ‘Fred?’ she asked.

  ‘Oh, sorry, yes. One sugar, please Emma. I thought . . .’

  ‘I can see and hear them, but I can only hear you. However, I am able to sense what lies beneath your exterior,’ she answered his half-finished question.

  ‘Then how?’

  ‘Someone called Bill Williams. A very good friend of yours I’m led to believe,’ Emma explained. ‘My name was on a piece of paper he found at your house.’

  Emma edged forward in her chair and reached out to take hold of Fred’s hands. Without turning her head, she addressed Ralph and Hendrix.

  ‘Would you two mind giving Fred and I a few minutes alone, please? You can go for a walk around the garden, or watch television if you prefer. There’s a set in the kitchen.’

  Hendrix got up from the hearth immediately. Ralph had a dumb look on his face.

  ‘Hey, cloth-ears, move it,’ the cat scolded.

  ‘Oh, right, sorry. We’ll, er, just go for a stroll . . . or something,’ Ralph mumbled, following the cat out of the room, and closing the door quietly behind him.

  It had started raining again; not that this would have been an issue, but the television seemed the better option. Hendrix switched it on.

  There was a football match about to start.

  ‘Oh, wow! I forgot. It’s Champions League tonight. Liverpool’s playing United,’ said Ralph.

  ‘This doesn’t mean you’re going to start singing again, I hope?’ The cat looked aghast at the rapt look on Ralph’s face.

  ‘Sssh. They’re about to kick off.’

  Back in the lounge Fred and Emma were crying, then laughing, then crying again. Eventually after a few more sniffles, they both managed to compose themselves.

  Over the next hour or so, Fred and Emma shared stories and tried to catch up on all the years.

  Emma explained how she had lost her sight after being knocked down by a drunk driver.

  Fred asked her about her dog.

  ‘I didn’t think Boxers were trained as guide dogs?’

  ‘They aren’t, as a rule. But I once listened to a program about a dog trainer in America. He believes that any dog can be trained. Before my last dog passed away, I came across Bruno at a pet shop. Well, I just couldn’t say no to such an adorable creature. I trained him myself. Now that we are both old we tend to look after each other.’

  Fred explained in more detail the circumstances surrounding his heart attack, and the somewhat miraculous recovery. Including, rather more sombrely, the details of the agreement, he had with Ralph about returning his body.

  ‘So many women, so little time,’ Emma teased.

  Fred looked startled. ‘I . . . that is . . . I didn’t come here for . . . Well you know.’

  ‘Why, Fred Johnson, I don’t know what you mean,’ she smiled and Fred’s heart; Ralph’s heart he reminded himself, nearly broke again. Just as it had all those years ago after he had run like a damn coward from the steps of the church.

  ‘It’s getting late, Fred,’ said Emma in a serious voice.

  ‘Yes. Right. Well, best be off, I gue . . .’

  He didn’t finish the sentence. Emma got up, opened the lounge door, and called to Ralph and Hendrix in the kitchen.

  ‘If you two need, there’s a spare bedroom next to the dining room. We’re going to bed. Turn the television off when the game’s over, please. See you in the morning.’

  The only response from the kitchen was Ralph yelling, ‘Goal!’

  She turned to face Fred who had got up from his chair, almost in shock at what he had heard.

  ‘What’s the matter, Fred Johnson? We never did consummate our almost marriage. If you’ll say, “I do,” I will as well.’

  She took his face in her hands, kissing him warmly. Then, taking him by the hand, she led him gently, and unresisting, upstairs.

  When the final whistle blew, Ralph switched off the TV.

  At first, he didn’t notice that the rest of the house had gone quiet, or that all the other downstairs lights were off.

  ‘Two-nil. Brilliant! Why’s the house so quiet?’ He looked at Hendrix who shook his head and sighed.

  ‘Where are the other two? The house is all dark.’

  ‘Put a sock in it Ralph,’ the cat told him.

  Ralph awoke feeling as though he had spent a night on the tiles. There was more than a grain of truth to that phrase.

  A thoroughly disgusted Ralph had slouched off to the spare bedroom next to the dining room.

  Collapsing onto the bed, he did, in a sense, fall asleep. The only problem was, as he drifted off (which was more of a change of energy patterns as Hendrix had explained), he lost control of his dead-not-really temporary body. This caused it to pass through the bed and end up on the tiled floor.

  So the following morning as Ralph emerged from the bedroom the aches and pains he was feeling were, in a sense, real.

  Fred and Emma were eating breakfast in the small conservatory adjoining the kitchen. They were holding hands across the table. Fred could hardly take his eyes off Emma. She looked radiant.

  Seeing Hendrix sitting on the table lapping at a saucer of milk, Ralph gaped.

  ‘What the hell are you doing?’ he grumpily demanded.

  ‘Well good morning to you too, Sunshine. I’m having breakfast. What does it look like?’ said the cat.

  ‘I can see that. But how? I thought we were sort-of ghosts?’ Ralph asked miserably. He would have killed for a cup of coffee at that moment.

  ‘Energy, Ralph. How many times have I got to tell you?’

  ‘Like, I- think-therefore-I-am type of thing?’

  ‘Type of thing, yes. It’s all alpha and beta waves,’ Hendrix tried to explain yet again. ‘If you can control the state of the waves you can control your own state.’

  ‘Right, so it’s all alpha and beta waves and when I’m in a real state then it’s all-at-sea waves, I suppose,’ Ralph sarcastically reasoned.

  ‘Don’t be beachy, Ralph,’ the cat quipped; then went back to lapping the saucer of milk.

  ‘Well if he can do it, then I can too,’ Ralph announced with a determined edge to his voice.

  ‘That’s the spirit. You go get ‘em, tiger,’ Hendrix told him.

  Ralph went back to the kitchen and poured himself a coffee from the percolator. That was the easy part, he knew. He lifted the mug to his lips and paused. The other three were watching him through the sliding glass door.

  As he tilted the mug against his pursed lips, he had a change of heart. He came back into the conservatory, mug in hand, and went out through the conservatory door into the back garden. The other three looked at him quizzically.

  ‘Just in case,’ he said in answer to their unspoken question.

  Ralph took a sip of coffee. He waited. Then his face brightened.

  ‘I did it! I bloody-well did it. Ooh, sorry Emma.’ He was all smiles at his achievement.

  ‘See, easy-peasy,’ Hendrix told him.

  Ralph then took four large swallows and hot coffee spewed out all over the lawn and a smiling garden gnome.

  ‘Oh sh . . .’ he caught h
imself.

  ‘Baby steps, Ralph. Baby steps,’ said Hendrix.

  When he came back into the conservatory, he was still dripping coffee. But he didn’t look too disappointed.

  ‘At least I got some in. And I’m sure I even tasted it. Well, at least I think I did,’ he explained.

  Fred was still smiling at Emma.

  ‘You can stop grinning like a Cheshire cat any time you like, Fred Johnson. You might have asked for permission, you know?’ Ralph moaned.

  ‘I’m sorry, Ralph. That was my fault,’ Emma apologised. ‘It was a little rude and presumptuous. But if it makes you feel any better, you were wonderful!’

  Ralph became bashful. ‘Oh . . . well, in that case, I suppose it’s all right. Long as you enjoyed yourself.’

  ‘We both did, thank you very much,’ Fred added.

  Ralph pulled another disgusted face.

  Emma took a deep breath and, for the moment, became serious.

  Your friend, Bill Williams insisted that you phone him as soon as you got here. After hearing what he had to say I exercised my own judgment, and decided you needed a good night’s sleep before you made any possibly stressful phone calls. I hope I did right?’

  ‘It’ll be fine, if I know Bill Williams. And you were right; I did need a good night’s sleep . . . eventually.’ He beamed across the table.

  ‘Oh please, spare me.’ Ralph was almost whining.

  Hendrix laughed.

  ‘And you can button it, as well,’ Ralph pointed a finger at the cat.

  Emma reached for the portable telephone on the cushion in the chair next to her.

  She handed it to Fred. ‘He said you would know the number,’ she told him.

  Fred dialled the number from memory and held the phone up to his ear. It rang four times; then a female voice answered.

  ‘Wiggleswood Police Station, good morning.’

  ‘Detective Sergeant Bill Williams, please.’

  ‘Hold on please, sir, I’ll transfer the call.’

  There was a click on the line as PC Griffith put the call through to Bill’s office.

  ‘DS Williams, Good morning.’

  ‘Bill? It’s Fred.’

  The silence over the next four or five seconds was deafening. Then Fred heard a small cough and an even smaller voice.

  ‘Fred? Are you sure? Is it really you?

  ‘Yes, Bill. More or less, anyway. It might not sound like me, but I can assure you it is. It’s only flesh and blood I’m wearing. Inside it’s me. I guarantee,’ Fred assured the stunned voice on the end of the line.

  ‘What does he mean, only flesh and blood? That’s my flesh and blood I’ll have him know,’ Ralph hissed at the cat.

  ‘Shut up, Ralph,’ the cat hissed back at him.

  ‘I’m coming home, Bill. I have to return this body to its rightful owner, but I’ll pop by before I have to pop off. Again, that is.’

  ‘Okay, fine. Great,’ was all that Bill could think of to say. After a slight pause, he managed to find a few more sentences.

  ‘Then I take it Ralph Fenwick is with you?’ he asked, not quite knowing how to ask after a ghost.

  ‘Yes, he’s with me Bill. And I’m so very, very grateful that he is,’ Fred smiled in appreciation across at Ralph. Emma squeezed the hands of both men.

  ‘One of you lot will have to give me a hanky in a moment,’ the cat sniffed.

  ‘Er . . . don’t suppose I could have a word?’ Bill asked.

  ‘That might be a little more difficult than you think, I’m afraid. But if you have a message, I can pass it on. He’s sitting right next to me.’

  ‘Oh, right.’ The normally always-in-control Bill Williams began to feel very silly. I’m having a three way conversation with a ghost, he thought, then corrected himself. Or is it two ghosts? If anyone is listening in on this call I am going to be locked up in a room with mattresses on the walls.

  ‘Put the phone on speaker,’ Emma suggested.

  ‘Of course, yes,’ Fred agreed. ‘Bill, I’m going to put the phone on loudspeaker. You can speak to Ralph yourself. He won’t be able to respond to you directly, but I can pass on his answer. Hold on a second.’

  Fred laid the phone in the middle of the breakfast table and pressed the loudspeaker button.

  ‘Bill? You there?’ Fred asked.

  Bill was almost too choked with emotion to speak.

  ‘Yes, still here.’ His voice croaked.

  Emma had the added advantages of having woman’s intuition, a blind person’s sense of feeling and the ability to see fairies. She knew exactly what Bill Williams was going through.

  ‘Sergeant, this is Emma. I believe I know how this is for you. I’ve gone through it myself. It’s all right, Bill, honestly. Ask your questions.’

  Fred reached out and squeezed her hand again. Silently he mouthed a ‘thank-you’.

  Bill took a shuddering breath.

  ‘Morning, Mister Fenwick. I’ll call you Ralph for now, if I may. I might get used to Gordon a bit later.’

  Ralph looked mildly surprised. He cocked his left eyebrow at the phone and nodded.

  ‘He says go ahead,’ Fred told him.

  ‘Right. Your friend, Steve Goldin, had never heard of Ralph Fenwick, but he does know someone named Gordon Hartley. You had a bit of a break-in, by the way. We’re not sure what the burglars took, but they got in through the back door and afterwards clambered over the fence in the back garden. We found Goldin’s name on your mobile phone, in case you were wondering.’

  Ralph smiled. ‘I knew he was a clever copper.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear that Fred is coming home. I assume you will be coming with him? Your wife arrived from Canada yesterday. She was in a bit of a state, but I think I’ve managed to straighten a few things out. Not everything, you understand. I’ll leave the real explanations to you. She appears to be handling the situation, and said she has some news for you. But she wouldn’t say what it is. I will arrange to have a police car pick you up and bring you directly here. I’ve a friend at the Cheshire constabulary who has offered to help.’ There was a pause on the other end of the line. It sounded like someone was having a mouthful of tea.

  ‘Oh, and I also got a call yesterday from Fred’s daughter. Something to do with Teddy Remback. Now that I know who Ralph Fenwick really is, I have a fairly good idea what this is about. Anyway, the family are coming to see me tomorrow afternoon. I was told it’s important that you should be here, Ralph.’

  Fred looked very confused

  Ralph grinned broadly. ‘Darn right I’ll be there. I’m really looking forward to meeting Michael.’

  The breakfast table suddenly went quiet. Fred gaped across at Ralph.

  ‘Yes, Fred. Your grandson. Tell Bill we will definitely be there. What time are Michael and his parents coming to see him?’

  Fred didn’t respond.

  ‘Fred? Ask the sergeant, will you?’ Ralph’s grin had broadened even more.

  ‘Ralph wants to know what time is the meeting, Bill.’

  ‘Four-thirty. I can have a car there first thing tomorrow morning if you want to spend the rest of the day, Fred?’

  ‘Emma? Please tell Sergeant Williams we would all love to, if that’s all right with you, of course?’ said Ralph.

  ‘Sergeant, Fred looks like the cat’s got his tongue,’ said Emma.

  ‘I most definitely have not!’ Hendrix interrupted.

  ‘I beg your pardon, did somebody else say something?’ Bill asked.

  Ralph and Emma burst out laughing.

  ‘Hello, is anyone there?’ Bill called over the phone.

  ‘Fred and Ralph would be happy to stay another day, Bill. And so would Mister Hendrix. If you could arrange the car to pick them all up around nine, nine-thirty that would be fine,’ Emma told him.

  ‘Nine-thirty the car will be there. ‘Til tomorrow then.’ Bill hung up.

  ‘It isn’t really that funny, you know?’ said Hendrix.

  The other three
continued to laugh until the cat joined in.

  After a while, they all lapsed into silence. It seemed there was nothing left to say.

  Hendrix looked from Fred to Emma. He nudged Ralph with his paw.

  ‘Come on sport. Let’s go for a walk.’

  ‘I don’t feel like it, to tell the truth. I think I’ll just enjoy the warmth right here.’ Ralph stretched out his legs and put his arms behind his head.

  The cat unsheathed its claws and held them up for Ralph to see.

  ‘I said, let’s go for a walk, Ralph.’

  Ralph came out of his reverie with a start and mumbled, ‘Oh, right! Get a bit of fresh air. Do me good. Lead the way kitty. Right behind you.’

  Fred smiled gratefully at his friend. A small tear escaped from the corner of Emma’s left eye.

  Ralph and Hendrix walked to the fence at the back of the garden. A gate led to an immaculately-mown expanse of green beyond.

  ‘What’s this then?’ Hendrix asked.

  ‘It’s a golf course, by the looks of it,’ Ralph smiled.

  Two golfers, a man, and a woman, were approaching the fifth tee.

  ‘That’s three to me and one halved,’ said the man.

  ‘You don’t have to be so perishing smug about it, Ryan. We’re not done yet, you know?’

  ‘Who’s being smug? It was your idea to bet, Pat, remember? Are you sure you don’t want to change your mind and call off the wager? It’s morning tea in bed for a month. A month is a really long time, isn’t it?’ the man smirked.

  ‘Bottoms to you, Ryan,’ said Pat as she bent to place her tee.

  ‘I think we might be able to have some fun here,’ Ralph grinned, and he walked towards the fairway.

  Ralph and Hendrix spent most of the day wandering about the golf course.

  After they had finished annoying the first pair of golfers, they tagged along with several others.

  ‘That first fella isn’t going to live that down for a long while, I’ll bet,’ said Hendrix.

  Ralph laughed. ‘I believe you’re right. His wife looked pretty pleased with herself though, didn’t she?’

  ‘Didn’t she just,’ Hendrix agreed. ‘He looked proper fed up though. What’s the meaning of “bugger”? He kept saying it after almost every shot.’