DEAD GOOD

by Cooper, D A

  My phone is buzzing by the keyboard in the living room.

  Can come over?

  the text message from Amber says. Which thoroughly irritates and annoys me and confuses me. What does it mean? Is she trying to say can she come over? Is she saying can I come over? See – this is what infuriates me about text letterage misuse. I am going to have to try and put this right – I’ll need to print leaflets, hold meetings, form some kind of Group like a political party but without the boring politics and start some sort of movement against the misuse of characters in a text message. Every character in every text should be used fully and specifically whilst making absolute sense to the recipient. In fact that could be our slogan. Well, I’ll work on it to make it snappier, obviously.

  So now I have to send her a text back to ask her what she means – whereas all she had to do was be specific in her original one and then I wouldn’t have to. And then after she’s answered my query I’ll have to respond with my answer, won’t I? And that’s almost my quota for the day used up already. Although it is nearly ten thirty now and another quota of three point three begins in two hours time – if I want this to be an exact science. Which of course it’s not.

  Then my phone rings.

  ‘So?’ Amber’s voice says eagerly as I answer.

  ‘So what?’ I say back.

  ‘Can I come round? I thought seeing as it’s dark and seeing as you’re living in a haunted house that maybe I could bring my extra-sensory skills into action for the good of mankind… well, the Preston family anyway. And I’ve been reading up about the fire in Ferndale Way. Hey! That is a great title for the film, don’tya think? Who’d you want to play you? Lindsay Lohan perhaps… oh no, I forgot, she’s a Lesbian now… okay how about one of the twins…maybe the one that…’

  ‘Amber!’ I have to hiss loudly to shut her up. ‘It’s late. It’s nearly eleven o’clock. There’s nowhere for you to sleep and we’ve only been here a day – give us time to find our feet, will you?’

  The line is quiet for a while and I wonder if I’ve hurt her feelings.

  ‘Come round tomorrow,’ I placate.

  ‘Tomorrow?’

  ‘Yes. Tomorrow. After church.’

  The line is silent again.

  ‘Jo-oke,’ I say heavily. ‘Du-ur!’

  ‘Oh… okay – only you seriously could have been going to church y’know – to see a Priest about your ghosts and stuff – they probably get a lot of that lately, now there’s so many scary movies around… so…?

  ‘Come round after lunch,’ I tell her.

  Mum walks past me rubbing her neck and I’m guessing there’s either nothing interesting left to watch on the telly or she wants to see what dad’s up to. Probably both. She jerks her head towards my phone and mouths who’s that?

  ‘Amber,’ I tell her.

  ‘Yeah?’ Amber says.

  ‘Nothing. Come round after lunch, and then we can…’

  ‘Amber?’ Mum says. I nod. ‘Ask her round for lunch, Madeline, I think we can still stretch to one more at the table, go on…’

  ‘Did you hear that?’ I ask Amber. ‘Mum said you can come…’

  ‘Oooh! How exciting,’ she squeals, and not just from the idea of sharing a plate of lunch with us, that’s for sure. ‘D’you think I can stay ‘til after dark? So I can at least get to see your ghost? What shall I bring with me?’ She’s almost breathless by now. ‘ Oh! I know – we could make up a Ouija board by writing letters on bits of card and putting them in a circle on the floor – have you got some card we could use? Oh don’t worry I’ll find something… and candles – we’ll need a load of candles, to create the right atmosphere… oh and we mustn’t forget to…’

  ‘Just bring your history notes from Friday, Amber – I need to write them up, yeah?’ I know I sound less than enthusiastic but the truth is… well, I just really am. And if she had a ghost who pissed her off the way Leo seems to be pissing me off right now, then she’d understand why.

  ‘Kay then. See you tomorrow, yeah?’

  ‘Kay. Bye.’

  As I’m brushing my teeth in the bathroom, I hear a delighted giggle come from Davey’s room and I suspect that either he’s managed to work out how to tune in his clock/radio in to a children’s station - not a huge possibility at nearly eleven o’clock at night. Or he’s started laughing in his sleep, which would be a predictably embarrassing addition to the ‘invisible friend’ hobby he’s taken up recently – or – and this is the more likely reason – he actually IS playing with his (not so) invisible friend, Leo’s sister Mia.

  I am torn. And it’s because I’ve being irritated by a dead guy. If I was Amber, I’d be in his bedroom faster than she wanted to come round just now and hoping to see his little friendly ghost. But I’m not Amber. This is not a thrill. I’m me. I know they’re here; I know how they came to be here – I still don’t know what they’re doing hanging around like this but I’m sure there’s a perfectly logical reason.

  Although there is that little niggling question that’s still right at the forefront of my mind. What was Leo doing in Amber’s bedroom when he was alive? I don’t ever remember her telling me she’d had a boy round before? In fact if he’s been dead for nearly three years that would have made her only twelve or thirteen and I’m sure she wasn’t into dating boys who were three years above her – not then. Well, not now even. I don’t quite know how to ask her. Maybe this is why she’s so keen to come round – so she can tell me this long-buried secret she has kept to herself all these years and only now feels able to reveal everything to me because of… well because he’s popped back into her life via me. Maybe Amber is the reason he’s here. Perhaps he has unfinished business with her…I tap my brush against the sink and sigh, staring at my reflection in the mirror of the medicine cabinet.

  I hear another happy squeak from Davey’s room. It’s no good. I’m rubbish at being indifferent. I pad across the landing and push Davey’s door open ever so slightly. He is lying down in bed, but leaning over the side and pointing to the floor of his room, his shoulders moving up and down like he’s trying to move something or hold onto something. I can’t see what he’s looking at though. I make a quick inspection to see if mum and dad are anywhere around then hear a door shut downstairs and their voices getting louder and louder but not in a coming closer type of way – more an angrier and angrier way which makes my stomach twist.

  I turn back to Davey and edge silently into his room. I round the base of his bed and a floorboard creaks under my foot. As I stand on the other side of his bed I am aware that my mouth is falling open a bit. I take in the sight of a girl wearing – okay, maybe a bit misty and fuzzy, but visible enough, bright pink leggings and a sparkling lime green top, hunched over an equally fuzzy board game on the floor. She has just counted to nine and when she notices Davey looking over at me, she turns and gives me a huge beaming smile, holding the blurry cup and dice out towards me.

  ‘You want to play too?’ she says, through gappy teeth.

  twelve

  Needless to say I sleep with my iPod firmly plugged into my ears.

  And actually I slept very well apart from realising I needed a pee at about four o’clock in the morning and, not wanting to bump into any ghosts on the landing or anywhere else, had to lie half-awake holding it in until it was light enough to run across to the bathroom. Okay, so I know there are ghosts in the house and they don’t appear to be that scary, but I still don’t fancy one just popping up from nowhere – which is what Leo seems to be able to do. And now I’ve seen his kid sister, I don’t know what she’s capable of yet. Probably nothing more sinister than beating Davey at Snakes and Ladders – but I can’t be too careful, can I? Although Davey did seem to be quite happy playing with her.

  He doesn’t seem to be freaked-out in the slightest by the presence of a ghost in his room. In fact, I do wonder if he knows Mia is a ghost? If, he even understands the concept of what a ghost actually is? I’m not going to be the one to tell
him, though. He’d only tell mum and dad and then they’d blame me for inflicting my craziness on him or something.

  Oh god, this is complicated. I’m just contemplating the prospect of trying to explain the existence of ghosts to Davey when I hear him pad across the landing and over to mum and dad’s room. He taps and opens the door simultaneously – which I’ve always found to be contradictory. Either he should wait for a reply or he should barge in – doing both surely cancels out the other?

  I hear muffled words and then he is back on the landing again, swinging his beaker-with-a-straw thing. I try to kick my door shut with one foot from my bed (that’s how sadly small this room is – I could do a starfish by the side of my bed and reach the door easily). But it’s no good, he’s seen me. God, now I’ll have to entertain him or make his breakfast or something else equally boring. What am I - his mother?

  ‘What?’ I scowl at him as he plops down on the edge of my bed and hands me his empty mug.

  ‘Can I have some milkshake?’ he asks nicely. At least he’s not bouncing.

  I sigh dramatically, throw off my covers and he follows me like a puppy down the stairs and into the kitchen.

  And as we enter, I really wish we hadn’t and that I was back in bed with my iPod jammed into my ears. Because right there in front of us is the back of a wide-ish woman wearing black, who’s hunched over a cooker that doesn’t look much like ours and she’s stirring a pot of something. The weird thing is, the whole of the kitchen seems somehow…and this is going to sound even weirder…hazy. Like our actual kitchen is there, right there in front of us, but there’s another, slightly fuzzier kitchen thing going on around it. It doesn’t make sense. I know it doesn’t. And the only reason I think my eyes can adjust to this peculiar-looking scene is because I realise that this is probably Leo’s old kitchen. The one that died along with him and his sister and their grandparents in the fire. A ghost kitchen. So how come I didn’t see this before? It sure as heck wasn’t here last night. I’d have noticed. Well, wouldn’t I?

  I’m not sure if I’m going slightly crazy or not and it might be a symptom of madness but I almost want to snigger. A freakin’ ghost kitchen! Who the hell’s ever been haunted by a ghost kitchen – hmm? In their life? I’m sure there haven’t been any films made of ghostly kitchens, have there? Just as we enter, the woman turns round and she smiles right at us – as if she’s been expecting us.

  ‘Buongiorno,’ she says gently and simply returns to her stirring as if this is the most normal thing in the world. Well, I suppose it might be for her. Nonna still likes to cook I remember Leo telling me last night. So here she is, then.

  ‘Hi,’ I hear myself say back automatically and I see her head nod slightly.

  ‘S’that?’ Davey asks, pulling out a chair and hauling himself up on it.

  ‘Um… I think…er….’ I do almost tell him “This must be Mia’s grandmother” but then I remember that if I let on to Davey that I can see these people as easily as he can, then before I know it he’ll be telling mum and dad we’ve got ghost-guests, then they’ll get us sectioned and taken into care or at least get us put on tablets that’ll make us sleep for ever and we’ll be visiting psychiatrists until we leave home… no, I can’t let on that I know anything. At least if he mentions anything to mum and dad I can make out he’s mad. That’s understandable for a three year old. They see things. They make stuff up. They get bored and invent things. That’s more believable than “hey mum and dad we have a whole family of ghosts staying here with us – in fact, they’re not really staying here – they live here and we’re more the visitors than they are because this is where they died – Leo, Mia, Nonna and Nonno…” I realise now that we have only one member of the family left to meet. Unless you count me jumping over him on the landing as a meeting.

  ‘So, milkshake, then, Davey?’ I say brightly, ignoring his previous question and trying even harder to ignore the waving woman’s backside at the blurry ghost-cooker.

  ‘S’that?’ he says again and points to Nonna as she stirs away.

  ‘Hmm? Milkshake?’ I repeat, hoping he’ll get bored and give up.

  ‘Yuh,’ he says to me, still watching. ‘I smell food,’ he adds.

  And he’s right, of course. There’s a distinct aroma of tomato sauce cooking and it smells delicious. I feel like I could even go right up, put my finger into the pot on the top and have a taste, it smells so good. My stomach rumbles and I walk over to the bag of bread that’s on the worktop. Our worktop – not the fuzzy vague one that’s over by the cooker – our real one. I slip two slices of bread into the toaster and then take some milk out of the fridge, pouring it into Davey’s beaker whilst I wait for my toast to pop up. I’m so tempted to look over at the other cook in this room but I can’t let Davey know I can see her.

  ‘Straw-brie? Mad-die?’ Davey swings his little legs. He seems to have given up on the stranger at the stove. Good.

  ‘Take it back to your room, Davey,’ I instruct him when I’ve made his drink up.

  ‘Why?’ he pouts.

  ‘Just go,’ I tell him.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Davey…room!’

  ‘Aaaahhh-kaaayyy then,’ he shrugs off the chair again and walks incredibly slowly towards the door to the stairs. He turns slightly before he leaves and looks again at the woman and the cooker and then he turns and looks at me. I feel a stab of shame because I know he’s confused. He can see both of us and yet I’m pretending I can’t see her. I know if I were Davey, then I’d be very confused – if not a little scared – that I thought I might be seeing things. Oh god, I hate having to do this but it’s for his own good, isn’t it? I’ll tell him about it one day – when this is all over and we’ll have a good laugh about it. We will. I’m certain of it.

  As he drags himself away from the kitchen and up the stairs, I fetch my toast, spread some butter and jam on it and sit at the table – my eyes firmly on Leo’s grandmother. I’m not sure what the correct thing is to do in a situation like this. Should I speak first? Although we’ve already acknowledged each other – should I say something else? It feels a bit rude not to.

  Of course the easiest thing in the world would be to leave with my toast and go back to my room and eat in peace. That would be the sensible option.

  ‘Madeline?’ mum calls from upstairs. ‘Your phone just went off!’

  ‘’kay!’ I shout back up.

  ‘Mad-die!’ she repeats.

  ‘O-kay!’ I yell louder towards the stairs this time.

  ‘Your phone!’

  Jeez! What the f… as I go to leave the table, I notice the smell of cooking isn’t so strong. I look back over at the hob and Nonna’s disappeared. And very stupidly I actually feel a bit disappointed. Now why on earth would I feel like that?

  ‘Your phone young lady,’ Mum appears and slides it across the kitchen table at me. ‘Mmm…’ she says sniffing the air. ‘What’ve you been eating?’ I wave my toast and jam at her pathetically in an attempt to lead her off the scent. So mum can smell ghostly cooking too then can she? Does that mean she’d have seen Leo’s Grandmother if she’d still been here? I quickly check to see if she’s returned but there’s no sign still. Ah well, I guess time will tell.

  The text was – predictably – from Amber checking to see if I’d changed my mind about her bringing “anything” with her for lunch. By anything I guessed she meant something like garlic, holy water, some crosses, the Star of David and all the ingredients for a makeshift Ouija board. Maybe even a priest, knowing Amber. Needless to say I didn’t even bother replying and she’s been here now since half eleven, almost beside herself with excitement. Mum thinks she’s mad.

  ‘Your idea of lunchtime is way off our usual mark, Amber,’ my mum said when she’d turned up all beady eyed and quivery with anticipation. ‘Did you find us alright?’

  ‘Oh yes Mrs Preston…. I mean Alison. ’ she beamed back. ‘I know all about your new house.’

  And that smart remark earned Am
ber her first kick to the shin of the day. Actually she’s doing pretty well now – much better - considering I had to drag her upstairs at one point and give her a bloody good talking to in the bathroom with all the taps running so nobody could hear me raise my voice at her. So like I say, she’s better now and behaving as near normal as possible for Amber. In fact I’ve told her in no uncertain terms that if she so much as mentions anything untoward, whether intentional or otherwise, then she’s not setting foot in this house again – that’s worried her. She’s still insisting on being able to communicate with the “Other Side” and I don’t think she means our neighbours.