DEAD GOOD

by Cooper, D A

  ‘How about homework, lovey?’ mum says, letting Davey go as he wriggles free of her arms. He races over to the window again – presumably in the hope that Mia might appear sometime soon. Antonella’s eyes follow him and she smiles at him as we watch him clamber onto the low-sill and do a tight-rope walk. ‘My little girl used to do that when she was small,’ Antonella says thoughtfully.

  ‘Homework’s fine, mum,’ I say trying to deflect the conversation from Davey and Mia and the window-sill performance. ‘We only get one lot on Mondays. I’ll do it as soon as I get home.’

  Mum gives me one of those “yeah, yeah, I’ve heard it all before” stares and although I totally get where she’s coming from, this time I mean it – I do. I do, okay?

  ‘I will!’ I whine and mum nods her “we’ll see” nod.

  ‘Maddie’s been a great help today,’ Antonella tells my mum. ‘I don’t know how much Vittorio can pay her but if she’s willing to give it a go, she can do a couple of my shifts in the evenings if she wants to – it’ll give me a chance to have some time off to be with my family anyway.’

  Now my ears prick up. She said family didn’t she? She really did. And family generally means an extension of the couple thing, doesn’t it? I mean, if she’d been referring to her and Leo’s dad, wouldn’t she have just said “husband” or “us”? Well, wouldn’t she? I thought they were all killed in the fire?

  My eyes are instinctively drawn to Leo as I’m thinking these things and trying to work out in my head exactly what it is I’ve just heard and how I can possibly ask Antonella to elaborate on what she’s just said without it making me appear either (a) stalker-ish or (b) morbid. Again, -ish.

  Leo’s face is a puzzling mixture of sadness and confusion. He looks almost like he’s seeing his Mum for the first time; as if she’s someone he doesn’t really know. What? What’s happening?

  He still says nothing to me. Just stares. And I feel like slapping him into saying something. Anything. Just a hint of what the freakin’ hell’s going on right now.

  ‘Your family?’ My mum sounds like she’s been taking senior acting lessons the way she says this. She’s talking as though she doesn’t know Antonella’s history – that she doesn’t already know she’s the mother of the kids that died with their grandparents in our house or at least, when it was their house. But I know she does know. What is she playing at?

  ‘My husband and our little boy,’ Antonella smiles. ‘He’s nearly two now. Little monster. Just like my little Mia. And Leo – but that was a long, long time ago now…’ she drifts off slightly but mum is ready to take up the slack.

  ‘You’ve got a son?’ she tries to clarify and Antonella nods. ‘That’s lovely.’’

  Inwardly I’m cringing ever so slightly because I don’t want mum to have put this lovely, lovely lady on the spot. Who knows, if she asks too many questions in too short a space of time by this - this almost stranger to her – my mum - then she may very well begin to lose the plot, plunge to the depths of despair and start to have some kind of breakdown right here in front of us. It can happen. No it can, I’ve seen it hundreds of times on Eastenders. Perfectly normal, reasonable, fine upstanding members of the community… okay then, members of the cast – but perfectly sane and level-headed characters going about their business one minute then BAM! total blubbering messes the next. Sometimes even with knives or guns. It happens. Usually in the general vicinity of Albert Square. A perfect example of life imitating art – or the other way around. I’m not good with that one.

  But Antonella doesn’t seem to be put off by my mother’s questioning-to-shame-a-hardened-detective. She’s still smiling and looking as pretty and unflustered as she has been all afternoon.

  ‘When our family was killed in the fire…’ she trails off and I wonder immediately if this is the bit that will set her off blubbing but she takes a very deep breath and raises her eyes to meet mum’s. And my mum has got this really caring, sympathetic look on her, like she’s some kind of counsellor or therapist or something and even I feel like I’m watching a BBC drama on the telly. It’s that riveting. ‘I’d just found out I was pregnant. I hadn’t had time to tell Leo and Mia – I was only telling Tony, their father, that night – that’s why we were out, celebrating…’ he head falls with a kind of shame. ‘Celebrating. What a word. What an idea! Having a wonderful night whilst our beautiful children were dying at home?’

  Now I can see her eyes filling with tears.

  ‘I can’t imagine how it must have been for you,’ my mum says, glancing briefly at me to make sure I’m okay hearing this. Or maybe she’s appreciating me more because of what she’s hearing now. Either way, this is some serious moment that’s happening and I haven’t even thought of Leo the once. Okay, then, just that once.

  ‘Of course it was horrible at the time,’ Antonella says with a small smile. ‘Truly, the end of the world. Nobody wants to bury their children. Nobody expects to have to endure grief like that, but life goes on. I had another life that was just beginning – inside me. You know?’ She turns to me and brushes my cheek again. ‘I couldn’t even speak about it for a year. I had post-natal depression because every time I looked at little Milo, all I saw was Leo and Mia. I felt such guilt. Thank goodness he was too small to realise how unhappy I was. But I never got the chance to tell my other two. I wish they’d known. I wish they could see that they have a beautiful little brother and that we wish they could still be here…. I wish…a lot of things…’ she stops and wipes her eyes with a napkin.

  ‘A terrible tragedy,’ mum says, ‘terrible.’

  ‘Yes,’ Antonella takes in an enormous gulp of air and holds it. Then slowly she releases it. ‘– but from every negative there must come a positive, yes?’ her dark eyes shine. ‘There is only so much crying one person can do. There is a time to stop and say “enough”’ she waves both her hands, ‘you have to believe that things – even bad things - happen for a reason and that reason is not to make you sad forever. The Good Lord does not wish his children to suffer indefinitely.’

  Even I’m smiling with her – her words make such perfect sense. Not so much about the reference to God. I’m still on the fence with religion to be honest.

  ‘And we have Milo. We must concentrate on the good and try not to think of the past. Only if it brings happiness, you know? I’ll bring him in one day and maybe he and your little boy – Davey is it?’ mum nods. ‘They can play together.’ She turns to watch Davey over by the window still and smiles.

  ‘Mia’s not here,’ he says breezily – as if it’s such a normal thing to say - and right then I feel something large and heavy plummet to the bottom of my stomach. My mouth dries up and the silence seems to last an eternity.

  I’m not sure who to look at first, my eyes are still glued to Davey and his stupid, insensitive outburst and I want to slap the words back into his mouth so that nobody heard them in the first place. It’d be great if Time Travel were invented right now – this minute – please?

  ‘Not today, Davey – maybe she’s someplace else right now, you think?’ Antonella winks at my baby brother and strokes his pudgy cheek again before handing me my hours of work for next week. ‘Alright, Maddie?’ she says.

  thirty-four

  I tell Mum and Dad I want to walk home. They don’t even protest very much. I think they know that Leo’s with me and we need to talk.

  ‘So you seriously didn’t know?’ I ask him again. ‘About your baby brother?’

  He shakes his head solemnly. And then he lifts it and I can see a vague line of tears running down his misty cheeks. I want to wrap him in my arms and tell him everything’s going to be okay, but how do you comfort the deceased? He takes in the deepest gulp of air ever, then slowly releases it and for a moment I wonder if there’s any point in a dead person breathing, then decide it’s probably got something to do with unconscious brain functions or something. I don’t know.

  ‘You make me laugh,’ Leo says, turning the corner with me. He ob
viously just heard the biology lesson I gave myself in my head. ‘You’re the only person who’s made me laugh since I died.’

  I wince. ‘Thanks. I think.’

  ‘Seriously, though. You’re great.’

  ‘Okay then, thanks.’

  ‘You’re a bit guarded to start with and difficult to get close to, but I consider you worth the effort,’ he punches the air like he’s a winner and I can’t help grinning like a loon.

  ‘Like I said: thanks,’ I beam, ‘you’re okay yourself….for a dead guy.’

  ‘Hmm.’

  ‘So your brother,’ I bring us back to the subject.

  ‘Milo.’

  ‘Yes, Milo. Tell me how you feel about it.’

  Leo blows his fringe off his forehead and shakes his head. ‘I don’t’ know,’ he says,’ it hasn’t really sunk in. I wonder what Nonna and Nonno will say. I wonder how Mia will take it?’

  ‘How come you didn’t see your parents after the fire – after you knew you were dead and … well, haunting?’

  ‘Oh we did. Well, I did. I didn’t want Mia to come with me, in fact I don’t think she even really gets the whole being able to travel from one place to the other thing properly. But after about three visits I got so upset at watching how sad they both were, that I just couldn’t do it any more. It was bad enough being dead without making myself feel worse watching them being so miserable all the time. It wasn’t something I’d wish on anybody.’

  ‘That must be the “fate worse than death” you hear about,’

  ‘Must be,’ he agrees.

  ‘So you didn’t even know she was pregnant?’

  Leo shakes his head. ‘Nope. I don’t think I ever saw her out of the arms of some member of the family comforting her, or else curled over one of the restaurant tables sobbing. Italians are very big on bereavement, believe me. It was very difficult to focus on anything but sadness, let alone the size of her stomach!’

  I sigh. I can’t imagine how horrible it all was. And then I have an inkling of an idea.

  ‘You don’t think this might be part of the reason you’re still here?’ I attempt. ‘Maybe because your Mum desperately wanted you and Mia to know about the baby, but she didn’t have the chance to tell you? Perhaps it’s not you that’s stuck – maybe she’s the one that’s got the unfinished business?’

  Leo frowns his concentrating-deeply frown and I wait. Oh god. Have I said the wrong thing? Did I speak too soon before I had a chance to make it come out right? What? What will he say?

  ‘I love you Maddie Preston,’ he says simply. Then he bends down, drops a kiss on my dazed lips and he’s gone.

  A lot of thoughts flurry through my mind as I make the remainder of the walk home alone. And to say I’m not surprised that Mrs… I mean Penny Hale is just stepping out of Dad’s car when I get to the gate, is a bit of an understatement. If she weren’t already here then I’d be banging her door down myself.

  ‘Great minds and all that’ Leo smiles as he materialises from the back of the car – not using the door, obviously. I’d love to be able to walk through solid objects, it must be so cool.

  ‘Not as cool as your Mum and Dad,’ he grins, meeting me at the front door. ‘They’ve been talking about the conversation you had with my mum about the baby and everything – they’re pretty switched on as parents go – you’re lucky to have them, Mads.’

  My cheeks hot up. Mostly because of the nearness of this gorgeous ghostly guy but I’m sure there’s also a little bit of pride for my parents thrown in there somewhere too.

  ‘I do hope so,’ Leo holds out his hand for me as we walk into the hallway.

  Mum’s just emptied a load of biscuits onto a plate in the middle of the kitchen table and Davey must either be asleep or on in a different country because he’s not here scoffing the lot. Biscuits in our house usually mean deep, deep discussions. And not short ones either. They always come out when I bring a report home from school and the last time I saw a pile this high was the night we spent at our old house before we moved here. My heart flips a bit when I think back to how sad that night was and how angry and full of hate I felt for everyone; everything. How can things change so quickly?

  ‘Leo tells me you’ve discovered something very important, Maddie,’ Mrs… Penny says, waving away a chocolate biscuit that Mum’s held out to her. ‘I knew you’d work it out eventually, you’re a very bright girl you know.’

  My cheeks flame again. I hate being told I’m clever by grown ups. It makes me feel about five years old. And I’m not clever – not really. It wasn’t rocket science, how I arrived at this conclusion. And it might not even be the right one – who knows? How can living people prevent dead people from moving on anyway?

  ‘Ah, now that’s the interesting bit…’ Leo says, ‘we’ve been chatting about that, haven’t we Mrs Hale?’

  Penny nods. ‘We have, sonny. We have indeed. Now get yourself a seat Madeline and let’s discuss our options.’

  It gets very serious, this discussion.

  First Mum tells Penny how lovely Leo’s mum is and how she’s clearly accepted the tragic death of her children and moved on with her life and her family. And Dad, just so that he can take part in the discussion, tells us how Uncle Victor is so rubbish with his accounting system and that he might need to work more hours than Leo’s Uncle thinks. This is all good news.

  ‘But the thing is,’ Penny gets us back on track, ‘if Leo’s mother was pregnant and didn’t get the chance to tell Leo and Mia this, then it is something that still plays on her mind – holds her back from completely letting them go. Do you see what I mean?’

  I frown. I sort of get it – I think. Mum nods half-heartedly and Dad does his best impression of a dog in the back window of a car. Ha! I’d love it if Mrs…Penny asked him questions about this. I bet he doesn’t really know what she’s talking about. Then he opens his mouth to speak.

  ‘So the fact that Antonella doesn’t know her dead children know about her new child has left some kind of gap between her world and theirs?’ he says eagerly.

  I’m about to snort at the implausibility of this nonsense when I am shocked to see Penny’s head bobbing.

  ‘That’s right, Phillip,’ she says. ‘Leo’s mother has unwittingly made it difficult - in fact, impossible - for her family to move on and she is actually preventing them from leaving the living plane. This happens a great deal more often than we realise. A lot of spirits are chained, if you liked, to our world because the people they leave behind can’t move on from their death. They so want them not to have died, that the perpetual remembrance of them and wishing they would come back and not have died in the first place, keeps their spirits tethered in a kind of non-world that they are forced to endure. And it’s not their choice. Not really. Which is the reason some spirits get angry and throw things.’

  ‘Poltergeists,’ Dad says knowledgeably.

  Mum’s mouth is open. It’s not attractive. There’s biscuit on her bottom lip.

  ‘Good grief,’ she says. ‘That sounds awful. Not only have they died and left the ones they love behind, they also can’t move on because the mourners won’t let them. There should be lessons in this.’

  ‘There should be a law against it,’ I say confidently, trying to lift the seriousness of the conversation.

  Leo nudges my elbow, which actually only feels like someone’s brushed a piece of fluff against it. But it’s nice to know I can feel something of him. He smiles back at me and my stomach out-performs a dolphin leaping above and below warm waves. I sigh deeply and girlishly. I should really wait and do all my sighing and swooning for when he’s not around. And I still can’t believe he might be going. Just when I’ve gotten used to him being here.

  thirty-five

  It’s late by the time Penny goes home (again. It feels like she almost lives here now). And even though we don’t get much farther than talking about why Leo and his family are still here, at least we’re all agreed on the reason for them not having mo
ved on. But none of us were able to come up with a clever enough idea about how to tell Antonella that Leo, Mia and her in-laws now know about the addition to their family. In fact, I did think that once Leo had told his grandparents, that they might just disappear “poof” just like that because it would have closed the gap. Like the doors swooshing shut on the underground or something.

  They didn’t though. Disappear I mean. Apparently Nonna and Nonno were so delighted they’ve decided to visit the restaurant. Mia said she can’t wait but she wants to go when Leo’s there and Leo said he could wait and he’ll see their brother the next time Antonella brings him to the restaurant. I bet a baby version of Leo is adorable. I can hardly wait to see him myself.