The Girl and the Ghost

by Ebony McKenna

  ‘I can’t do this any more.’ Rachelle reached across the table for a napkin and dragged it across her eyes. ‘It’s horrible. They’ve fed me to the sharks.’

  It would take time to get any sense out of Mum, so Morgan let her cry it out. The curries smelled so delicious, she could eat and listen to Mum at the same time.

  Keeping his voice low, Dave said, ‘Critics are having a field day. And we lost another sponsor.’

  Another one?

  Noise rattled from behind her as the door to the porch opened. Dad walked in with briefcase in one hand and phone in the other.

  ‘Dad?’ Morgan couldn’t believe it. Her father was home before she’d gone to bed! This had to be serious.

  ‘I came home as soon as I could.’ Dad switched his phone off - a definite sign things were very serious – and walked over to Rachelle, who stood up and buried herself in his embrace. ‘It’s all right love. I’m here now.’

  Boggling at the sight of her parents together in the same room for the first time in who knew how long, all Morgan could do was stare at them.

  No proper words came from Rachelle. She kept making messy sobs and snuffles. She’d leave snail trails all over Dad’s dark grey suit for sure.

  Although she should leave them to it, the thought of returning to her room – and to amorous and unpredictable George – messed with her head. If she returned, would be Angry George or Overly Romantic George?

  ‘Come on love,’ Dad said to Rachelle. ‘We can sort this out.’

  Dave pretended to be busy so that nobody noticed how much he was listening in.

  Rachelle wailed afresh. ‘They’re dropping like flies. The saucepans are gone. The supermarket’s not returning calls, so they’ll be next to go. Why are they doing this to me? I thought they were on board.’

  Dad said, ‘I said we’d help. The show will go on.’

  ‘Stop solving things straight away!’ Rachelle sounded petulant. ‘I need to have a good cry first! I wanted this to be mine! I don’t want people thinking you’ve paid for it all.’

  ‘But love, I want to be involved. I want to support you. And who cares if people think I’ve paid for it? Let them think what they want. Let me pay for the first two seasons, then we’ll pull out. It’ll be a tax write-off. That way we both win.’

  ‘I just want something that’s mine,’ she said for the umpteenth time, pulling back and wiping her nose on her sleeve.

  Really hygienic there, Mum.

  Dave made a pot of tea and produced a plate of ginger biscuits. Then he pretended the sink needed cleaning.

  ‘Hello Morgan, love,’ Dad took his cup of black tea and sat down in the chair beside her. ‘How’s school.’

  ‘Really good,’ she said. ‘Mrs Edgars sent my history essay into a competition and I’ve shortlisted.’

  His woolly white eyebrows shot up. ‘Wow! Well done!’ Then he seemed to remember something. ‘I thought you hated history?’

  Now it was Morgan’s turn to be surprised. When had her father paid much attention to what she liked at school anyway? ‘I guess I got the hang of it.’

  ‘I’m very proud of you.’ He kissed her on the forehead, then pulled back and gave her a wonky grin. Morgan wondered if she’d imagined the fleeting worry on his face. ‘Must have got your brains from your mum then!’

  ‘Thanks Dad.’ Right about now he’d tousle her hair and forget she wasn’t three years old. He surprised her by keeping his hands to himself and checking the textbook she’d left on the table. ‘Shakespeare? Always went right over my head.’

  ‘They let us watch the movie versions now.’ She clicked on an app to show him two recent adaptations. One set amongst a crime syndicate in Australia, another from the Mumbai underworld. Updating the story made it more relatable. The actors were pretty easy to look at as well.

  ‘Good luck to you then.’ Dad backed away from the homework like it had fleas.

  ‘I thought you were going to say, ‘it wasn’t like that in my day’.’

  ‘Movies weren’t even invented.’

  ‘Back in my day . . .’ Morgan teased her dad. It was nice to have him home early, although it probably meant he’d be on the phone all night as a result.

  A deep sigh indicated Rachelle wasn’t done with her bout of sadness. ‘If you did sponsor the show – I’m only speaking hypothetically, mind – how much product would you need to see on screen?’

  ‘A chocolate fountain made from recycled bottles would do it.’

  Mum’s face! The look was priceless. Dad should know better than to play games with her when she was this fragile.

  Dad quickly put his palms up in a sign of surrender. ‘Kidding! Tell you what. First season, no product placement. Just list us in the credits so it’s all above board. How does that sound?’

  It sounded to Morgan as if her father had given this a fair amount of thought already.

  ‘It’s . . . probably OK.’ Mum said.

  ‘That’s wonderful. I’ll get legal to draw up contract.’ He pulled out his phone and switched it back on. ‘Only eight missed calls, they’ve barely noticed I’m gone.’ He waved his hand as if he’d get back to them later. ‘Morgan, you’re faster than me, can you text Carole and tell her what we’ve been talking about.’

  Not that her dad was lazy, simply that his fingers were so chubby he often hit the wrong keys. The auto-corrects on his texts were hilarious.

  Morgan accepted the phone, ears flapping to absorb her parents’ conversation as she tapped away.

  ‘I’ve wanted to get involved in the show. I would have done it sooner but you needed your space,’ Dad said.

  Rachelle blew her nose. ‘You’re still going to let it be my show, though, aren’t you?’

  ‘Of course.’

  A stray thought found Morgan as she hit the send button. Her mother wanted her father’s help, but not his involvement. Time to give Dad the Everest of all distractions.

  ‘Dad? Tell you what you can get involved with. There’s a ghost in my room. He arrived with the house when you trucked it up from Portland. Lovely chap. Bit eccentric. Shocking memory issues. Wants to marry me. Oh, and did I mention he’s been dead for a hundred and forty years?’ She really shouldn’t mess with her father like that. The man worked thirty-hour days, he shouldn’t have to come home to this kind of chaos.

  ‘You’ve got my attention now,’ Richard said. ‘Who do you want me to call?’

  ‘I need you to call him George.’ Morgan said. ‘He is a ghost. He was born in my room. Now he wants to marry me.’ And perhaps take me into the afterlife well ahead of time. But let’s not get maudlin.

  ‘Oh Princess, have we been ignoring you? Work is insane at the moment but I promise you we will all go on holiday soon.’ Yep, definitely worry on that ample face of his.

  Morgan couldn’t help smiling at the shock he’d get if George showed up. Not that anyone else had been able to get a proper look at him yet. Not even Olivia.

  ‘Do you know about this?’ Dad asked Rachelle.

  ‘I’ll take her back to Dr Bhavani.’

  Dad looked narked.

  Mum put her hands up in surrender. ‘Sorry, that came out too sharp.’

  Maybe, Morgan thought, if she asked George nicely, he might show himself. Properly, so her parents could see she wasn’t making him up entirely. Dave would still try and write it off as some kind of group hysteria, but at the very least Mum might believe her.

  Then they’d really have something to tell Dr Bhavani.

  ‘Excuse me, George?’ She called out to the room as the others looked on. ‘My mother and father are here together. Now’s as good a time as any to meet them properly.’

  ‘You called, my love?’ George appeared, standing right beside Morgan’s backpack, which she’d left on the seat after getting home from school.

  Mum, Dad and Dave yelped in shock. Dad’s chin came unhinged and his mouth flapped open. Who would have thought such an unfit man could jump backwards out of a chair
so fast?

  A naughty grin split Morgan’s face. ‘You can all see him then? Properly now, yeah?’

  George said, ‘Mister Richard Parker esquire, I presume? Of the Parker Plastics? I am so very pleased to meet you.’ George moved his hand forward to shake Richard’s. ‘I am George Sebastian Wallace and I am happy to confess I am in love with your daughter and wish to marry her.’

  Mum hung onto the chair, her knuckles white.

  Dave muttered, ‘Oh God’.

  Dad swallowed several times and kept staring at George. ‘What the?’

  Too much fun. Morgan found her phone at the bottom of her bag and began recording the encounter, capturing every wobble from each of her father’s chins. She couldn’t wait to show the girls tomorrow. Dammit, why wasn’t George showing up on the screen?

  George extended his hand to shake her father’s. The businessman who did million dollar deals before breakfast held out his. It trembled. Then it fell through thin air before George shook his head, muttered ‘so sorry’ and tried again. On the second attempt, their hands came together.

  ‘Oh dear God,’ Richard said. ‘This is my punishment.’

  ‘My good man, are you quite well? You seem pale. I had hoped to meet you earlier and ask permission to court your daughter.’

  Morgan gave up filming if George wasn’t in it. To keep going would only make her father look stupid.

  ‘But you’re not . . . this isn’t real,’ Richard said. He looked about the room, searching for hidden cameras and muttering something about Gareth’s practical jokes going too far.

  ‘My intentions are all too real. And honourable. Please bestow your blessing?’

  ‘I –’ Richard reached forward and touched George on the shoulder. George’s body behaved like the corn-flour-and-water experiments they did in science class. Liquid when at rest, solid under pressure. ‘Who is behind this?’

  Dad’s phone rang. Morgan grabbed it and checked the screen. More missed calls, the two most recent from the PR department at Parker Plastics. Maybe about sponsoring Mum’s show? ‘Dad? The world wants you.’

  Dad came round with a shake of his head. ‘Thanks, love.’ When he looked at the screen, his face blanched and he muttered the kind of words that always landed Morgan into trouble. Then he said, ‘I have to go,’ and charged out the door.

  13

  With This Ring

  Dave and Rachelle were still boggling.

  ‘I’ve gone mad,’ Mum said.

  ‘I need a drink,’ Dave said.

  ‘While you’re making one . . .’ Mum said.

  Sarcasm came to Morgan’s defence as she looked at George. ‘You really won my father over.’

  ‘You believe so? I rather suspect he never wants to set eyes on me again. Oh, I see what you mean, I can tell by the way you’re smiling. You’re playing a joke at my expense. How delightful. Permit me to bare my soul for your amusement.’

  ‘It was funny watching his face turn white as milk.’

  ‘That’s as may be, but he gave no indication if I may continue to court you.’

  Morgan shrugged, ‘Mum’s here, why don’t you ask her?’

  Mum grabbed her handbag and ran. That left Dave as the only adult in the room.

  ‘It’s very convincing Morgan. Now switch it off.’

  ‘He’s not a prank, he’s a real ghost!’ she said.

  Dave shook his head. ‘Then go and fool Penn and Teller.’

  ‘It’s not a trick!’ Morgan rubbed her temple in frustration. ‘You can’t deny what you just saw! Come on George, let’s go.’

  Morgan marched up to her room and slammed the door behind her. George walked through it. Then he gathered her hands in his and their eyes locked. Morgan’s pink room melted away and they were back in the half place.

  She should be freaking out right now, yet George’s steady look of concern and love kept her stable. Warmth flooded her as he proceeded to drop to one knee. Oh dear, not this again? He produced a gold ring studded with coral and tiny diamonds and held it near the third finger of her left hand. Her previous worries about his intentions rushed back like a high tide.

  ‘Where did you get that?’ George had to give it a shove to get it over her knuckle. ‘How did you get that?’ For a ghost, he seemed able to do the most unghostly things.

  ‘The ring was my mothers. Not one of her most valuable pieces, but it was all I could find that day when my father . . . well. Perhaps she sold the rest to secure passage to America.’

  Such a sweet, delicate ring. Morgan held it up and twinkled her finger. The light didn’t bounce off it, the tiny diamonds didn’t gleam. It didn’t even look that much like an engagement ring. Yet something about it felt so right.

  In a voice just above a whisper, George said, ‘Please say yes.’

  In all her short life she’d never felt so loved and wanted. It would be so easy to agree. One little word. That’s all it would take. They could be together forever.

  So very, very tempting.

  Fear crept into her belly, curled through her spine. If she said ‘yes’ would she ever leave this half-place and return to the normal world?

  George closed his hands over hers. ‘I cannot offer you money, is that the reason for your refusal?’

  If she were being honest about their situation, he was perfect husband material. He didn’t care for the spotlight and he wasn’t likely to spill all their secrets on social media. He didn’t even follow football or cricket, which was a double bonus. ‘George, nobody else in the world can offer me what you can. You are beyond perfect.’

  ‘Then say yes.’

  An ache tugged at her heart. ‘You know that’s impossible.’

  Shock played over his face. ‘You tell me we’re perfectly suited, yet you’re turning me down?’

  ‘I have to, George. We both know I’m far too young for starters.’

  ‘Yet there is little of an age gap between us.’

  Morgan twiddled the ring around her finger, then she slumped onto an antique chair. ‘Maybe Dave is right. Maybe I’m making you up.’ She covered her face with her hands. ‘You are so absolutely perfect in every way. You’re too good to be true.’

  She heard a faint peal of laughter and took her hands away to see George wearing a huge smile.

  ‘Don’t laugh at me. Please. No. Really. Stop it.’

  Too late. George creased up, his hand over his mouth, his body shuddering with repressed giggles.

  ‘Now you’re mocking me?’

  With a sigh he wiped his eyes. ‘I’d never mock you. I’m too perfect,’ and he creased up with more laughs.

  ‘I’m serious!’

  George eventually sobered and said, ‘My sweet love. I have heard of men being rejected for being too ugly, too old, too young, too poor or too dangerous. But never too perfect.’ He leaned forward, placed his fingertips under her chin and tilted her face to his. Then he lowered his lips to hers.

  How else to describe the kiss but too perfect in every way? Morgan lost herself in the moment. It would be so very, very easy to lose her mind with George.

  Just as he’d clearly lost his.

  ‘You really gave your mother a scare last night,’ Dave said as he poured her a glass of orange juice the next morning.

  ‘I didn’t mean to.’ Morgan shook her head. After last night’s events in the half place, she’d been relieved to wake up in her own bed, alive and well in the here and now.

  ‘Your parents are far too stressed-out to cope with pranks. Nice ring, by the way.’

  ‘Huh?’ She looked down on her left finger. ‘You can see it?’

  ‘Ye-e-e-s.’ Dave poured on the sarcasm. ‘Is it supposed to be an invisible magic ring?’

  ‘It’s . . .’ Every time she looked at the ring her brain turned soggy. Last night had been strange and wonderful and confusing. With a dreamy sigh in her heart, Morgan looked at the ring again. ‘It’s George’s mother’s ring. He gave it to me last night. When he asked me to marry him
.’

  ‘George?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Who is a ghost.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Gave you his mother’s ring?’

  Morgan flickered her fingers at him in the affirmative.

  ‘And he asked you to marry him?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’m calling Doctor Bhavani right now.’

  ‘Good,’ Morgan said. ‘I’m going to need her.’

  It didn’t take long to get an appointment with Doctor Bhavani. Morgan had the feeling her family’s money helped in that regard. The aquarium on the shelf caught her focus, with its little scuba diver bobbing up and down, aerating the tank and never quite making the surface.

  Morgan was that scuba diver right now, needing an almighty kick to reach the top. Dr Bhavani had to help her break through and breathe again. Tears blurred her vision as she explained the state of her mental health.

  ‘A ghost that only I can see properly, who has been dead for more than a hundred years, has asked me to marry him.’ She wiggled her fingers at Dr Bhavani to show off the ring George had given her. Her tummy kept flipping and her heart kept racing.

  Dr Bhavani wrote notes on her pad and nodded for Morgan to continue.

  ‘He puts me in a kind of trance sometimes and takes me to this half place. It’s the house as it used to be, when he was alive. Sometimes George can be solid enough to touch me and –’

  ‘– touch you?’ Rachelle’s eyebrows shot north.

  ‘Uh, we’re here to listen to Morgan,’ Dr Bhavani said.

  ‘Calm down, Mum, it was only kissing.’

  Mum wasn’t calming down. ‘You were kissing a boy in your bedroom?’

  ‘He’s old fashioned, Mum, seriously old fashioned. Which is why I must be crazy. He’s so perfect, so restrained, so well behaved. He must be a figment of my imagination. I must be hypnotising myself or something.’

  Dr Bhavani made more notes. ‘Are you concerned things will become too serious with your current boyfriend and perhaps you’re not ready for it?’