Despite his previously stated wishes that he wanted her to himself, he’d done an incredible thing and saved her from her own stupidity. He’d pushed her away from the burning house . . . And now she figured, he was pushing her back into the real world, to be with her living – and irritating – family.
Pushing her back into the real world.
Finally, finally she understood. ‘I do love you, George. I really do. I’m sorry it took me so long to work it out.’
He touched his palm to her cheek. ‘It gladdens me hear it. Now please, stop tempting my sanity and go back to your family where you belong.’
‘Thank you, George. For everything.’
‘The honour, dear Morgan, is completely mine.’
The half-place dissolved and she woke up in a hospital bed. How her head pounded! Breathing brought stabbing pains into her chest. There were bright lights overhead and pale green curtains all around. Machines beeped and ticked and clicked beside the bed. She breathed in the coldest air and moved her hand to wipe her nose. A soft plastic tube was in the way, delivering oxygen up her nostrils. One arm had a thin tube connected to it, delivering a clear liquid that made her feel perfectly numb.
‘Oh my sweetheart!’ Rachelle pounced into view. ‘I was so worried about you!’
Her first attempt to speak came out as a croak. She swallowed and whispered, ‘I’m fine.’
‘The doctors can’t believe it. Only a broken rib! You did get a bit of contussion so they’re keeping you in for observations and–’
‘She means concussion.’ Dave’s face wove into view.
‘Medical this, medical that.’ Mum dabbed at her eyes.
An enormous bouquet with legs walked into the room. Gareth peeped out from behind it. ‘I swear you’re determined to steal all my thunder.’
‘Put them over there on the spare bed.’ Rachelle waved her hand towards it. As she sat back in her brown vinyl chair it made an unfortunate noise.
Morgan giggled. Her face felt like it was made of rubber. Any moment now she’d start drooling. ‘Am I high?’
‘They’ve given you something for the pain. Now, the doctor said it was a clean break so the rib should heal nicely. You were very, very lucky.’ Tears spilled down her mother’s face. ‘Oh my poor baby! What the hell were you running into the house for?’
‘I wasn’t. I was aiming for the back garden and . . . It doesn’t matter. I would only run into a burning house if you were in there, OK?’ Morgan would have embraced her mother except her body wouldn’t move properly. ‘Mum? . . . George saved me. He pushed me out the way.’
Mum dabbed a handkerchief at her eyes, shook her head, nodded, then shook it again. ‘I’m so glad you’re OK. And don’t worry about this room. We’ll get you into private –’
‘– Don’t mind.’ She would have batted the thought away but her limbs were soft and rubbery.
Gareth examined the chart on the end of her bed.
A laugh bubbled out. Morgan asked, ‘You can read them?’
‘Only need to look as if I can. I might be the new GP on a Netflix pilot. Could lead to something permanent if I play my cards right.’
‘You’ll make a great doctor,’ Morgan said. She tried to sit up again.
Rachelle jumped into action. ‘I’ll do it.’ She pressed the button for the nurse, then fluffed the pillows behind Morgan’s back, then pressed the button again. ‘Where is that nurse?’
‘ ‘s all right Mum. I can do it.’
Ignoring her protests, Rachelle fussed and worried and did all the mumsie things with embarrassing reassurance. ‘You’re so lucky you didn’t break your arm. You can still do all your schoolwork. Doctor says you’ll be on your feet in a couple of days.’
When the hospital discharged Morgan, Rachelle drove them to a hotel in the city where she’d booked adjoining suites.
Resting on the couch, Morgan binged on old comedies, snacking on chocolates from a trough-sized bowl on the armrest.
Her mother sat on the end of the couch, occasionally looking at Morgan, but saying nothing.
Her mobile phone rang. It was Olivia.
‘How’s the patient?’
‘I’m good, resting up, eating my bodyweight in sweets. Doesn’t hurt so much when I laugh now.’
Olivia laughed. Morgan laughed too at first, but then reined it in because she didn’t want to push her luck.
Her mother looked at her, but still said nothing.
‘You remember that stress test in science?’
All that spitting? ‘How can I forget? I nearly borked.’
‘Yeah, that one. Now look, I promised I wouldn’t identify anyone, and I won’t. But one of the readings was way off and I’m just wondering, with all that was going on, and all you must have been dealing with, whether you were maybe already really stressed that day.’
‘I think I was number sixteen, or nineteen. I can’t remember.’
‘I’d say you were nineteen then. You had nearly four times the average stress levels.’
‘How ‘bout that. Has it stuffed up your results?’
‘Not really. Well, only a bit, because after the test, number nineteen’s stress levels were lower, almost as if a chemistry test had calmed them down.’
Morgan laughed out loud, then chest pain made her regret it. ‘That would be right.’
Mum shifted position on the couch and smiled at Morgan.
‘I’ve gotta go,’ Morgan said.
‘Don’t hang up on my account,’ Mum said. ‘Keep talking.’
‘Are you still on twitter ban?’ Olivia asked in her ear.
‘No way. And if I ever promise to do something like that again, you have permission to slap me.’
‘You’re not supposed to be laughing,’ Olivia said.
‘I’m not laughing, you are,’ Morgan said. It was nice to hear from a friend. ‘I’ll be back at school next week, and I have a six week exemption from sport. Or having to lift or carry anything.’
‘All that from a broken rib.’
‘I know, right? Imagine if I’d broken two? I’d probably have someone to do my exams for me.’
Olivia laughed even harder, but Morgan kept herself still so she didn’t hurt her chest again.
‘I’ll see you at school soon then.’
‘Yup.’
‘Happy binge watching.’
‘Oh yeah.’
Time to hang up. Whatever her mum wanted to say may as well be said. ‘What’s going on?’ She accused.
‘Nothing.’ Mum pursed her lips. ‘But . . . I need to ask you something.’
Morgan stilled her hand on the way to the chocolates.
‘Keep eating,’ Mum said.
‘What is it?’ Suspicion replaced the chocolates in her tummy with dread.
‘Come on Gareth, we may as well get this over with.’ Mum looked to the door and Gareth came in. Dave followed with a tray of Morgan’s absolute favourite comfort food. Mashed potatoes and gravy so thick you could stand a spoon in it.
‘As you know darling, the cooking show is no more.’
‘I am sorry about that.’ Morgan made a sad face, as if that might help.
‘Well, yes. But you know the old saying. Where one door closes, another opens.’
Morgan grabbed a handful of chocolates and shoved them in her mouth.
Gareth grinned and clapped his hands together.
Dave sighed, ‘I’ll be in the kitchen.’
Mum grabbed his arm. ‘Stay here, you’re part of this too.’
Worms danced in Morgan’s belly.
Gareth picked up the bowl and sat on the armrest. ‘It’s so exciting. They want to shoot a reality show! With all of us!’
Whoa! Morgan looked quickly to her mother, then Dave, then back again.
‘Darling, if you say ‘no’, then it’s absolutely fine.’ Rachelle smoothed Morgan’s hair for her.
‘I um . . .’
‘Please say yes?’ Gareth smiled far too much and ended up look
ing desperate.
‘Gareth!’ Dave and Rachelle said together.
‘But I don’t want to be in it.’ Hadn’t they even noticed how much she craved peace and quiet? Why were they doing this to her?
‘We can shoot around you then,’ Gareth said, looking ever-hopeful.
All three of them looked hopeful. They’d be crushed if she said ‘no’.
‘You can absolutely promise I won’t be in it, and they won’t bug me to be in it?’
Gareth and Mum answered at the same time:
‘We can do that!’
‘Can I think about it for a bit?’ Morgan snaffled some of Dave’s mashed potato. She still had the taste of chocolate in her mouth so she swallowed it all and started with a fresh spoon of mash. It was like getting a warm hug from the inside.
‘Course you can,’ Mum said.
‘And even if I said, ‘yes’ –’
Gareth’s face lit up.
‘– which I haven’t yet. But I really don’t mind if you are all in it, but I don’t want to be in it. I’m just not ready for that kind of scrutiny.’
‘Of course,’ Mum said.
‘Yes!’ Gareth pumped his fist.
Dave rolled his eyes. ‘Here we go again.’
It was way past pyjama o’clock when Morgan, still in her school uniform, put her pen down and shook the feeling back into her tired wrist. In the weeks since she’d been back at school, she’d grown a callus on her middle finger from the pen squishing against it. Since the devices ban, she’d gone back to pen and paper. It was torture, but in a bizarre way, she was getting stuff done.
Plus, they were still in the hotel suite, so there really wasn’t much else to do aside from homework when she got there.
Meanwhile, her mother and Gareth were house hunting, taking a camera crew with them.
‘I’m glad I caught you,’ George said.
Morgan caught her breath in shock. Then a grin took hold as at the sight of him in her room, dashing as ever. ‘I don’t think I’ll ever get used to you turning up like that.’
‘I meant no distress.’ He took his hat off.
Morgan’s smile faltered when she saw none reflected in his expression. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘I believe.’ He fidgeted with the brim of his hat and cleared his throat with a soft cough. ‘I believe the time has come for me to bid you farewell.’
Dozens of useless questions fought for attention. ‘Why?’ and ‘why now?’ were the two main ones. Heaviness in the pit of her stomach provided the answer. Deep down, she knew one day he’d have to leave.
All the same, she wanted him to stay. ‘Won’t you hang around for a bit longer?’
‘My sweet, if it would do you any good, I would stay until the heavens fell. But we both know if I remain here, it would only delay the inevitable.’
A girl had to admire the old fashioned path he took towards saying ‘no’.
‘I’ll miss you like anything,’ she blurted.
‘As shall I. Miss you. One feels as if one has a second chance when you are around.’
‘Oh come here!’ She flew at him, not sure if she’d run through him or end up in a solid hug. His body held its form, delivering a much-needed hug.
Sobs crept out. It hurt so much. Not her ribs, they were getting better. This was a deeper pain. A pain of goodbye. ‘Don’t leave me.’
‘Hush, hush.’ He shook his head and stroked her hair. ‘You have your whole life ahead of you.’
More tears. More soul-deep pain.
‘My sweet Morgan.’ He placed his palms either side of her face, his thumbs gently caressing her cheeks. ‘Promise me something?’
‘Name it.’ Her vision blurred with tears.
‘Live for me. Live a wonderful, happy, adventure-filled life for me.’
‘Oh shut it!’ The tears poured out and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders.
‘Grow old, in good graces or ill. I don’t mind which. But I should so love to hear about old age. And please fall in love, as many times as you need to.’
‘I can’t do that. I love you too much.’
‘But you must.’
Morgan pulled back. ‘I hate to give you a big head, but you’re kind of a hard act to follow.’
He kissed her so tenderly she felt like she might float away into the stars. They could have been kissing for a minute or an hour, it didn’t matter. His kisses made her forget everything bad in the world and believe in the impossible.
Eventually, he pulled away and rested his forehead on hers. ‘Promise me you will make the most of your life. Have fun. Reach high. Fall down. Get back up again.’
‘You sound like a life coach.’
‘Whatever that means, I’ll take it as a compliment.’
Morgan wrapped her arms tightly around his neck again. ‘Don’t leave me?’
‘Dearest Morgan.’ He stroked her hair. ‘You are an amazing young woman I both admire and respect. You have nothing to fear from life.’
‘Do you have to go now?’ She held him that bit tighter.
‘I’m afraid so. Please promise me Morgan . . .’
She let out a long juddering breath. ‘OK, I’ll promise you I’ll be good and do all those things.’
‘And one more thing?’
‘Name it.’
‘Be amazing.’
Laughing and crying at the same time, she held on, knowing any moment could be their last. ‘I’ll do my best.’
‘That’s my Morgan.’ With the lightest pressure he pressed his forehead to hers. ‘In return, I promise I won’t forget you.’
That only brought on a fresh bout of tears. George pulled back and wiped her cheek with his thumb. ‘It’s taken me one hundred and forty years to find you. I don’t mind waiting another eighty or so to be together.’
‘Only Eighty?’
‘Ninety years. One hundred. I have all the time in the world.’
‘I don’t want to let you go.’
‘Your words soothe my soul. But my love, it’s time for me to go. I need to rest. For a while at least.’
Morgan covered her mouth and yawned.
‘Rest now my love. Tomorrow will bring a new dawn.’
Warm doziness softened her bones. ‘Are you hypnotising me?’
‘Sleep now.’ He walked her to the bed and kissed her chastely on the forehead.
Morgan curled into bed, still in her uniform, kicking her shoes off as she tucked her feet in. ‘I love you, George.’
‘My dearest Morgan, my heart will always be yours.’
19
Two Months Later
They wouldn’t have invited me if I wasn’t at least a place getter, Morgan rationalised as she sat in the crowded auditorium, fanning herself with the programme. There might be horizontal rain outside, but inside someone had overcompensated with the heating. Too many warm bodies thickened the air. Their sodden boots had traipsed a dark track through the carpet. It smelled like wet dog in here.
Sitting either side of her were Gareth and Mum. Gareth kept nudging Morgan’s arm, as if they were both sharing a huge joke.
‘If you don’t feel up to it, I can accept on your behalf you know,’ Gareth said.
Wouldn’t he love to do that? ‘I’ll be fine.’
‘Remember to breathe.’
‘Yes, and imagine everyone in their underpants, I know.’
Gareth snickered into his hand.
Morgan rolled her eyes.
Mum leaned over and whispered, ‘I’m so proud of you darling.’
That had her smiling.
For the umpteenth time, she wiped her palms against her winter skirt. The school plaid was the opposite of absorbent. She’d much rather be in jeans but all students had to wear their uniforms for the presentation ceremony.
When the grey-haired lady at the microphone began to speak, Morgan’s nerves roared to life and her stomach folded in on itself.
‘Usually we only have first, second and third. But the quality
this year was so high we also have two highly commended entries. The first of which is –’
The roaring sound wasn’t the crowd, it was her pulse in her ears. Morgan didn’t even hear the student’s name. Instead she took her cue from the audience and applauded as a gangly lad from some school she’d never heard of took to the stage and shook the presenter’s hand. He held up his highly commended plaque and began to walk off.
A ripple of laughter ran through the crowd as his school urged him to stay on stage to say a few words.
‘Um, thanks everyone. Thanks very much.’
‘I hope you’re more eloquent than that,’ Rachelle said as the applause died down.
The clapping helped reduce Morgan’s palm sweat and she found herself relaxing incrementally. Her mother had a strange look on her face, as if she knew something but wasn’t letting on.
‘Thank you,’ the presenter resumed her stance at the microphone. ‘Our second highly commended entry goes to . . . Morgan Parker!’
Squeals of delight nearly burst her eardrums. As she stood up, Mum and Gareth hugged her from both sides, squishing her like dough.
Morgan couldn’t remember how she got on stage, only that she was up there, accepting a plaque and kissing some random woman on the cheek in thanks. The presenter pressed her hand on the small of Morgan’s back and guided her to the microphone. She adjusted it down to her height, the stage lights bouncing off George’s ring, which she still wore on her left hand.
Looking out at the sea of faces, she zeroed in on her mother and brother. Gareth shoved his finger and thumb in his mouth, making a piercing whistle. Mum wiped a tear off her cheek.
To her delight, the seat between them was no longer empty. Warmth surged through Morgan as she gazed at George sitting there, applauding her.
‘I want to thank my family for being so wonderful during this entire process,’ Morgan said. ‘Especially Mum. Anyone who knows about us knows we’ve had a fair bit on our plates.’
A supportive giggle rolled through the audience.
The Girl and the Ghost Page 20