‘What happened, love?’ the kindly dinner lady asked after patching up my daughter and wiping away her tears.
‘Tell her, darling,’ I said, still raging and wishing I could wring Kaylee’s neck. ‘Don’t let that evil dwarf get away with it.’
But Ella shrugged her shoulders and muttered that she’d tripped.
‘Are you sure that’s what happened?’ the dinner lady asked. ‘You mustn’t be afraid to tell the truth.’
‘It was an accident,’ Ella whispered, eyes on the ground.
‘Ella!’ I shouted, louder than intended. ‘Why are you protecting her?’
She looked in my direction for an instant, a puzzled look on her face, but then looked away again.
‘Ella?’ I said. ‘You heard me, didn’t you?’
I repeated the question several times, but once again it was useless. The moment, fleeting as always, had passed.
By Saturday I was itching to go back into Ella’s dreamland. I couldn’t focus my mind on anything else. I was desperate to talk to her again – to iron out whatever had gone wrong the first time – but I still had another day to wait.
It was just after 11 a.m. Mum had gone to the hairdresser, leaving Dad and Ella at home. It was wet and windy outside and the two of them were playing Connect Four in the lounge. I was staring out of the front window at the waterlogged garden when a dark blur on the road beyond caught my attention. I looked up and could see a black car with dark windows crawling past. It stopped a little further on from my parents’ house, but the exhaust pipe kept smoking. It looked to be the same Audi that I’d seen at the church on the day of my funeral.
‘You again. Who are you?’ I tried to read the number plate, having berated myself for not noting it previously, but it was obscured by a bush in next door’s front garden. All I could make out was the initial D3. I wanted to run outside to get a close look at the car and, if possible, a glimpse inside. But I had no chance of getting past the front door without someone to open it for me, so I decided to run upstairs instead, hoping to get a better view from one of the front bedrooms.
I was halfway up the stairs when I heard a crash and the sound of Ella screaming. I froze. My mind was racing, desperately trying to calculate what might have happened. I felt like some unseen force was sucking me to the spot; holding me there as clocks stopped and the world ground to a halt around me. Then I heard Ella again. ‘Grandad!’ she shouted, her voice brimming with terror. ‘Grandad, what’s wrong?’
I pulled myself together and rushed to the lounge.
Ella was standing over Dad, who was slumped across the floor. The coffee table was on its side next to him with pieces from the Connect Four game scattered all over the carpet.
‘Oh my God,’ I said.
My first thought was that Dad was unconscious. But when I reached his side I heard him groaning and could see that he was struggling to get back up. He slurred what sounded like Ella’s name followed by: ‘Hewpmeup.’
She stared at him, horrified. ‘Grandad. What’s wrong? You’re scaring me. I can’t understand you. Why are you speaking like that? What’s wrong? I don’t know what to do.’
‘Hewpmeup. Pliz,’ he slurred again. ‘Filldizzy.’
‘He wants you to help him up, Ella,’ I said, desperate to assist her, although she still couldn’t hear me. ‘Don’t panic. Keep a calm head. You’re going to need to call for help.’
Meanwhile, Dad had managed to pull himself on to the couch. He was sitting there, blinking, a confused look on his face. His hands were palms down either side of him on the seat, as if to steady himself.
‘Grandad?’ Ella said. ‘Are you okay?’
He frowned. ‘What?’
‘Are you all right, Grandad?’
He stared at her in silence for a moment, blinking a few more times, before replying: ‘Water.’
Ella raced to the kitchen. ‘Back in a second.’
Dad lifted one hand to wipe away some drool from the side of his mouth and took several deep breaths. I knelt down to get a proper look at him. He still seemed unsteady and confused, but there was clarity in his eyes.
Ella returned with the water and held it up to his mouth for him to sip. I remembered her doing the same for me when I had the flu once and she enthusiastically volunteered to be my nurse. ‘Here you go, Grandad.’
‘Thanks, love,’ he replied, only a hint of a slur left in his voice.
‘Are you feeling better?’
‘Yes. I’ll be fine.’
My daughter’s little face visibly relaxed. ‘That’s good.’
An hour later, when Mum returned from the hairdresser, Dad seemed normal. An hour after that he was out in the garden puffing on a cigarette. He’d explained away the episode to Ella as a bout of dizziness brought on by lack of sleep. ‘I need an early night tonight,’ he’d told her. ‘That’s all. It’s nothing to be concerned about. You won’t mention it to Nana, will you? There’s no need to worry her.’
‘Don’t be so stupid,’ I shouted at Dad. ‘You shouldn’t be asking a little girl to keep secrets for you like that. You need to get yourself checked out at the hospital. You can’t sweep this under the carpet.’
I feared he had suffered a mini-stroke. I was no doctor, but I’d written a health feature about this during the summer news lull and the symptoms rang alarm bells. It was also known as a TIA, I recalled, although what that stood for escaped me. What I did remember writing was that although a TIA generally resulted in only short-term symptoms, it often preceded a full stroke. And Dad was a prime candidate for a stroke, what with all the smoking and drinking, lack of exercise and being so overweight.
I had to do something.
As Ella got ready for bed that evening, I prepared myself for another journey into the world of her dreams. I’d been weighing up my options all day and it seemed to be the only way forward. By Arthur’s reckoning it was still too soon, but if I was right about what had happened to Dad earlier, that was a risk I had to take. For such an intelligent man, I couldn’t believe how stupid he was being, burying his head in the sand like this. I wasn’t about to stand idly by and watch another member of my family die before his time.
After the bath, stories and goodnight kisses were all out of the way, I stood silently by the side of Ella’s bed, waiting for her to drop off. She was restless, tossing and turning, unable to find the right position from which to fall asleep. Then she sat up in bed, eyes wide open, and started sobbing.
‘Oh, Ella,’ I whispered into her ear, silently cursing my father again for the stress he was putting her through. ‘Don’t cry. Please don’t cry. I’m here, right next to you. Why can’t you see me? Why can’t you remember?’
Tears streamed down her cheeks as she let out all her pain, her fears and her frustration in a cascade of sorrow. I hoped that Mum or Dad might hear and come to comfort her, but the TV was playing loudly below and it must have drowned out the sound.
‘God?’ Ella whispered eventually after the flow of tears had eased. ‘Are you there? I spoke to you before. You didn’t answer, but … I know you’re busy.’ She paused before adding: ‘The thing is, I really need your help now. Something happened to Grandad today and I’m so scared. He made me promise not to tell Nana, but I’m worried if I don’t, he might die – like my daddy did. Then it will be my fault.’
She started to cry again.
‘No,’ I said. ‘No, no, no. You mustn’t think like that. Not even for a second. Whatever happens to him, it’s not your fault.’
I was so frustrated, I felt like I was about to explode. ‘For fuck’s sake!’ I shouted, shaking my hands up in the air. ‘What the hell am I supposed to do? Why can’t she see me? This is so bloody frustrating.’
I turned and saw Ella staring at me, her eyes wide like two CDs. ‘What is that? Is someone there?’
‘Ella?’ I said slowly, wishing I’d not used such bad language in my outburst. ‘It’s Daddy. Can you hear me?’
She continued to star
e.
‘I’ll take that as a no. But you can sense something, right? Do you feel shivery, like last time? Butterflies in your tummy? Focus on it. Try to remember what it means. You can do it, Ella. I know you can.’
‘God? Is that you?’
‘No, darling. It’s Daddy. Focus. Think hard what this means.’
Ella kept staring. I didn’t once see her blink. Slowly, I started to move towards her; she sat back slightly as I did, a wary expression forming on her face. ‘Who’s there?’ she asked, a sense of urgency in her voice now. ‘Don’t come any closer. You’re scaring me.’
I stopped.
‘It’s all right,’ I said gently. ‘Stay calm. I won’t move any further. But keep looking at me. What can you see? What can you feel?’
Remaining still and silent for a moment, I watched Ella. Her fast, shallow breathing was the only sound in the room. She frowned. I could tell from the darting movement of her eyes that she was busy thinking; remembering, I hoped. ‘That’s it, darling. Dig deep.’
I didn’t dare to move any closer for fear of alarming her and breaking her concentration. Instead, I tried to focus my thoughts. I imagined beaming them over to her: hundreds of happy memories of the two of us together. And then I concentrated on that single memory – the one we’d chosen – of us building a sand cat. Praying Ella was doing the same, I pictured us on the beach in Cornwall, trying to recall every little detail of the scene, from the reflection of the sea in her pale green eyes to the candyfloss clouds in the blue sky above. I thought of nothing else. I lived in that moment.
And then she said it. Five simple words that brought me hurtling back into the present and changed everything.
‘Is that really you, Daddy?’
CHAPTER 12
THIRTY DAYS LEFT
‘You can see me?’
She nodded.
I moved towards her but stopped when I saw her flinch. ‘There’s nothing to be afraid of, Ella.’
‘Are you … a ghost?’
‘I’m a spirit, like I told you in your dream. You remember that, right? We had a long talk on the beach. You asked if I still felt any pain from the accident; I told you I didn’t. You wanted me to come to Cat Land with you, but I never got the chance. I explained how I was still here. That I never left you.’
Ella stared at me, mouth agape but offering no reply.
‘We chose a happy memory to think about,’ I said, ‘as a way to help you recognize me. It was building—’
‘The sand cat,’ she replied. ‘When we were on holiday in Cornwall.’
Her eyes lit up – like a huge weight had been lifted – and suddenly my daughter was grinning at me.
‘You remember?’
‘Yes. I think I forgot. I don’t know why, but I remember everything now.’
‘Oh, Ella. That’s incredible. It’s me. It really is. I promise.’
‘I know,’ she said.
Instinctively, I got up and raced over to the bed to give her a big hug. But when I tried to touch her, I was hurled back into the bedroom wall.
‘Daddy? Are you all right?’ Ella yelped, racing to my side. ‘What happened?’
‘It’s okay,’ I replied, holding my palms out in front of me to stop her coming too close. ‘I’m fine. We can’t touch, that’s all. I was so excited that I forgot.’
‘Why not?’ she asked, her little mouth turning down at the corners.
I shrugged, slowly rising back to my feet. ‘That’s just how it works. I’ve no idea why. How did it feel when it happened?’
She scrunched up her nose. ‘Um, sort of tingly. Only a tiny bit, though. Are you hurt?’
‘No. Not at all. I’m totally numb. It’s like I’m surrounded by a bubble that stops me from feeling anything. How do I look?’
‘Like I remember before, um, you know.’
‘Before I died. You needn’t be afraid to say it. It’s a fact. So you can’t see a bubble or anything?’
Ella giggled. ‘No, Daddy. You do look a bit see-through, though.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah. And aren’t you cold in a T-shirt?’
‘Like I said, darling, I can’t feel anything. I’ve been stuck in this outfit since I died.’
I smiled at my daughter. I couldn’t stop smiling. I was so happy. Finally I could communicate with her again. I could be a father again. It felt amazing.
‘How did it happen when you first saw me?’ I asked Ella after we’d been chatting for a while.
‘Well I was really sad and scared about Grandad. Then, er, it was weird. I got this funny feeling like something was there but I didn’t know what.’
‘And after that I suddenly appeared?’
‘Kind of, but I could only see you a bit at first. You got clearer and clearer.’
‘Wow. I can’t believe we’ve finally done it after all this time.’
Ella stifled a yawn.
‘You’re tired,’ I said. ‘I’d better not keep you talking much longer.’
‘I’m not that tired.’
‘Don’t give me that. You look shattered.’
‘Are you sure I’ll still be able to see you in the morning?’
‘As sure as I can be. It’s not like I’ve done this before. I think you will, though. You’re tuned into me now.’
‘But no one else can see you?’
‘That’s right. You mustn’t tell anyone about me and you should only talk to me when no one else is around.’
Despite further protests that she wasn’t tired, Ella was asleep in no time. I stayed by her side and it felt fantastic when I saw her peek sleepily at me a couple of times as she was dropping off.
We had spoken a little about her dilemma regarding Dad, but I’d not wanted to busy her mind before sleep. I told her not to worry and promised we’d deal with it first thing tomorrow.
‘Morning, sleepyhead.’
Ella grinned, still able to see me, thank goodness. ‘Hi, Daddy. What time is it?’
‘Oh, I’m only joking. It’s not late. Almost seven thirty.’
‘When did you wake up?’
‘About an hour ago.’
‘Why didn’t you wake me?’
‘You need your sleep, darling. It’s especially important at your age. Did you have nice dreams?’
‘Oh, I don’t remember, actually.’ She rubbed her eyes. ‘I’m so glad you’re still here, Daddy.’
I smiled. ‘Me too.’
‘Is Grandad already awake?’
‘Yes, he and Nana are both up and about. After breakfast I’ll help you talk to Nana about what happened. Is that okay?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good. We’ll do it when she’s brushing your teeth. And don’t forget that you mustn’t talk to me in front of anyone else. You’ll need to pretend I’m not here.’
A nervous look flashed across Ella’s face. ‘I’ll do my best.’
‘I know you will, darling. That’s all I ever ask of you. Don’t worry. It’ll be fine.’
‘Morning, love.’ Mum bustled into the room. ‘I thought I could hear you. Were you calling me?’
‘Um, yes … I was,’ Ella replied, looking at me out of the corner of her eye. ‘Is it time to get up yet?’
‘It is. I thought it might be nice if we all went to church this morning.’
‘Okay, Nana.’
‘Good girl. I’ll see you downstairs in a few minutes.’
My parents had taken Ella to the Sunday service a couple of times now. Apart from wanting to share their belief with her, I think they were hoping she’d meet some children her age. It would be nice for her to have some playmates nearby; it would also make it easier for her to settle in at the local school if and when they decided to move her.
‘Why did we never go to church, Daddy?’ she asked me when Mum was out of hearing range.
I smiled at how good it felt to be able to answer my daughter’s questions again. ‘We did go occasionally. At Christmas and so on.’
; ‘But not like Nana and Grandad do. They go a lot.’
‘I know. I used to go with them when I was little. I just grew out of it, I suppose. I found it hard after your mum died.’
‘What do you mean?’
I heard the sound of footsteps. ‘Later,’ I whispered as Dad walked into the room.
‘Good morning, princess,’ he said. ‘Good sleep?’
‘Yes, thanks. What about you, Grandad? Are you feeling better today?’
He gave her a grin and a wink. ‘Never more so. Come on. It’s time for breakfast.’
I didn’t buy it. He looked tired and his skin had a grey tinge to it. The sooner we get him to a hospital, the better, I thought.
‘Is he really all right?’ Ella whispered as she put on her pink fluffy dressing gown, ready to follow him downstairs.
‘I’m not a doctor, but I think he ought to see one to get himself checked out. Nana will know what to do once we tell her.’
‘We?’
‘Well, you. But I’ll be right there next to you, helping you with what to say.’
‘That’s good.’
Just then I heard Mum cry out: ‘Tom? Oh God. What’s wrong?’
Ella and I looked at each other, panic-stricken, before rushing down the stairs and into the kitchen to see what had happened. I knew what we’d find before we got there.
Dad was slumped on a chair at the kitchen table, his back to the door, and Mum was leaning over him anxiously. Sam was sitting to attention in his bed, head tipped to one side and big brown eyes glued on my parents. He only looked away for a second when Ella and I walked into the room before snapping his attention back to the matter at hand.
‘What’s wrong, Nana?’ Ella asked.
‘Quick. Grab me the phone,’ Mum snapped. ‘We need an ambulance.’
As Ella ran into the lounge, I circled the table to get a proper view of Dad. He looked awful. His face was covered in sweat and twisted out of shape, his right eye and the same side of his mouth drooping heavily. He was trying to speak, but all that came out was an unintelligible slur. When he attempted to stand, his right leg gave way underneath him and he fell back into the seat.
Time to Say Goodbye Page 9