As I followed Mum into the lounge, her inspection complete, I looked fondly at my old desk in the back corner. I pictured myself sitting there, as I had on countless occasions, hammering an article into my laptop to meet the latest deadline. Then Mum slumped on to the couch and started bawling her eyes out.
‘You poor thing,’ I said. ‘That’s right – let it all out. Bottling it up never helps.’
‘Why?’ she asked eventually. ‘Why me? What did I ever do to deserve all of this?’
She walked over to my desk and picked up a framed photo of me and Ella. ‘I miss you so much, Will,’ she said, reviving the flow of tears down her flushed, mascara-stained cheeks.
‘Me too, Mum,’ I whispered as a rush of emotion caught me unawares. ‘I miss our chats. I miss being able to come to you for advice. And right now I really miss your smile.’
Ever since I was a little boy, Mum had been the one I went to first when things went wrong. Dad was a firm advocate of keeping a stiff upper lip, while she liked to talk things through and deal with emotions head on. After Alice died, she’d taught me the A to Z of raising a little girl, as well as persuading me to have grief counselling, which had proved a godsend. One of the most powerful tools in Mum’s armoury had always been her positivity, rooted in a firm belief that everything would turn out all right in the end. That had taken a battering of late and its absence was the most heart-wrenching thing of all. Mum just wasn’t Mum in her current state.
Taking a seat on the desk chair, she ran her hands over what used to be my work space and closed her eyes. ‘I wish you were still here, my love. It’s not right for a parent to outlive their child. If I could take your place, I’d do it in a flash. It wasn’t your time. You should still be here with Ella. I’m doing my best with her, but it’s her father she needs.’
She let out a long sigh. ‘There’s me feeling sorry for myself when that poor little girl’s lost everything: orphaned at six years old.’
‘Don’t be so hard on yourself, Mum,’ I said.
‘The thing is, Will, I’m in a fix. I learned something about your father last night and I don’t know what to do about it – especially after the stroke. I know your sister will be here soon, but I wish I could talk to you. We grew so close over the last few years; we were on the same wavelength.’
She snapped open her eyes. ‘Listen to me, for goodness’ sake. I sound like a crazy woman, talking to you like you’re still around; talking to myself. What am I doing here, anyway, when I should be at the hospital?’
She jumped to her feet and disappeared into the bathroom, re-emerging a few minutes later looking much fresher, although still a little puffy-eyed.
‘It’s not as crazy as you might think to talk to your dead son,’ I told her as she locked the front door. ‘You’re doing really well, Mum. I’m proud of you.’
Looking over at the For Sale sign, my mind drifted back to when I’d first looked around the house. Ella was still a baby at the time and had spent most of the visit asleep on my shoulder, only to fill her nappy as I was about to leave. The vendor, who had a baby herself, was kind enough to let me use her changing mat and even to give me a nappy. I already liked the house, a typical 1930s suburban semi, which had been gutted a couple of years earlier and fitted with all the mod cons. But it was when Ella gave me a huge grin as I changed her that I made up my mind to buy the place.
The car door slammed shut interrupting my memories. ‘Oh, you’ve got to be joking. Not again,’ I said as Mum started up the engine and I watched the Corsa disappear down the road. I couldn’t believe how stupid I’d been to get caught out like that.
A neighbour I vaguely knew walked past the drive with his chocolate Labrador. ‘Morning,’ I said automatically, but only the dog acknowledged me, barking a couple of times in my direction and pulling on her lead.
‘Come on, girl,’ the man said, tugging his pet away as he looked straight through me. ‘There’s nothing there.’
‘Yes there is, actually,’ I said, eliciting another bark. ‘I’m here. You just can’t see me. Anyhow, you have a good life. Our days of exchanging small talk are over.’
Wondering what to do next, I toyed with making my own way to the hospital, until it dawned on me that I had no clue how to get there. And it wasn’t like I could ask anyone or go on the internet to find out. Returning to Ella’s school seemed a better idea, but then I remembered how they shut all the gates after first bell. The only way in now would be through the front entrance, which operated on a buzzer system. I could wait around for another visitor, but that might take forever. Then there were all the internal doors I’d have to negotiate once inside. Maybe not, I thought. Besides, it could get complicated now that Ella could see me.
All I could think of was to take the bus back to Mum and Dad’s. But rather than heading straight to the bus stop, I decided to take a detour. I walked back to the place where my life as I knew it had been ripped to shreds. I recalled the awful screeching sound that had been my death knell. I winced at the memory of the agonizing pain as I blacked out. And I wondered whether traces of my blood still remained on the road where my broken body had lain.
But when I got there, there was no sign that anything significant had happened, apart from a withered bunch of flowers attached to a lamppost. Not even one of those police witness appeal signs. My death had made no permanent impression on this busy road. The vehicles flowed by in either direction as they always had.
Then one car caught my eye: a silver 4x4 similar to the black one that had smashed into me. Ended me.
The fury was instant and all-consuming. ‘Bitch!’ I screamed. ‘You killed me!’
I stormed out into the traffic and stood on the centre line, blaring out every obscenity I could think of, my arms outstretched like a mad scarecrow. Then, before I knew what I was doing, I ran head on into the first available vehicle. The white transit van, which had three workmen in the front and a copy of the Daily Star wedged between the windscreen and dashboard, drove on like nothing had happened. I was smashed effortlessly out of the way, like a sponge ball that had bounced into the van’s path. There was no pain, but I felt a darkness envelop my mind.
When my brain – or whatever it was at the helm these days – rebooted, I was sprawled on the pavement like an idiot. The anger had passed and I hadn’t got the foggiest why I’d just done what I had. At least it had clarified what would happen if I was hit by a moving vehicle. I knew from experience that travelling inside one was no problem. Apparently getting in its path was a whole different matter. Doing so appeared to have the same repellent effect as when I tried to share space with a living person, albeit with a bit more oomph. It was as if motion brought the vehicle to life, transforming a safe stationary object into something to avoid. Nice of Lizzie and Arthur to warn me.
Sheepishly, I picked myself up and walked towards the bus stop. It’s good to be invisible sometimes, I thought.
CHAPTER 14
TWENTY-EIGHT DAYS LEFT
‘Arthur, where are you hiding?’
I’d tried all the usual places – first at the church and now the school – but I couldn’t find him. Where was he?
‘Come on, Arthur,’ I shouted up from the school field to the flat roof where we’d last spoken. I could see that he wasn’t there, but I was out of ideas and starting to worry about what might have happened to him. ‘I’ve got good news about Ella.’
I went to try the church again, which I was surprised to find had got busy in the short time I’d been away. The car park was nearly full and dozens of people were streaming through the lych gate up to the main entrance. Their dark attire and sombre expressions left little doubt that they were there to attend a funeral.
Ah, I thought. That must be why I’ve not been able to find Arthur. But when I slipped inside, I couldn’t see him anywhere. The congregation, although substantial, was smaller than at my own send-off; I cringed at my pride about this fact. Popping outside again, I circled the building, but there was still no sign
of him. ‘Where are you, Arthur?’ I shouted. ‘I’ve looked everywhere.’
As I plodded back towards the entrance, still calling out to Arthur, I spotted two men chatting. They were the only ones left outside. One of the pair – a portly, elderly chap in a three-piece charcoal suit – scowled in my direction before whispering something to his companion. The younger man – tall and slim, dressed in a black trench coat with matching trilby – looked over at me and nodded. Then they marched inside the church, shutting the door behind them.
‘Hey,’ I called after them. ‘Who are you? You can see me, can’t you? What’s going on? Where’s Art—’
My mouth kept moving, but there was no longer any sound emerging. Baffled, I tried again and again to make a sound – screaming at what should have been the top of my lungs – but nothing came out. It was like I’d been muted.
Oh my God, I thought. This is a disaster. What if I can’t ever speak again? How will I communicate with Ella? I felt a rising sense of panic but forced myself to suppress it. I walked to the bench where Arthur and I had spoken and sat down. I needed to think, so I could work out what was happening to me.
It had to be something to do with those two men. Somehow they could see me and, from the scowl, it wasn’t hard to deduce that they were unhappy about my presence. Shit, I thought. If they can see me, they can probably hear me too. I’d never have shouted like that at a funeral if I’d known anyone was listening. So who or what were those men? And what had they done to my voice?
Waiting for the funeral to end and for them to come back outside appeared to be all I could do. So I listened to the muffled sound of the service going on behind me. It brought back memories of my own ceremony: Ella’s little hand wrapped around Mum’s thumb; Lauren in the pulpit, wiping away a tear. I wondered whose funeral this was. Then it clicked.
The elderly guy walked alongside his pallbearers as they carried his coffin towards its final resting place. At one point he looked nervously back at his companion, who gave him an encouraging smile. The younger man then peeled away from the procession to approach me.
‘Can I trust you to behave?’ he said in a quiet baritone.
I nodded and he took a seat next to me on the bench, removing his hat to reveal a head of white-blond hair, slicked back to one side. His hand touched mine for an instant and my voice was back.
‘Thanks,’ I whispered.
‘I hope you understand why it was necessary.’
I stared at his sea-grey eyes, which beamed back at me with an unnerving intensity. ‘I do. Sorry about that. I didn’t realize. Please could you pass on my apologies?’
‘I will.’
After it was over and all the mourners had walked back down to their cars, the two men remained at the graveside. I was close enough to see what they were doing but not to hear what they said. As I watched, the one I’d spoken to, whose trilby was back in place, said something to the other; he nodded before looking over at me and raising his right hand to his temple in an informal salute. I understood his meaning and waved back to say thank you. I felt as though I should leave after that, not wishing to further intrude, so I stood up and started walking round to the front of the church.
Before turning the corner, I couldn’t resist snatching another glance. The pair of them had their backs to me, but I could see that they were standing next to each other, perfectly still, faces up to the sky. The next minute, the guy in the trilby reached over and put his arm around the other man’s shoulders. No sooner had he done this than a faint glow surrounded them. I rubbed my eyes to check they weren’t deceiving me, but the glow got brighter and brighter by the second. Soon the two men were enveloped in a fierce, pulsating white light. I was mesmerized. Shielding my eyes with my hands, I fought to keep them locked on the spectacle – determined to see what would happen next. But it was too intense. I looked away for an instant and it was over. The light was gone – and the two figures had vanished with it.
Dazed, I watched a glowing after-image dance through the air in front of me, gradually fading away. I willed it to stay. It was so pure, like nothing I’d ever seen before. Just looking into it had affected me profoundly. It was as if my soul had been caressed; my doubts and fears cleansed. I turned towards the church and saw a reflection of my face – eyes wide and mouth stretched into a grin – in a stained-glass window. Was that what I think it was? I wondered. Did I just witness someone passing over to the other side?
‘What happened today, Daddy?’ Ella asked me later. Mum was cooking tea in the kitchen and we were in the lounge watching cartoons on TV.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, you didn’t come with Nana to pick me up from school. And, er, now you seem a bit … weird.’
‘Oh?’ I said, playing ignorant, although I knew I’d been walking around with my head in the clouds since the incident in the churchyard.
‘Is it about Grandad? Nana said he was walking in the water or something.’
I smiled to myself. ‘Treading water.’
‘Yes. What is that?’
‘Treading water is literally swimming in one spot. You move your arms and legs in such a way that you don’t go anywhere. You stay afloat in one place.’
‘Oh yeah. I’ve seen children doing that at swimming. It looks tricky.’ Ella frowned. ‘But what’s that got to do with Grandad? Is there a pool at the hospital?’
‘No, darling. It’s just an expression. It means Grandad’s stayed the same: he’s not any better, but he’s not any worse either.’
‘Is that good or bad?’
‘Well, it can take a while to recover from a stroke. It’s definitely good that he’s not had another one.’
I should have chosen my words more carefully; Ella’s eyes stretched wide with panic. ‘Another stroke? Would he die then?’
‘He hasn’t had another one, darling. I’m sure he’ll be fine now that he’s in the hospital getting the right treatment.’
‘I hope so. I miss him.’
‘I’m sure Nana will take you to visit him soon,’ I said, my attention drawn to the TV as the volume rose for the adverts.
‘Look, Daddy,’ Ella said, pointing at a make-up kit in the shape of a cat’s head, which was being fawned over on screen by a group of excited girls. ‘Jada’s got one of those. She says it’s amazing.’
‘Wow. That looks good,’ I said, knowing exactly what the next question would be.
‘Do you think I could get one, Daddy?’
‘You never know. Maybe Father Christmas will get you one, if you’re good.’
‘But Christmas is ages away,’ she moaned.
‘It’ll be here before you know it,’ I replied, smiling to hide the sadness I felt as it struck me that I’d play no part in Santa’s gifts this year.
Ella jumped back to her original question. ‘So what did happen to you today, Daddy? Why weren’t you there after school?’
I couldn’t bring myself to tell her about the white light. I suppose I didn’t like the implications of how it had made me feel. ‘There’s not much to it,’ I said. ‘Nana got into the car before I had the chance to slip in and I got left behind.’
‘At the hospital?’
‘No. I never made it that far. She stopped off at our house on the way to check everything was okay. That’s when it happened.’
Ella’s mouth drooped at the edges. ‘Have they sold it?’
‘Not yet, love.’
‘I don’t like the idea of someone else living there.’
‘I know. Me neither, but that’s how it has to be. This is your home now. You do like it here, don’t you?’
‘I do, but I still miss our house.’
‘At least all of your things are here,’ I added. ‘Hey, guess how I got back?’
‘How?’
‘On the bus.’
She giggled. ‘Really? How come?’
‘Well, it would have taken me forever if I’d tried to walk. So I waited for one to stop, slipped on – no cha
rge since the driver couldn’t see me – and grabbed an empty seat on the top deck.’
Ella had always loved travelling by bus; especially if it was a double-decker and she could sit upstairs. ‘You’re lucky,’ she said. ‘I wish I could have come. I’ve not been on a bus for ages.’
‘You’ll have to ask Nana to take you on one sometime,’ I replied, wishing I could do it myself.
Stop being so negative, I thought. It wasn’t long ago that you couldn’t even communicate with her. Now here you are, chatting away, and you’re still feeling sorry for yourself. It was a struggle, though. Seeing that incredible light earlier – that glimpse of something amazing – had altered my perception. It had flicked on a switch in my mind that I couldn’t turn back off. I wasn’t sure I even wanted to.
‘What’s it like, Daddy, walking around and doing things when no one can see you?’
‘You can see me.’
‘I know, but no one else can. Isn’t that weird?’
‘A bit. Especially at first. I suppose I’ve got used to it now.’
‘Aren’t there any others like you?’
‘Spirits? Of course. I’ve met a couple. They look like normal people to me, so I may have seen others and not known what they were.’
Ella threw me a puzzled look. ‘Don’t they look see-through, like you do?’
‘No. But I don’t see myself like that either.’
‘Strange.’ She paused before adding: ‘Will I see them too?’
I shrugged my shoulders. ‘I’m honestly not sure, love.’ Up to now, it wasn’t something I’d even considered.
CHAPTER 15
TWENTY-SEVEN DAYS LEFT
Mum was sitting at the kitchen table. Sam started a low-pitched growl as I walked into the room. ‘You silly dog,’ she said. ‘Why are you growling?’
‘Easy there, Sammy, old chum,’ I added. ‘I thought we’d got past all that.’
He eyeballed me and growled some more.
‘Enough, Sam,’ Mum snapped. ‘Put a sock in it, for goodness’ sake.’
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