by Sant, Sharon
She smiles and closes her eyes.
‘Your stomach feels like it could wriggle away all by itself. And your whole body is filled with excitement, running through your veins, right to the top of your head, as if it could pop your hair right out. And if they’re just the right person it’ll taste great and they’ll smell good…. Are you there yet?’
‘Yes,’ she whispers, eyes still closed and a smile on her face. ‘Are you?’ she asks.
I close my eyes and think for a moment. ‘Yes.’
‘Is it nice?’
‘It’s nice. How about you?’
‘It’s lovely,’ she says.
We lie in silence. I imagine kissing Bethany. All the times I thought about kissing Ingrid, it never felt like this.
I’m not sure how long has passed when Bethany speaks. ‘How do I taste?’
I open my eyes and she’s rolled onto her side to look at me. ‘Like cherry bubblegum,’ I tell her.
Her face wrinkles into a giggle.
‘How about me?’ I say. ‘What do I taste of?’
‘Cheese and onion crisps,’ she snorts and her giggle gets louder and I can’t stop myself from laughing with her.
She rolls onto her back. ‘Let’s do it again.’
‘One snog is usually enough,’ I say. ‘I must be getting better at it.’
‘I’ve got low expectations,’ she teases.
The first snowflake drifts down and lands in Bethany’s hair. ‘You were right,’ I say. ‘It’s starting to snow.’
‘Told you.’
‘Should we head back?’ I ask. ‘You must be freezing.’
‘I’m ok for a while,’ she says. ‘It’s not much yet.’
‘But you’re right about that cloud. Now that I come to look at it there is loads of snow in it.’
‘Dad goes to the pub on a Sunday afternoon. We’ll wait until he’s gone and then head back.’
I sit up and look across the churchyard to see a figure standing where my grave is.
‘Bethany, get up.’
She does and follows my gaze across the stones and crisp grass. ‘Is that your mum?’
‘Yes.’
Mum kneels down by my grave and starts to sort through the flowers, putting all the old ones in a pile by her feet. She takes a vase from a bag and then starts to arrange some fresh flowers in it.
‘She has lovely hair,’ Bethany says.
‘She’s cool,’ I say.
She turns to me. ‘You miss her loads.’
I shrug. ‘I do. But it’s hard to see her cry so much all the time too, so I stopped going to see her.’
Bethany is quiet for a moment. ‘I miss my mum like crazy, every day. I’d give everything I owned just to talk to her for one last time.’
‘I suppose at least I can still see my mum. I must be lucky that I can talk to her.’
‘But she can’t see you. And you can’t get her to answer you. That almost seems worse.’
Mr Allen, the school caretaker, trudges up the path dragging a fir tree. It’s all bound up tight with string and sweeps the path behind him leaving a trail of pine needles. Mr Allen is the school caretaker but he also helps out at the church. Everybody does a bit extra of everything around here, it’s just the way it’s always been.
‘They must be putting the Christmas tree up,’ Bethany says, nodding at him.
‘It’s a bit late, isn’t it?’
‘I think the old one got vandalised or something. But then the landlord of the Hope and Anchor had a raffle and gave them the money.’
‘How do you know all that?’
‘Dad told me.’
Mr Allen stops for a moment and waves a greeting to my mum. She looks up and nods, smiling politely, but then carries on with her flower arranging.
We watch for a while longer. When Mum is done she gathers up all the old bits and shoves them into the carrier bag. She stays on her knees for a while, just staring at the stone. Then she straightens up with a hand to her back and pulls her coat more tightly around her.
‘She should be careful on this ice,’ I say. ‘It’s dangerous for her to fall over.’
‘She looks so lonely,’ Bethany says. ‘Shall I go and talk to her?’
‘What would you say?’
‘What would you like me to say?’
I don’t answer straight away. This is what I have wanted Bethany to do since I first hooked up with her, but, suddenly, it doesn’t seem like such a good idea.
‘I really don’t mind going over, if you want me to,’ she says. ‘I’d like to help.’
‘Ask her if she’s ok.’
‘That’s all?’
I nod. ‘I’m not sure she’s ready for the rest.’
Bethany starts to walk towards the grave and I follow.
As she draws near Mum spins around, drying her eyes, and stares at Bethany with a question in her face.
‘Hello,’ Bethany says as she draws level.
Mum nods shortly. ‘Hello…’
‘Bethany,’ Bethany smiles. ‘I’m in David’s year at school.’
Mum frowns for a moment.
‘I didn’t mean to disturb you,’ Bethany says. ‘I just wondered if you were alright.’
‘Oh. Thanks.’ Mum tries to smile back. ‘Did you know David well? He never mentioned you, as far as I remember.’
‘Not really,’ she says, ‘I feel like I do now, though.’
Mum glances at the grave, and then back at Bethany. ‘Have you come to see him?’
‘Tell her you’ve come to see your mum’s grave,’ I say. ‘She might think it’s freaky if you’ve come to see mine.’
Bethany throws me the tiniest puzzled look. ‘Yes,’ she says to my mum, ‘and no. My mum is buried here too.’
Understanding suddenly lights Mum’s face. ‘Bethany Willis?’
‘That’s me,’ Bethany smiles.
‘How long has it been since you lost her?’
‘Nearly a year. I know how you’re feeling right now,’ she says, nodding her head towards the earth in front of them. ‘But it’s not always bad.’
Mum nods. ‘Then you’ll also know that I’d rather be alone right now, if you don’t mind.’
Bethany glances at me.
‘Just ask her if she’s ok and tell her that it’s not her fault,’ I say.
Bethany hesitates before speaking. ‘David wouldn’t want you to blame yourself for what happened,’ she says. ‘And he’d want you to be alright.’
Mum looks at her sharply, her politeness gone. ‘What would you know about it? You just said you didn’t know him.’
‘I knew him a bit.’
‘He never even mentioned you,’ she says, her voice like ice. ‘How could you know what he would want?’
Bethany begins to back away. ‘He… I just wanted you to feel better.’
‘I don’t need scum like you to make me feel better.’
Bethany eyes widen and her mouth falls open.
‘She means your dad, Beth,’ I say quickly, ‘she doesn’t mean you.’
‘My dad’s not scum,’ Bethany says to me, tears starting to fall.
Mum glances across at where I am and then stares at Bethany. ‘What the hell is wrong with you?’
‘Please, don’t cry,’ I tell Bethany, ‘I didn’t mean your dad was scum, I’m just saying what Mum was thinking.’
‘Everybody thinks I’m like him but I’m not.’ Bethany growls at me.
‘I know that. I can’t help what the rest of the village thinks.’
‘Is that why you were so vile to me at school?’
‘I wasn’t… I didn’t do anything to you.’
‘You didn’t do anything to help me either.’
‘Who are you talking to?’ Mum asks, staring at her.
Bethany turns and runs away down the path.
Six: The Beginning
‘Beth, just let me explain.’
She’s lying on her bed with her face to the wall. She’s still huddled in her coat and I
can see that it’s cold again in her room by the way her breath curls into the air. It took me a few minutes to decide whether to go into her house uninvited, but then I figured she was mad enough at me anyway so I might as well.
‘Please, we’re friends, yeah? Don’t do this to me.’
There is only cold silence and she doesn’t move.
‘I need you,’ I say quietly.
Then she turns around. Her face is all swollen from crying. ‘And I needed someone but why did it have to go and be you… stupid, dead you?’
‘Beth, I…’
‘Get lost,’ she spits. ‘I didn’t ask you to come in.’
‘I’m a ghost,’ I say. ‘It’s vampires that need permission to come in.’
She stops crying for a moment, staring at me. Then she smiles a little. ‘You’re an idiot,’ she says, sniffing.
‘My mum didn’t mean what she said. She’s in a really bad place right now. You know how that is… right?’
‘I didn’t go around insulting people when my mum died.’
‘No, but I bet you weren’t really yourself for a while?’
Bethany sighs and sits up, drawing her knees to her chest and hugging them. ‘She’s only saying what everyone around here thinks.’
‘She doesn’t think that, she always tries to see the best in everyone. She was sad when she heard about your mum. You caught her at a bad time today.’
‘You’re just trying to make me feel better.’
‘Well, yes, I am. But I’m also telling you the truth.’
I pause, wondering how to tell her the next thing I need to say. It’ll make me look bad, there’s no way of getting around that. But maybe it’s the only way to help Mum.
‘We had a massive row the night I died, just before I left to do the papers, and I said some crappy things to her. She said some crappy things to me too. I don’t think she’s dealing with that very well.’
‘We all say things we wish we hadn’t to our parents. That’s just the way it is. They don’t really believe we mean them.’
‘I think she did. I think she believed me enough to hate me right then. The night I died, she could have saved me. She could have come to look for me when I didn’t come home from papers and if she had, I’d be alive now, because it took nearly all night for me to die on
Yarrow Lane. I think somebody told her that, the police or a doctor or someone.’ Bethany stares at me. ‘Oh my God, that’s awful. You must have really suffered.’
‘I don’t care about that. Beth, my mum’s really not right… in the head, I mean. I think… she’s doing stuff to herself. Sort of in punishment.’
‘Like, painful things?’
I nod. ‘Horrible things. I went round one day to see her and she was hurting herself. Her arms are covered in cuts; I can’t even look. Roger tries to keep an eye on her but he can’t be there all the time. And she needs to look after herself now. There’s something else too…’
‘What?’
I still can’t bring myself to say it. ‘She just needs to take care,’ is all I manage and hope that Bethany will understand.
‘You’re really worried for her?’
‘Yeah. I never really thought about her feelings before, but now, just when I can’t tell her, there’s so much I need to say. I want her to know that the stuff we said to each other… well, the stuff I said anyway, I didn’t mean any of it.’
She looks at me, deep in thought. ‘You want me to tell her this, don’t you?’
‘After all that happened this afternoon, I understand that you wouldn’t want to see her now.’
‘I don’t, to be honest. And she wouldn’t talk to me anyway.’
‘She doesn’t really think you’re scum. When your mum died she felt sorry for you, she said so, loads of times. I bet she’s feeling bad right now about what she said to you earlier. I reckon she’d be glad of the chance to apologise.’
‘Even so, how am I going to have that conversation with her? Excuse me, I just had a chat with your dead son and he asked me to tell you not to stress about him…’
‘I know. Maybe there is another way of doing it?’
‘How?’
‘Like… we could say that Raven told you.’
‘Raven? So that wouldn’t be weird at all, me consulting a medium about a boy from my class.’
‘No, you say you went to see her about your mum and I came through instead.’
She holds me in a steady gaze. ‘I suppose that could work.’
‘You’ll do it?’
‘I’ll think about it,’ she says. She’s quiet for a moment but when she speaks again she looks doubtful. ‘If I do this, what if that’s your unfinished business finished?’
‘You mean my mum is happy and I leave?’
She nods.
I think about what she’s said before I reply. ‘I’m pretty sure I’m not here for that.’
‘You don’t still think you’re here to look after me?’ she asks, raising her eyebrows.
‘Yeah, I do.’
‘Why? We never had anything to do with each other before. Why aren’t you looking after Ingrid? She at least meant something to you when you were alive.’
I shrug. ‘I don’t know. Maybe Ingrid doesn’t need looking after.’
‘And I do?’
‘Roll back your sleeves,’ I tell her. She stares at me. ‘Roll them back,’ I repeat.
‘No,’ she says, pulling the fabric of her sweatshirt further over her wrists.
‘It doesn’t matter anyway,’ I say calmly. ‘I can see a bruise on your neck.’
‘I bruise easily,’ she says, pouting at me.
‘You must do,’ I say. ‘Because you’re covered in them.’
Her mouth works for a moment but no sound comes out. ‘I have to wash up,’ she finally tells me and I watch as she flips off the bed and leaves me alone in her bedroom.
I cross to the window. The snow is coming down as powder, barely filling the cracks of the paving slabs on the front path, but the sky still looks heavy. The road is deserted, other than the horse hanging his head over the wall of his field as he tries to pull at a long weed growing on the other side. I’ve decided to call him George, he sort of looks like a George. Bethany’s dad’s seething tones carry up the stairs. I can hear Bethany’s voice too, but it’s much quieter and he gets most of the exchange. His voice gets louder and louder. I hear a thud, like an object being thrown at a wall. Then, something that sounds like a slap reaches me, followed by a sharp squeal. I get into Bethany’s wardrobe and crouch down behind her clothes, covering my ears in the darkness. Some guardian angel I am.
Bethany takes a deep breath and glances at me before turning back to the door. Her face is in shadow, apart from the muted glow of the lights showing behind the curtained window of our living room.
‘What if she won’t talk to me?’ she whispers, still staring at the doorbell.
‘She will,’ I whisper back. I’m not even sure why I’m whispering. ‘She’ll always hear people out.’
Bethany frowns. ‘I hope you’re right.’
‘Just remember the story: you went to see Raven about your mum and she told you that I wanted to get a message to my mum. Then you tell her that I don’t blame her and I’m sorry for what I said.’
‘You think that will be enough?’
‘I don’t know.’
She gives a short nod and then reaches up to ring the bell. We hear the faint chime and then the sound of a door opening inside and footsteps echoing along the wood of the hallway floor.
Roger opens the door, his huge frame almost blocking out the light from the hall.
‘Yes?’
‘Um… I just wondered if I could talk to David’s mum?’
‘What do you want her for?’
Bethany hesitates.
‘It’s ok,’ I tell her. ‘He looks scarier than he is.’
‘I need to tell her about something,’ Bethany says.
‘She can’t come to
the door right now.’ Roger goes to shut the front door.
‘It’s kind of important,’ Bethany says in a small voice.
The front door stops and Roger looks at Bethany more closely. ‘Are you the girl that was in the churchyard earlier? Willis’s daughter?’
Bethany glances at me. ‘Yes, but –’
‘She came home in a right state after seeing you.’
‘I didn’t mean to upset her.’
‘Well, you did. So I think you’d better go.’
‘Tell the mono-browed lump of lard that you need to talk to my mum about what Raven said,’ I say to Bethany.
‘I just have to see her for a couple of minutes,’ she says, ‘to tell her about something that the medium in the village told me.’
‘What did the medium say?’ Mum’s voice comes from behind Roger.
He turns in the doorway so that we can see her standing behind. She has a bobbled old cardi pulled tight around her and her face is pale, though her eyes are red and swollen.
‘It’s about David,’ Bethany says, glancing behind at the empty street. She turns back to Mum and Roger.
‘Step into the hallway a minute,’ Mum says, ‘Say what you need to say and then go.’
Bethany goes in and I follow. Roger closes the door behind. Bethany takes off her hat. She pulls her hair down over her ear but I can still see the red marks that look like fingers on the side of her face. She looks nervous as Roger and Mum stare at her.
‘Don’t worry,’ I say. ‘Just remember the story.’
Bethany swallows. ‘I went to see the medium in the village yesterday. About my mum. But she didn’t tell me about my mum. While I was there David spoke to her and wanted me to give you a message –’
‘Is that right?’ Mum interrupts, folding her arms. ‘I went to see Raven this afternoon, right after I’d bumped into you at the churchyard and do you know what she told me?’
Bethany shakes her head slowly, her eyes wide.
‘When I asked her to reach David for me she said she couldn’t. She said she’d never spoken to him since he passed on. So, whatever sick joke you’re playing you can stop now.’
‘It’s not a joke,’ Bethany cries.
‘Then you’re a nutter?’
‘No!’
‘Leave it, Beth,’ I say. I reach for her arm but my hand goes straight through. ‘Beth, let’s go.’