by Rhoda Baxter
‘He’s only eaten one of the meals from this week,’ she said into the phone, without even bothering to say hello first.
Sally leaned forward to see if she could hear the other half of the conversation. She assumed Diane was talking to Frank. She wouldn’t be that rude to anyone else.
‘Yes, but I don’t think he eats much at lunchtime. I’m not sure he eats at all, in fact. I was hoping he was having at least one good meal a day, but he’s just leaving them.’
Sally could hear Frank saying something in a reassuring voice.
Diane gave an impatient flick of the head. ‘I know he’s an adult, but he’s not exactly got a normal life at the moment, has he? I’m worried about him, Frank. I really am. There’s something bothering him, I can tell. More than the usual, I mean. He keeps insisting that he’s fine but …’
More babble from the phone.
‘I’ll try,’ said Diane. ‘I don’t think he really wants to talk about it … no, you’re right. I’ll try at the weekend.’
Sally put her head next to Diane’s, trying to hear Frank’s half of the conversation. Diane gave a little shiver.
‘I think there’s something wrong with the heating too,’ she said. ‘I keep feeling a draught. And there’s this weird …’ she looked around, almost furtive in her movements. ‘… I don’t know, darling, it’s a strange feeling.’ She turned her head so she was looking straight through Sally. ‘I think I’ll leave the cleaning today and just get home. You’re right. Yes … Okay. I’ll see you in a bit.’
Diane hung up and looked over her shoulder again. Then she shuddered and shook her head. ‘Imagining things again,’ she muttered to herself. She picked up the bag, grabbed her coat, and started out of the kitchen. At the door, she paused. After a few minutes, she shook her head again and left.
Interesting. So Diane could sense someone there, but still couldn’t see or hear her. Very interesting. Sally already had an idea of how to get rid of Diane from the house. That should be easy.
Working out what to do about Grace was harder. From what she could tell, Grace was the only one who could see her. If she wanted to get an avenue to Peter, she would have to keep Grace on side.
Sally sighed and stood up. ‘Oh well,’ she said. ‘It’s time to go and make friends with the husband tempter.’
It was dark when Grace got home after visiting Margaret. She had been jumpy, but no ghost had materialised. It was a relief to know that the night before had been a one off. Grace vowed to take it easy that weekend and maybe force herself to have a lie in. Hallucinations were not something to be taken lightly. She let herself in and turned on the light.
There was soup in the fridge. She had forgotten to pick up any bread. Oh well, just soup then. Grace stretched her arms above her head as she strode to the kitchen. She turned to flick on the light switch, turned back and yelped. Sally was standing in the kitchen, arms folded, leaning against the wall as though she were quite at home. ‘I figured out where I knew you from, see?’
Something clicked into place in Grace’s mind. The familiar face. Of course. Sally was one of the estate agents that came round to value the house. She had, now that Grace recalled, been quite candid about how much work the place needed if she were to get an asking price that was anywhere near the other ones in the neighbourhood. That was nearly two years ago. She was surprised either of them remembered. Sally had been in a coma for … She was overthinking this. Sally wasn’t here. It was just a manifestation of Grace’s own imagination.
Grace closed her eyes. ‘Not real,’ she said, to reassure herself, and opened them.
‘Still here,’ said Sally. ‘Sorry.’
‘But I don’t believe in ghosts,’ said Grace. She immediately felt silly. If she didn’t believe in ghosts, then she was talking to herself. She ignored Sally and helped herself to her soup.
‘Look, I know this is weird for you,’ said Sally. ‘Try and see it from my point of view, it’s pretty bloody weird too. One minute I’m getting married and the next thing I know, I’m walking through furniture.’
This was insane. How did one interact with a ghost? Even if there were such a thing. Grace shook her head. ‘I really need to get some sleep.’
‘Grace, listen to me.’ Sally stood right in front of her. Grace reached across for the microwave. Sally didn’t move, so Grace’s arm went through Sally. Watching her arm disappearing into someone’s ribs was nauseating. She felt a stab of intense cold. Grace gasped and pulled her arm back.
‘I’m not going to hurt you. You’re the only one that can see me. I’m invisible to everyone else.’ Sally looked up, her expression pleading. ‘Please. I just want to hang around with someone who can hear me.’
The look on Sally’s face was so plaintive that Grace felt a rush of sympathy. How horrible it must be to have so much to say to people and not be able to communicate. She wondered if Sally had been locked into her body for all those months. She couldn’t think of anything worse. She felt a stab of guilt. The least she could do was listen to her.
‘What do you do of an evening?’ said Sally, peering at the kitchen calendar which was more or less clear.
When Grace’s parents had been alive, the calendar had been covered with appointments. Now, since her mum’s funeral … nothing. The first time she’d turned over a page for a new month and seen it clear of appointments, Grace had burst into tears. She still didn’t know if it was with sorrow or relief.
‘I’ll do stuff with you, then,’ said Sally. ‘It’s just nice to, you know, exist. It’d probably be good for you to do that too.’ She nodded meaningfully at the empty calendar.
‘Right.’ Grace gave up arguing against the evidence of her own eyes. If Sally was going to stand here and be rude about her social life, she may as well talk back. She went to the fridge and put away the remaining half carton of soup. ‘Do you … want something to eat?’
‘No point. Ghost, remember. Besides, my body’s being given everything through a tube. I’m good thanks.’
‘Oh yes. Sorry.’
‘No need to apologise. Look, don’t let me stop you.’
Sally started talking when Grace was eating. She talked about all sorts of random things, asked about what was happening in soap operas, various celebrities, local businesses.
Grace couldn’t answer any of those questions. She tried to puzzle her way round the situation. Assuming Sally was a ‘real’ ghost, why was she there? Why haunt Grace and not Peter? Was Grace part of her unfinished business? Was that stuff about unfinished business real or just a construct of the movie industry?
The scientist in her came up with a load more questions – why was Sally sucking the heat out of her immediate surroundings? Did she need the energy to be visible? If she stood next to a big enough energy source, would she become solid? Could she move things? Could she feel emotions without hormones or a nervous system? How close was her connection to her body? If she felt fear, did her body’s heart rate increase?
‘Oh come on,’ said Sally. ‘You own a TV. Don’t you ever watch it?’
‘Actually, no. Not really. When Mum was alive, I didn’t have time.’
‘And now?’ She had her hands on her hips again. Sally really was very bossy. Grace wondered what Peter saw in her.
‘I guess I’ve got out of the habit.’ She crossed over to the sink and started to wash the bowl. ‘I can turn the TV on for you, if you’d like.’ What was she doing? She didn’t know if this whole ridiculous situation was real. And even if it was, she didn’t want to encourage Sally.
Sally walked through the kitchen table to come and stand next to her. It was creepy when she did that.
‘I’d be stuck watching the same channel. Besides, I just want to do something normal. Sit around with a mate watching telly.’
A ‘mate’. Was that what Sally was expecting
her to become? A friend. Grace thought of Peter. What would Sally say if she knew? Immediately, Grace felt guilty. Sally was trapped in a limbo all alone and she, Grace, had nearly slept with Sally’s husband. What kind of a monster did that? On the other hand, this whole situation was too weird and she wasn’t totally convinced it wasn’t all in her head. Maybe it was her mind working out her feelings of guilt? Either way, she was pretty much obliged to be nice to Sally. ‘I understand what you mean, but I need some time to get my head round this,’ she said, carefully. ‘If you don’t mind, I’d like some time to myself.’ She turned her back on Sally and left the room.
The hairs on the back of her neck prickled. There was a chill. Sally had followed her. It was like being shadowed by an iceberg.
She had intended to go to bed, but there was no way she was doing that with Sally following her. Grace went into the sitting room instead and pulled out the DVDs she’d bought but never got around to watching. Hopefully, an hour or so of being ignored, would send Sally away. It was easier to ignore an unwanted guest if there was something she could watch.
‘DVDs. Brilliant. Let’s do that.’ Sally swept through the sofa and leaned forward to read the box, which Grace had left blurb side up by mistake. ‘Being Human? What’s that?’
Grace said nothing.
‘Ghost, Vampire, Werewolf, living together.’ Sally laughed. ‘How appropriate.’
Grace refrained from pointing out that she was neither a vampire nor a werewolf. And, since that Sally herself was not dead, she didn’t actually qualify as a proper ghost either. More an … avatar. Athma the word popped into her head out of nowhere. Her parents hadn’t been big on religion, but she’d read enough books to know Buddhist vocabulary. Athma. The manifestation of you in each life.
‘Just me who finds it funny, then.’ Sally threw herself onto the sofa. She sank a little too far in and it took a few seconds for her to work out the right depth.
Grace watched her and was interested, in spite of herself. ‘How come you don’t just go through that sofa?’
‘Don’t know. Habit, I guess. It’s easier to walk through something if I’ve not noticed it, I find.’
‘I guess that makes sense.’ She turned on the TV and DVD player using the various remotes. ‘You’ve become accustomed to instinctively walking around obstacles, so you’d have to reprogram yourself to walk through them. Interesting.’
‘I can’t walk through walls though,’ said Sally. ‘Look.’ She scrambled to her feet and walked, frowning at a wall. It stopped her, just as it would have stopped someone corporeal. ‘But doors, no problem.’ She went through the closed door and back in again. ‘Weird huh?’
‘Maybe your conviction that walls are solid is too strong.’ Grace was getting interested now. It occurred to her that she knew very little about any research, if any, into the supernatural. She would have to look into it. She wondered which subject that came under. Not biology. Physics, perhaps, or psychiatry.
‘What, like I think doors aren’t solid?’ Sally flopped back onto the sofa. ‘I don’t think that’s it. There’s places I just can’t go.’
Grace loaded the DVD into the player. ‘Like the other end of the hall in the hospital.’
‘Exactly.’ Sally grinned. Sally pulled her feet onto the sofa and snuggled down into the corner, her petite limbs settling in, making her look vulnerable and child like. If Grace tried to do that, she’d end up all elbows and knees. Maybe that was the attraction. Men liked small, pretty women.
Feeling huge and ungainly, Grace sat on the other end of the sofa. Normally, she would have stretched out on it, but didn’t feel it was appropriate to do so now. She might end up sticking a foot through Sally by mistake.
They sat in silence through the ads.
‘I hate these,’ said Sally when the anti-piracy ad came on. ‘Why put it on legal copies? We’ve paid for ours, so why ram this crap down our throats. Bloody morons.’
‘Please don’t swear,’ said Grace, noting that it was ‘our’ DVD now. ‘I don’t really like swearing. Especially in the house.’ She looked up to where her mother’s room was above, out of habit. Her mother hated swearing and it still seemed wrong to swear in the house.
Sally muttered ‘Sorry’ and put her head to one side to watch as the programme started.
It took two consecutive episodes before the tension in the room waned. Sally watched Grace and she gradually unclenched herself and seemed to get absorbed by the story on screen. Studying her rival, she realised just how tall Grace was. She could see how Peter would find that combination of long limbs and softness appealing. But to her eyes, Grace’s features were too large for her face and the chin would lead to chubbiness when she got older. She sucked in her own neat pout. Grace’s hair was looped into a loose bun that was resting on the nape of her neck. It was nice hair, thick and glossy. Sally hated her own light feathery mane, but Peter loved running his fingers though it and playing with it. He said he felt like it was already spun into gold. Of course, now he knew that she dyed it. She wondered if it mattered to him. He had a thing about hair. Grace’s hair was probably the major attraction for Peter. Well, she’d have to do something about that.
She wondered what exactly happened between Peter and Grace. Peter’s voice had given away guilt, so did Grace’s, so something must have. But how far had it gone? Had they slept together? Sally narrowed her eyes.
Grace smiled at something on screen. Her eyes moved towards Sally. Sally pretended to be really interested in the story. After a second or two, she sensed Grace’s attention moving away. She remained, carefully watching until the episode finished and the credits started rolling.
‘Well, it’s getting better, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘I could watch Aidan Turner all day. He could bite my neck anytime.’
Grace stretched her arms out. ‘I suppose.’
‘Which one’s your favourite?’ said Sally, in her best girl pal voice.
‘George.’
‘The goofy one?’
‘He’s not goofy. He’s shy. And nice. I think he’s quite sweet.’ Grace said. ‘I like that.’
Goofy and naive. Like Peter. Hmmm. ‘Well, I prefer my men dark and dangerous.’
Grace raised her eyebrows.
‘What?’ said Sally.
‘Peter isn’t dark and dangerous.’
Bingo. ‘Ah, but he’s different. He’s not an idealised fake man. He’s my REAL man.’ She looked at her hand. ‘He’s my husband.’
Grace looked away. Sally waited.
After a moment of staring out towards the window, Grace said, ‘He loves you very much, you know. Very much.’ She still didn’t turn around. There was something wistful about the slump of her shoulders.
Sally smiled. That was just what she’d been hoping to hear. He loved her and he’d told Grace that. Brilliant. He fancied this woman, but he wasn’t doing anything because he was married to Sally. That’s my boy, thought Sally.
‘Yeah,’ she said. Because she couldn’t help rubbing it in, she said, ‘I love the way he looks at me. Like I’m the most perfect woman in the world and he can’t believe his luck.’
Grace turned to face her. There was sadness in the downturned corners of her mouth. ‘He still thinks you’re perfect. He’s been holding on to that for all this time.’
‘Really? A year is a long time. And I look … different, lying in that bed.’
Grace nodded. ‘He visits you every day. Reads to you. Talks to you. He’s completely devoted to you.’ She smiled in a grave sort of way. ‘You’re very lucky. To be loved that much.’
‘Oh, I know,’ said Sally, smiling gaily back. Her head hummed with triumph. Peter was still hers. He would still look at her like she was the best thing in the world. If only she could find a way for him to see her again. She would have to work on that slowly. For that, sh
e’d need to keep Grace on side.
The programme came to an end. Grace wondered what to do. Sally was still there, showing no signs of leaving. She flicked the DVD back to the main screen to select another episode.
‘I see you’re redecorating,’ said Sally.
Grace looked across. ‘Um … yes.’
Sally gave the room a once over and nodded. ‘It needs it.’
‘So you said, when you came round to value it.’
The glance that Sally threw at her looked slightly alarmed. ‘Did I upset you when I said that? I didn’t mean to.’
Grace shrugged. She hadn’t been upset by the candid assessment. She knew it needed to be done. In fact, she’d felt that Sally’s valuation had been more accurate and more informative than the rest. She had pointed out the things that could be improved and how much the changes would affect the asking price.
‘I could help you with the redecorating, if you’d like,’ said Sally. ‘I love home décor.’
‘Really?’ She just viewed it as another job to do.
‘Oh yeah.’ Sally jumped to her feet. ‘Come on then, what are you planning for this room?’
Grace hesitantly outlined her plans to paint it a pale green.
Sally listened to her, looking thoughtful. ‘What’s your budget?’ she said. ‘Can you replace this?’ She waved to indicate the sofa.
Grace shook her head. Not because the budget didn’t stretch, but because replacing the sofa was a step too far.
‘If I remember rightly,’ said Sally. ‘This room gets light in the morning. You want to make the most of that.’
Sally talked enthusiastically about painting three walls one colour and making the further wall darker to make the room look bigger and about colour accents. As she spoke, her eyes shone and for a moment she looked radiant. The vision she painted was compelling. Grace found herself nodding, carried along by Sally’s ideas.
‘Show me round?’ Sally suggested. ‘I’d love to hear what you’re doing with the rest of the place.’