Please Release Me

by Rhoda Baxter

  ‘Everything’s okay,’ said Grace. ‘Well, you know what I mean.’ She turned to Peter and managed a tight smile. ‘Shall we go up to Sally’s room?’

  Peter waited until they were in the lift before he said again, ‘Grace? What’s going on?’ He looked wild eyed. His hair was mussed up as though he’d been running his fingers through it. There were dark circles under his eyes. When he frowned, his scar puckered.

  ‘It’s hard to explain,’ she said. She watched the display as the floors ticked past. How did she start this conversation? It was an impossible thing to just casually bring up. The lift stopped and someone got in, saving her from having to explain. They shuffled to the back and no one said anything.

  They got out of the lift together and walked down the corridor. Sally was waiting at the doorway to her room, watching TV over the duty nurse’s shoulder. ‘Oh good,’ she said. ‘You’re here.’ She looked at Peter as he stopped to get an update from the nurse. ‘God, Peter looks like he hasn’t slept. Again. Poor baby, he looks knackered.’

  Grace nodded her head, but only slightly so that no one noticed. She wondered how Peter would take the news that his wife was wandering around being a ghost. She smiled at the nurse, who waved in recognition. Had the fact that she and Peter were friends made it into the hospice gossip? If it had, Sally would know. Sally hadn’t mentioned anything, so hopefully not.

  She followed Peter into the room. He went straight to the bedside to kiss Sally’s pale forehead. The ghost Sally stood by the bed, fidgeting. Grace shut the door behind her.

  ‘You ready to do this?’ Sally asked Grace. She wasn’t exactly sure she was herself. She had liked being about to observe Peter’s life without him being aware of her. It was a window on what it would have been like if she had died in the accident. Peter wouldn’t have shrugged it off and found someone else. He would have pined. The thought was satisfying. She had chosen well. He was truly in love with her.

  ‘So, what did you want to talk to me about?’ said Peter, turning to Grace. ‘What’s so hard to explain? And why here?’

  ‘Er. Perhaps you should sit down,’ said Grace.

  ‘Good idea,’ said Sally. She sat down in the middle of the bed. ‘It’s hard to take in this sort of stuff. Peter’s never been that great at absorbing ideas outside his usual area.’ She was impressed at how well Grace was dealing with all this. Perhaps she didn’t have designs on Peter after all. If she did, why would she agree to this conversation so readily? Maybe she had been worrying about nothing.

  ‘Grace, you’re starting to scare me,’ said Peter. He didn’t move from where he was.

  ‘Best to get on with it,’ said Sally. ‘There’s no point wasting time.’

  Grace took a deep breath. ‘Okay. You know that night with the lightning storm.’

  ‘Yes …’ He was looking worried and suspicious at the same time. Good boy. Be suspicious of other women.

  ‘Something weird happened that night. I saw Sally’s ghost.’

  Sally raised her eyebrows. ‘Not softening the news or anything there, Grace.’

  ‘She’s sitting on the bed, right now.’ Grace nodded to where Sally was.

  Peter looked at the spot on the bed, then back at Grace. ‘Grace … I know you’ve been under a lot of stress lately.’ He started to step towards her, but seemed to change his mind. ‘I think you should really take what happened at the abseil seriously. I think it’s affected you more than you think.’

  Sally jumped off the bed and stalked towards Grace. ‘Wait. What happened at the abseil? What’s this?’ She thought back to the weeks before. She’d been with Grace most evenings. So this must have been something that happened before she came back as a ghost. Peter had mentioned the abseil. He hadn’t come to see her that night. Hmmm …

  Grace looked at Sally ‘I had a bit of a panic attack. Peter was there.’

  Peter looked alarmed. ‘Grace.’ He stepped forward carefully, as though approaching a skittish animal. ‘Sally can’t speak to you. She’s in a coma. Now, you’re clearly under a lot of strain. I’m sorry if—’

  ‘I’m not going nuts, Peter.’ Grace took a step away. ‘I know it’s hard to believe, but she’s here. You said you’ve been feeling cold. That’s Sally. Wherever she goes, it seems to make people cold. There’s nothing wrong with the thermostat. It’s Sally’s ghost.’

  ‘Sally’s ghost.’ He frowned. He looked around the room and back at the person asleep on the bed. ‘Grace, Sally’s not dead. You can’t be seeing her ghost. Have you been put back on any anti-depressants? Perhaps there’s some side effect …’

  Grace ploughed on. ‘She wanted to talk to you. I think I’m the only one who can see or hear her, so—’

  Peter was staring at Grace with concern. Sally felt a stab of anger. Getting him to feel sorry for Grace had not been part of the plan. This meeting was supposed to be about her. Not Grace. ‘I don’t think he believes you,’ said Sally.

  ‘Of course he doesn’t believe me. I didn’t believe in you to start with and I can see you.’

  Peter looked in the general direction of Sally and back again. ‘Grace. I think you should sit down.’ He walked over and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. There was some sort of familiarity there. Like he’d touched her before. Sally felt the jealousy stirring again. Perhaps she should stay shtum and let Grace make a fool of herself. Peter would be far less attracted to a mad woman. If he was attracted to her at all, that is. So far, all the attraction seemed to be on Grace’s side.

  Grace turned to face Sally. ‘Tell him something only you could know.’

  Peter seemed to hesitate a moment, then he removed his hand from Grace’s shoulder.

  On the other hand, the idea that his wife was around, might make Peter less likely to look elsewhere. Even if she was only a ghost. Like in Truly, Madly, Deeply. He could end up just talking to her and loving her as a ghost.

  ‘Um … we were going to go to Thailand on honeymoon. We danced to Doris Day on the radio the day we moved into the house. We had takeaway Italian delivered.’

  Grace relayed the information to Peter. He narrowed his eyes. ‘How did you know that?’

  ‘She told me. She’s standing right next to you.’

  Sally reached out and stroked his cheek. Peter shivered.

  ‘She’s touching your cheek,’ said Grace.

  Peter raised his hand to his face, his fingers brushing through Sally’s hand. He looked back at his empty hand. He looked so confused Sally almost laughed.

  ‘I know it’s hard to believe,’ said Grace. ‘I don’t even believe in ghosts, but it’s hard not to believe Sally when she’s standing in the middle of the furniture in her wedding dress.’

  ‘Her wedding dress?’ He sounded dazed now. There was a catch in his voice.

  ‘She was in her wedding dress when the accident happened.’

  Peter moved over to the windowsill and sat on it. ‘She was.’

  ‘Oh, darling,’ said Sally, perching on the sill next to him. ‘It’s all true. I wish you could see me.’

  Peter rubbed his arm absent-mindedly. ‘I want to believe you, but …’ His gaze drifted towards the figure on the bed. For a minute, Sally thought he was talking to her.

  ‘She can hear you,’ said Grace, looking at the bed. ‘When you talk to her, she can hear you. She’s been able to hear you for a few months.’

  ‘Since around the time your mum made that horrible aubergine stuff,’ said Sally. She was studying Peter intently.

  ‘Since your mum made the aubergine dish,’ Grace repeated.

  ‘You bagged it and threw it out because the smell made you feel ill,’ said Sally, smiling. Grace relayed that too.

  Peter gave a short laugh. ‘She told you that?’

  Grace nodded.

  ‘And you can hear her,
but I can’t?’ He was staring right through Sally, at her body on the bed. ‘Why can’t I hear her?’

  Grace explained about the lightning and the weird connection between them. Sally helpfully suggested a couple more things that Grace could convey to him. Peter looked from Grace to the figure on the bed.

  When Grace looked like she was about to speak, Sally put up her hand and stopped her. Peter was clearly working something through in his head. They had to wait. They couldn’t force him to believe Grace. It was a conclusion he had to come to himself.

  It took a few more minutes before Peter looked up. His eyes seemed to have a manic sort of light in them. ‘Since the lightning strike?’ he said to Grace.

  Grace nodded.

  ‘That was two weeks ago.’

  Sally frowned. He was going to wonder why she hadn’t spoken to him before. This talking through Grace was a good first step, but she needed to talk to him directly, respond to what he said without Grace getting in the way. ‘I want to talk to him,’ Sally said to Grace. ‘Not through you. Really talk to him.’

  ‘But how can you do that? He can’t hear you.’

  ‘I could take you over, like I did with that girl.’ Only better, she added to herself.

  ‘No. No way.’

  ‘What?’ said Peter. Sally was about to snap ‘keep up’ at him, before she realised that he could only hear Grace’s side of the conversation.

  ‘She wants to talk to you,’ said Grace. ‘Directly.’

  Peter sighed. ‘I want to talk to her as well.’ He glanced again at the figure on the bed. ‘So, so much.’

  Sally looked pleadingly at Grace. Grace was a soft touch. These people who felt the constant need to be of help usually were. She would give in.

  Grace sighed. She indicated that he should sit in the chair. ‘Close your eyes,’ she said. ‘Close your eyes and I’ll relay what she says.’ She pulled up a chair and sat opposite him. After a moment, she closed her own eyes and turned her head away, as though focusing.

  Peter stared at her for a minute. ‘Okay,’ he said. There was hope in his voice. He pulled the other plastic chair and sat down, facing Grace. ‘Okay.’ He closed his eyes.

  ‘Hello, Peter, it’s Sally here,’ Grace repeated after Sally.

  ‘Hello, Sally.’ He smiled. ‘This is weird,’ he said in a confidential tone. Sally wasn’t sure which one of them he was talking to.

  ‘You’re telling me,’ said Grace. They both smiled behind their closed eyes, and Sally realised he hadn’t been speaking to her just then. The shared moment of intimacy between them annoyed her. He was supposed to be concentrating on his wife, not the messenger.

  ‘It’s … nice to see you,’ she said, uncertainly. ‘I’m sorry I’ve been making you feel cold. I can’t help it.’ Grace relayed the message, her voice low.

  ‘I’m … it’s okay,’ said Peter. ‘I can’t believe …’

  ‘She’s not making it up,’ said Sally, quickly. ‘It really is me. I’ve been listening to you talking to me for so long and I couldn’t say or do anything. I would have given you some sort of sign if I could. You know that, right?’

  Peter listened, frowning slightly as Grace repeated it. ‘Sally. Does it hurt? Are you in pain?’

  The question surprised her. She had expected questions about other things. Not about her body. She glanced over at the shell that used to be hers. It carried on breathing, oblivious to the world. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I’m not in any pain. Not the physical kind anyway.’ She turned back to Peter and reached out to trace the scar on his cheek. He sucked in a breath at her touch. ‘How about you?’ she said.

  Sally ran a finger along the line of his jaw and watched a shiver run down the side of him. She had been able to make him thrill with just a touch and now her hands made his shudder. That hurt.

  ‘I’m okay. Missing you, you know.’ Peter frowned. There was a slight hesitation as though he was trying to decide what to say, then ‘Your mum came by. You know, the one you told me was dead.’ The note of sarcasm was unmistakeable.

  ‘I’m sorry about that. I wanted to keep her away from you. To forget all the stuff she put me through.’ Sally noticed the way Grace’s lips tightened before she spoke. Being caught in this domestic conversation was clearly uncomfortable for her. Good. It’ll teach her to think twice before trying anything with Peter.

  ‘I would have understood, you know. We could have helped her. I would have supported you both,’ Peter said.

  Sally laughed. He was so middle class sometimes. Like they had the solution to everything. ‘Oh Peter. You have such faith in the twelve step plans. You can’t reform addicts unless they want to be reformed.’

  ‘You changed,’ said Peter.

  Sally said nothing. If he thought that, it was brilliant. She had been worried that the whole thing with the lottery ticket might have given the game away. Good. One less thing to worry about.

  ‘I wanted to change, because I found a man worth changing for.’ Sally blew gently in his ear and watched the shiver go all the way down his spine.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ he said, rubbing a hand down his neck as though to brush off her touch. ‘And why didn’t you tell me when you came back? You could have told Grace to tell me. I would have believed her, eventually.’

  Sally glanced over at Grace who seemed to have relaxed a little. How easy would it be to take over her? Possess her and talk directly to Peter. Sally suspected it would not be as easy as when she’d practised. All the people she’d practised on were already in a trance like place, most of them too focused on the slot machines to notice her slipping behind their eyes. That girl at Glenda’s house had practically invited her in. Grace was focusing too, at this moment. Maybe if … but it was risky. If Grace realised what was happening, she’d have her guard up and she’d stop helping. The only other way to talk to Peter directly, would be to persuade Grace to let her in.

  ‘Oh Peter!’ Sally allowed a catch into her voice. ‘I wanted to. But think of what it’s like. I can see you, I can hear you, but you can’t see or hear me. How can I ask Grace to talk to you on my behalf? I couldn’t bear it being so close and not being able to touch you, to feel your warm skin. To kiss you. It hurts more that you can imagine. I couldn’t drag you down to this living hell with me.’

  Grace’s eyes snapped open. She shook her head. ‘I can’t do it,’ she said. ‘I can’t possibly tell him that and do it justice.’

  Sally let her lip wobble a bit and spread her hands out in a gesture of helplessness. ‘It’s what I need him to know.’

  Grace didn’t say anything. She looked like she was going to cry. Her eyes seemed to be watering. Christ, what a sap. This was almost too easy.

  ‘Maybe if you let me …’ said Sally. ‘You’re not like the other girl, she was out of her head. You’re sober and you’re expecting it. I can’t possibly do you any harm.’

  ‘What’s going on?’ said Peter. His eyes were open. He was watching Grace.

  ‘Sally was asking if I’d let her … possess me,’ said Grace. ‘She wants to talk to you. Properly.’

  ‘Possess you?’ Peter’s voice surged with incredulity.

  Grace shrugged.

  ‘It’s not that hard,’ said Sally. ‘I’ll just step in behind your eyes and we’ll share. I can feel everything you feel and see everything you see. But you’ll be able to see too.’

  Grace hesitated, her eyes going from Peter to Sally and back again.

  ‘Grace?’ Peter said. He was probably wanting to know what Sally was saying, but it sounded for a moment like he was prompting her to agree.

  Grace sighed. ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘I’m going to let Sally take me over,’ she explained to Peter. ‘It’ll be my voice, but it’ll sound like Sally. I’ve seen her do this before.’

  ‘Is it safe?’ />
  ‘Yes. Perfectly,’ said Sally. ‘You saw that girl. She was fine. She wanted to have another go, in fact.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Grace. She sat up straighter in her chair and laid her hands on her knees. ‘Might help to close your eyes again, Peter,’ she said. ‘It’s a bit too weird otherwise.’

  ‘Ready?’ said Sally. Before Grace could answer, she slid over until she was behind Grace’s eyes. Grace gasped and fought her. She was much stronger than anyone Sally had tried to slip into before. ‘Relax,’ Sally hissed. ‘Stop fighting me.’

  She could feel the tension reduce as Grace forced herself to be calm. She let the sensations wash over her for a moment. Warmth, movement, the pull of gravity. Past Grace’s eyelids she could see Peter, his face creased with worry. His eyelids fluttered, as though he was fighting to keep them closed.

  ‘It’s me now,’ said Sally. The voice was Grace’s, but it had her manner and pitch, making it sound as though Grace was doing an impression of her. ‘Oh, god, Peter, I’ve missed you. It’s been so strange, listening to you and not being able to see you or respond. Then I could see you and follow you, but I couldn’t touch you or let you know I was there. I’ve missed you so much.’

  Peter caught his breath when she started speaking. ‘Sally,’ he whispered.

  Sally gave a little laugh. ‘Darling, I don’t know what to say. It’s been so long and I finally get to talk to you and I don’t know what to say.’

  ‘Come back,’ said Peter. ‘The doctors say you’re doing well. We just need you to come back and wake up.’

  ‘If I knew how to, sweetheart, I would. I really would. I don’t want to be like this. I would love to pick up my life where I left off.’ She gave a little laugh. ‘I’m desperate to see a hairdresser, for a start.’

  Peter smiled. ‘Yes, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply you had a choice. It’s just that I want you back so badly …’

  ‘Me too.’

  ‘This isn’t quite what I expected from married life,’ said Peter, still smiling.