‘In case of what?’
‘In case we appear at an inopportune moment. Like I say, I’ve never been earthbound before, so I don’t know when we’re invisible and when we’re not. I’ll make sure we try to stay unseen, but I’m not sure how it works. And I’m thinking you won’t want three ladies in various states of undress mingling with your Christmas shoppers.’
‘She’s right.’ Dexter nodded. ‘Ernie’s OK, he’s fully dressed in his suit, he’s even got a shirt and tie and nice polished shoes on, so if anyone spots him they’ll think he’s a shopper, but the one over there in the sheet –’ he made a face in Gertie’s direction ‘– she’d scare the pants off anyone.’
Frankie sighed, then smiled at Bev. ‘I’m afraid the frocks I’ve got only date back to the nineteen fifties at the moment. We haven’t had any real vintage stuff. They might be a bit, um, modern for you.’
‘They might,’ Bev agreed. ‘But they’ll be even more modern for those two.’
Ruby and Gertie were looking disconsolate.
‘OK.’ Frankie tried not to think that this was the maddest thing she’d ever done in her life, and took a deep breath. ‘Let’s pretend you’re all normal customers – go and have a look and see what might suit you.’
Gertie and Ruby immediately homed in on the strapless pink evening dress again.
‘Not that.’ Frankie shook her head. ‘Sorry. It has to be day-wear only. Otherwise you’ll stick out like sore thumbs.’
‘And you don’t think they might do that anyway?’ Dexter asked kindly. ‘Being as they’re dead?’
‘Bev doesn’t look dead. Nor does Ruby in a good light. I’m not so sure about Gertie.’
‘I was always pasty.’ Gertie grinned at them in a rather scary manner. ‘Even when I was alive. Pale and pasty. Proper little pasty face my dad used to call me. I don’t look that much different now, actually.’
‘Jesus,’ Dexter muttered.
Frankie, suddenly wanting to laugh and sure that if she started it’d turn into hysterics and she’d never stop, ignored him, and hurried across to the rails of dresses.
‘Blue would suit you,’ she said to Bev. ‘What about this?’
Bev surveyed the 1950s blue frock with its white collar and cuffs and nipped-in waist. ‘Mmm, I quite like that one. Can I try it on?’
‘Be my guest,’ Frankie muttered, raking through the frocks to find something – anything – that would do to cover Ruby and Gertie’s obvious, er, deadness.
‘This would be nice for you.’ She pulled out a crimson wool dress in a very small size and showed it to Ruby. ‘You’re very petite.’
‘I used to be a right big lass,’ Ruby said conversationally, lovingly stroking the crimson dress. ‘Until my last illness.’
Frankie whimpered. It was one thing knowing they were dead, it was quite another having to face why. ‘I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.’
‘Oh, you haven’t,’ Ruby said cheerfully. ‘It was smashing being thin for a while at least. And now I’m always thin and I love it.’
She slid enthusiastically out of the greying nightdress and stood stark naked in the shop.
Dexter, Ernie and Jared quickly averted their eyes. ‘Oh God, you haven’t got any underwear,’ Frankie gulped. ‘I’m afraid I don’t do undies.’
‘Not a problem for ghosts,’ Ruby assured her, slipping on the crimson dress which fitted her perfectly and giving a twirl. ‘There! How does that look?’
‘Really nice.’ Frankie nodded. ‘It could have been made for you. Shame none of you have got any shoes on. Shoes would set off the frocks beautifully.’
‘It’s not damn Gok’s Clothes RoadShow,’ Dexter said testily.
‘They’re dead, Frankie, not off to some huge red carpet event. They don’t need matching accessories. Just get them dressed and let’s get out of here.’
‘Yes, but,’ Frankie hissed, ‘if they’re seen wandering around the shop barefooted in the dead of winter, people will notice won’t they?’
‘Mmm, suppose so.’
‘Oh, I do wish Rita hadn’t donated all her shoes to Maisie now.’
‘Maisie will just have to un-donate some then, won’t she?’ Dexter said. ‘I’ll pick some up when I take her home. Although they might not fit that well, I suppose. What size was Rita?’
‘Six,’ Frankie said. ‘Ladies? Will size six shoes do you? I can’t guarantee that they’ll match your frocks, but—’
‘Any shoes will be most acceptable,’ Bev said. ‘I’m a six anyway. I don’t know about them two, though.’
‘I think I was a five,’ Ruby said, ‘but I’ve only ever had hand-me-down shoes so I can stuff the toes with newspaper.’
‘I’m a size seven,’ Gertie added. ‘But I can tread the backs down. I always had to do that when I borrowed my sister’s shoes. She were a size six so they’ll be fine for me. And I’m not fussy about style or colour.’
Frankie heaved a sigh of relief. Shoes, it seemed, didn’t have that much importance in the afterlife. She wouldn’t mention it to Lilly.
‘We’ll manage with whatever you can get, thank you. And I do like this dress.’ Bev pirouetted in her blue frock. ‘I had something similar before we got bombed out. It takes me right back.’
‘It really suits you,’ Frankie said. ‘Er, is the, um, bombing how you, um, passed over?’
‘Died,’ Bev said, admiring herself in the cheval mirror. ‘Yes. We don’t use euphemisms. No passing over, passing away, going on before, shuffling off the mortal coil. None of that old baloney. We died and we’re dead. Fact.’
‘Er, right.’
‘Can you find a dress for me now?’ Gertie asked plaintively, trailing her sheet behind her. ‘Don’t forget me.’
‘As if,’ Dexter said.
Frankie shot him a look.
‘What about a nice bright yellow? Something cheerful.’ Frankie rattled the hangers back and forth. ‘Yellow always brings a bit of sunshine into the dullest day, I feel, don’t you?’ Oh heavens, she was turning into Cherish. ‘Ah, now this is lovely and looks as if it might be your size, doesn’t it?’
She flourished the lemon cotton dress, its full skirt randomly splodged with deeper yellow sunflowers.
‘Oh, yes!’ Gertie clapped her greying hands. ‘Lovely! So pretty! I was always one for a pretty frock!’ She cast a coquettish simper at Dexter. ‘The boys all loved my pretty frocks.’
Dexter, Frankie noticed, looked slightly sick. Ernie and Jared still had their eyes closed.
Shedding the raggedy wrapped-round sheet and displaying her all-over greyness to its full advantage, Gertie shrugged the vibrant yellow frock over her head.
‘Zip me up, love, will you?’ She grinned at Frankie. ‘I can’t wait to see meself in a dress after over eighty years.’
Frankie zipped, avoiding looking at the withered grey skin.
‘Oh! I love it!’ Gertie elbowed Bev and Ruby away from the mirror. She looked anxiously at Frankie. ‘Thank you so much – but when we go back, can we keep the dresses on? We won’t have to go back to wearing the other things, will we?’
‘I shouldn’t think so,’ Frankie said, not having a clue. ‘I’m sure if you’re wearing the dresses when, well, whenever whoever can return you to, er, the afterlife, then you’ll go, er, back in whatever you’re wearing at the time. You’re more than welcome to keep them.’
‘Lovely.’ Gertie looked delighted. ‘Thank you. I can’t wait to show this off to my old man when I get back. It’ll be like our honeymoon all over again.’
Dexter chuckled.
Frankie winced.
‘Right.’ Dexter ran his fingers through his streaky hair. It fell beautifully and silkily back into place ‘I’m totally worn-out. So, now we’ve established that Bev and Ernie and co. will hang on here, as discreetly as possible, until we can find a real medium to release them, are you OK with that?’
Frankie, who’d watched the fingers-running-through-hair movement with the
sort of longing she’d thought had long since vanished, rubbed her eyes. Oh Lordy … Big mistake. The panda look was never a good one.
‘Um, actually I don’t see what choice I have, so yes.’
‘Great. Then I’ll go and load Maisie into the car and take her home and collect three pairs of shoes for the, um, ladies. OK?’
Wearily, Frankie nodded. ‘And I’ll get Lilly – goodness knows where she’s gone – and worry about all this again in the morning.’
‘Look on the bright side,’ Dexter said as they walked towards the kitchen, ‘at least tomorrow’s Sunday. We can all have a liein and you won’t have to pop down here to feed them and change their litter trays or anything, will you? It’d be much more troublesome if it were kittens, wouldn’t it?’
Frankie laughed. ‘Yes, I suppose so. Although I will worry about Ernie. He’s so disappointed.’
‘Yeah, poor bloke, he’s pretty down about all this – Oh God, Frankie, listen to us. We’re getting emotional over a ghost.’
She giggled. ‘But a very sweet ghost. And I really do want to help him. Still, bizarrely he seems to be getting on OK with Jared, so maybe he won’t be too lonely until we can sort something out with a proper medium. I’ll have to check the internet and see if there’s anyone local.’
‘Someone with proper mediuming credentials this time.’ Dexter nodded. ‘Someone with A stars in all aspects of things spiritual. No more amateur dabblers like – Oh, great … ’
They stood side by side in the kitchen doorway. Maisie was still snoring happily on the pile of coats, but now Lilly was curled up beside her, murmuring in her champagne-fuelled sleep and sucking her thumb.
‘All right for some.’ Frankie sighed. ‘Oh, what a hell of a night this has been.’
‘You can say that again – no, please don’t.’ Dexter smiled gently at her. ‘Just a figure of speech. And honestly, I know it hasn’t gone the way we planned it, but I wouldn’t have missed it for anything.’
‘Wouldn’t you? Are you mad or a masochist or something?’
‘Neither of those.’ Dexter suddenly hugged her. ‘It’s just been so completely insane, it’s made me forget, well, things I thought would haunt me for ever. So thank you for that.’
If she hadn’t been so tired, so confused, so totally bewildered by practically everything, Frankie might have asked further questions. As it was, she was just delighted to feel Dexter’s arms around her. He was warm and alive and real – very, very real – and right now she needed all the reality and normality she could get.
‘You’re welcome. And thank you for helping me so much with all this rubbish. Although I’d have thought anything would be preferable to discovering that there really are ghosts. I bet you didn’t bargain on that when you left Oxford, did you?’
Dexter shook his head. ‘No. But then I didn’t bargain on a lot of things when I left Oxford.’
She looked at him as he stared at her. They were merely inches apart. Her heart lurched. Oh, he was so beautiful. And so untrustworthy.
Just like Joseph Mason.
‘Really?’ She wriggled away from him. ‘Sounds fascinating. We really must have a chat about it sometime. Well, now we’ve got the dead sorted, we’d better wake the living and go home for what’s left of the night.’
‘OK.’ Dexter shrugged, clearly getting the message, and bent down to shake Maisie’s massive kaftan’d shoulder. ‘Whatever you say.’
Damn it, Frankie cursed to herself as she grabbed Lilly’s thin hand and pulled her thumb from her mouth with a plop. How stupid am I?
‘Go ’way,’ Lilly mumbled. ‘Leave me alone.’
‘We’re going home, Lill.’
‘Are we?’ Groaning, Lilly sat up, stared in some surprise at the still-snoring Maisie, then looked groggily from Frankie to Dexter. ‘Oh … Where am I? Who am I? Oh, thank goodness I’m awake. God, Frankie, I had such a bad dream.’ She hic-cupped cheerfully. ‘Do you know, I dreamed your whole shop was full of ghosts. How mad is that?’
Chapter Twenty
Noddy Holder and the rest of Slade were raucously wishing everyone a merry Christmas. Less than two weeks to go until Christmas, and Frankie had given in and shelved the easy-listening music.
Francesca’s Fabulous Frocks was rocking.
On this bitterly cold Monday morning, Frankie, in her short red wool dress and matching tights and boots, felt almost festive. Almost. The events of Saturday night still weighed heavily, and she’d opened the shop with some trepidation.
Everything seemed normal enough. The rails were still a little askew, some of the frocks still hung untidily, and the scattered candles and small table and chair that Maisie had used were still in situ, but apart from that, there were no signs that anything untoward had taken place.
Of Ernie, Bev and the others, there was no sign at all.
Frankie, hoping that maybe Maisie’s cack-handed exorcism had worked with some sort of delayed reaction and therefore they’d all been returned happily to the afterlife, still called out a cheery good morning – just in case.
No one answered her.
So she’d put the Greatest Christmas Hits CD on the stereo, quickly removed Maisie’s accoutrements, tidied the rails, and turned the shop door sign to OPEN.
She was just restocking the pile of slithery purple and gold carrier bags beneath the counter when the door opened.
‘Morning, fellow ghost-buster,’ Dexter called loudly over Roy Wood and Wizzard wishing it could be Christmas every day. ‘Nice music. Are we alone?’
Frankie straightened up and laughed. Dexter was wearing a bright red sweatshirt under the leather jacket. ‘Snap! Again. We really should text each other about our wardrobe choices. And yes, no sign of the, um, ghostly residents – at least, so far.’
Dexter looked round the shop. ‘Weird, isn’t it? Did we imagine it all? It all looks so normal now. Anyway –’ he flourished a large Big Sava carrier bag ‘– just in case we weren’t the victims of some mass hallucination, I’ve got the shoes.’
‘Brilliant, thank you. I’ll put them into the far fitting room and, um, just announce that they’re there and hopefully … ’ Frankie trailed off.
‘I know,’ Dexter finished. ‘It does seem crazy, discussing the footwear of people who are dead. I just grabbed what I could. Maisie was very reluctant to let any of them go, but I persuaded her in the end.’
‘None too gently, I hope.’ Frankie peered into the bag. ‘Oh, lovely, all nice low-ish heels which is good – I mean, if they haven’t worn shoes for decades we don’t want them staggering about and drawing even more attention to themselves, do we? But you’ve got four pairs in here.’
‘I brought some for Jared as well. I’m guessing he’ll stay in his frock as he seemed very fond of it, so I thought he ought to have suitable footwear too.’
‘Purple slingbacks.’ Frankie nodded. ‘Perfect. Thank you.’ She leaned her hands on the counter. ‘And does this all seem completely insane to you?’
‘Pretty much,’ Dexter agreed. ‘But I spent yesterday doing quite a lot of internet research into ghostly sightings, and hauntings, and all things to do with the paranormal, and even if I hadn’t seen it all with my own eyes, I’d believe in it all a lot more now. There are some things that simply can’t be explained. Some really intelligent, sensible, down-to-earth people have had very similar experiences to ours. So, let’s just say I’m no longer a sceptic.’
‘And while you were surfing, did you find anyone even slightly likely to be able to sort out our, er, little dilemma?’
‘Not really. All the really famous names have great websites, of course, but they only seem to do television shows or theatre tours. I’m assuming that they’re too big and too expensive to take on a single private spiritualist session or whatever it is we need. As for anyone else lesser known – they all sound good, but they could be as useless as Maisie, couldn’t they?’
Frankie nodded. ‘They could. And another Maisie is the last thing we want.
I’ll try to make some discreet enquiries. Word of mouth round the villages is always a good way to go when you want to find out stuff.’
‘OK. And I’ll keep on searching, too. But are we agreed that we’re not going to do anything about ghost-laying until the new year?’
‘Yes. Definitely. I want to get Christmas out of the way first.’
‘Fine. Suits me. Anyway, before we’re interrupted by living customers or dead incumbents, there was something else much more important I wanted to ask you.’
Frankie groaned inwardly. It was bound to be about the childish way she’d behaved on Saturday night. Her own Sunday had been taken up with mulling over her growing feelings for Dexter and the reasons why they must never, ever become anything more.
‘Really? Is it how to spell Mississippi?’
‘No.’ Dexter looked puzzled. ‘Why should it be?’
‘Because Lilly and I had a stand-up fight over that one once when we were doing a charity pub quiz. It’s a standing joke.’
‘Oh, right. No, it’s far more boring than that. It’s about our calorie-laden and cholesterol-filled bad food habits.’
Frankie frowned. Dexter had always struck her as a blokey bloke. Not a faddy healthy-eating freak. Was this something else she didn’t know about him?
‘What about our bad food habits?’
‘Well, since I’ve arrived in Kingston Dapple, I’ve lived off snatched bacon rolls and the occasional all-day breakfasts in the Greasy Spoon, along with some fabulously gooey cakes brought in from Patsy’s Pantry, and I’ve gone home to something indistinguishable that takes about thirty seconds from the freezer to the microwave. And I’m guessing your diet has been much the same.’
‘It has,’ Frankie admitted. ‘But I’m not going to embark on some slimming campaign now. There’s no point. I’ll be going home for Christmas and my mum always believes in fattening us up. We sort of roll from the table to the sofa and back again.’
Dexter laughed. ‘Sounds like the perfect Christmas to me. And you don’t need to diet – that wasn’t what I was inferring at all.’
‘Good. So what?’
Never Can Say Goodbye Page 19