Sunflowers in February
Page 22
Dad clears his throat. ‘Oh, we’re not here for that … reading stuff.’
But Sue keeps smiling and inclining her head slightly, as if agreeing to something we haven’t actually asked yet. Her serene expression and aura of all things spiritual make me believe that she will understand if we just tell it how it is.
So we both begin at exactly the same time, then give an embarrassed laugh at the same time.
Sue laughs with us and suggests that I should be the one to ask her what it is we want to know.
‘I’m Lily,’ I say, and those two words hang in the room expectantly. Dad and I both look emphatically at Sue to see what her reaction might be. If Sue is slightly shaken, she manages very successfully to keep calm.
‘Now, dear –’ Sue looks me in the eye – ‘explain to me exactly what you mean.’ I tell her exactly what I mean, and at the end of my full explanation, Dad chips in.
‘She … er … he … really is Lily you know. You have to tell us what to do.’
Sue looks questioningly at me. ‘Do you always feel like Lily or only sometimes?’ she asks me, trying to be sensitive, but I answer abruptly and slightly annoyed.
‘I don’t feel like Lily. I am Lily.’
Sue reaches out and presses my arm lightly in order to get my full attention while explaining what she really meant.
‘What I mean, dear, is that sometimes it is possible for a person to be possessed by a spirit, or the ghost of a relative, for a short while …’
‘It’s not a short while. This isn’t a half-hearted possession … I am Lily, and I’m using Ben’s body. One hundred per cent.’
I shuffle slightly in my seat and take a jade-coloured cushion with tiny yellow flowers from behind me, so I can hug it to my stomach.
The more Sue listens to me, and the way I describe what has happened to me, the more intrigued she looks. She tells us gently and sensitively, and in my opinion somewhat patronisingly, that she doesn’t doubt that I’m Lily, but that she still needs to determine exactly what I mean.
‘I’m not doubting you, dear, but can you give me any piece of information that will help me understand what you mean.’ In my book that is doubt, but I suppose, like Dad, she needs some proof.
I try to rack my brains.
‘Well …’ I begin, ‘when I was at my own funeral, I could see everything and I could wander around the audience –’
‘Mourners,’ she corrects with a huge smile that makes the crow’s feet around her eyes show deeper and wider.
I giggle nervously while Dad remains completely poker-faced.
‘Mourners,’ I repeat, and I continue to tell her that I know she felt my presence behind her and that she even told Ted I was in the crematorium. I’m able to repeat exactly what happened at the time, and what Ted said back to her, when he pointed over at my coffin and told her that I was in it. When I tell this part of my story, Sue seems to get quite excited and sits forward still clasping her tea. Her fingers are surprisingly short and wide and adorned by several large rings encrusted with pretty gemstones. A straggle of strawberry blonde hair has fallen over her shoulders and she flicks it back eagerly, while placing her mug back down on the coffee table. She is completely alert.
‘I knew I could sense something … you.’ She jiggles excitedly in her seat. ‘I can do that.’ Sue nods her head to confirm her own talent.
‘And then one night I just … kind of … got into Ben.’ I add, omitting the part about not seeing him since our fight over his body.
‘I’ve never met a spirit inside someone’s body before.’ Sue says as she gets up and makes her way over to a bookshelf crammed with magazines and books of all shapes and colours. Running her finger along the back of each book she stops at one and lifts it out. As she flips through the pages, I reach for my cup and take a sip. I find myself being very glad that Sue is preoccupied, because the tea tastes like something scooped out of a puddle. I let the liquid run out of my mouth and back into the cup while she isn’t looking, then wipe the back of my hand over my mouth. I look at Dad and pull a face, sticking my tongue out as if there is poison on it.
Eventually, after some tutting and some ‘mmm’-ing, Sue speaks up. ‘Well, I’m pretty sure that you’ve somehow got “stuck” between life and death and this is allowing you to “use” Ben for the moment.’
I experience a fleeting desire to say, ‘No shit, Sherlock,’ but I catch it before it becomes audible.
‘If you can, dear, I need you to tell me in detail what happened at the time that you departed from this world.’ Dad starts shuffling in his seat and clearing his throat and I’m very aware that he probably doesn’t want to hear me talk about the moment that I died in such great detail, but at the same time he doesn’t stop us. I can see the muscle in his jaw working again as I describe to Sue how I found myself sitting on the grassy bank of King’s Lane and that I didn’t even realise my body was in the ditch until the police showed up.
She asks me delicately if I knew whether my death was sudden and, recalling the fact that my head was on backwards, I tell her that I’m pretty damn sure it was. She nods slowly. ‘Yes, yes, then that’s what happened, you simply died so quickly that you didn’t know you had.’
I look at the clock. We have been here nearly an hour already and we haven’t talked about what will happen to me, we’ve only talked about what did happen to me, but I don’t have to wait long.
‘You must move on, dear,’ she says, and I think I can detect the slightest nod of Dad’s head, ‘… not just for Ben’s sake, but so that you can find peace in the next life …’
‘He’s not appearing in the night … you know … to swap back,’ I say in my defence, trying to avoid looking directly at Dad.
‘Mmm,’ Sue mutters thoughtfully. ‘You probably have to be “ready” to go. I can make it happen but it will be a difficult process and not altogether very nice.’ She doesn’t go into detail, and we don’t particularly want her to.
‘Do you feel ready, dear?’ she asks me, reaching out to press my arm gently again.
‘Of course she bloody doesn’t,’ Dad intervenes, when he sees my eyes glistening, but Sue calmly takes a moment to get some tissues, which have a pleasant lilac scent to them. I bury my nose into the smell and breathe in slowly, then she waits as I blow loudly into the tissue, aware that Dad is sitting next to me, silent, upright and uncomfortable as he has been the whole time. He reaches out for my hand and I release it from the lilac tissue, wiping the dampness away on Ben’s school trousers, before we clasp our fingers together. After a few minutes, I feel composed enough to look back up at Sue. ‘Don’t make me leave right now!’ I beg, and she looks back at me with her calm, blue eyes, radiating light and a kind of feeling of peace. I like how reassuring they are.
‘I won’t make you go, dear … unless we need to do it the messy way –’ she presses my arm – ‘but there’s no need for that. I can help you go when you’re ready,’ she says, looking purposely at both of us, then abruptly and unexpectedly she inhales deeply, forcing air up through her nostrils, closing her eyes, and sitting bolt upright in her chair. Dad and I look at each other. Our eyelids widen and slide back to focus on Sue. Despite how traumatic this is, both of us feel a strong urge to laugh and I purse my lips together to prevent one bursting out.
Sue snaps open her eyes, making us jump a little, and she looks at us.
‘I think Ben is here,’ she says in her serene and very believable way.
‘Oh, thank God,’ I burst out, slumping over, as if I had been previously inflated with guilt-laden air. I avoid Dad’s gaze again, as my reaction confirms that I didn’t really know where Ben was all this time. ‘Is he mad at me?’ I ask her.
‘No, dear … no, I don’t get that vibe from him …’ But a fat T-shaped crease appears on her brow as she screws the muscles of her forehead tightly together. ‘I can see purple … purple flowers … they look like hyacinths. Does this mean anything to you, dear?’ she asks me.
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nbsp; ‘No,’ I answer simply. ‘I doubt Ben even knows what a hyacinth is.’
‘Well, he’s waving them at me as if you should know what they mean … but I can’t get any more … I can’t … stay connected.’ She looks a little unnerved, and my fear and guilt over what I’ve done to Ben returns. If that was supposed to be a reading, it was crap. Ben would never give me flowers especially after I’d pulled a stunt like this.
‘Why can’t you stay connected?’ I ask, wondering yet again what Ben was playing at, if indeed he was playing at anything.
The fingers of my right hand are squeezing Dad’s so tightly, and my other hand is gripping the lilac tissue, all crumpled now. All trace of nervous laughter has left me.
Sue continues to sit, tuning in, with her eyes shut. Dad leans forward as if that will help him hear what she might say. We stay silent. Expectant. Her face is tilted at an angle and she stays like this for so long I begin to think she’s passed into some kind of catatonic state.
‘He is here, but he’s not giving me anything else … just the hyacinths.’ She breathes out noisily through her nose. ‘Sorry.’
Suddenly Sue is released from her trance, becoming unpinned from the furniture, allowing her to pick up her tea to swallow the last of the puddle water liquid.
Dad and I look at each other and then at Sue.
‘Er … is he … OK?’ Dad asks her. I hear the anguish and worry in his voice and now I understand that he must have been really worried about Ben all this time. My heart twists with the childlike sense of unfairness Ben and I used to get if one of us had something better than the other. I can almost hear my six-year-old inner self complaining it isn’t fair while I stamp my foot. Worry about me too. I’m the one you are trying to get rid of!
‘Yes, Mr Richardson. Ben is OK. History has come across many cases of possession and I am confident he will be able to return to his body, when Lily leaves it.’
Dad breathes out a visible lungful of relief.
‘I think it is as I’ve already said, dear, that you need to be ready before you can cross over.’ I am so relieved that Ben will be OK, but I’ve no idea how I’ll know when I’m ready or if I’ll ever actually be ready.
‘How will she ever be ready exactly?’ Dad asks, verbalising my inner worry, employing a frown that brings his greying eyebrows together until they almost touch. He has a note of disbelief in his voice. ‘How can a child ever make themselves ready to … you know …?’
‘Die?’ we both chorus at him quietly, using the one word that he has been unable to utter since the day they found me in a ditch.
Sue places her mug back on the coffee table and leans back in her chair. She crosses one leg over the other and I can now see them quite clearly. One shoe is creased across the top where the natural shape of her foot bends, and the other looks almost brand new wedged on the end of her stiff-looking artificial leg. Even though she has tights on, which pick out the maroon in her multicoloured hippy skirt, and the ends of her legs are hidden in those horrible shoes, I can easily tell that only one leg is real.
She sees me looking at it but is not embarrassed. ‘Accident,’ she announces, patting her leg as if it’s an old friend. ‘A long time ago now.’
She returns to the point. ‘So, I have faith. I believe that one day soon you will work out when it’s time, then Ben will be able to return. Look deep within yourself and you will know, dear.’ She smiles reassuringly and gives a funny jiggle of the head.
‘How can you be sure of all this?’ asks Dad, still with his frown and more than a hint of disbelief. ‘You have to admit, this is pretty weird.’
‘I’ve been doing this for years. I can feel it; the spirit world tells me things.’ I can see that Dad can’t think of a valid argument because this whole situation is, as he says, weird … totally bonkers in fact. ‘But,’ she adds, ‘if you feel ready but Ben doesn’t come to you, I must urge you to contact me when the time is right. Do not leave his body to look for him in your dreams, if he isn’t waiting for you.’ Her smile is gone and her face is serious.
‘Why not?’ Dad and I ask at the same time, confused now, because it was in our sleep that we managed to do the whole swapping thing in the first place.
We are not prepared for her answer.
‘Because if neither of you are in Ben’s body, it will eventually die. It cannot survive for long without a soul.’ I know we are both staring at her with our mouths slightly open, very grateful that she remembered to tell us this stunningly crucial bit of info, but Sue carries on as if what she’s just told us is completely normal.
‘It could be anything … you know … that has stopped you passing over completely … regret, guilt, anger …’
I think about this for a while. I led a perfectly normal life until Nathan’s mum snuffed it out.
‘I can’t think of anything … really … but if there is anything, I suppose it is guilt.’
Sue waits, and Dad leans in towards me. ‘You’re guilty?’ he asks me in surprise.
I shrug my shoulders. ‘I saw things when I was in limbo –’ I look between them both – ‘I could see all the people I knew before I died, and their lives are different now.’
Sue tilts her head to the side in a sympathetic manner.
‘In what way, dear?’ I pour some of the clear cold water into a glass. A cube of ice plops in, and a lemon slice follows. I take a sip. Tasteless but beautifully cold and with a lemony smell. It helps my hot throat, which is tired from my anticipation of what this day would bring.
‘People’s lives have changed, and it isn’t for the better. I suppose I feel responsible.’
‘You blame yourself? For your own death?’ Dad says.
‘Well, no, I blame the driver for that. But stuff is going wrong. Ben’s life is going astray for a start; he’s getting into all sorts –’
‘I didn’t realise,’ Dad interrupts mournfully.
‘Exactly,’ I continue. ‘He’s trying to make his own way through all this. Matthew misses Ben, Beth blames herself, whatever you say, you and Mum are not the same, Nathan is without a girlfriend, and, as for his … for the driver of the car, well –’
‘Wait!’ Dad interrupts again, raising his voice in amazement. ‘You know who did it? Tell me who the bastard is, right now …’ He pulls his phone out of his pocket. ‘I’m not entirely sure how we tell Brian that we know but I’ll figure that out later …’
‘Stop!’ I snatch his phone away and switch it off. ‘I’m not ready to tell anyone who did it yet.’
‘Why?’ Dad asks, completely incredulous.
I picture Nathan with his mother. What do I say? My boyfriend would be upset?
‘I just … can’t. That’s all I can tell you.’
‘But he killed you! Why would you protect him?’ He waves his hands in the air, unable to contain himself. ‘That bastard killed you and didn’t hang about long enough to face what he did.’ I let him continue to believe that the driver is a man and wait for him to pause.
I reach out for one of Dad’s hands again, until I’m holding it with both of mine and look him in the eye with what I hope is a determined expression. ‘It’s … complicated.’
But Dad is beside himself. ‘He’ll be bloody complicated when I go and beat his brains out,’ he shouts. ‘Tell me. Tell me now!’
And here it is. The full anger from my father’s raw grief, finally finding its way out of his head and out of his heart. He paces the room and smacks at the walls, and tells me over and over that I absolutely have to tell him who did it until Ted pops his head round the door.
‘Is everything OK?’ he asks.
‘Of course it bloody isn’t.’ Dad turns to him, some spittle shooting out of his mouth, leaving a little bunch of bubbles on Ted’s shirt. Ted ignores the spit and retreats, after getting a wink and a slight raise of the hand from Sue, who reaches out to press my arm again. I have no idea why she keeps doing that, but it has the effect of making me feel grounded, reassured.
He stops briefly in a moment of disbelief, before exploding again. ‘What the hell do you mean … you shouldn’t have been there? You were there; you just shouldn’t have been run over and killed by a moron. Perhaps you could have been saved. Perhaps if he hadn’t driven away and left you out there, you would still be alive.’ He bites his fist.
‘No, Dad,’ I tell him gently. ‘You know I wouldn’t have been. You read the coroner’s report; it was in black and white. You know how it was.’ He punches the wall again, immediately bringing his hand to his chest and holding it with other hand. I’m pretty sure that really hurt.
Dad deflates in front of me and Sue, and sobs as if his heart is going to break. ‘But you wouldn’t have been left there … in the cold … all night.’ It is one of the most painful sights I have ever seen. Sue passes him some of the lilac-scented tissues and he takes about five at once, blowing his nose loudly. ‘Please?’ he begs in an almost child-like way, and even though he can see I won’t change my mind he adds with a tight throat, ‘You were my little girl.’
I notice how he says that I was his little girl, even though I am right here, and although he doesn’t know it my heart is wounded.
The black oil that is staining the beautiful sea of our lives is spreading further, and again I think of Nathan’s mum and my anger flares at how I can get my revenge, other than my spooky messaging tactics, and without ruining Nathan’s life in the process. If I could do that, then maybe my dad wouldn’t have to suffer with his anger any more.