Never Can Say Goodbye (18 page)

Frankie thought quickly. Snuggled up on the sofa playing gooseberry with Lilly and the cute boy, or a drink with Dexter. Oooh,
tough one.

‘I’d love to, thanks. But what about Marguerite?’

‘What about Marguerite? She’s not coming with us.’

‘You know very well what I mean.’

‘Yep, I do. And she’s stunning, true, but she’s not really interested in me – any more than I am in her. I shan’t be seeing
her again. Marguerite will find another bit of rough.’

‘Is that what you are?’ Frankie giggled. ‘A bit of rough? Blimey.’

Dexter grinned. ‘To her, yes. I’m not a boring suit, like her husband you see. I’m a bit of a working man, like the plumber
or the builder or the electrician. We’re all very alluring to ladies like Marguerite.’

‘It sounds like a sleazy
True Confessions
.’ Frankie was still smiling as she buttoned her coat and wrapped her scarves round her neck. ‘Or Lady Chatterley. Actually,
now you’re working with all that greenery and floristry stuff you’d make a great Mellors.’

‘Thanks.’ Dexter frowned. ‘Is that supposed to be a compliment?’

‘Nope. A criticism of your alley-cat morals.’ Frankie chuckled. ‘Although I always hoped Lady C. and Mellors might have had
a bit of love mixed in with the lust, didn’t you?’

‘I’ve really no idea. Your reading matter is clearly several stratas above mine.’

‘Hardly.’ Frankie chuckled, thinking of her shelves and shelves of much-adored chick lit.

Dexter shrugged. ‘All I know is that Marguerite is simply bored with being a housewife and mother and having a husband who
jets off all round the world earning the money to keep her in designer labels and the kids in private education. There are
a lot of Marguerites out there. They enjoy a little dalliance but don’t want anything that might rock the fat financial marital
boat.’

Frankie shook her head. ‘Sad, really, isn’t it? Why is no one ever happy with what they’ve got?’

Dexter grinned. ‘Oh, please don’t go all philosophical on me again. Let’s forget about the Marguerites of this world, and
just go and have a drink. I’m way too knackered to have deep and meaningful discussions about anything.’

‘Me too.’ Frankie giggled, pulling on her purple gloves and picking up the shop keys. ‘Right, that’s everything. All ready
for the morning’s rush. Have you had a good day too, business-wise, I mean? I promise I’m not going down the relationship
route again.’

‘Really good, thanks. Once I get used to being frozen to the bone and pick up a bit more knowledge about the plants, I think
it’ll be great. I mean, you’ve obviously heard that I’m a flake in my personal life, but professionally I’ve always been very
dedicated. And I like Ray a lot, and I wouldn’t want to let him down. He was very proud of the Valentine flower-selling tradition
here in Kingston Dapple, and he was the only one in the family who bothered with me when – What the hell is that?’

‘What?’ Frankie said, annoyed that yet another revelation had been cut short.

‘Over there.’ Dexter squinted across the shop. ‘I could swear I saw something move. You haven’t got rats, have you?’

‘God, I hope not.’ Frankie shivered. ‘Where?’

‘Over there. By the Marilyn Monroe picture. I just caught some sort of movement out of the corner of my eye. There! You must
have seen that!’

Oh Lordy … ‘Hello, duck.’

Ernie Yardley stepped from between the 1950s rails. ‘Nice to see you, and your young man, too.’

Oh God … Frankie shook her head.

Ernie beamed at her. ‘You went to see Slo, didn’t you? Now you know I’m telling the truth, don’t you?’

Dexter laughed. ‘Blimey, mate, you’re lucky. We’re just off out, so you nearly got locked in here for the night. Mind you,
you nearly gave me a heart attack.’

‘An unhappy choice of words given the circumstances,’ Ernie said dolefully, then looked at Frankie. ‘You’d better introduce
us.’

Dexter shook his head. ‘No need. I’m Dexter Valentine, and I think I know who you are. Frankie gave me a really good
description of you. It’s nice to meet you at last, because I’ve heard lots about you. You’re the guy who wants to buy a frock.
Right?’

‘Wrong.’ Ernie grinned. ‘Ever so wrong. Isn’t he, duck?’

‘Couldn’t be more wrong,’ Frankie agreed, feeling sick. ‘Dexter, meet Ernie Yardley. Ernie Yardley’s dead. Ernie Yardley says
he’s a ghost.’

Dexter’s laughter rang round the shop. Frankie and Ernie didn’t join in.

‘What?’ Dexter stopped laughing and stared from one to the other. ‘Why are you looking at me like that?’

Ernie smiled at Frankie. ‘You might as well tell him, duck. He seems like a nice chap from what I’ve seen. Keen on you, too,
I think.’

Oh Lordy … Frankie exhaled. Now she not only had a ghost, but a match-making ghost to boot. Fantastic.

She sighed. ‘That’s complete rubbish, Ernie, but OK, now you’re here and Dexter’s seen you – which is a huge relief to me
because I thought I might be the only one seeing things – I’ll tell him.’ She looked at Dexter. ‘It’s a long story.’

Dexter grinned and hauled himself up to sit on the counter. ‘OK, I’m fine with that. I like a good yarn. But don’t expect
me to believe a word of it. I don’t believe in ghosts. And he –’ he nodded towards Ernie ‘– doesn’t look like a ghost at all.
Where are the clanking chains and the wailing and the walking through walls and—’

‘Hold up.’ Ernie looked miffed. ‘I’ve been through all that with Frankie here. Don’t you go mocking the undead, young man.
I’ve already told Frankie, it isn’t like you see on the films, you know. And I’m as unhappy with this here set-up as anyone.
I just want to rest in peace with my Achsah. It ain’t much to ask now, is it?’

‘You’re good.’ Dexter chuckled. ‘You’re very, very good. OK, go on then, Frankie. Tell me all about it … ’

So she did. Leaving out the part that she’d promised Slo she’d never mention, of course, but recounting absolutely everything
else.

Ernie, who had listened intently, nodded at the end. ‘That’s all true. Nicely put, duck. So, you see, Dexter, I’m in a bit
of a muddle here.’

Dexter, who’d managed to remain completely silent through the story-telling, looked scathingly at Frankie. ‘And you believe
he’s a ghost? Really, truly?’

‘I don’t know. Honestly, now I don’t know. I didn’t. I thought maybe Biddy or Maisie or someone had put him up to it. To scare
me off for some reason. And then after I’d spoken to Slo I thought I did believe it was all true. Especially when I saw the
photograph. Then I didn’t again. And now … I really don’t know.’

‘But –’ Dexter slid from the counter ‘– you’re an intelligent, rational woman. You
can’t
. I mean, you
can’t
.’

‘Course she can,’ Ernie affirmed stoutly. ‘Not that I blame you, mind. I never believed in ghosts meself either, before I
was one, that is.’

‘You-are-not-a-ghost,’ Dexter said firmly.

Ernie shrugged. ‘Sorry, Dexter, but I am. And I don’t want to be. And that’s why I thought young Frankie could help me, see?’

‘Yes, yes,’ Dexter said tersely. ‘I’ve heard the entire story. And while I’d never accuse Frankie of being a liar—’

‘Good job, too,’ Frankie said hotly. ‘Because everything I’ve just told you is the absolute truth. It might seem far-fetched
to you – it did to me as well – but that is exactly how it happened.’

Dexter looked totally confused. ‘But I don’t believe in—’

‘We know,’ Ernie and Frankie chorused.

‘I know it’s a lot to take in.’ Frankie smiled gently. ‘But look, Dexter, why don’t you just suspend your disbelief for a
moment, and just try to accept that Ernie is a ghost. Actually, it’s quite easy when you try.’

Ernie nodded his grizzled head enthusiastically. ‘Go on, Dexter, lad. I can see you’re a decent bloke with a good brain, and
no doubt you don’t believe in UFOs, or crop circles or guardian angels or anything else that you can’t
prove
. And I don’t blame you, but please, for my sake, give it a go.’

Dexter was silent for a moment. Then he sighed heavily. ‘I’ll only believe you’re a ghost if you do something to convince
me. Frankie may well have been almost convinced by your story with the undertaker – in cahoots, were you? – but I wasn’t there,
so I’m not. So, you’ll have to prove it to me. And, as you can’t, can you just clear off now so that Frankie and I can go
for a drink?’

‘All right.’ Ernie beamed benignly. ‘You did ask.’

And he vanished.

Frankie stared at the empty space where Ernie had been standing only seconds before, and shivered violently. He hadn’t moved,
he hadn’t walked or run or anything, he’d just, well, gone. She needed no further proof.

‘Shit!’ Dexter blinked. ‘No way!’

‘There you are.’ Ernie reappeared again across the shop,
looking a bit out of place by the 1970s punk section. ‘Sorry it weren’t more spectacular, but that’s about as much as I can
manage. I might be an old codger but I’m a very young ghost. We don’t do much more than that. Enough to convince you, though,
I hope?’

Dexter stared at him, wide-eyed and speechless.

Shaking, Frankie cleared her throat. ‘OK … Um, right … I’m convinced, Ernie. Honestly. So, what can we do to help you?’

Dexter stared at her. ‘You’re joking?’

‘No.’ Frankie shook her head. ‘I’m not. There’s no way on, er, earth that anyone, um, normal could pull off that stunt. Not
even Penn and Teller. And after what Slo told me, and showed me, yes, I do believe that Ernie is a ghost.’

‘Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. I’d kiss you, duck, if I could,’ Ernie said happily. ‘I don’t think I can though.’

Still looking bewildered, Dexter pushed his hands through his hair. ‘OK – I’ll admit I can’t see any rational explanation
either. Now if someone will just wake me up out of this bad dream, can we get on with our normal lives?’

‘If you two can sort me out, Dexter lad, then the rest of your life will be as normal as you want it to be,’ Ernie said generously.
‘I’ll be reunited with Achsah and resting in peace. I won’t bother you any more.’

‘Sounds pretty damn good to me,’ Dexter muttered. ‘Look, as long as you don’t tell anyone that I’m going along with this charade
– it’ll ruin my street cred – and it means that this … this … so-called haunting rubbish stops, then, yes, OK. So, what do
we have to do?’ He looked at Frankie. ‘Jesus! Hark at me! I’m reasoning with someone who’s allegedly dead.’

Frankie laughed. ‘I know. That’s how I felt. Weird, isn’t it?’

‘Mad is what it is,’ Dexter said darkly. ‘Totally bloody completely insane.’

Frankie nodded. ‘I know. Anyway, Ernie, you’ve finally managed to convince us both, I think. So, what do we do now?’

‘I don’t know.’ Ernie looked dejected. ‘If I knew then I’d have told you last time. I hoped you’d get some inkling of how
to help from Slo Motion once he’d convinced you that I am who I say I am. Now, I’m not sure, but there must be some way to
set my spirit free, mustn’t there?’

Just as well Lilly isn’t here, Frankie thought. She’d be in floods of tears by now.

‘Why didn’t you mention any of this to me before?’ Dexter frowned at Frankie. ‘Did it just slip your mind to tell me that
your elderly Eddie Izzard had suddenly turned into Jacob Marley?’

‘And would you have believed me? No, of course you wouldn’t. I didn’t even believe it. And I was frightened enough myself
– I certainly didn’t want to scare people away from the shop by talking about it. Not to anyone. Not Lilly and certainly not
Cherish, not even you.’

Anyway, she thought, you’ve clearly got secrets of your own. Obviously not ghostly ones, but huge skeletons rattling about
in your cupboard.

‘What we need,’ she said thoughtfully, ‘is a ghost-buster.’

‘That we don’t!’ Ernie was adamant. ‘The last thing I needs is for a lot of loud plinketty-plonk soundtrack and damn Dan Ackroyd
and his chums running round here with their fume-filled backpacks blasting me into a vapour. No thank you very much.’

Dexter laughed.

Frankie smiled at Ernie. ‘Sorry, that possibly wasn’t the best suggestion. How about if we tried to get the vicar involved,
then? Vicars can lay ghosts to rest, can’t they? I’m sure I’ve read about it. We could get the vicar in and have a sort of
exorcism and—’

‘Over my dead body!’ Ernie looked aghast. ‘Literally, in my case. Me and Achsah liked going to the pictures when they had
the Alhambra in Winterbrook. Every Saturday night we went. I saw that film as well. Bloody scary it was, too. There’s no way
you’re going to get my head spinning like a damn top and me spewing out green slime and very bad language.’

Dexter laughed again. ‘I don’t think that’s how an exorcism works in real life, does it?’

‘Search me.’ Ernie frowned. ‘I know as much about it as you do. But I’m not prepared to take the risk, if it’s all the same
to you.’

‘What about a seance, then?’ Frankie said. ‘Does that sound more realistic?’

‘Or a Ouija board?’ Dexter shrugged. ‘Aren’t they supposed to put the living in contact with the dead?’

‘Not a Ouija board,’ Frankie said firmly. ‘There was a phase of that over in Lovers Knot some time ago. Lilly told me. One
of the girls from Jennifer Blessings’ salon was really keen on it. They got a lot more than they bargained for by all accounts.
Several people were on medication for months afterwards. And none of them sleep with the lights out even now.’

‘Jesus.’ Dexter looked horrified. ‘We’ll leave that well alone then. But a seance sounds OK. Doesn’t it?’

Frankie sighed. ‘I have no idea, really. I’ve never believed in any of it, or had anything to do with anyone who does. What
do you reckon, Ernie? Should we ask someone with the right, er, powers to contact you, and the rest of the spirit world, and
sort out why you’re trapped here and unhappy, and maybe they’d be able to free you?’

‘Sounds better than your previous suggestions,’ Ernie conceded. ‘But do you know anyone who might be able to –?’

‘Maisie Fairbrother!’ Dexter and Frankie spoke together and laughed.

‘Dear heavens.’ Ernie shook his head sorrowfully. ‘She’s as mad as a skinned salami that one. But, OK, she does dabble in
the spirit world, and even my Achsah – who was a very religious woman – thought that maybe Maisie had
some
sort of contact with the hereafter. And, to be honest, if I’m going to be mediumed into the afterlife, I’d rather it was
by someone I knew, rather than a complete stranger.’