Never Can Say Goodbye (26 page)

The black-lace-on-red-satin lady had emerged from the fitting room clutching the frock.

‘No more odd than you sitting on the counter in a snood – although it goes well with the dress style,’ Frankie said grudgingly
before smiling at her customer, crossing her fingers and hoping that the red-and-black lady wouldn’t think someone looking
like an extra from
Blitz
perched on the counter was even slightly strange. ‘Did it fit?’

‘Perfectly, thank you. I’ll take it.’ She flourished a credit card. ‘This is a wonderful shop. I shall pop in again for something
for my New Year’s Eve party.’

‘Please do.’ Frankie zapped the credit card. ‘We’d be delighted to see you.’

‘She can’t see me, can she?’ Bev said. ‘Or hear me?’

Frankie shook her head as she folded the black-lace-on-red-satin carefully into a carrier bag.

‘Wonder why not?’ Bev slid to the floor. ‘Funny business this haunting. Wonder why we appear to some people and not to others?’

Frankie simply shrugged as she smiled goodbye to the customer.

‘Okey-dokey, I know you can’t talk to me. I’ll toddle off now then –’ Bev smiled, still admiring her shoes ‘– and ta for these,
Frankie. They’re lovely. Ruby and Gertie are thrilled to bits with theirs, too.’

‘You’re welcome,’ Frankie whispered in case anyone should hear her. ‘Now, please go away. Oh Lordy –’ She sighed, suddenly
catching sight of Gertie and Ruby wandering happily round the 1980s frocks and prodding the shoulder pads. ‘And please take
them with you.’

‘Will do,’ Bev said cheerfully. ‘And have you had any joy in finding someone who can sort us out yet?’

‘Not yet,’ Frankie hissed as yet more customers trudged, shuddering with cold, through the door. ‘But we’re working on it.’

‘Good girl.’ Bev smiled. And disappeared.

Frankie heaved a sigh of relief just as Brenda Lee started rocking around her Christmas tree.

‘Goodness me,’ Cherish said as she fluttered back in, her cheeks pink and her hair all wispy, ‘it’s absolutely bitter out
there. The wind is screaming across the market square and that flower stall offers very little shelter. The poor boys are
shrammed. I’ve told them they should both be wearing fingerless mitts. And thermal underwear.’

Frankie blinked. Cherish was discussing
underwear
with Dexter and Brian? The transformation was rattling on far more quickly than she’d even imagined.

‘And,’ Cherish continued, ‘can I just say how lovely you look in that scarlet? I’m not afraid to admit that I might have got
it a teensy bit wrong about you being a
grey
person, dear. I’m beginning to wonder if I should maybe add a splash of colour to my life, too. Actually, I was wondering
about buying some orange cushion covers for my sofa.’

‘Are you?’ Frankie said, amused both by Cherish’s admission and her conspiratorial tone. ‘Well done. I’m sure they’d look
lovely.’

‘Yes, I think they’d cheer the room up a lot, although my mother would have hated them. She was very partial to her oatmeal.’
Cherish picked up her mug of coffee. ‘But I think I should have realised a long time ago that you can’t live in the past,
you see. The past lives with you inside your heart, dear, doesn’t it? But we must make the most of now, mustn’t we?’

Frankie blinked, wondering if Cherish had been taking advice from a life coach.

‘Brian says –’ Cherish warmed her hands on her coffee mug ‘– that whether our past has been happy or sad, it’s over and it’s
now that counts. Brian’s very clever, you know, dear.’

‘Er, Brian? Clever? Right … Yes, I suppose he, um, might be.’

‘He’s sensible.’ Cherish nodded. ‘And very kind. Now, dear, what would you like me to do today?’

Frankie, trying not to look too shocked, quickly thought that keeping Cherish out of the shop as much as possible would be
a good thing. Just in case anyone, er, dead put in an appearance.

‘Oh, um, well, when you’ve had your coffee, would you like to carry on organising the stock upstairs this morning? I’ve had
another load dry-cleaned so they need to be put into decades. And Mitzi Pashley Royle from Lovers Knot has been really generous
and given us masses of her old cocktail frocks. If we get really busy down here I’ll give you a shout. Is that OK?’

‘Lovely, dear, thank you. I do enjoy the sorting out, as you
know. And cocktail frocks, you say? How gorgeous … I’ll take my coffee upstairs now, dear, and make a start.’

And with a spring in her step, pale, wispy, faded Cherish, disappeared happily towards the stockroom.

Frankie leaned against the counter and shook her head. Cherish and Brian? Brian and Cherish? No, surely not …

‘So where’s he taking you tonight?’ Lilly asked on Wednesday evening, watching with amusement as Frankie ripped everything
from her wardrobe and hurled it onto the pink and purple flounced bed.

‘Some place called Hideaway Home,’ Frankie muttered, trying to sort out her clothes and manipulate the hair straighteners
on her fringe at the same time. ‘It’s a new restaurant out in the wilds somewhere round here. They do vegetarian Farmhouse
Feasts or something. Dexter thought it was time we ate healthily.’

‘Of course he did.’ Lilly giggled. ‘I’m sure your badly treated digestive system was the only motive he had for suggesting
it, and –’ she plonked down on the bed dislodging half a dozen dresses ‘– I know all about Hideaway Home.’

‘Do you? Really? Have you been there?’

Lilly shook her head. ‘No, but it’s owned and run by those people who won
Dewberrys’ Dinners
last year. The telly cookery programme? You know? We watched it together.’

‘Oh, yes, I remember them. Is it? Really? Wow.’ Frankie grinned. ‘They were great.’

‘Especially that chef – Ace? Ash? How hot was he?’

‘Very,’ Frankie agreed. ‘So it should be good, then?’

‘Apparently it’s totally brilliant.’ Lilly stood up. ‘Jennifer Blessing and her husband have been there. She says it’s amazing.
You’ll have a great time. And when you’ve decided what you’re wearing come and give me a twirl. I’d better get on; I’ve still
got loads of packing to do.’

Frankie switched off the straighteners and peered at her reflection framed by the ropes of little rosy fairy lights. Her hair
looked fine, and her make-up was OK. Now, should she dress up or down? Or somewhere in the middle? Should she wear rare black
for sophistication or a bright colour for fun?

‘Packing?’ She looked at Lilly through the mirror. ‘You’re not going away until the day before Christmas Eve.’

‘I know, but I can never decide what to take and what not to. I have to start packing early because I keep changing my mind,
you know what I’m like.’

‘Only too well, but what I never know is how you can bear to go somewhere
warm
at Christmas and New Year. It seems all wrong, somehow.’

‘What seems wrong,’ Lilly said with a grin, ‘is spending my Christmas with Mum and Dad and their new partners and all the
step-brats. It’s hell on earth, believe me. They love it; it drives me insane. It’s not natural for everyone to get on so
well – and to have so many kids. And then they do it all over again only at the
other
house for New Year. It’s totally gruesome. No, me and the girls will have a really kicking time in Cyprus and we’ll think
of you freezing to death over here.’

‘We’ll certainly be doing that,’ Frankie said, listening to the north-easterly wind howling outside. ‘We’ll probably be twenty
feet deep in snow by the time you get back in early January.’

‘Which means the airports will be closed and we’ll have to stay in Cyprus for ages longer.’ Lilly shimmied happily out of
the bedroom. ‘What a bummer.’

Pink, Frankie thought when Lilly had gone. Pink would look nice tonight. Less vibrant than her usual daytime colours, and
feminine and pretty, but not looking as though she’d made too much of an effort. She didn’t want Dexter to think she was
trying.

She pulled out a clover-coloured frock from the heap on the bed: short, swirly and long-sleeved. Perfect. And she had a pair
of darker pinky-purple tights somewhere … She started rooting through the drawers, discarding unsuitable items over her shoulder.
Ah! Got ’em! OK, now the purple boots … Great …

‘Oooh, you look fabulous!’ Lilly nodded in approval when Frankie eventually presented herself in the bedroom doorway. ‘He
won’t be able to keep his hands off you.’

‘He better had.’ Frankie laughed. ‘This isn’t any sort of romantic date, Lill. We’re mates and we’re just going out together
to chat about stuff.’

‘Yeah, right. What sort of stuff?’

Frankie shrugged. ‘Business, business, business, oh, and probably ghosts.’

‘You could talk about all of that in the Greasy Spoon or the Toad,’ Lilly said prosaically. ‘You don’t need to be going to
some smashing restaurant to talk about any of that. And –’ she grinned at Frankie ‘– despite me being blown away by what happened
on Saturday night, I haven’t mentioned anything about the ghosts. Or about your shop being haunted. Not a
word. Not to anyone. Not even when I’ve been a little bit drunk. I’m dead proud of myself.’

‘And I’m amazed.’ Frankie laughed. ‘But very grateful.’

‘And they’re still all there?’

Frankie nodded. ‘Unfortunately, yes. We’re just leaving everything alone until the new year by which time hopefully we’ll
have found a proper medium to sort them out.’

‘Sad to think they’ll be there over Christmas on their own.’

‘They’re dead, Lilly. They won’t mind. I don’t think they do Christmas in the afterlife.’

‘Course they do,’ Lilly said scornfully. ‘That’s what it’s all about, isn’t it? Christmas? Jesus being born? And living in
heaven and everything? Which is where they’ve come from, isn’t it?’

‘I don’t know.’ Frankie shook her head. ‘Neither do they. And I’m not getting into any deep religious arguments about the
afterlife. I don’t even want to think about it.’

‘Well you should. They’re your ghosts after all.’

‘Hardly. Most of them are down to Maisie.’

‘OK, but not Ernie.’

‘Not Ernie, no. And I do want to help Ernie. And I will try.’

‘Good, because he’s sweet. Oooh – is that a car stopping outside?’ Lilly skittered to the window and looked out into Featherbed
Lane. ‘Yep, it’s Dexter. Cool. Have a great time.’

‘OK, thanks. And you enjoy your serial packing and unpack -ing. Bye.’

Frankie grabbed her bag, struggled into her coat, wound her scarves round her neck and ran downstairs, annoyed to find that
she had tummy-dancing butterflies. Get a grip, she told herself. It’s not a date. You’ve spent loads of time alone with him
before. This is no different to eating at the Greasy Spoon – except it’ll be posher and less, er, greasy.

She hurried quickly down the path. It was a desperately dark night, and the bitter wind seemed to cut right through her coat
and stab viciously at her face.

‘Hi.’ Dexter opened the passenger door for her. ‘Right on time. Impressive.’

‘So are you.’ Frankie smiled as the car purred away into the cold, dark night. ‘On time, that is. Not impressive.’

Dexter laughed.

Frankie undid her coat in the car’s warmth and relaxed back in the seat. It was OK now. No butterflies. No problems.

‘You look lovely.’ Dexter glanced across the car. ‘Really fan -tastic. And I’m delighted to say that I’m not wearing pink
tonight.’

‘Thank you. I’m glad we’re not a matching pair for once.’ Frankie looked at his pale-blue shirt and black trousers under the
leather jacket. ‘And you look pretty neat yourself.’

‘Neat? I’m devastating,’ Dexter said and laughed. ‘So, have you had a busy day, today? I haven’t seen much of you.’

‘It’s been really hectic. And you?’

‘Manic. And I’ve loved it. I think I might have found my true vocation at last. I’ve got loads of ideas for the spring. I
was thinking we might somehow join forces and promote both businesses – you know, Easter weddings, frocks and flowers – that
sort of thing.’

Frankie, delighted that Dexter was planning to stay in Kingston Dapple, and then annoyed with herself for being delighted,
nodded. ‘Sounds brilliant. Yes, I can see all sorts of things we can combine on. And by then we’ll have got rid of our other
problem.’

Dexter negotiated the narrow streets out of Kingston Dapple. There were few cars on the road and no pedestrians. The night
was far too cold for anyone to venture very far.

‘The ghostly incumbents? Yes, let’s hope so. Are they still behaving themselves?’

Frankie smiled in the darkness as they headed through the buffeting gale towards Bagley-cum-Russet and Fiddlesticks. ‘Mostly.
They do appear at odd intervals but so far no one seems to have taken any notice of them. And Cherish, bless her, after her
one close encounter with Jared, is totally unaware of them, so there’s no danger of her blabbing to Biddy or anyone.’

‘I’m surprised –’ Dexter stopped at a deserted crossroads ‘– that Maisie hasn’t been in touch this week.’

‘Me too,’ Frankie admitted. ‘Actually I’m a bit worried about Maisie. She knows too much. I just think she’s biding her time
before going public. Perhaps we’ll have to pay her another visit and make sure she doesn’t say anything.’

‘And what about the undertaker bloke? Has he asked you anything more since you told him that Ernie, who he knew was dead,
actually wasn’t quite.’

‘Oh, Slo – love him. No, he’s kept his side of the bargain. He’s got a lot to lose, er, well, professionally if any of this
gets out. I promised I’d tell him when it was all over and I will.’

‘And Lilly? Has she managed to keep quiet?’

‘So she says, and I believe her. And anyway she’s far to busy thinking about her Christmas trip to Cyprus with her oldest
school friends to worry too much about anything else. Lilly, bless her, is fairly single-minded. Right now her whole time
is taken up with packing and wondering if she can drink a different cocktail in every bar on the Strip in Protaras and still
be standing at the end of it.’

Dexter laughed as they left Bagley-cum-Russet behind. ‘Sounds like a plan to me. I might think about jetting off somewhere
warm for Christmas myself.’