Please Release Me (12 page)

‘Focus, Sally, focus. You’ve been in a coma for nearly a year. His attention is starting to wander. Understandable, in some ways. So the first thing to do is to get Peter’s attention.’ She paused at the window and tried to drum her fingers on the windowsill. They didn’t make a sound. She gave an annoyed ‘tsch’. ‘But Peter can’t see me,’ she continued. ‘So I can’t work on him.’

‘The only one who can see me, is that husband tempter, Grace. At least she’s not in my house.’ Sally frowned. Something pinged in her memory. She knew Grace from somewhere before. Where did she know her from?

Sally sat in her own kitchen, with her feet up on the table. She’d watched Peter shuffle around making himself toast. She took a chance to examine the rest of him while he had a shower. Not much change there, thank goodness. He was still hot, even if he did keep yawning all the time. He had started shivering violently and turned the heat up in the shower, so she’d ducked out before he boiled himself alive.

She decided not to sit with him in the car when he went to work. She didn’t want him to have another accident trying to heat the car up. Instead she hung around the house, checking everything out in the daylight. As far as she could tell, Peter had changed very little, but everything was spotlessly clean. She wondered if he’d hired a cleaner. It was something they hadn’t got around to doing after they moved. It wasn’t like he could clean the place himself. He spent all his time at work.

There was the sound of a key in the lock. Sally took her feet off the table, wondering if Peter had forgotten something. The door slammed and Diane came in, carrying a heavy looking cool bag. Why did his mother have a key? Sally cursed Peter. She would have to have a word with him about that.

Diane stopped and surveyed the scene, as though looking for something. She put the bags on the table, rubbed her arms and turned the thermostat controller up.

‘You seem to know your way around my house,’ said Sally.

Diane, of course, didn’t hear her. She opened the fridge and started pulling out Tupperware containers. For the first time, Sally noticed the neat stack of containers, washed and dried, that were next to the fridge. Diane shook her head and removed a few tubs. Opening the cool bag, she took out fresh boxes and restocked the fridge. Sally took the opportunity to examine the boxes she was getting rid of.

Each was neatly labelled with the meal description and the date it had to be eaten by. It seemed that Diane was bringing Peter’s meals. Hmmm. That was strange. Peter hadn’t been so dependent on his mother when Sally married him. But maybe that was just a front he put on for the girlfriend. Or maybe his mother was taking back the opportunity to care for her boy. In Sally’s experience, no man refused free meals. Least of all meals that were cooked by his mother. This was interesting to know before she woke up. She added Diane to her list of things she needed to tackle.

Diane stacked the containers she was throwing away and spent a moment staring at them. She pulled out her phone and called someone.

‘He’s only eaten one of the meals from this week,’ she said into the phone, without even bothering to say hello first.

Sally leaned forward to see if she could hear the other half of the conversation. She assumed Diane was talking to Frank. She wouldn’t be that rude to anyone else.

‘Yes, but I don’t think he eats much at lunchtime. I’m not sure he eats at all, in fact. I was hoping he was having at least one good meal a day, but he’s just leaving them.’

Sally could hear Frank saying something in a reassuring voice.

Diane gave an impatient flick of the head. ‘I know he’s an adult, but he’s not exactly got a normal life at the moment, has he? I’m worried about him, Frank. I really am. There’s something bothering him, I can tell. More than the usual, I mean. He keeps insisting that he’s fine but …’

More babble from the phone.

‘I’ll try,’ said Diane. ‘I don’t think he really wants to talk about it … no, you’re right. I’ll try at the weekend.’

Sally put her head next to Diane’s, trying to hear Frank’s half of the conversation. Diane gave a little shiver.

‘I think there’s something wrong with the heating too,’ she said. ‘I keep feeling a draught. And there’s this weird …’ she looked around, almost furtive in her movements. ‘… I don’t know, darling, it’s a strange feeling.’ She turned her head so she was looking straight through Sally. ‘I think I’ll leave the cleaning today and just get home. You’re right. Yes … Okay. I’ll see you in a bit.’

Diane hung up and looked over her shoulder again. Then she shuddered and shook her head. ‘Imagining things again,’ she muttered to herself. She picked up the bag, grabbed her coat, and started out of the kitchen. At the door, she paused. After a few minutes, she shook her head again and left.

Interesting. So Diane could sense someone there, but still couldn’t see or hear her. Very interesting. Sally already had an idea of how to get rid of Diane from the house. That should be easy.

Working out what to do about Grace was harder. From what she could tell, Grace was the only one who could see her. If she wanted to get an avenue to Peter, she would have to keep Grace on side.

Sally sighed and stood up. ‘Oh well,’ she said. ‘It’s time to go and make friends with the husband tempter.’

It was dark when Grace got home after visiting Margaret. She had been jumpy, but no ghost had materialised. It was a relief to know that the night before had been a one off. Grace vowed to take it easy that weekend and maybe force herself to have a lie in. Hallucinations were not something to be taken lightly. She let herself in and turned on the light.

There was soup in the fridge. She had forgotten to pick up any bread. Oh well, just soup then. Grace stretched her arms above her head as she strode to the kitchen. She turned to flick on the light switch, turned back and yelped. Sally was standing in the kitchen, arms folded, leaning against the wall as though she were quite at home. ‘I figured out where I knew you from, see?’

Something clicked into place in Grace’s mind. The familiar face. Of course. Sally was one of the estate agents that came round to value the house. She had, now that Grace recalled, been quite candid about how much work the place needed if she were to get an asking price that was anywhere near the other ones in the neighbourhood. That was nearly two years ago. She was surprised either of them remembered. Sally had been in a coma for … She was overthinking this. Sally wasn’t here. It was just a manifestation of Grace’s own imagination.

Grace closed her eyes. ‘Not real,’ she said, to reassure herself, and opened them.

‘Still here,’ said Sally. ‘Sorry.’

‘But I don’t believe in ghosts,’ said Grace. She immediately felt silly. If she didn’t believe in ghosts, then she was talking to herself. She ignored Sally and helped herself to her soup.

‘Look, I know this is weird for you,’ said Sally. ‘Try and see it from my point of view, it’s pretty bloody weird too. One minute I’m getting married and the next thing I know, I’m walking through furniture.’

This was insane. How did one interact with a ghost? Even if there were such a thing. Grace shook her head. ‘I really need to get some sleep.’

‘Grace, listen to me.’ Sally stood right in front of her. Grace reached across for the microwave. Sally didn’t move, so Grace’s arm went through Sally. Watching her arm disappearing into someone’s ribs was nauseating. She felt a stab of intense cold. Grace gasped and pulled her arm back.

‘I’m not going to hurt you. You’re the only one that can see me. I’m invisible to everyone else.’ Sally looked up, her expression pleading. ‘Please. I just want to hang around with someone who can hear me.’

The look on Sally’s face was so plaintive that Grace felt a rush of sympathy. How horrible it must be to have so much to say to people and not be able to communicate. She wondered if Sally had been locked into her body for all those months. She couldn’t think of anything worse. She felt a stab of guilt. The least she could do was listen to her.

‘What do you do of an evening?’ said Sally, peering at the kitchen calendar which was more or less clear.

When Grace’s parents had been alive, the calendar had been covered with appointments. Now, since her mum’s funeral … nothing. The first time she’d turned over a page for a new month and seen it clear of appointments, Grace had burst into tears. She still didn’t know if it was with sorrow or relief.

‘I’ll do stuff with you, then,’ said Sally. ‘It’s just nice to, you know, exist. It’d probably be good for you to do that too.’ She nodded meaningfully at the empty calendar.

‘Right.’ Grace gave up arguing against the evidence of her own eyes. If Sally was going to stand here and be rude about her social life, she may as well talk back. She went to the fridge and put away the remaining half carton of soup. ‘Do you … want something to eat?’

‘No point. Ghost, remember. Besides, my body’s being given everything through a tube. I’m good thanks.’

‘Oh yes. Sorry.’

‘No need to apologise. Look, don’t let me stop you.’

Sally started talking when Grace was eating. She talked about all sorts of random things, asked about what was happening in soap operas, various celebrities, local businesses.

Grace couldn’t answer any of those questions. She tried to puzzle her way round the situation. Assuming Sally was a ‘real’ ghost, why was she there? Why haunt Grace and not Peter? Was Grace part of her unfinished business? Was that stuff about unfinished business real or just a construct of the movie industry?

The scientist in her came up with a load more questions – why was Sally sucking the heat out of her immediate surroundings? Did she need the energy to be visible? If she stood next to a big enough energy source, would she become solid? Could she move things? Could she feel emotions without hormones or a nervous system? How close was her connection to her body? If she felt fear, did her body’s heart rate increase?

‘Oh come on,’ said Sally. ‘You own a TV. Don’t you ever watch it?’

‘Actually, no. Not really. When Mum was alive, I didn’t have time.’

‘And now?’ She had her hands on her hips again. Sally really was very bossy. Grace wondered what Peter saw in her.

‘I guess I’ve got out of the habit.’ She crossed over to the sink and started to wash the bowl. ‘I can turn the TV on for you, if you’d like.’ What was she doing? She didn’t know if this whole ridiculous situation was real. And even if it was, she didn’t want to encourage Sally.

Sally walked through the kitchen table to come and stand next to her. It was creepy when she did that.

‘I’d be stuck watching the same channel. Besides, I just want to do something normal. Sit around with a mate watching telly.’

A ‘mate’. Was that what Sally was expecting her to become? A friend. Grace thought of Peter. What would Sally say if she knew? Immediately, Grace felt guilty. Sally was trapped in a limbo all alone and she, Grace, had nearly slept with Sally’s husband. What kind of a monster did that? On the other hand, this whole situation was too weird and she wasn’t totally convinced it wasn’t all in her head. Maybe it was her mind working out her feelings of guilt? Either way, she was pretty much obliged to be nice to Sally. ‘I understand what you mean, but I need some time to get my head round this,’ she said, carefully. ‘If you don’t mind, I’d like some time to myself.’ She turned her back on Sally and left the room.

The hairs on the back of her neck prickled. There was a chill. Sally had followed her. It was like being shadowed by an iceberg.

She had intended to go to bed, but there was no way she was doing that with Sally following her. Grace went into the sitting room instead and pulled out the DVDs she’d bought but never got around to watching. Hopefully, an hour or so of being ignored, would send Sally away. It was easier to ignore an unwanted guest if there was something she could watch.

‘DVDs. Brilliant. Let’s do that.’ Sally swept through the sofa and leaned forward to read the box, which Grace had left blurb side up by mistake. ‘
Being Human
? What’s that?’

Grace said nothing.

‘Ghost, Vampire, Werewolf, living together.’ Sally laughed. ‘How appropriate.’

Grace refrained from pointing out that she was neither a vampire nor a werewolf. And, since that Sally herself was not dead, she didn’t actually qualify as a proper ghost either. More an … avatar.
Athma
the word popped into her head out of nowhere. Her parents hadn’t been big on religion, but she’d read enough books to know Buddhist vocabulary.
Athma.
The manifestation of you in each life.

‘Just me who finds it funny, then.’ Sally threw herself onto the sofa. She sank a little too far in and it took a few seconds for her to work out the right depth.

Grace watched her and was interested, in spite of herself. ‘How come you don’t just go through that sofa?’

‘Don’t know. Habit, I guess. It’s easier to walk through something if I’ve not noticed it, I find.’

‘I guess that makes sense.’ She turned on the TV and DVD player using the various remotes. ‘You’ve become accustomed to instinctively walking around obstacles, so you’d have to reprogram yourself to walk through them. Interesting.’

‘I can’t walk through walls though,’ said Sally. ‘Look.’ She scrambled to her feet and walked, frowning at a wall. It stopped her, just as it would have stopped someone corporeal. ‘But doors, no problem.’ She went through the closed door and back in again. ‘Weird huh?’

‘Maybe your conviction that walls are solid is too strong.’ Grace was getting interested now. It occurred to her that she knew very little about any research, if any, into the supernatural. She would have to look into it. She wondered which subject that came under. Not biology. Physics, perhaps, or psychiatry.

‘What, like I think doors aren’t solid?’ Sally flopped back onto the sofa. ‘I don’t think that’s it. There’s places I just can’t go.’

Grace loaded the DVD into the player. ‘Like the other end of the hall in the hospital.’

‘Exactly.’ Sally grinned. Sally pulled her feet onto the sofa and snuggled down into the corner, her petite limbs settling in, making her look vulnerable and child like. If Grace tried to do that, she’d end up all elbows and knees. Maybe that was the attraction. Men liked small, pretty women.

Feeling huge and ungainly, Grace sat on the other end of the sofa. Normally, she would have stretched out on it, but didn’t feel it was appropriate to do so now. She might end up sticking a foot through Sally by mistake.

They sat in silence through the ads.

‘I hate these,’ said Sally when the anti-piracy ad came on. ‘Why put it on legal copies? We’ve paid for ours, so why ram this crap down our throats. Bloody morons.’