Please Release Me (16 page)

Grace frowned and thought back over the conversation. ‘No. I don’t think she did that. Not until after you lost it.’ She dropped into a kitchen chair and gestured for Sally to do the same. ‘Want to me tell what’s going on? If you want me to help, you’re going to have to stop playing games with me.’

‘I’m not playing games.’

Grace merely raised an eyebrow.

Sally stopped pacing and stared at her. ‘You don’t believe me?’ For a moment she stared at Grace, then her shoulders dropped. ‘Shit.’ She sank down into a chair, making the white fabric billow out around her.

Grace leaned forward. ‘Convince me then.’

Sally stared down at her hands and twiddled the wedding ring. ‘What I said was true. She got more and more withdrawn from Dad. He tried to make it better. That’s why he got into debt, trying to get stuff for her to make it better. Then when he died, she crumbled and left me to deal with it. She ruined him. She would have ruined me too, if I’d stayed.’

Grace nodded as encouragingly as she could.

Sally was staring at her hands and seemed to be seeing something else entirely.

‘Sally?’

‘Peter’s my new start. He’s all I’ve got. I don’t want her to ruin him too.’ When Sally looked up her eyes were desperate. Grace felt a surge of pity.

‘I didn’t mean to lose it like that,’ said Sally. ‘All I wanted to do was tell her to stay away from Peter. But she … she just pushes my buttons like no one else can. I just snapped. I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry.’

She looked so wretched that Grace felt sorry for her. ‘I believe you,’ she said. ‘But you’ve got to promise me that you’ll never go back there. When you took over that poor girl, I really thought you were going to hurt somebody.’

‘I couldn’t have, even if I wanted to,’ said Sally. ‘Her head was easy enough to get into, she wanted me there. But I couldn’t do much with the rest of the body. Not unless I had a chance to be in there a while and experimented a bit.’

Scientific interest stirred. ‘What happened there anyway? ‘

‘I’m not sure, I stepped through her and if I lined myself up right, my eyes were where hers were and I could see what she saw. I’ve not tried to make anyone talk before. Lucky she was totally spaced out.’

‘Wait. You’ve tried this before?’

Sally looked sheepish. ‘Only by mistake.’

Grace wasn’t sure she believed that, but she thought the sentiments about Peter were genuine. Whatever her issues with her mother, Sally seemed to genuinely love her husband. No matter how much Grace wanted things to be different, Sally and Peter belonged together. She would not be the other who came between them. ‘Sally, you need to let me tell Peter about you.’

‘No. I don’t think it’s the right time yet.’

‘Why not, Sally? You love him. He doesn’t know you’re around. Why don’t you let me tell him?’

‘No. I can’t let him see me like this.’

‘I don’t get it.’ Grace refrained from pointing out that he couldn’t see her anyway.

‘The last time I saw him, I was warm and alive. I want him to remember that when he thinks of me. Not this… nothingness. I’m not a ghost. I’m not anything. I’m just a chilly draught that makes him shiver. I don’t know why this happened. I don’t understand any of this, Grace. I just want it to all go back to the way it was. I want my married life. It’s not fair.’ She sank into a chair and didn’t even bother correcting herself when she stopped an inch or so above the surface.

‘Oh Sally.’ Grace went over to her and, despite the chill, put an arm around her, carefully, so that her arm didn’t go through Sally’s back. It was cold. She closed her hand into a fist and held her arm there.

Sally was staring into the middle distance. ‘Do you know what attracted me to Peter in the first place? It was the way he looked at me like I was the most perfect woman in the universe. No matter how grotty I felt, he’d look at me like that and I’d feel … amazing. ‘ She looked at her hands and touched the wedding band on her finger. ‘Now he can’t even see me. He looks at me now and all he sees is someone in coma. There’s hurt and sadness and desperation in his eyes. That doesn’t make me feel anything good. It’s like someone’s designed a private hell, just for me.’

‘I’m sorry. I wish I could help you.’

‘You are helping,’ said Sally. She wasn’t crying, but her expression was full of pain. ‘At least you can see me to talk to me.’

‘I really do think you should talk to Peter. If you have any unfinished business at all, it makes sense that it should be with him.’ Her arm was starting to shake with cold. She removed it.

Sally didn’t seem to notice that her arm was gone. She gave a mirthless laugh. ‘I have plenty of unfinished business with Peter. I’m not sure I could have him talk to me without seeing me. Or thinking I was that poor woman in the bed.’

‘It will be weird, I guess.’ There was no doubting that. ‘Don’t you think you should at least let him know that you can hear him?’

‘Why? He’ll only change what he says to me and I don’t want him to. He talks to the other me so much more than he did when I was alive.’

How could you be in love with someone and not want to find out every last scrap of information about them? ‘But you were getting married. You must have talked lots.’ If Peter were hers … No. She couldn’t think that. Peter wasn’t hers. He was Sally’s. He belonged with her.

‘We tried, but we always got distracted with one thing or another.’

Grace opened her mouth to question her, but saw the gleam in Sally’s eyes and thought better of it. It was pretty obvious what they got side-tracked doing. ‘Ye-es. Well, all I can say is that you never know what will happen until you try.’

‘Easy for you to say. What happens if …’ she paused and clamped her lips shut.

‘If?’

‘Doesn’t matter. I just don’t want to do this.’

‘Sally, he’s your husband. He loves you. You can’t keep avoiding him just because you like spying on him. You’ve got a chance to fix that now, tell him all the things you were too distracted to talk about.’ The minute she said it, she saw the problem. The conversation was hurtling towards one giant problem. Sally couldn’t talk to Peter directly. Grace would have to be there as a go between. Quite apart from being a great big gooseberry, she’d have to convey messages of love from Grace to Peter. That would be so very difficult. Shit. Now what.

Sally glared at her. ‘How, Grace? How exactly can I do that? He can’t even hear me.’ She sighed. ‘He doesn’t know I exist.’

The sadness on Sally’s face was heart rending. Grace sighed too. She knew she had to offer to help. No matter what it cost her, she always offered to help. It’s what she did. ‘I’ll tell him,’ she said. ‘You tell me and I’ll tell him.’

Sally frowned, then her brow cleared. ‘Really? That would work. I think it will, anyway. You’re a good friend, Grace.’

Peter got into the office early. His programmer, Steve wasn’t a morning person. He wouldn’t rock up until gone nine-thirty, so things were nice and quiet.

Peter rubbed his eyes. The whole thing with being cold at random times meant that he woke up in the middle of the night, either too hot or too cold. He stretched his arms over his head and felt the knots in his shoulders ride up. He needed to keep his mind on the job when he was here. This was his business. He didn’t want it to slide into neglect. First he needed caffeine. He grabbed his mug and left for the little kitchen.

The ‘kitchen’ was merely a little galley with tea making facilities, a fridge and a microwave. As he got his coffee filters out of the cupboard, Peter noticed that there were fewer there than he’d expected. Again. He sighed. What was it with people nicking other people’s coffee? It wasn’t like it was that expensive to buy your own. He really should do something about it, but it would have to wait until another time.

As the kettle boiled he let his thoughts wander back to Grace. The smell of fresh coffee reminded him of her. He smiled. Everything seemed to remind him of her these days. The harder he tried not to think about her, the more she popped up in his mind. He should be thinking about Sally, not Grace. Peter poured boiling water into the percolator and watched the water sink, slowly. Where Sally had swept over him like a wave of light and sound, being with Grace seemed tranquil and natural. It was as though she’d always been there in his life. But he loved Sally. Didn’t he?

Sally had lied to him. She had always maintained that both her parents were dead. Her mother had fallen ill and died soon after her father’s suicide. That’s what she’d said. Only there her mother was. Large as life. He wondered if Glenda was some sort of imposter, an aunt perhaps, who was trying to get him to give her some money. It was possible, but then why hadn’t Sally mentioned her?

He wondered what he really knew about Sally. He thought about the nurse’s comment about the blue sheets. Since then he’d noticed that many of Sally’s things had blue flowers on them. Even the crockery she’d brought with her when she moved in. If so, why had Sally said she loved roses?

Peter sighed and walked slowly back to his office. If only he could talk to Sally, maybe she could explain. If only he could talk to someone who would understand. His mother would always believe the worst in Sally. Despite his reluctance to admit it, he knew that neither his mother nor his sister liked Sally. He had been too swept up in new found love to let it bother him, but over the last year, with Sally needing him and his family trying to support him, he’d come to see it more and more clearly. He couldn’t talk to them about Sally. They would never give her the benefit of the doubt.

The only person who cared enough to understand was Grace. But he couldn’t talk to her either. He had to stay away from her. What had happened with her was a mistake. And now he couldn’t stop thinking about her and feeling a little kick of yearning every time. He couldn’t fall for someone else. He was married. Besides, Grace clearly didn’t want to talk to him either. The last time he’d called, she’d wanted nothing more than to get off the phone. He supposed he didn’t blame her. If she felt half as attracted to him as he was to her, it would be torture to know that they had no future together.

He sighed. Grace would be the only one who would understand the bone numbing tiredness that he carried around with him. What possessed him? She had become a friend and he’d let his body control him. Now he’d lost her.

In his pocket, his phone rang. He grabbed it, straight away, in case it was the hospital phoning to say something had happened to Sally. Every time it rang there was this split second of panic before he saw the caller ID.

It was Grace.

Peter relaxed, briefly, before his heart picked up again. Why was Grace calling? Despite his best intentions, the thought of talking to her lifted his heart. He hoped she wasn’t wanting to meet up. He didn’t think he could handle being so near her and not being able to reach across and touch her cheek. Grace seemed so sensible. She wouldn’t put either of them in such a position of temptation. He sat up straight, ready to handle anything and said ‘Hello Grace.’

‘Hi Peter. I … need to talk to you about something.’

‘Sure. What can I do for you?’ He cringed. He sounded like he was talking to client, not to a woman he cared about. All the things he wanted to say clamoured around in his head. He had to force himself to focus so that he could hear what she said.

‘It’s about Sally.’

He hadn’t been expecting that. Of all the things he and Grace had to discuss, Sally wasn’t the first topic that came to mind. ‘What about Sally?’

‘It’s a bit awkward. Um …’ There was a pause, when she said ‘okay’ to someone in the background. ‘Peter, if you could talk to Sally again … what would you say to her?’

‘Grace, what’s going on? What are you talking about? Are you at the hospice?’ He was already on his feet, grabbing for his coat. ‘Has Sally woken up?’ Why hadn’t someone from the hospice called?

‘No. No. Nothing like that. It’s … weirder,’ said Grace. ‘I think we’ve found a way that you can talk to Sally from … wherever she is.’

Peter stopped moving. ‘What are you talking about? Is this some sort of new brain imaging thing?’

‘No. More like …’ Grace gave an annoyed sounding click of the tongue. ‘It’s not the sort of thing I can explain over the phone. Can I meet you at the hospice tonight? Say around six-thirty? In Sally’s room.’

‘Grace—’

‘Please? Can you be there?’

Peter sat back down, his coat crumpling on the floor. ‘Sure. I’ll be there.’

‘Great.’ She sounded relieved. ‘See you later.’ And she was gone.

Peter stared at the red ‘call ended’ sign on the phone. What was all that about? He spent a moment frowning at it until he realised it wasn’t going to give him any answers. Sighing, he placed it on the table and returned to his computer. There was work to do.

Grace chatted to the security guard while she waited for Peter. He brought her up to date on all the latest news. All the big and small bits of news that made up the community that lived and worked in the hospice.

Normally, Grace would have listened, but all she could think about at the moment was the mission she was here to fulfil. Sally was waiting upstairs, although Grace didn’t put it past her to pop up at any point. Sally seemed to think that Grace’s nerves were because Peter might think she was crazy. Grace knew that being thought insane was only part of it. She had expected to have more time before she saw Peter again. She was only seeing him again this soon because his wife, whom they had both betrayed, was insisting on it. The irony didn’t escape her.

She fidgeted with the zip on her coat, worrying it with her finger. It was hard, being on her guard all the time, in case she let slip something that revealed too much to Sally. She didn’t want to help Sally with this madness about her mother, but she felt so guilty, it was hard for her to refuse Sally’s plea for help. Besides, she was starting to like having Sally around. It was a long time since she’d had company at home and it was rather nice – even if Sally was slightly over the top at times.

The guard was talking about how Captain Windell, who used to wear highly polished army boots with his pyjamas had passed away in his sleep, when Peter arrived, looking windswept and harassed.

‘Hello Mr Wesley,’ said the guard, displaying his uncanny knack of remembering people.

Peter looked surprised to be greeted by name. ‘Er … hello.’ He looked at Grace. ‘What’s going on Grace?’

‘I didn’t know you knew each other,’ said the guard, raising his eyebrows quizzically at Grace.

‘Only through the hospice,’ said Grace firmly. ‘I need to talk to Mr Wesley about Mrs Wesley.’

The guard’s expression normalised. ‘Ah.’ He glanced at Peter with sympathy. ‘Is everything okay with her? We haven’t had a call down or anything.’ He reached for the ledger to check for calls to the emergency services.

‘Everything’s okay,’ said Grace. ‘Well, you know what I mean.’ She turned to Peter and managed a tight smile. ‘Shall we go up to Sally’s room?’

Peter waited until they were in the lift before he said again, ‘Grace? What’s going on?’ He looked wild eyed. His hair was mussed up as though he’d been running his fingers through it. There were dark circles under his eyes. When he frowned, his scar puckered.

‘It’s hard to explain,’ she said. She watched the display as the floors ticked past. How did she start this conversation? It was an impossible thing to just casually bring up. The lift stopped and someone got in, saving her from having to explain. They shuffled to the back and no one said anything.

They got out of the lift together and walked down the corridor. Sally was waiting at the doorway to her room, watching TV over the duty nurse’s shoulder. ‘Oh good,’ she said. ‘You’re here.’ She looked at Peter as he stopped to get an update from the nurse. ‘God, Peter looks like he hasn’t slept. Again. Poor baby, he looks knackered.’

Grace nodded her head, but only slightly so that no one noticed. She wondered how Peter would take the news that his wife was wandering around being a ghost. She smiled at the nurse, who waved in recognition. Had the fact that she and Peter were friends made it into the hospice gossip? If it had, Sally would know. Sally hadn’t mentioned anything, so hopefully not.

She followed Peter into the room. He went straight to the bedside to kiss Sally’s pale forehead. The ghost Sally stood by the bed, fidgeting. Grace shut the door behind her.

‘You ready to do this?’ Sally asked Grace. She wasn’t exactly sure she was herself. She had liked being about to observe Peter’s life without him being aware of her. It was a window on what it would have been like if she had died in the accident. Peter wouldn’t have shrugged it off and found someone else. He would have pined. The thought was satisfying. She had chosen well. He was truly in love with her.

‘So, what did you want to talk to me about?’ said Peter, turning to Grace. ‘What’s so hard to explain? And why here?’

‘Er. Perhaps you should sit down,’ said Grace.

‘Good idea,’ said Sally. She sat down in the middle of the bed. ‘It’s hard to take in this sort of stuff. Peter’s never been that great at absorbing ideas outside his usual area.’ She was impressed at how well Grace was dealing with all this. Perhaps she didn’t have designs on Peter after all. If she did, why would she agree to this conversation so readily? Maybe she had been worrying about nothing.

‘Grace, you’re starting to scare me,’ said Peter. He didn’t move from where he was.

‘Best to get on with it,’ said Sally. ‘There’s no point wasting time.’

Grace took a deep breath. ‘Okay. You know that night with the lightning storm.’

‘Yes …’ He was looking worried and suspicious at the same time. Good boy. Be suspicious of other women.

‘Something weird happened that night. I saw Sally’s ghost.’

Sally raised her eyebrows. ‘Not softening the news or anything there, Grace.’

‘She’s sitting on the bed, right now.’ Grace nodded to where Sally was.

Peter looked at the spot on the bed, then back at Grace. ‘Grace … I know you’ve been under a lot of stress lately.’ He started to step towards her, but seemed to change his mind. ‘I think you should really take what happened at the abseil seriously. I think it’s affected you more than you think.’

Sally jumped off the bed and stalked towards Grace. ‘Wait. What happened at the abseil? What’s this?’ She thought back to the weeks before. She’d been with Grace most evenings. So this must have been something that happened before she came back as a ghost. Peter had mentioned the abseil. He hadn’t come to see her that night. Hmmm …

Grace looked at Sally ‘I had a bit of a panic attack. Peter was there.’

Peter looked alarmed. ‘Grace.’ He stepped forward carefully, as though approaching a skittish animal. ‘Sally can’t speak to you. She’s in a coma. Now, you’re clearly under a lot of strain. I’m sorry if—’

‘I’m not going nuts, Peter.’ Grace took a step away. ‘I know it’s hard to believe, but she’s here. You said you’ve been feeling cold. That’s Sally. Wherever she goes, it seems to make people cold. There’s nothing wrong with the thermostat. It’s Sally’s ghost.’

‘Sally’s ghost.’ He frowned. He looked around the room and back at the person asleep on the bed. ‘Grace, Sally’s not dead. You can’t be seeing her ghost. Have you been put back on any anti-depressants? Perhaps there’s some side effect …’

Grace ploughed on. ‘She wanted to talk to you. I think I’m the only one who can see or hear her, so—’

Peter was staring at Grace with concern. Sally felt a stab of anger. Getting him to feel sorry for Grace had not been part of the plan. This meeting was supposed to be about her. Not Grace. ‘I don’t think he believes you,’ said Sally.

‘Of course he doesn’t believe me. I didn’t believe in you to start with and I can see you.’

Peter looked in the general direction of Sally and back again. ‘Grace. I think you should sit down.’ He walked over and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. There was some sort of familiarity there. Like he’d touched her before. Sally felt the jealousy stirring again. Perhaps she should stay shtum and let Grace make a fool of herself. Peter would be far less attracted to a mad woman. If he was attracted to her at all, that is. So far, all the attraction seemed to be on Grace’s side.

Grace turned to face Sally. ‘Tell him something only you could know.’

Peter seemed to hesitate a moment, then he removed his hand from Grace’s shoulder.

On the other hand, the idea that his wife was around, might make Peter less likely to look elsewhere. Even if she was only a ghost. Like in
Truly, Madly, Deeply
. He could end up just talking to her and loving her as a ghost.

‘Um … we were going to go to Thailand on honeymoon. We danced to Doris Day on the radio the day we moved into the house. We had takeaway Italian delivered.’

Grace relayed the information to Peter. He narrowed his eyes. ‘How did you know that?’

‘She told me. She’s standing right next to you.’

Sally reached out and stroked his cheek. Peter shivered.

‘She’s touching your cheek,’ said Grace.

Peter raised his hand to his face, his fingers brushing through Sally’s hand. He looked back at his empty hand. He looked so confused Sally almost laughed.

‘I know it’s hard to believe,’ said Grace. ‘I don’t even believe in ghosts, but it’s hard not to believe Sally when she’s standing in the middle of the furniture in her wedding dress.’

‘Her wedding dress?’ He sounded dazed now. There was a catch in his voice.

‘She was in her wedding dress when the accident happened.’

Peter moved over to the windowsill and sat on it. ‘She was.’

‘Oh, darling,’ said Sally, perching on the sill next to him. ‘It’s all true. I wish you could see me.’

Peter rubbed his arm absent-mindedly. ‘I want to believe you, but …’ His gaze drifted towards the figure on the bed. For a minute, Sally thought he was talking to her.

‘She can hear you,’ said Grace, looking at the bed. ‘When you talk to her, she can hear you. She’s been able to hear you for a few months.’

‘Since around the time your mum made that horrible aubergine stuff,’ said Sally. She was studying Peter intently.

‘Since your mum made the aubergine dish,’ Grace repeated.

‘You bagged it and threw it out because the smell made you feel ill,’ said Sally, smiling. Grace relayed that too.

Peter gave a short laugh. ‘She told you that?’

Grace nodded.

‘And you can hear her, but I can’t?’ He was staring right through Sally, at her body on the bed. ‘Why can’t I hear her?’

Grace explained about the lightning and the weird connection between them. Sally helpfully suggested a couple more things that Grace could convey to him. Peter looked from Grace to the figure on the bed.

When Grace looked like she was about to speak, Sally put up her hand and stopped her. Peter was clearly working something through in his head. They had to wait. They couldn’t force him to believe Grace. It was a conclusion he had to come to himself.

It took a few more minutes before Peter looked up. His eyes seemed to have a manic sort of light in them. ‘Since the lightning strike?’ he said to Grace.

Grace nodded.

‘That was two weeks ago.’

Sally frowned. He was going to wonder why she hadn’t spoken to him before. This talking through Grace was a good first step, but she needed to talk to him directly, respond to what he said without Grace getting in the way. ‘I want to talk to him,’ Sally said to Grace. ‘Not through you. Really talk to him.’

‘But how can you do that? He can’t hear you.’

‘I could take you over, like I did with that girl.’ Only better, she added to herself.

‘No. No way.’

‘What?’ said Peter. Sally was about to snap ‘keep up’ at him, before she realised that he could only hear Grace’s side of the conversation.

‘She wants to talk to you,’ said Grace. ‘Directly.’

Peter sighed. ‘I want to talk to her as well.’ He glanced again at the figure on the bed. ‘So, so much.’

Sally looked pleadingly at Grace. Grace was a soft touch. These people who felt the constant need to be of help usually were. She would give in.

Grace sighed. She indicated that he should sit in the chair. ‘Close your eyes,’ she said. ‘Close your eyes and I’ll relay what she says.’ She pulled up a chair and sat opposite him. After a moment, she closed her own eyes and turned her head away, as though focusing.

Peter stared at her for a minute. ‘Okay,’ he said. There was hope in his voice. He pulled the other plastic chair and sat down, facing Grace. ‘Okay.’ He closed his eyes.

‘Hello, Peter, it’s Sally here,’ Grace repeated after Sally.

‘Hello, Sally.’ He smiled. ‘This is weird,’ he said in a confidential tone. Sally wasn’t sure which one of them he was talking to.

‘You’re telling me,’ said Grace. They both smiled behind their closed eyes, and Sally realised he hadn’t been speaking to her just then. The shared moment of intimacy between them annoyed her. He was supposed to be concentrating on his wife, not the messenger.

‘It’s … nice to see you,’ she said, uncertainly. ‘I’m sorry I’ve been making you feel cold. I can’t help it.’ Grace relayed the message, her voice low.

‘I’m … it’s okay,’ said Peter. ‘I can’t believe …’

‘She’s not making it up,’ said Sally, quickly. ‘It really is me. I’ve been listening to you talking to me for so long and I couldn’t say or do anything. I would have given you some sort of sign if I could. You know that, right?’

Peter listened, frowning slightly as Grace repeated it. ‘Sally. Does it hurt? Are you in pain?’

The question surprised her. She had expected questions about other things. Not about her body. She glanced over at the shell that used to be hers. It carried on breathing, oblivious to the world. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I’m not in any pain. Not the physical kind anyway.’ She turned back to Peter and reached out to trace the scar on his cheek. He sucked in a breath at her touch. ‘How about you?’ she said.

Sally ran a finger along the line of his jaw and watched a shiver run down the side of him. She had been able to make him thrill with just a touch and now her hands made his shudder. That hurt.

‘I’m okay. Missing you, you know.’ Peter frowned. There was a slight hesitation as though he was trying to decide what to say, then ‘Your mum came by. You know, the one you told me was dead.’ The note of sarcasm was unmistakeable.

‘I’m sorry about that. I wanted to keep her away from you. To forget all the stuff she put me through.’ Sally noticed the way Grace’s lips tightened before she spoke. Being caught in this domestic conversation was clearly uncomfortable for her. Good. It’ll teach her to think twice before trying anything with Peter.

‘I would have understood, you know. We could have helped her. I would have supported you both,’ Peter said.

Sally laughed. He was so middle class sometimes. Like they had the solution to everything. ‘Oh Peter. You have such faith in the twelve step plans. You can’t reform addicts unless they want to be reformed.’