Authors: Curtis Jobling
‘You look like a right plum in that.’
‘You’re just jealous,’ I replied, running my thumb along the visor’s edge of the Major’s dress hat. ‘I reckon I look a dude. You can try it on but somehow I
don’t think it’ll fit you.’
‘Still can’t believe he left without saying goodbye.’
Dougie and I stared across the rose garden as the sick and their visitors shambled about in the drizzle, searching for somewhere to shelter. These were the hardcore smokers, unable to go longer
than an hour without sneaking out for a sly puff. Overcoats were donned and umbrellas were hoisted as they got their sweet cancerous kicks in the rain. They’d be back here soon enough, some
of them. Judging by the terrible coughing of the odd one, they probably wouldn’t be leaving.
‘Like I said, the Major wasn’t really in a position where he could hang about for you to get your arse out of bed. It was a bit of a one-time-ticket. Trust me, they don’t hold
the door open for you if you dally.’
We were stood beneath the ambulance canopy outside A&E, waiting for Mr Hancock to turn up. It had been two weeks since the accident, and in that time there had been plenty of rest and
recuperation for Dougie to sink his teeth into. To be fair, he’d gorged on it, spending a ridiculous amount of time with his feet up as the nurses reached, fetched and carried for him. Stu
Singer, Andy Vaughn and even Bloody Mary had proved to be invaluable mates, visiting frequently and bringing a plethora of goodies in from home to amuse him: comics, books, iPad and even
Dougie’s mobile phone. That stash had been tricky to retrieve, with both Dougie and his dad in hospital, but everybody’s favourite head-the-ball was a resourceful lad; while Andy kept
watch, Stu had gone in through the garage, jimmying the locked door to the kitchen before sweeping up all that was needed. God bless the sons of vicars.
‘Besides,’ I said, ‘he might have been fond of you in a chalk and cheese kinda way, but you were no Ruby. More of a nugget of coal in comparison.’
‘Really? She must’ve polished up nicely then. Last I saw of the old dear she looked her age.’
‘That’s the weird thing. Look at me in my torn jeans, winter coat and Doctor Who scarf; I’m still wearing the clothes I carked it in. No doubt I will until I finally – if
ever – get my chance to leave. It wasn’t the same Ruby waiting for the Major though. She was a young woman, in all her splendour.’
‘Splendour?’
‘Sounds showy, doesn’t it? Not on this occasion. She was a knockout. They made a mighty fine couple.’
‘Perhaps your apparition is linked to your mood? It was the happiest moment of your life when you died, wasn’t it? Lousy timing, I know.’
‘Perhaps those years when she was first with the Major, so long ago, were when Ruby was at her happiest. That’d make sense, wouldn’t it? Either way, it’d be nice to
change the outfit now and again. I suppose the Major’s cap is something.’
‘Something else to go in the
Rules of Ghosting
notebook.’
‘You’re keeping it up to date, aren’t you?’
‘Course I am,’ he lied, glancing at his phone.
‘Anything?’
‘No,’ he said, glumly.
Barely a moment had gone by in the last week where I hadn’t found him checking his mobile for messages. He’d sent a bunch of them to Lucy, asking to speak with her. There was a ton
of stuff the two of them needed to talk through. Most of it Dougie had been reluctant to discuss on account of Bradbury – his dad, the car, the villain himself – but with that monster
out of the picture it freed up everything. Nothing was off topic, but it was just his luck that Mr Carpenter had apparently put a kibosh on their relationship. Whether she was receiving my
pal’s plaintive messages, we couldn’t know. Perhaps her dad had confiscated the phone and was fuming each and every frequent moment it pinged:
message received!
I hadn’t
the heart to tell Dougie about the mood Mr Carpenter had been in after the accident. I was looking for the right moment, but it hadn’t yet arrived.
‘I’m sure she’ll get back to you, mate,’ I said, patting him on the back. He felt the contact. ‘Just give her a bit of time, eh? Play it cool, Sparky.’
We both laughed, thinking of our departed American friend.
‘Do you think he’s happy, wherever they went?’ asked Dougie.
‘He’s with Ruby. Wherever they went, even if it was just that blinding light and then nothing, it’ll be heavenly for him.’
‘So that was heaven, then? The light in the lift?’
‘It was heaven for our friend,’ I said. ‘Might be something different when yours or my time comes.’
‘You could’ve gone with him, y’know?’ He was avoiding eye contact with me, searching the road for the approach of his dad. ‘You didn’t have to hang about for
me.’
‘You would’ve moaned like a whiny baby if I’d scarpered, and you know it. Nah, I wasn’t about to skedaddle and leave you in the lurch. It’s not what friends do. Not
after what we’ve been through.’
He didn’t say anything, and he didn’t need to. Our friendship was pretty damn special, that bond keeping us together in spite of a piddling thing like death. Dougie being the kind of
lad he was, chose that moment to let loose a wee parp. It did the trick, repelling me like magic.
‘You cheapen everything,’ I said.
He chuckled, but I caught the briefest look. He nodded, ever so slightly. It was the closest I’d get to genuine emotion, and I was happy to take it. The approach of a car Mr Hancock had
commandeered broke the mood, and not a second too soon. We were dangerously close to telling one another how we really felt, and that would
never
do for teenage boys. It would’ve
caused a distortion in the space time continuum. Or something.
Mr Hancock opened the passenger door of the beaten-up old estate car and beckoned his son.
‘Who does
that
hunk of junk belong to?’ asked Dougie warily from where he sheltered from the grim shower.
‘Reverend Singer,’ said his dad. ‘He called and asked if there was any way he could help. What a nice chap. Been so long since I’d accepted the help of others, I’d
forgotten it could even happen. And let’s face it, I think the Bentley’s breathed its last.’
Dougie and I smiled as his dad turned his attention to the car radio, searching for a vintage station. My mate had asked Stu to let his father know Mr Hancock might need a helping hand getting
back on his feet again, return the chaos of his life to something that resembled order. The good reverend had wasted no time and Mr Hancock had happily taken the bait. The man who has friends is a
wealthy fellow indeed.
Dougie set off through the puddles towards the car, messenger bag across the shoulder full of comics, books and techno goodies. He lobbed it through the door and into the back seat before
turning back to me. I remained standing beneath the canopy, watching my friend through the relentless summer shower.
‘What are you doing?’ mouthed Dougie. ‘Our ride’s here. I want to go home. I’ve spent more than enough time in this blooming building.’
‘You go.’
‘Eh?’ Dougie looked at me as if I’d just grown another head. ‘What are you on about? Go?’
‘I’m staying.’
Dougie stomped across the rain-slicked pavement and tipped his head to one side, so much so I feared it might fall off.
‘Since when did you have an option?’
‘Since Bradbury. Dougie, I’m not
bound
to anyone any more. Once I chased after him that night, I had a new target for my attention. And when he died . . . well, I appear to
have been left to my own devices, like a fart on the breeze.’
‘A ghost without a host.’
‘Something like that.’
Dougie was quiet, thinking it through. He looked disappointed.
‘I thought you’d be happy. You’ve been bumping your gums for months now about how you don’t get a moment’s privacy. You can’t take a dump in peace, so you
tell me. Isn’t this what you wanted?’
‘I thought so. But now it’s happened, I’m not so sure. Maybe I got used to you, Will.’
‘That’s sweet.’
‘Let me finish – got used to you like athlete’s foot.’
‘Again with the cheapening.’ It was enough to lighten the mood. I could sense he was upset, but I’d had plenty of time to think about this.
‘So if you’re not coming with me, what’s your plan?’
‘For starters, this doesn’t mean I’m done with you. Gonna have to check out how this solo spectral shenanigan works, see if I can flutter my way to Casa Hancock as soon as I
get a chance. You’re my best mate. You won’t get rid of me that easily.’
He brightened at that, the old grin reappearing.
‘But where will you go?’
I looked around at the entrance to the A&E, peered down the road as another ambulance approached, its blue lights flashing. Its siren whooped as it drew closer, urging Mr Hancock to shift
the estate car.
‘I hear there’s an opening here in the meet and greet department. Be nice to give something back after all the Major did for us.’
‘All the Major did for us?’ exclaimed Dougie. ‘He was all goofy teeth and quiff, all mouth and no trousers! He couldn’t pass a mirror without winking at
himself!’
I grinned. ‘You know he loved you, don’t you?’
Dougie threw me a two-fingered salute and set off towards his dad’s car. ‘I’ll see you around teatime. Come and surprise me, why don’t you?’ He paused as he
reopened the door, the rain pattering down and slicking his hair down across his face. He turned back.
The look said more than any words ever could.
Then he was into the car, buckling up as Mr Hancock pulled a U-turn and manoeuvred past the parking ambulance. Dougie placed his hand on the window, fingers splayed Spock-style in a Vulcan
salute, then he was gone. I stood alone, my throat tightening. This was it. The stabilisers were off. The water wings had been thrown away. I was on my own.
I felt sick.
The back doors of the ambulance flew open as a paramedic reached in, helping his colleague haul the trolley out from within. A young woman lay upon the bed, her body juddering as the wheels
sprang out from beneath the gurney and hit the floor with a clatter. Her red hair clung to her face, matted dark and sticky, her face pale and white. I stood back as the two green-suited figures
rushed past, met by doctors and nurses, their voices concerned as they vanished into the A&E. I watched them go, the ambulance deserted bar a driver in the cab.
My chest was all a-tremble, leaving me lost in the moment of drama. This was going to take some getting used to. I looked into the back of the ambulance. Towards her.
The redhead inched closer, her alabaster skin shining with a familiar blue light. She looked left and right out of the back of the vehicle, as if afraid to take that first step out. From the
look on her face she was confused, struggling to make sense of the world around her. My heart shuddered as the memories of my own death came flooding back, submerging me in a fleeting moment of
sorrow. Then it was gone, put behind me, my own sorry story the least of my concerns. I extended a hand toward her and at that moment she saw me, flinching fearfully, face wracked by doubt. I
smiled.
‘The name’s Will Underwood,’ I said, and beckoned her down the steps towards me. ‘I’m here to help.’