‘How was the funeral?’ I asked, cautiously walking into Maggie’s place with Tilly in tow. It’d been just over a week since her dad had died, and understandably, she’d spent most of that week a total wreck. The majority of the time she’d spent in bed, and if she wasn’t in bed, it was because she needed to help the kids and Harry was at work.
Sensing Maggie’s low mood, Tilly walked over to her and nudged her. Maggie smiled, picked her up, and hugged her. The smart little dog licked her cheeks to try to cheer her up. She was lazy, but she knew people, that was for sure.
I took my coat off and hung it up, then the three of us went into the living room and sat on the sofa.
‘It was how you expect. Maudlin. Depressing. Full of stupid songs.’ Maggie sat up, fidgeting to put her weight on one side. Tilly danced on the sofa while she waited for Maggie to adjust, then lay down and rested her head on Maggie’s lap. Maggie stroked her head. ‘Why do they make you sing that rubbish at a funeral? It just makes things worse.’
‘Drag it out, I guess. I prefer poems myself.’
‘Then you don’t have to listen to Great Uncle Norman singing All Things Bright and Beautiful out of tune for the third time that year.’
‘Was that your third funeral this year?’
Maggie sighed. ‘Yeah. Can you believe it? We’re getting old, Neevie.’
I glared at her. ‘My back may seize up like I’m ninety, but my mind is still sharp.’
‘Your back seizes up because you don’t exercise enough,’ said Maggie with a raised eyebrow.
‘Serves me right for getting a dog that hates walks to try to keep me fit.’ I rolled my eyes.
Tilly had no idea what I was saying. Sometimes she’d walk, but only when she was in the mood to. It was like having two teenagers in the house sometimes.
‘Least she keeps you on your toes mentally,’ said Maggie.
I scoffed. ‘Yeah. You can say that again.’
‘But she’s a good girl really,’ added Maggie. Tilly leaned into her hand as she rubbed behind the dog’s ears. It was a cute picture, that was for sure. And I couldn’t deny that Tilly had known exactly what Maggie needed to cheer her up.
‘So, what really happened with you and Dan?’ asked Maggie, abruptly changing the subject. I’d been avoiding talking to her – to anyone – about it since Dan had filed for divorce eight months ago. But I was out of excuses not to answer, especially when Maggie was in desperate need of distractions.
I sighed, leaning back on the leather sofa. The cold fabric touched my bare arms and made me shudder. I flinched, leaning forwards a bit so that it wasn’t touching my skin. Why people were obsessed with dead animal fabric, I’d never know. It was cold and gross, if you asked me.
Glancing around the room, I checked to see if anyone else was listening. Edie didn’t know why Dan had left, and I wanted it to stay that way.
Figuring out what I was checking for, Maggie read my mind: ’Harry took all three of them out for ice cream before you got here. It’s his way of apologising for working last Sunday.’ She rolled her eyes. When they’d first met, he’d been a little boring, but a decent guy. Since Abigail had been born, he’d become a workaholic, insisting he needed to work twice as hard to maintain their quality of life.
Ironically, he’d sacrificed the life he’d had with his family in the process. I spent more time with his kids than he did.
That being said, I’d never been more glad that the local ice cream parlour had a late-night opening once a week. It wasn’t that late, but in England, everything stopped at five o’clock if it wasn’t nightlife. Javi’s parents had always complained about it when we were growing up, and I was inclined to agree with them.
‘Who knew ice cream worked on teenagers, too?’
Maggie shrugged. ‘I thought it was a universal form of bribery?’
I laughed. It definitely still worked on me.
‘So...?’
Maggie wasn’t going to let it go. She needed a distraction. And I guessed if I was going to talk to anyone about it, she was the best person. She knew all my dirty little secrets and had heard many ghost stories over the years. ‘He walked in on Edie talking to a ghost.’
Maggie stared at me, her expression turning unreadable.
I leaned forwards and waved my hand over her face. ‘Maggie? You there? Earth to Maggie?’
‘I’m sorry, I just…I have no idea how to process that. The poor man! He must’ve been so confused.’
‘Yeah. At first he started talking about how she was hallucinating and needed to see a doctor. Then when I didn’t immediately agree with him, he knew something was up.’
‘So what did you say?’
I stared at my hands, which I’d clasped into my lap. ‘I told him the truth. And he didn’t believe me.’
‘I hate to say it, but most people don’t the first time someone tells them they can see ghosts,’ said Maggie.
‘I know, I know. And I didn’t blame him for that. But then when he found out it was true, he got angry instead.’
‘Angry? About what?’
‘That I’d lied to him about something so big…and…and the fact that I’m a freak.’ I burst into tears after that. His words still haunted me – no pun intended – and they were why I hadn’t told anyone what had happened.
Maggie jerked upright and crossed her arms. Noticing the change in mood, Tilly got excited and jumped up at her. ‘Niamh Porter, you are not a freak! Don’t you dare let anyone ever tell you that! You have a special gift and you use it to help people.’
I was crying too hard to respond. The stress of the last few months had finally caught up with me. The breakup, the move, the new college for Edie. It was too much.
Maggie pulled me into her lap. I cried into her skinny jeans, soaking through the fabric.
‘Sorry,’ I said, between sobs. Tilly settled back down, trying to lick the tears from my cheeks.
Maggie shrugged. ‘I have two kids and I’m a chef. These things have seen worse.’
‘Ew,’ I said, pulling away. What kind of worse I didn’t want to know. Nor did I want my face near anything worse than that.
Giggling, she pulled me closer, into a bear hug.
‘I’m just glad it’s all over now. The divorce is finalised, and he’s out of our lives,’ I said.
‘Yeah,’ agreed Maggie. ‘But how did you hide all the ghosts from him? For what, five years?’
I sighed. ‘The more you ignore something, the easier it gets.’
‘Didn’t they try to demand your attention or anything?’
‘Sometimes, but most have enough common sense and manners to know not to confront you in public. When I did speak to them, I’d just say I couldn’t help them.’
‘And that didn’t bother them?’
‘It’s not like it’s my job to pass on messages or help them cross over. I used to get rid of bad spirits. That was it.’
‘You really didn’t help anyone while you were with him?’
‘I wouldn’t say I didn’t help anyone, but I didn’t help with ghost activity. I just pointed out to a few parents that what they thought of as poltergeist activity was just them not wanting to admit – or not noticing – that they were raising a giant tit.’
‘I mean, no one wants to admit to failing as a parent.’
‘Nope. Which is why they blame ghosts. But in a lot of cases, ghosts are harmless. It’s kids that are the real gits.’
‘See? You are a good person!’ said Maggie. ‘Not just anyone would do that. They’d just say that it isn’t a ghost and leave. Or fake an exorcism to make people feel better.’
‘Yeah, I guess you’re right.’
She nudged my arm. ‘I am right. The world is full of horrible people, but you, Niamh Porter, are not one of them.’