There were no more breakthroughs over the next few days. I tried again and again but got nowhere. It made me wonder whether I should have taken the opportunity when I had it and tried to wake her up. I even feared that perhaps Lizzie was doing something to hinder my progress. But I persevered. I stayed glued to Ella’s side day and night, talking to her the whole time like she could hear me.
I was so occupied by this that I paid little attention to my ‘tribute’ when it appeared in the paper, other than noting it was the lead story on page five and Mum seemed happy with the wording. In the grand scheme of things, the article was of little concern. Of far more importance was the fact that Ella wasn’t herself. She had major mood swings. One minute she’d seem happy, playing with her dolls or running around the garden with Sam. Next she’d be in tears about some minor thing that had upset her or, worse, she’d fall silent, withdrawing into herself.
She wet her bed one night, which she hadn’t done in ages, and was really upset when she woke up and realized. It was heart-breaking to watch her frantically trying to change the sheets herself at 3 a.m. Luckily, Mum heard her and came to the rescue. ‘What are you doing, silly sausage? You don’t need to do that yourself. That’s what I’m here for. Why didn’t you come and get me?’
Ella, cheeks bright red, ran to hide in her princess castle.
‘Don’t worry, darling. These things happen. It’s only normal.’
‘It wasn’t me. It must have been Kitten.’
Meanwhile, Mum and Dad had their work cut out juggling the police, who were pursuing a charge of death by dangerous driving against the 4x4 driver; the coroner, who had opened an inquest into my death; and the funeral director, who was busy arranging my send-off. There was also legal guardianship of Ella and my estate to sort out. Just as well I’d heeded Dad’s advice to write a will, which kept things clear cut.
My parents were doing their best to stay positive and to hold things together for Ella, but I could see how hard it was for them. Dad was drinking and smoking more than ever and Mum, usually a picture of health, looked like she’d not slept in weeks. They were still staying at our place, although they were missing their own home comforts and had discussed moving Ella soon after the funeral. Their house was only a twenty-minute drive away, so the plan was for her to stay in the same school for the time being.
They kept her out of classes for a few days, but then she asked to go back. I decided to accompany her, to make sure she was okay, but I didn’t stay long. I felt like I was intruding. That was her space – her private time away from home – and she’d always been protective of it. Ever since her early days in reception, we’d got into a daily routine of me asking what she’d done at school and her replying that she couldn’t remember. I’d found it strange at first, but a lot of parents said their children were the same.
Anyway, I stayed for about forty-five minutes on that first day. She was very quiet to start with and she had a little cry on the way to the classroom after assembly. But things improved after her best friend, Jada, gave her a hug and said she’d look after her. I headed home, only to find that Mum and Dad had gone out and I had no way of getting inside.
‘Fantastic,’ I said, slumping on to the doorstep and sitting there with my head in my hands, feeling sorry for myself. It started to rain. I should have been cold and wet out there, wearing just the frayed jeans and T-shirt I’d been stuck in since I died, but all I felt was the usual numbness. Part of me wished it would spread to my mind: the one place where I could still feel something. But what would be left of my humanity without that? The pain I experienced each time I saw Ella’s sorrow was what drove me forward, determined to break through to her.
It was then I noticed a black Audi driving past. It slowed as it reached my house, but the car’s tinted windows stopped me from getting a good view inside. A few minutes later it was back, coming from the other direction this time, and it pulled up on the opposite side of the road. I was curious now, so I got up to cross the street, hoping to get a closer look and to find out who was in there. Just then another car, a navy Ford Fiesta I didn’t recognize, pulled up at speed and swerved on to my drive.
‘Bloody hell,’ I shouted, diving to one side and narrowly avoiding the car’s path. I didn’t know what would happen if a moving vehicle hit me; it wasn’t something I particularly wanted to find out. I picked myself up to see the Audi disappearing into the distance and a young, slightly taller version of my mother stepping out of the driver’s side of the Fiesta. ‘Lauren,’ I said. ‘I might have known.’
My sister had always been a crazy driver. You’d have thought she might have toned it down a bit after her younger brother’s death in a road accident, but that would have been far too sensible. Fifteen years of living in the Netherlands also meant she was out of practice at driving on the left-hand side, so goodness knows how many near misses there had been on the way from the airport.
Lauren’s husband Xander, a six-foot-six-inch Dutch giant with floppy brown hair in a centre parting, prised himself out of the front passenger seat and strode over to ring the bell of the front door.
‘I don’t think anyone’s home,’ he announced eventually.
Lauren, who had the boot open and was rooting through her case for something, swore loudly. ‘I don’t believe this. Mum said they’d be here; otherwise we could have gone straight to their place. Hang on, I’ll give her a call.’
‘Hello, sis,’ I said loudly into her ear as she dug her mobile out of a coat pocket. ‘Long time no see. Can you hear me? I’m still here, you know. I’m a spirit these days.’
She held the phone up to her ear. ‘Mum? Hi, it’s Lauren … No, we’re at Will’s house already … Yeah, it was fine, thanks … No, we decided to hire a car instead … Oh, okay. Good. See you soon.’
‘Where are they?’ Xander asked.
‘Supermarket. They’ll be back in ten minutes.’
It felt strange to see Lauren. I knew she was coming, as I’d heard Mum and Dad talking to her on the phone, but I hadn’t seen her for months. She was immaculately turned out, as usual, effortlessly stylish in a tunic top and tailored trousers, her chestnut hair in a sleek bob. She looked much younger than her thirty-eight years, her elfin features still fresh and largely untroubled by wrinkles. She’d never had any difficulty passing herself off as my younger sister, even though she was the eldest, especially once my premature grey hair set in.
There were only two years between us and, although we had the usual sibling rows while growing up, we’d always got on pretty well. She’d looked out for me at school and had been happy to dish out advice on girlfriends or to help with homework. In our early teens we started socializing a bit together, enjoying the same bands and clubs, and even dating some of each other’s friends. But then came an awful period when things changed for a while. We eventually got past all that nastiness, but not long afterwards she met her future husband and he whisked her away to live with him in a small Dutch village near the town of Gouda. She’d been there ever since.
Even that had been okay to start with. She made two or three visits home a year and I went out there a few times to stay with her. But then she and Xander set up a small business together, designing and marketing bespoke wedding stationery, which took over their lives. Lauren’s visits home became few and far between. She and Xander seemed to prefer to spend what little free time they had on jetting to tropical islands, rather than visiting the UK. And after one terrible trip to see them, when I spent half of my stay alone while they worked, I made the decision not to return.
Once Ella was born I had hoped that Lauren would make more of an effort. When my wife died and I was struggling to manage as a single dad, I thought my big sister would be there for me. However, nothing changed. It was hard to forgive her for that.
The irony was that Lauren and Xander had been brilliant with Ella on the few occasions they had seen her. They’d never had children, nor shown any inclination to do so, and Xander was an only child, so there were no other nieces or nephews on the scene. They’d always lavished Ella with affection before disappearing back to their work-fuelled lives with barely a backward glance.
I was still glad to see them now, though. Lauren had done far worse things in the past than being too busy for me, so I knew from experience that I could never stop loving her. She’d always be my big sister. And even though it was Xander who had taken her abroad, he was a good bloke.
When she first saw them after school, Ella got upset, bursting into tears and running to her room. It was too much for her, that was all, but it made Lauren cry too.
Mum put an arm around her as Dad went upstairs to check on Ella. ‘It doesn’t mean anything, Lauren. Don’t take it personally. That little girl’s been through so much over the past few days, it’s to be expected. Her emotions are all over the place. She’s grieving like the rest of us.’
‘Sorry,’ Lauren said, dabbing her eyes with a tissue. ‘I know that. I don’t know why I let it upset me. I’m all over the place – you ask Xander. I’ve been biting his head off or crying on his shoulder ever since I heard. I can’t believe Will’s gone. I never even got to say goodbye. I’ve been a crap sister, especially the last few years, and I wish I could say sorry. I wish I could tell him how much I love him.’
‘You just did,’ I whispered.
I left Mum comforting Lauren and followed Dad upstairs, where I found him kneeling in front of Ella’s princess castle, the door of which was zipped tightly shut. There was a sobbing sound coming from within the tent.
‘Are you all right, love?’ Dad puffed, out of breath. ‘What’s wrong? You can tell Grandad.’
He didn’t get a reply to start with but continued to coax her into talking.
‘I feel sad,’ Ella replied eventually in a tear-filled voice. ‘Seeing Auntie Lauren reminded me of Daddy. I miss him a lot.’
Dad ran a hand through his neatly cropped hair, which had held on to its dark brown colour far longer than mine, meaning we were now about the same shade of grey. ‘Oh, Ella. Of course you do. I miss him too.’
‘Nana said I’ll only get to see him again when I go to Heaven, so how come he’s in my dreams sometimes?’
My ears pricked up. Did this mean I was somehow getting through to her?
Dad shifted awkwardly into a sitting position, wincing as he straightened his knees. ‘Um, Nana’s right what she told you. Dreams are complicated. They seem real when you’re in them, but they’re not. They’re created by your mind. It’s your memories of your dad that you’re seeing. That doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy them, but you need to remember that it’s not really him.’
I sighed, wishing he hadn’t told her that, even though it was something I would have said once.
Ella unzipped the tent door and looked out with red eyes. ‘Do you think Daddy might come back to visit me before I go to Heaven? I don’t think I can wait that long.’
‘I wish I could tell you that he would. I really do, but that’s not how it works. It’s like Nana told you. You’re not alone, though. You mustn’t forget that. We’re here for you whenever you need us.’ Dad spread his arms wide. ‘Come here, princess. There’s a big hug waiting for you.’
After a while he persuaded Ella to go back downstairs with him. I stayed behind, a cocktail of emotions swirling around my head. I was annoyed at what Dad had told her. But what else could he have said? And what should I make of the fact Ella remembered seeing me in her dreams? Was that really something to take strength from, or was it just like Dad had told her? The unanswered questions were stacking up. I was tempted to call for Lizzie again but didn’t allow myself. There was no point. It would only be like last time. Instead, I calmed myself down and returned to my role as a silent observer.