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It was the day of Nancy’s funeral. Marcus finished shaving with his new Braun electric razor, a gift to himself for becoming the man of the house. He always smiled at the gadget as he set it back in its cradle, as it reminded him of his dad. Damien never wanted an electric shaver and had pulled such a funny face when he was bought one for a birthday. Despite his reservations, he loved it after a couple of days.
It’s funny how it’s always the small things that trigger memories.
Being the man of the house wasn’t as tough as he thought it might be because he was methodical and always did chores in the same order each week. Marcus knew that when Hope became older and hit the maelstrom of hormones in her teenage years, looking after her would be much more difficult.
He also knew that his parents had come off lightly with him, as he was more interested in reading and exploring the museum where his dad had vanished off the face of the earth on that fateful day. Girls thought he was good looking, but they also knew he had no idea of that fact.
He knocked on his sister’s door on his way back to his bedroom to get dressed. Hope emerged from her room looking like an eleven-year-old troll, her hair all over the place.
Marcus called to her, ‘Good morning! I’ll be going down to make your breakfast for you in five minutes. It’s going to be a long day, so we need a good breakfast to keep our strength up.’
His sister was barely awake and grunted, ‘Urgh, shut up. It’s going to be a hard day, so just hurry up, bro.’
As she clumped her way down the stairs, Marcus couldn’t help smiling to himself at her grumpiness. I bet I was just the same at her age.
***
MARCUS, ALWAYS TRUE to his word, was in the kitchen cooking breakfast less than five minutes later. Under the grill went bacon and mushrooms, and into pans went baked beans and tinned tomatoes. To top it off, he also made scrambled egg and toast. Rocky sat by the cooker, waiting in vain for a titbit to be thrown—or dropped—in his direction.
‘This is going to be the best breakfast ever, Marcus!’ Hope’s eyes shone as she smelled the bacon cooking.
They sat opposite each other at their dining table and tucked into the breakfast feast. Hope pointed the handle of her knife at her brother. ‘You should make this breakfast for me every week.’
Marcus chuckled. They had a wonderful relationship despite the large age gap. He pointed right back at her with his finger. ‘Yeah, but only if you do the washing up.’
‘No way!’ his sister retorted. ‘You can’t take advantage of me. I’m an orphan.’
Marcus shook his head while laughing. ‘Hope Lennon, you are just as feisty as Mum used to be.’
He looked out of the window and watched a blackbird trying to find a worm, its orange beak jabbing into the earth. Hope sighed and watched the bird too. ‘Nice to be a bird and not have to go to a funeral.’
Marcus blinked and looked across at her, feeling like he’d been slapped back into the here and now. They had avoided speaking about the looming event the whole morning, but today was indeed the day. Marcus half smiled. ‘Yes, I think we should try to think about nice things about Mum instead of being really sad all day.’
Sipping her orange juice, Hope grimaced. ‘Yes, at least she won’t be trying to dictate to me about how to wear my hair!’
Marcus almost choked on a mouthful of scrambled egg, but the throwaway comment injected some much-needed humour into the morning.
There was a light knock on the front door, which they both knew had to be Nicola—she had a knocking pattern that was instantly recognisable. She let herself in and inhaled a lungful of the cooked breakfast. Marcus grinned; he knew Nicola too well. ‘I’ve left you some bacon under the grill, so you can have a bacon butty if you want? Just help yourself.’
‘Don’t mind if I do,’ she said, piling together the remaining rashers and adding a generous dollop of brown sauce.
***
THE FUNERAL CAR WAS to arrive at eleven. Hope and Marcus had finished their breakfast and were both ready to leave by ten.
Nicola looked at Hope’s shock of ginger hair and shook her head in dismay. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out a chunky brush with thick bristles. ‘Right, Hope Lennon, I’ll sort your hair out for you. Your mum wouldn’t want you to leave the house with it looking like that.’ Hope and Marcus looked at each other and burst out laughing. ‘What’s so funny?’ Nicola looked puzzled.
Marcus explained that Hope had been joking about how her mum wouldn’t be able to dictate to her about the state of her hair. Nicola shook her head sadly. ‘I’ll make sure that it’s styled just as your mum liked it. You’ll appreciate it when the hearse comes, knowing that you look just how your mum loved to make you look.’
Hope pulled her chair close to Nicola and sat with her back to Nicola like a shop mannequin.
Nicola gently sorted through Hope’s mass of curls, remembering exactly how her friend used to do it. She glanced over at Marcus. ‘Your parents would be very proud of you both. I am impressed how well you are bearing up.’
Marcus sighed deeply as he sat back and put his hands together behind his head. ‘We have no choice though, do we? It wouldn’t do anyone any good if I went off the rails. Hope needs looking after, and I won’t even contemplate the idea of her going into care. And the curator has been great at work, letting me have time off when I need it.’ His eyes shone with admiration at the mention of his boss.
‘It’s great that she has been so understanding. A lot of managers aren’t. You do know I am here to help, don’t you?’
Marcus nodded and smiled gratefully at his mum’s friend, who showed real love for the siblings. ‘Yes, I know, and thank you for sorting out the buffet for later. I’d have been overwhelmed, what with everything else I’ve had to do.’ A single tear rolled down his cheek, which he was quick to wipe away with the back of his hand.
Nicola placed her hand on his shoulder. ‘It’s the least I could do. Pat, the buffet lady, is an old friend of mine from school.’
Marcus looked at Nicola. ‘Did she know Mum too?’
Nicola squished her face as she thought back. ‘I’m not sure. Pat was a couple of years older than us. But I knew her from chess club, and your mum hated chess.’
Marcus looked astonished. ‘I never knew that. It’s true that you learn something new every day.’
He looked at the clock on the wall with a heavy heart; it was almost time for the cars to arrive.
St Peter’s wasn’t far—about five minutes by car—so the journey wasn’t as drawn out and depressing as it could have been. The party of three made their way into the church.
Upon entering the gothic building, they were pleasantly surprised but shocked to see that there were at least a couple of hundred people already gathered inside.
They slowly proceeded down the aisle to the pew at the front, which had a wooden sign nailed to the end.
Family Only Please
Nicola glanced at it and whispered to Hope, ‘This is good...look, we have VIP status.’
Hope managed a small smile, despite feeling like that was the last thing she wanted to do. They sat on the pew, right at the end by the aisle. Unbeknown to them, Nancy and Damien were already sitting beside them.
Nancy whispered in Hope’s ear, ‘It’s alright, baby. Mum and Dad will always be looking over you.’
Hope shivered and looked around to see who had spoken right in her ear. There were people sat in the pew behind, but none of them were close enough to have whispered anything to her. She frowned for a moment, but then elation coursed through her body at the realisation that she’d just heard her mum’s voice.
Marcus noticed his sister turning around and shifting uncomfortably in her seat. ‘What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’
Hope gazed towards the altar with watery eyes. ‘No, but I think I might’ve just heard one. Ignore me...I know that’s impossible.’
Marcus put his arm around her shoulders. ‘Well, we are in a holy place. Maybe you heard Mum’s voice from heaven.’ He affectionately brushed the side of her face with his hand and gave her a reassuring squeeze.
Nancy looked at her husband, who copied the affection shown by Marcus and put his arm around his wife. The organ began to play a slow, peaceful melody, and the congregation stood as one.
Nancy looked over her shoulder towards the old oak door at the entrance and gasped. The coffin bearing her earthly shell had entered the church on the shoulders of six pallbearers. The sight shocked her to her core, causing her to shudder as the reality of the situation bore down on her all over again.
Damien couldn’t contain his grief. It was if his deceased wife wasn’t by his side. Both he and Nancy broke down in tremendous tears. As the coffin approached the front of the church, Nancy looked with admiration at the flower arrangement on the lid. I love roses and lilies.
The vicar, a short Scotsman with a whisky drinker’s nose and a broad Glaswegian accent, stood at the front of the gathered mourners. He surveyed the people and nodded subtly at Nancy and Damien, who almost fell to the floor in shock.
In time-honoured tradition, hymns were sung and a few passages were read from the Bible, asking God to help Nancy on her journey to heaven and welcome her with open arms.
***
AT THE GRAVESIDE, MARCUS and Hope stood and listened to the words coming from the vicar, their parents standing beside them throughout.
‘What do you think they’d do if they knew we were here?’ Damien whispered to Nancy.
‘Goodness only knows. Anyway, shush, I think they are about to lower my coffin.’ Nancy began to tremble, so Damien tried to show his support with a kind smile and a strong arm around her waist.
When the coffin started its descent into the dank resting place, Nancy broke down in tears. Not because it was her who was being buried, but for the sorrow it caused for those left behind.
After the service concluded, everyone paid their last respects to Nancy and made their way to Marcus and Hope’s house for the wake.
The vicar, however, waited until the last of the mourners had left and then turned to the visiting deceased. ‘Mr and Mrs Lennon, I presume?’
Damien replied quietly, ‘Yes, that’s us. Thank you for such a lovely service.’
‘You are more than welcome,’ the vicar replied. ‘Those are special children that you’ve been survived by. Marcus is far wiser than his years. How are you finding death? You must have been promoted to the SMG to be here.’
This caught Nancy and Damien by surprise. They hadn’t been warned that some people on Earth would be able to see them. Nancy spoke, her hands waving around as she did so. ‘It’s different, I’ll give you that. How do you know about it, about us?’ She looked at the vicar with suspicion.
He chuckled. ‘Well, I’ve been dead for a good number of years.’ The look on the Lennons’ faces was a sight to behold. ‘I enjoy being a man of the cloth; it lets me keep in touch with people, but I also keep my connections to the spiritual realm. Many people don’t believe these days, which is a shame.’
Damien pointed a finger at him. ‘So what you are saying, is that you are like the curator?’
‘Yes, I taught her everything she knows,’ the vicar replied with sparkling eyes. ‘I’m actually her supervisor.’
‘Really? That means she isn’t the almighty being that she likes to make out she is,’ Damien exclaimed like an excited child.
The vicar squinted at Damien and suppressed a laugh. ‘Well, to you, she may as well be the Almighty. What she decides is law, remember that.’ He adjusted his dog collar and looked at Nancy. ‘I do believe you have a wake to attend...’
The Lennons remained unmoved, frozen in time. ‘What’s your name, Father?’ asked Nancy.
‘The Vicar.’ With an enigmatic smile and an adjustment of his glasses, he nodded and said, ‘Good day.’
He walked away, leaving the bemused couple standing at the graveside.
***
HAVING OVERCOME THE unexpected run-in with the vicar, Damien and Nancy walked jauntily into their previous residence feeling happy. Despite the occasion, it was wonderful to see so many friends and family together.
Rocky wagged his tail as he smelled Nancy and growled as he looked up at Damien. Marcus laughed at the dog. ‘Come here, Rocky, do you want to go in the garden? Maybe there are too many people in here for you to cope with.’
As he took the dog away, Damien breathed a sigh of relief. Nancy looked around the room and whispered to Damien, ‘I always wondered who would come to my funeral. Look, there’s my sister! Ah...and she is already looking at the time on her watch. It’s such a shame she doesn’t get to know the kids better.’
Damien whispered back, ‘Why are we whispering? They can’t hear us unless we want them to. Oh, look, there’s Niall. He’s got a damn cheek, hasn’t he? His plate is piled high too; it’s no wonder he’s so fat. I used to like him, but after I watched him trying to trick you just so he could get hold of the life insurance, I think he is lower than a sewer rat.’
Damien simmered with rage at the sight of his ex-friend, which surprised him. Damien had always bottled things up, even though he knew he shouldn’t, especially now, because he knew deep anger and immortality didn’t make good bedfellows.
Looking out of the window to let his anger subside, Damien noticed Marcus’ new car. That gave him something positive to think about; motoring had always been a shared passion of theirs.
Nancy touched his elbow. ‘Watch this, darling. It’ll be a sweet revenge.’
Damien lifted an eyebrow, intrigued as to what his wife had in mind. But then the corner of his mouth lifted into a smug smile as it dawned on him that they could reach out from beyond the grave.
Nancy’s eyes shone with amusement and mischief as she winked at Damien then walked over to Niall. Looking around to make sure that no one was paying Niall attention, she pushed a sausage roll off his plate onto the floor. And another.
Niall looked perplexed. I’m sure they weren’t even balancing. Weird.
Damien looked on, thoroughly enjoying the entertainment, and he motioned for Nancy to keep going.
Nancy covered her mouth to hold in a laugh and then turned her attention back to Niall. She bent forwards and blew across the back of his neck. Niall whipped around to see what was going on. Of course, there was nothing to see, other than people socialising and reminiscing. A shiver ran down the length of his spine.
With a big smile plastered across her face, Nancy leaned down to within inches of Niall’s ear. She blew, making his hair part.
Niall dove to the side, almost falling off his chair as he batted aimlessly at the air around the side of his face. What the hell is going on?
In a sultry voice, Nancy spoke into Niall’s ear. ‘Get out of here and never come to this house or speak to my children ever again. If you do, I will haunt you until your dying day.’
Niall’s colour drained from his face, and Damien imagined that his old colleague’s balls had probably just shrunk back inside his body. Moments later, Niall clambered to his feet and staggered towards the front door, uncharacteristically leaving behind a full plate of buffet food.
‘Bye then,’ Marcus muttered, bemused as to Niall’s hasty retreat. I wonder if he’s got diarrhoea or something...
When Nancy returned to Damien’s side, he patted her on the back. ‘That, my dear, was bloody awesome! You sounded quite sexy when you were whispering in his ear...’
Nancy punched Damien in the arm and motioned over towards Nicola, who she’d noticed was talking to a woman she didn’t recognise. With an emotional tinge to her voice, Nancy said, ‘Nicola has been brilliant. I honestly don’t know what I would have done without her, and it looks like she has kept to her word about helping the kids after I died.’ Tears of gratitude trickled down her face.
‘I’m no expert, but I’m guessing it’s Pat she’s chatting to. She even has a name badge.’ Damien sauntered over to the two women to take a closer look at the badge. He nodded back to Nancy. ‘Yes, it definitely says Pat. She smells gorgeous too. I don’t know what perfume it is, but it smells expensive.’
Nancy stepped over and inhaled a lungful of the delicious fragrance. ‘It’s Chanel Coco Mademoiselle. Maybe the curator will get me a bottle. I’ll be the nicest smelling spirit—well, aside from sambuca anyway. It’s a smashing buffet too.’ Nancy nodded around appreciatively. ‘We had better get back to the island. But I have to say, I do feel so much better knowing that the kids and Nicola are alright.’
Nancy and Damien had a final look around the room, taking in the faces of each of their nearest and dearest, especially Marcus and Hope. With that, Nancy and Damien left to return to the museum and its supernatural door.