A matter of grave importance

 

 

The Emmerdale theme blared from the living room as Drew closed the front door. A foil garland twisted around the banister and a Christmas tree, sprinkled with twinkling lights, blocked the bottom of the stairs.  How much has she spent this time? Intense heat prickled his icy face and he was certain it wasn’t dinner cooking.

 

“Is that you Drew?” Liz said.

 

“Who else has a key?” Drew slipped out of his donkey jacket and hooked it on the coat stand. “Oh crikey no.” He shook his head in disbelief. Illuminated Santa’s, reindeer and sleighs covered the kitchen floor. The hair on his arms bristled. “What the hell are you doing Liz? Our electricity bill will rocket. He slumped on the wooden chair sighing. Not even a hello, how’s your day been?

 

Liz strutted into the kitchen and glared at him. “I was testing them. I have more on order and I want these put in the front garden tonight.”

 

“But Liz we can’t afford anything else. My job barely pays the bills.”

 

“Well you better find a way. My family will be here for Christmas and I am not being shown up by you. Get a job that pays a decent wage!” Her long wavy mane whipped the door as her perfect ten figure flounced from the room. Over her shoulder she said, “Oh, and we better have takeaway for dinner as I can’t get near the cooker.”

 

Drew knew it was useless to argue with her. The last time she cooked a hot meal was only to impress her stuck up friends. Sealed envelopes on the table seemed to be shouting at him as he fished in his pocket for his wallet. A five pound note and maxed out credit cards were the only contents. He swept his hair back from his weathered brow and wondered how to control her spending. The fact that she’d married him, two years earlier, for his inheritance was painfully obvious now the money had dried up. How could I have been so stupid? Each of the envelopes contained final demands. Drew didn’t know where to turn next and he felt more alone than ever.

 

“Order for yourself Liz, I don’t want anything,” he said, poking his head around the living room door. “I’m going back to the cemetery.”

 

“Oh for goodness sake, what is it about that place that you have to go back there at night? The mates you meet must be some kind of weirdos if they think a social evening in a workman’s shack is good fun.” She inspected her perfectly manicured nails before smoothing down her expensive black shift. “I’m going out with the girls, I’ll eat out. Give me some money.”

 

“I haven’t got any, I told you.” The misery in his voice was unmistakable.

 

Liz threw her handbag, the metal clasp splitting his lip. “You’re a freak. Don’t think I will forget this!”

 

He wiped the trickle of blood from his chin before silently heading out the door.

 

 

An icy wind lashed his slumped shoulders, as if beating the last of the fight out of him. The iron gate that backed on to his front garden creaked when he slipped the catch. Drew had lived and worked at the cemetery all his life. His father had been the original gravedigger cum caretaker, but an accident left him in a wheelchair. Drew looked after him for years, gradually becoming more isolated. When his father died, he rushed into marriage to make up for the loneliness. He was good-looking with permanently tanned, leathery skin and a cheeky dimple in his chin. When he smiled, his eyes would glint with mischief.  Liz didn’t waste any time latching on to the shy man. Now he had all the time in the world for regrets.

 

The path leading to the rear of the chapel was slippery, but Drew was glad to get away from the constant pleas for money. White misty breath blended with the patches of fog over the cemetery. He hoped his friends would turn up tonight, they always cheered him up.

 

What the…? Music sounded from the bleak building, as he got closer. Baggy trousers…He moved faster towards the noise, sure he had locked up. The iron handle turned, but the door wouldn’t budge. He fished in his pocket for the keys, and with a quick twist unlocked the oak door. Oh what fun…echoed as he entered the building. Drew stumbled up the step into the dark vestry and fumbled for the lights. An icy chill swept over his fingers when he flicked the switch. When the chandeliers lit up inside the chapel Drew’s mouth sagged open.

 

“Bloody hell.” The chapel was full to bursting with apparitions cavorting to the music. A pirate in purple striped pantaloons swivelled his hips on a pew, waving a cutlass above his head. One of the ghosts, who looked like a farmer, was doing a fair impression of river dancing in wellie boots. A moll flashed long bloomers in her attempt at the can-can.  At least a hundred spooks were having a rave up. I can’t believe it. Drew rested against the font laughing at the merriment.

 

“This all your fault Drew,” Sullivan said, sniffing with distaste. His monacled eye twitched. “This is our place – it’s not meant for this… this riff-raff.”

 

Drew smiled at his ghostly friend. “What you banging on about Sullivan?” A rather enthusiastic gangster shimmied past in a trench coat and a trilby. The hat and turned up collar covered part of a skeletal face. Drew clicked his fingers to the beat of La Bamba.

 

“You left the window open and the music box going,” Sullivan swept his arms in the air as if conducting an orchestra, his silver ponytail bouncing on his long brocade coat. “Every ghost that is weary with their own haunting has come in.”

 

 

“What, they came through the window?” Drew ducked as a young girl swirled around his head and landed on the shoulders of the Pirate. She was grinding to the music, her arms up behind her head. That must be Blackheart Louis.

 

“Don’t be a dolt; you know apparitions can get in anywhere. The chapel is our sanctuary and I am not sharing with …with peasants.”

 

“Pay no mind to Lord Misery, he don’t know how to have fun,” Laurie said, strutting back and forth jiggling her ample translucent breasts.

 

“Aye he has a burr in his breeches,” said Cyril, grabbing Laurie’s pale hands and leading her into some sort of a reel.

 

Drew shuffled his feet and rolled his hands in time to the music, smiling at his friends. Sullivan, Laurie and Cyril had been the only constant in his very lonely life. Liz, or anyone come to that, would never have understood him having ghosts as mates. His father would though, now he was dead.

 

“Uh hm! But there are poltergeists and…and every type of low life here,” Sullivan said, haughtily “I mean look at that grotesque …”

 

Drew followed his gaze to a clown doing forward rolls on the marble altar. “Clown.”

 

“Jester!” he spluttered.

 

“Sullivan you’re jealous.” Drew held his stomach, laughing at the mad fancy dress party. Oh I wish it could be Christmas… “Come on, let’s join in, I love this song.” Drew wiggled his rear, clenching and unclenching his buttocks and twisting his feet. Laurie and Cyril linked arms, whelpin’ and whoopin’ to the music.

 

His friends, at least they were always around when he needed them. Laurie appeared to him just after his eighth birthday. A music hall dancer, Laurie was murdered on the London road in 1890. By twenty he had developed a crush on her, but as he aged and she didn’t, the feelings changed to a dear friendship.

 

He was just wondering where Sullivan had disappeared to when the doors flew open. A ferocious wind ripped the flowers out of the pedestals.

 

An enormous man with wild hair and a filthy face swaggered in. Three layers of tatty clothing topped by a grimy Mac hugged his chest. Woollen gloves covered his clenched fists. He let out an almighty roar. Ghosts scattered, disappearing through the chapel walls. A plump lady dressed in WAF uniform forward-rolled towards the doors, then vanished with a pop. The only ones left were Drew, his friends, and a very irritable Blackheart Louis.

 

 

“How’s a body supposed to sleep ‘round here with this racket going on?” His booming voice echoed around the small church.

 

“This is a bone yard mate, not a shelter for the homeless.” Drew backed away from the whiskey fumes. His legs trembled, but he tried to hide his fear. “You’ll have to find elsewhere to sleep, this is private property.”

 

The man loomed over Drew as if he were going to grab him. A little chuckle came from behind him and Sullivan appeared. Drew backed up to the wall, squinting in anticipation of the punch. Cyril and Laurie smiled knowingly at each other.

 

“Raaaaa!” the tramp roared. Blackheart squared up to the man, his cutlass ready to slice him in two. He prodded him in the side with the tip, then with a swift wrist action swiped his backside.

 

“Argh! What you do that for?”

 

“Ah ha. I knew it, a new resident.” The pirate laughed and whacked him again. “Whole new keg of rum now me hearty.” The pirate pirouetted round the angry drunk, stabbing, whacking and prodding him”

 

Sullivan, Cyril and Laurie laughed uncontrollably.

 

“What the hell is going on?” Drew whispered as he watched in disbelief.

 

 “Shush,” said Laurie.

       The tramp raised his fists and threw a right hook at the pirate. The punch went straight through the pirate’s face, and he ended up doing a full turn. “Whoa!” Steadying himself, he jabbed with his left hand. Again, his fist connected with nothing.

 

“Ya’ missed matey,” the pirate said, gliding over to the pulpit to perch on the top.

 

Laurie took pity on the shocked tramp. “What’s your name ducky?”

 

“Bruce Mulligan. But my friends call me slugger,” he said, staring at the apparitions around him.

 

“You will get used to it son.” Cyril tipped his flat cap to the hairy man.

 

“Get used to what?” Drew and Slugger spoke in unison, then looked at each other. Drew hadn’t a clue what was going on and had only just stopped shaking.

 

“He’s past over,” Laurie whispered into Drew’s ear.

 

“You’re a goner son. Dead.” said Cyril.

 

Drew waved his hands in a frantic motion. “He can’t be, we ain’t had a burial in over a fortnight. We got one tomorrow, but that’s a woman.” He strolled over to Slugger and went to help him up. His hand passed straight through the man’s shoulder and out the other side. “Bloody hell, he is dead. But…”

 

“He’s dead and that’s an end to it,” Sullivan said mincing over to the radio. He was bored with the conversation now.

 

A yell from the graveyard distracted Drew. He peered out into the fog and heard it again. Footsteps approached the door, a beam of light shone on the footpath. A woman’s voice called out from the fog. She sounded scared.

 

“Is that you Liz?”

 

“Drew, oh thank goodness.” Liz ran awkwardly towards him, her ankles turning in her stilettos. “Someone was after me.”

 

“What are you doing here?” Drew glanced past her, then behind him to the ghosts and back at his wife.

 

“It’s true, I heard his Ahhhh!” A Labrador’s paws landed on her hip, his tail wagging and panting heavily. Liz whacked the dog on the nose, her feet stomping like pistons. “Get away from me!”

 

Drew couldn’t stifle his laughter, which got stronger when the others joined him.

 

“How dare you laugh at me.” Liz glared at him, her eyes full of thunder. “It could have been a mugger or even a rapist.”

 

“One look at you ducky, he would have run a mile,” Laurie said, her dislike obvious.

 

“Hmn you should be so lucky,” Sullivan sniffed. “A proper woman is pale and interesting with meat on the bones, not a….a stick insect”

 

“Be quiet,” Drew said.

 

“Who are you telling to be quiet you cretin?” Liz pointed a finger at him.

 

“Who’s the harpy?” Cyril popped his head over Liz’s shoulder.

 

“No I didn’t mean…” Drew flustered.

 

“Shut up. I want to talk to you.” Liz strode past him into the church and sat down on the back pew. “Close the door, it’s freezing.” She scanned the chapel. “I see your mates have gone. Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

 

Laurie and Cyril made silly faces at each side of her. Blackheart swung his cutlass back and forth through her body with glee. Sullivan sat at her feet, his elbow leaning on her lap. With a yawn he held up his other hand, snapping his thumb and fingers together in a nagging motion.  If only you could see what I can see.

 

“Stop smirking. I have been making some inquiries on the internet. You can borrow up to forty thousand pounds on a personal loan.”

 

“I can’t, we owe so much already.” Drew combed his fingers through thick hair. A sick fluttering churned in his stomach.

 

“Well, I think you have made a mistake.” Liz inspected her cerise-tipped fingernails. “I owe nothing.”

 

“She owes you everything,” Sullivan said.

 

She strolled down the narrow aisle, stopping halfway. Slugger swooped on her, trying as hard as he could to strangle her, but his  hands clasped in the centre of her neck. They looked as if they were growing from her throat. Furious, he pivoted then rained punches and jabs at her face. His thick beard and wild hair bristled as his temper rose.

 

“Aw, honey please. I will get a job after Christmas and help pay it back, but please, for me.” Liz turned back to him and stroked his cheek with her finger.

 

“Ignore her.”… “She only wants your money”… “Bitch”… “Harpy”… “She-devil” the apparitions yelled. Slugger still attempted to make contact with one of his punches.

 

A statue of St Theresa toppled from the altar and smashed into thousands of pieces. The poltergeist with ugly yellow eyes and a sinuous body cackled.

 

“Argh! What was that?” Liz grabbed hold of Drew.

 

“It’s okay. It was unsteady, it was bound to collapse sooner or later,” Drew lied.

 

“I want to go home. I hate this place I want to go home now.” Liz rushed to the door and shouted, “Come on!”

 

Drew nodded at his friends and raised his hands palm upwards before leading the shaking woman from the building. Slugger aimed one more kick at her backside.

 

While they walked towards the house, Liz tried to wear him down. He switched off from her whining and desperately tried to think of an excuse to get back to the chapel.

The comical Blackheart and the hard-boiled Mulligan had captured his imagination. and he wanted to know all about them. I wish they would move into the house.. Liz’s irritating twitter grated as he opened the door.

 

“Put a sock in it!”

 

Liz stared at him, her face taut with shock. “Don’t you speak to me like that.”

 

“Look, I will think about the loan, but please just leave me alone.” Drew mounted the stairs two at a time and raced into his dad’s old room, locking the door behind him.

 

 An oak bureau at the side of the bed was the only place he could keep his private possessions. The top drawer creaked as he opened it. Drew ran a finger over the three well-thumbed manuscripts. Laurie’s story, the first one, was old and yellow. He’d started writing it when he was twenty-one. Not for anybody’s eyes except his own, he’d found some solace in his imagination. The stories flowed over the last twenty odd years, a reminder of his friendships. All the drawers and the roll top were stuffed with his tales, but he hadn’t written a word since his marriage. A fierce compulsion to write gnawed at his gut. Drew sighed and locked the writing away. He slumped on the bed, his mind returning to the more pressing problems. What the hell am I going to do?

 

***

 

The grinning pirate perched on the altar, fiddling with his black bandana. Slugger regarded him warily: being bested by a scrawny short arse was a bit more humiliation than he could take. He glanced at Sullivan and Laurie gazing out of the vestry window.

 And wondered how he ended up in a chapel with people who seemed to have stepped out of the past. 

 

“Disorientation, lad.” Cyril sprawled across the bench at the back of the room. “When it happens you feel as if your still of yon earth for a while, but that changes very quickly.”

 

“You mean I really am dead?”

 

“Yes old chap.” Sullivan straightened his ruff and joined Cyril on the long bench. “Why don’t you tell us a bit about yourself? We, in turn, will let you know what to expect.”

 

“Do tell ducky, we rarely get visitors except Drew.” Laurie squatted on the stone floor in front of him.

 

“What are you talking about lassie? The chapel is full at yon services,” Cyril arched a straggly eyebrow at her.

 

“You know what I mean.” Laurie glared.

 

Slugger sighed and leaned against the ornate archway. “Not much to tell really. I was a world class boxer once. Money, fast cars, women … I was pretty much set up. Then I met Eleanor.” Slugger scratched at the forest on his chin and paused for few seconds, trying to control his temper. “I should have known it was the money she was after but…I took one punch too many. I ended up in hospital for three months. Not once did the bitch come and see me. The upshot is while I was in there she cleaned me out.”

 

“Where do you find these awful women? First Drew with his wife, now you and …” Laurie sighed.

 

“What happened next?” Sullivan and Cyril interrupted her.

 

Even the poltergeist slinking in the corner glided forward for the answer.

 

“I started drinking heavily. Within six months I was on the streets and that’s where I’ve been ever since. That’s why when that bitch came here tonight I wanted to strangle her. She reminded me of Eleanor”

 

“I can understand that,” said Sullivan, floating towards Slugger. “I have often wished there was something we could do for young Drew.”

 

“Well mateys, it’s a good job you have me here then isn’t it.”  Blackheart swung his cutlass in a fancy figure of eight.

 

“What are you blethering about? Come to that, what are you still doing here? You weren’t invited here.” Cyril glided towards the pirate.

 

“I be knowing that matey. I just had me new invite, but I don’t want to be haunting a house with a shrew in residence. Slugger’s been invited too, but he isn’t tuned in to his power yet.”

 

Laurie, Sullivan and Cyril stared at each other with shocked faces. “Drew has invited …”

 

“Aye. You get the picture shipmates.” He laughed, and for devilment whacked Slugger again on his rear end.  The cutlass went through his bum cheeks and exited through the tops of his thighs. “Bugger, you’ve finished transcending.”

 

Slugger laughed for the first time. The small pirate couldn’t hurt him any more.

 

“Uhm! But what can we do to help Drew?” asked Sullivan.

 

“We can’t leave the chapel unless invited.” Laurie slumped to the floor dejected.

 

“I ain’t been plundering ships for forty years without picking up a few nasty tricks mateys. But we all be needed, including you yellow eyes, and a few more like you. We got to be quick. First we must find Slugger’s earthly body…”

 

***

 

The banging on the door stopped thirty minutes earlier and Drew thought it safe to leave the bedroom. Surely she’s gone to bed by now? A creak came from the first tread  as he crept down the dark stairs. “Ouch! Bloody thing.” The old stair lift caught him a beauty on his thigh. He rubbed at his leg then continued down, straight into an attack by the Christmas tree. Argh!! His foot slipped and he sprawled on his back with the conifer bouncing between his legs. The living room door flew open.

 

“I knew you wouldn’t stay in there all night. Now get in here. We are going to have this out tonight!”

 

Drew pushed the tree away and struggled to his feet, crunching baubles as he moved. A row was inevitable, but he had made up his mind.

 

“I’m not getting the loan Liz,” he said in a quiet tone, nervously picking pine needles from his sweatshirt.

 

“Don’t be stupid. I am telling you for the last time you get that loan or I will make you regret it. Now that is a promise!” Liz switched on the computer, totally ignoring his words. “I have filled in all the forms except for your bank details. All you have…”

 

“There will be no loan!” Even Drew was surprised at the boom of his voice. “We are skint, wiped out. Don’t you understand? There is no more.”

 

Her face contorted with anger, she picked up the vase from the coffee table and lobbed it at him. Drew parried the flying object and it smashed against the picture of his Dad. Her dressing gown fell open as she scanned for more missiles. A La Senza nightie, another extravagance, rippled against creamy skin. Huh, she was even going to play the nookie game too.  Incoherent screams and her distorted features made her look like a hag.. He tilted his head, staring at her blazing eyes and wondered for the first time what he actually liked about Liz. A coffee mug missed his nose by inches and his head spun round.

 

“I am going to spend the night at the cemetery. I will speak to you when you’re not behaving like a banshee.” Drew hastened through the doorway.

 

“Get back here you …you …”

 

The front door slammed, blocking out the barrage of abuse.”  Dark angry clouds replaced the fog. Spots of rain tickled his skin as he strode purposely towards the chapel. A groan from his stomach reminded him he still hadn’t eaten.                                                                

 

Drew unlocked the door to the gravediggers’ staff room and pulled the light cord. The musky aroma of damp clothing irritated his nostrils. He turned on the three bar electric fire and flicked the switch of the radio. It must be love, love…the music induced a wry smile. Madness. Oh so true: he had loved her, but not now. What a fool I have been. Forty- five years old and believing a woman half my age could love me.

 

A tin of soup was the only thing on the shelf. He poured the contents into a bowl and placed it in the microwave.

 

“Hey Drew, you okay pal?” Cyril, appeared through the wall.

 

“Yes mate I’m okay. At least, I will be.”

 

“The wee minx not feed you then? I didn’t think she would, the mood she was in.”

 

A slight smile crossed Drew’s face. He could sense a new tale to come from the chatty soldier. It would be good to be distracted from his problems.

 

“Don’t know what’s wrong with the lassies these days. The men folk bring home the bacon, least they can do is have a hot meal waiting for them.”

 

“Cyril, you crack me up mate. This ain’t the twenties. Equality and all that.” Drew’s laughter echoed round the granite walls. “Liz ain’t the cooking type.”

 

“She’s a money-grabbing harpy so she is and it’s about time you realized.” The pale skin taut across his sunken cheeks seemed to reflect his anger.

 

Drew had never heard Cyril berate a woman before. Indeed, his tales of his wife and daughters were always gentle. He clasped the bowl of soup and sat on the old draylon couch absorbing the ghosts words. The sound of Christmas carols played in the background while he looked long and hard at his friend.

 

“Are you saying that a woman’s place is in the kitchen? Keep them barefoot and skint?”

 

“Not at all. What I’m saying is wake up Drew, she’s taking you for a mug. You’ve been letting the contents of yon trousers interfere with your brain.”

 

“Hey, come on, let’s not talk about me. Where are the others? I am dying to solve the mystery of Slugger. I bet he can tell a few stories.”

 

“Aye, I bet he can. But tonight the tales are yours to tell lad.”

 

“He’s right Drew.” Laurie appeared through the vestry door. “Tonight Cyril and I are a captive audience.”

 

***

 

Liz searched every corner of the house for the details of his bank account. It must be here somewhere. She forced the steel blade behind the latch and whacked the handle with the hammer. Another strike and the framework splintered. Not quite how she planned things, but she wasn’t going to give up. She dropped the knife and hammered at the wood surrounding the knob until the bedroom door flew open.

 

After a quick scan of the room, she rushed over to the bureau and tried to open the drawer. Her temper got the better of her and she smashed the lock with the hammer. Chilly fingers grabbed her wrist as she went for a second swing. She gazed at her raised arm, half-expecting to see Drew. Liz swallowed hard. Her arm released and dropped to her side. What the hell…silly cow you’re imagining things. The temperature dropped rapidly in the room and goose pimples covered her body. She raised the hammer again, only to have it grabbed from her hand.

 

“W…who’s there?” Liz spun around, her legs trembling. “Drew, is that you?” A cold hand stroked her cheek then shoved her chin. Liz screamed and ran from the room. As she reached the top of the stairs, she was flung against the wall by invisible hands. Arghh! They held her splayed as if on a cross, her feet dangling a foot above the ground. She could not move. Even her voice seemed to have frozen in her throat. She hung in mid air for what seemed like ages. Released, she fell to the floor, banging her hip on the ottoman. She sobbed and rubbed at her hip, praying that whatever attacked her had gone.

 

On her knees she sidled backwards down the stairs. Her eyes fixed on the top step, terrified that the unknown thing would push her. A whirr then some clicks and the stair lift came to life. Liz screamed again, her knees jellifying, and she slid to the bottom. The carpet burnt her legs but she ignored the grazing, wanting only to get away from the descending chair.

 

An icy breath tickled her ear “Liz…Liz…Liz.”

 

Barefoot she ran to the front door and swung it wide. Heavy rain soaked her nightclothes before she reached the gate. Too frightened to care, she kept running. An angry wind encircled her and voices called her name as her body rose in the air. Her vocal cords seemed severed. Eyes wide with fear, she watched the lights of the chapel disappear. Flipped face down, Liz saw the open grave and the body of an enormous man lying beside it. Unable to move, her tears dripped with the raindrops. A layer of water lined the bottom of the grave. For a few seconds she hovered in the air then with a rush she was face down in the watery clay. Her screams returned a second before the body crashed down on top of her.

 

***

 

Drew’s eyes snapped open to the voices coming from the vestry. He brushed down his crumpled jeans and wandered through the doorway. A gravedigger, Guy Sweeney, looked terrible. Why are this lot here? Two uniformed policemen and one other man turned towards Drew.

 

“Where have you been?” Guy twisted his hands together in a wringing motion.

 

“I slept here mate. I had another barney with Liz.” Drew shuffled his feet, feeling a bit foolish at his admission. “What’s going on?”

 

“I am Detective Inspector Fairhurst. I am afraid we have some bad news for you, Sir.”

           

Drew flopped down on the pew. What has she done now?

 

“I am sorry but your wife has been found dead,” Fairhurst said.

 

“W…what? How?” His knees started to tremble and his heart pounded so fast he thought they would be able to hear it.

 

“We can’t be sure, Sir, but judging from the state of your home, it looks like she disturbed a burglar. There are signs of a struggle, but it seems she got away. We are assuming the burglar caught up with her in the cemetery.” The policeman tilted his head to the side, a pitiful look on his face. “It could be attempted rape. We won’t know until forensics have finished. She was found face down in water in the open grave. The assailant was on top of her. On first impressions he appears to have had a heart attack.”

 

Guy placed a hand on Drew’s shoulder. They had only worked together a few weeks, but he realised the younger man was trying to show him support.

 

“I am sorry but you won’t be able to go home for a week or so, until we finish our enquiries. Obviously at some point we will need to talk to you but…”

 

Drew raised his hand to the policeman. He felt deflated, exhausted, curious, but no actual feeling of loss. My wife’s dead and I feel…confused. The police officers headed out of the chapel and Drew followed behind with Guy. A trolley with the deceased man was being loaded on to the ambulance. I have to know who he was. He darted towards the paramedics and stopped dead. The body of Bruce Mulligan lay lifeless on the trolley.

 

***

 

The atmosphere in the house seemed different, lighter somehow. Drew entered the living room for the first time since Liz died. A pile of envelopes glared at him from the sideboard Back to reality. He walked through to the kitchen. The police cleaners had done a good job. Stacked in the corner were the large Christmas lights. He didn’t see the point in setting them up.

 

“Hello Matey.” Blackheart appeared on the draining board. “You be feeling like a bit of company?”

 

Drew swung round beaming. “Blackheart Louis, I can’t believe it. You’re here in the house.”

 

“ I am not alone, but he be a bit unsure of his welcome,” Louis said.

 

“What do you mean?” His eyes flashed as Bruce Mulligan appeared. “Slugger.”

 

“Why did you think I wouldn’t welcome you mate?” Drew said.

 

“Because of your wife.”

 

“Don’t be daft. You were already dead I know you didn’t attack her. The truth is she was going to leave me.” Drew sighed, remembering the vivacious smile that melted his heart.

 

“Well lad it be best not to dwell on such things.” Blackheart hovered onto the table and winked at him.

 

“I have so much to find out about you two. How are Cyril, Laurie and Sullivan? I’ve missed them so much.” He straddled the wooden chair. “I’d love them to be here too.”

 

“You don’t think we would be left behind do you ducky?” Laurie appeared out of the mouth of the reindeer light.

 

“Aye, we got catching up to do son.” Cyril popped up out of the chimney.

 

“Bit on the pokey side, but it will suffice.” Sullivan glided in to the kitchen, his nose in the air.

 

“I want to know so much!” Drew laughed. He felt animated, and he didn’t want this feeling to go away.

 

“I be thinking you better be sorting out the cabin first matey,” Blackheart said.

 

The familiar sickening churn returned to the pit of his stomach. He’s right I must face the consequences. Drew headed into the living room and picked up the pile of envelopes. A bill for electric was the first one he opened. The payout pile grew with every letter. Spidery handwriting sprawled across the next one. Liz’s mum. I wonder what she wants? He ripped open the seal and unfolded the note wrapped around a printed document.

 

…we had policies for all the girls and as her husband this now belongs to you. All you have to do is claim from the insurers…

 

Drew stared at the life insurance policy his mouth dropped when he saw the cover for £100,000. His amazement turned to hysterical laughter. The ghosts surrounded him, unaware of what made him so happy, but joining in his delight?

 

“Uh hum!” said Sullivan, attracting the attention of the others. “Just one little thing Drew, nothing too serious. You might want to avoid the chapel at night. The poltergeist decided he liked the ambience. He won’t be lonely – he has a shrew to keep him company.”

 

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