The Fathers, the Sons and the Anxious Ghost

by Jamie Adams

  “Can I stay at your house tonight?” Tess suddenly piped up, much to my astonishment.

  “Of course you can, dear,” said Margaret, sweetly.

  Margaret had always been a great babysitter, and I was pleased that Tess was speaking but not sure if I should let her drift away so early on.

  “Maybe in a few nights.”

  “Dad, let her go, and we can have some boy time,” Alfie said, looking me in the eyes as if to say ‘she needs time before she sleeps here again’.

  “It will be no trouble, and we can have hot chocolate,” said the old lady, warmly.

  “We can make those cakes Mum and you used to make.”

  “Well OK. If you think that would be best.”

  “I just need to get used to our house without her in it,” Tess said.

  “Make sure you bring us some cakes too,” Alfie started, winking at me discreetly.

  We all stepped into the hallway, and Margaret took the kids’ coats off them before we opened the living room door. Something about the place seemed overly sterile. The police had done a good job of cleaning up, but there was no clear feeling of home; just silence and coldness. I went upstairs to turn the heating on and found myself wandering into the bathroom. There was no sign of anything. No blood, not that there would have been I guess; nothing out of the norm, apart from the stark truth that my wife had killed herself in this very room.

  Chapter 11 (Matt)

  The weather seemed a lot more bleak the next day. I took the dog for a walk after dropping Max off at school. I had called work and taken a day off because I wanted to clear my head, and they owed me a few days, so it really made no difference anyway. I could not stop thinking about the mysterious death of Alex’s wife or the horrid reality of my own sinking marriage. It was a train wreck. It had been for quite some time. After these recent events, it seemed to have come to the point where I had to really think carefully about my future, and how that future could impact on Max. In these situations, the only person I could turn to was my brother, Jamie. He would listen to me rant and not judge me, but he would also make me see sense. As I found myself edging towards his street, I suddenly had the urge to direct message the teacher again. I could not help myself. “Hi, please keep an eye on Max for me. Thanks. Matt.” I left it at that, but I hoped he would at least give me an update on how the boy was doing at school. It was only yesterday that Max was in a fight on stage, and they still had another performance of their play this afternoon. His mum swore on her mother’s life that she would go to this show, but I knew he was not bothered either way, as he was used to no shows when it came to her.

  The wind was howling now and really blowing me about, causing the dog to get excited and my hair to break through the crust of fixing gel and start flailing around wildly. I knew I should have bought a ‘super-hold’ version of gel rather than the light touch one. Aesthetics went out of the window for a minute as I tried to reclaim my balance. I had lost concentration for a second and walked over a hole in the footpath, stumbling slightly and letting go of the dog lead, momentarily. The stupid dog legged it at his first chance. He was always a runner. I cannot believe I had let go so quickly. Fego was gone in an instance, and now I would spend the afternoon trying to hunt him down once more. Could this day get any better? I started to turn back for the car when a friendly face appeared in a vehicle, which had pulled up beside me. It was Nicole, my cousin, and she was eager to tell me that she had just seen what she thought was my dog racing down the high street. I hopped into her Mercedes, and we did a 360. The dog was my mission, but my head was telling me to offload a bit to Nicole while I had the opportunity. The only problem is, she would judge me. She had always seen the good in everyone. She would not make it easy for such a conversation. I decided to rein it in and chat about the suicide. A safer topic, ironically.

  Nicole had to have the window open as we drove, which to me seemed crazy, as not only did it make it very cold inside that car, but it made it even harder to hold a meaningful conversation over the howling noise of the encroaching wind. Her hair swept back freely as we negotiated several bends in the street, and she had always got her radio on in the background. This meant I had to literally yell whatever I was going to say to her out loud.

  She looked carefree as she drove.

  “So how did Fego get away from you this time?” she shouted.

  “I fell over a broken bit of kerb.”

  “I swear he was just around here about five minutes ago.”

  “He will come home eventually. He usually manages to.”

  “You seem like something else is puzzling you,” she screamed, happily.

  “Well yeah, this whole suicide thing. It doesn’t make any sense. It just all of a sudden…”

  “I know what you mean,” she interrupted mid-sentence, “but you know she was never really happy. Their marriage was probably a sham.”

  “What makes you think this?” Now my curiosity was growing exponentially.

  Nicole took a moment to clear her thoughts and compose herself before she replied.

  “Are you kidding? She was a nervous wreck.”

  “How do you know? I mean I never really noticed anything unusual,” I shouted back, doubtfully.

  Nicole slammed on the breaks and pulled into a little lay-by. She turned off the engine and wound up the window. I could tell she was more concerned about people hearing this part, but I could see no sign of anyone around us. She moved her head closer to me and took a deep breath.

  “You are not exactly the observant type, cous!” she snapped.

  “What do you mean?” I replied with a defensive whine.

  “You spend your whole life wrapped up in a bubble. Wrapped up in ‘yourself’ and ‘your’ world.”

  “How dare you! I have never done anything to cheese you off. I notice stuff!”

  “But you don’t! You go from place to place. You have earphones in most of the time. You unplug yourself from what is really going on at your own doorstep. I mean I am not trying to upset you but wake up and smell the coffee.”

  I pondered for a minute, sort of brooding over what she had asserted and wondered if I really was self-obsessed in the eyes of everyone I knew.

  “I take this shit from you. I really do. I know it comes from a good place. But Nic, have a look in the mirror; will you?”

  Turning the glow away from me and onto her felt refreshing for a moment before she slapped it back over to me again.

  “I ain’t saying I’m perfect. I mean, who is? But just friendly advice. Open your eyes a little wider. Take a look out there. Don’t hide in your bubble all day.”

  On that note, she started the engine and drove me back to mine, where an exhausted little hound was waiting on the drive, rapidly panting. We had a cup of tea and moved onto lighter subjects. We both knew that that conversation would stay in the car and should be best left alone, for now.

  Chapter 12 (Josh)

  The rain was pouring down today, which meant bad news for me; as the kids would have ‘wet play’, and I would lose my break time looking after them while they trash the room, building Lego monstrosities and colouring in endless reams of scrap paper. Alfie was not at school today, understandably, and his sister was also off. The children were drawn to conversations which suggested some kind of paranormal mystery attached to Michelle’s untimely death. I did not have the energy to challenge them each time. As I sat at my desk, devouring a Mars bar, I heard two boys excitedly going at it back and forth, suggesting a story worthy of Spielberg.

  “Aliens came during the day…but not like ordinary aliens; these ones were clever,” James said, candidly.

  “Yeah they dressed up as post men (sniggering slightly) and used their disguises to access her house,” continued Kieran, smiling.

  “Clever aliens?” I found myself unable to keep out of it.

  “Sorry, sir,” they chanted, awkwardly.

  “No, come on. Tell me about your conspiracy theory. I am interested.
”

  James piped up, “It’s just what people are saying online. You know…”

  “We hear about this stuff all of the time,” Kieran added in a matter-of-fact kind of way.

  “I think it is a shame that when something awful happens like this, everyone is gossiping about it. You should be showing that you care for your friend, Alfie. He is having a very rough time,” I barked, sternly.

  The two boys got back to their sketching, and I took myself out of the room to ask a passing teaching assistant to grab me a coffee. She smiled and soon returned with a warm container of my favourite blend. I could tell that she was worried about me as her eyes frowned sympathetically. Maybe I came across as feeling sorry for myself.

  Scanning my Facebook later, I saw a post from Matt. It said that he had spent the morning on a wild goose chase, trying to find his runaway dog. The way he wrote was funny and brought a smile to my mouth as I scooped up the lukewarm Bolognese that I scrounged from the dinner ladies. The staff room was bustling, and it felt as though everyone was talking about Michelle. The head came over to me to see how I was.

  “Have you had a chat with the class yet?” she said, sweetly.

  “Not yet, not as such, although they are all talking about it,” I replied, calmly.

  “Do you want me there when you do it? I am sorry I was not in this morning, as I was on a course.”

  “It would be good to have you there, as I just do not know how to deal with their questions,” I said, with genuine relief.

  We had that awkward conversation later on, as the class sat dumbstruck in contemplation. A few sobbed gently as the head added to my comments and encouraged them to go and speak to the school counsellor if they needed to talk it through. She was always good with things like this. It came so easily to her. I was not too bad but had a lot to learn from her. Nobody chose to ask any questions, but Mark put his hand up to say something.

  “I just wanted to say that we all are really shocked by this and whatever the reasons for it…we all need to be there to support Alfie and Tess,” he said, emotionally.

  It was unusual for him to pipe up about anything, so I felt particularly impressed at his braveness. The other kids nodded their heads in agreement, and then the bell went to tell them to go home. As I was clearing up the room, Mrs Bellamy, or Sue as we called her when the kids weren’t around, hung about to have another chat with me.

  “There will be a funeral soon, and I am wondering whether we should close the class for the day, as so many of them will probably want to be there,” she said, sombrely.

  I thought for a moment and realised that this meant I would be expected to go. I had not really had time to think about this, but it came to mind that Matt would be there and that made me feel a mixture of happy and uncomfortable. Seeing him again would be nice, but not at a funeral where I had to console my son. At a time where he would be surrounded by his own family? Well, I soon realised that it would be very busy, and there would be no need for awkwardness, as we were all going to be there for the same reason…to pay our respects to Michelle.

  Chapter 13 (Alex)

  Waking up to find Alfie showering in my en-suite, I considered for a minute using the family bathroom, but it still was too soon to spend time in there. Even though I had never seen any blood because the police did such a good job of cleaning up, it was going to remain a place that I stayed clear of. Both of the kids used my shower instead of going in there. None of us could handle what had happened, and that room had become some kind of shrine to her. Michelle had died in that bath; and today, we were going to have to deal with the reality of it. Today was going to be her funeral.

  My mum and dad came around very early and were quickly chasing the kids to get ready and making a hearty fried breakfast to help us prepare for what was going to be the most challenging day since the passing. I had a speech in my head and some notes to help me remember key points. Composing myself I ran through it while looking into a mirror. I wanted to make sure I was smart for her, meaning I wore my best suit and slicked my hair so as to be as presentable as I could manage. The kids looked handsome, and both seemed to be holding it together well, at least until we saw that car draw up next to our driveway.

  I drew strength from my kids normally, but right now I felt alone. I genuinely did not know how to be a parent without Michelle. Part of me thought she was selfish for doing this. It made no sense; and I half-wondered if people would think it was down to me. Was I a bad husband not to realise that she was upset? Would people jeer me when we arrived at the funeral? Were people around here ever going to be able to look at me in the same way again? I had no answers right now, but what I did know was that all of us were going to sit in a slow-moving vehicle, following a coffin, as she made her final journey to her resting place.

  Our marriage wasn’t perfect. I know she loved me. She should have known that I loved her back. We argued once in a while about not clearing up the kitchen or forgetting to feed the cat, but aside from that we got on just fine. I genuinely felt like I had lost my best friend; and that, there was no returning from what had happened. Our lives had been changed for good. But there was nothing ‘good’ about it. As we sat there, next to each other, all trying hard not to cry, Alfie nudged me and asked, “What happens to Mum now? Will she just rot away under the ground?”

  This set me off, and tears suddenly drained from my eye sockets as I clutched him close and said, “She will be alright, mate. She will be looked after. Just remember that she loved you guys more than anything, and today we are here to celebrate the life she led. You are her superstars.”

  Tess leaned over and gave me a kiss on the cheek, and we returned to silence, watching the misty English countryside roll by. It wouldn’t be long before they were all staring at us, casting their eyes upon us with suspicion and fake pity. Well, maybe not everyone. If I was going to think like that, then I would never be able to live here happily again. I told myself that positivity was the only way forward, as I had a lot of responsibility on my shoulders now; and the kids deserved a caring dad who was always there for them, not a blithering wreck like I was becoming.

  Arriving in the car park, the beautiful church stood over us hauntingly, reminding me of the wedding and christenings that we had shared there. Time had flown by since those, and now everyone was looking much more serious. Mourning was a difficult beast, and one that didn’t sit well with me. But it was coming face to face with people who could not contain their grief that wound me up. Some of the people in the crowd awaiting our arrival were sobbing dramatically. Typically, it was mostly the people who hardly knew her or spent very little time with her; the pompous ladies of the Parent Teacher Association, the neighbours who normally never even spoke as we went about our daily routines, and the awkward strangers who I could not identify as recognisable figures from Michelle’s past.

  Chapter 14 (Josh)

  When we got there, the funeral car was already driving into the car park, and I could see a waiting crowd just outside the door of this historic church. Only slightly delayed after picking up Mrs Bellamy from town, we straightened ourselves out, and Sam clutched firmly to my hand as we made our way over to the entrance. We could see Matt sat with his wife and son about halfway down the packed-out hall. Mrs Bellamy had to be close to the front because she was giving a speech. She had asked us to come with her, as they had apparently saved us some seats. It was uncomfortable to see Alex stood right in front of me, chatting to the vicar, probably finalising the running order. He looked calm but shattered, pretty much a fragment of his former self.

  Sam was directly behind Alfie; and when they spotted each other, Alfie extended his hand and shook it, thanking him for coming. It was good to see that they had no hard feelings after the assembly debacle. Usually with boys, any tiffs were soon forgotten; and in this case, the situation seemed to bring them closer together. I knew that Sam had been keeping in touch with both Alfie and Max on a daily basis.

  Before long, the tensi
on increased, and the voices lowered. A sad organ sound emitted music that was heart-wrenching and immediately brought tears to my eyes. Sam lowered his head in grief, and I could see him touch Alfie on the shoulder tenderly to remind him that he was there for him. My heart broke as I saw Alex return carrying the coffin, with Michelle’s brother the other side, and her father following on at the back. What a horrible thing for anyone to have to deal with, burying his own flesh and blood. Glancing over my shoulder, I could tell that Max wasn’t handling it very well, and he was being comforted by a very sombre-looking Matt, shaved of all of his usual hotness, dissolved into a humble guy, respectfully commemorating the life of a family friend. I felt even more admiration for him at this most inappropriate of moments. I turned back and gave Sam a close hug, and then we started to sing the first hymn.

  I could hear Max crying now quite loudly, even as Alfie stayed calm and seemed to be internalising his pain. Footsteps told me that Max had run off, and Sam flew past me to go and find him. Following on, I was soon stood in a windy graveyard with my boy leaning over his friend, trying to console him. Behind me, a voice reached out to me. We were enough of a distance away from the boys so as not to be heard.

  “It’s wrong, isn’t it. This should not be happening,” Matt said.

  I looked at him and sighed. “They will get through this, and it will make men of them,” I said, reluctantly.

  “I have been thinking,” he carried on almost as if he were talking on the breeze, hiding his words, “I enjoyed hanging out with you, man.”

  I was taken aback as the conversation redirected suddenly.

  “I mean we should probably do it again some time,” he said, with a very honest smile, made slightly odd as it was underwritten by tears.

  With the boys still talking through everything, I decided to take this forward.

  “I like you. OK. You may not want to deal with this, but I think we get on really well. We have something,” I gulped as I tried to undo what I had just said. “You know, we can be great mates.”