How to Seduce a Ghost

by Hope McIntyre

  What horrified me was the way Selma submitted to him. Her instinct was not to retaliate like I did but to go weak and allow herself to be half carried down the stairs. As I followed behind them, I stuck out my foot and tried to kick him in the back but I missed, lost my footing and was left clinging to the banister, screaming at him to stop.

  He didn’t make it out the house with Selma but it had nothing to do with me. As he opened the front door, one arm wrapped around Selma’s waist, something knocked him sideways.

  Chris might be short and stubby but his strength was singularly impressive. He sized up the situation in an instant and his fist shot out toward Buzz’s jaw in a left hook that indicated he had boxing experience. He missed as Buzz dodged, but connected with Buzz’s shoulder, sending him flying back against the coat stand and causing him to lose his balance and release Selma. Then he began to kick Buzz for all he was worth. Selma watched with a grim expression on her face, no doubt reliving moments when she’d been on the receiving end of Buzz’s kicking. There was a ferocity to Chris’s blows that I actually found pretty scary even though I wanted him to demolish Buzz as quickly as possible. He had Buzz down on the ground and he was going for his ribs. Buzz wasn’t making any attempt to fight back and I could see he was in serious pain.

  Suddenly Selma started screaming at Chris.

  “LET HIM GO! You’re going to kill him.”

  Chris glanced at her and Buzz seized his moment, rolling over and clambering awkwardly to his feet. Chris launched himself at Buzz to stop him going out the door but he was a second too slow. He made as if to go after him but Selma grabbed his arm and pulled him back into the hall.

  “Let him go. Didn’t you hear me? You were really hurting him.”

  Chris looked at her and shook his head in wonder. “Yeah,” he said slowly, “I really hurt him. Duh? Like I was supposed to kiss him? He was on the point of really hurting you. I thought I was doing you a favor. Maybe I’d have done better to have let him kill the pair of you.”

  But if he was disappointed by Selma’s reaction to his chivalry, he didn’t need to worry about mine. I almost fell down the stairs again in my hurry to thank him. I flung my arms around him and clung to him like an hysterical orangutan. I thanked him profusely, stopping short of calling him my hero, but I was aware that I was going way over the top.

  “Well, that’s more like it,” he said when I finally pulled away. “In fact that was very nice indeed.” He looked me up and down. “Especially since all I came round for was that coffee.”

  CHAPTER 20

  SELMA FELL APART ALMOST IMMEDIATELY. SHE BEGAN TO babble that she too was grateful to Chris but that she loved Buzz, that she knew he would be back and that while she dreaded it, she needed to know he wanted her. Didn’t we understand? Didn’t we know how much it hurt her to see Buzz and not be able to help him?

  Help him? I could see Chris getting ready to remonstrate with her and I led her upstairs to calm her down. I managed to persuade her to lie down and take one of the tranquilizers that I had recently discovered were part of the arsenal of aids that helped her get through the day. She was brave, Selma, but she was not as tough as she made out and, as I was beginning to realize, this stand she was making against Buzz by doing the book was taking its toll.

  When I had finally settled her and went back downstairs half an hour later, I assumed Chris would be long gone. But he was still there, sitting at the kitchen table, chatting to Cath who had returned from the hospital. She stood up and embraced me when I came into the kitchen.

  “I can’t believe what Chris has just told me, that Buzz was actually here.”

  “Thank God for Chris,” I said, smiling at him. “You two know each other?”

  “You remember the café Mum and Dad had when I was a kid? We lived above it in that tiny little flat?” She looked at me.

  I nodded.

  “Well Chris’s family had their lockup in the mews right around the corner, where they kept all the produce for their stall in the market. I was always round there because his mum used to give me an apple or a few cherries if I caught her in a good mood. So where do you have your lockup now, Chris? Same place?”

  He shrugged. Didn’t look like he had the same kind of fond memories as Cath.

  “How’s Richie?” I asked her.

  “No worse, no better,” she said. “I just came back to get my toothbrush in case I want to stay with him through the night. Unless of course you’d like me to stay with you—in case Buzz—you know, in case he comes back.”

  “He won’t be back,” said Chris firmly.

  “You heard the man,” I told Cath. “You need to be with Richie.”

  She kissed me again on the cheek and called out, “See you tomorrow,” as she went upstairs to get her stuff.

  I expected Chris to get up and leave but he settled back in his chair and grinned at me.

  “So what about that coffee then? Do I deserve it or what?”

  Well, of course he deserved it. Absolutely. But with my mother out at the hairdresser’s and Selma asleep, I would have welcomed the opportunity to get some work done in a house that was seldom this quiet these days.

  But Chris had come to my rescue and Selma’s. He had stood up to Buzz even though he was five or six inches shorter. He had been our savior, there was no other way to look at it and the least I could do was make him a cup of coffee.

  “So what’s with Selma Walker?” he asked me. “How can she say she loves that guy when he beats the crap out of her?”

  “It’s complicated,” I said.

  “It’s sick, is what it is,” he said. “What does she see in him? I mean, what is it with blokes like him? He looks like a bleedin’ faggot with all that floppy hair. The only way he can show his strength is by beating up on his wife. You see it all the time, beautiful women falling for that type of man. I don’t get it. I really don’t.”

  I could hear the subtext in the whine in his voice. What’s he got that I haven’t got? I didn’t answer. What was the point? I couldn’t very well point out that Chris’s bald head and uncanny resemblance to a bull terrier probably had something to do with it. He was chirpy enough, and I would have thought his natural confidence—albeit a little cocky—and his gift of the gab would have won him more than his fair share of dates but it looked like he had a bit of an attitude problem and that could be off-putting.

  “What was he doing round here anyway?” he asked me suddenly.

  “He’d come to get Selma. She’s staying with me.”

  He looked up at me sharply and I realized I hadn’t needed to tell him that.

  “No, I meant that time I saw him coming out your house.”

  “I’m working with Selma on a book and he’s her manager as well as her husband. We were having a meeting—about the book,” I added hastily.

  I could tell he didn’t believe me.

  “So if a guy got rough with you, you’d like it, would you?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “So what kind of guy do you like then?”

  “The coffee’s ready,” I said, ignoring his question. I was a little uncomfortable with how personal his questions were becoming. “You want milk or sugar?”

  “Don’t want to tell me?” He winked at me. “Bit shy, are we? Me, I like women with a bit of meat on them. And they’ve got to have nice friendly faces. I can’t stand them stuck-up chicks who just point at the veg on my stall to show me what they want and never bother to speak to me. Not like you.” He looked at me with a silly grin on his face. “You always have a nice chat with me. I look forward to it.”

  “I do too, Chris.” It was a white lie. I enjoyed going shopping in the market and I always went to his stall because I was such a creature of habit. I hadn’t been aware that we always had a nice chat but then I did make a point of exchanging a bit of conversation with everyone as I paid for shopping, more out of courtesy than anything else.

  “Yeah, we’ve known each other a long time,” h
e said happily. “Milk please, two sugars. I was only thinking the other day how we’ve sort of grown up together. My mum knows your mum—”

  This was a bit of a stretch but I let it go. I heard Cath coming down the stairs and was disappointed when she left without coming back into the kitchen.

  “Funny how you know Cath,” I said. “I suppose everyone knows everyone growing up round the market.”

  “Like you and me,” he said cheerfully, then his face darkened. “But listen, you want to watch that Cath.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She’s a drunk. Have you ever seen her when she’s shit-faced? She barely knows who you are.”

  “Not the Cath I know,” I said truthfully. I didn’t want to get into this with Chris.

  “Well, speaking of drinking, I was wondering,” he went on, “if you fancied going out Friday night? Maybe a spot of dinner somewhere? What do you say?”

  What could I say? What could I possibly say that would let me off the hook and allow him to retain his dignity?

  “Friday’s tricky,” I began.

  “Well, Saturday’s open. What about Saturday?” he nipped in quick.

  “No, I might be going away for the weekend,” I lied. “That’s why Friday wouldn’t work.”

  “We’d better make it tonight then. Doing anything tonight?”

  “I ought to be here, I ought to stay with Selma. Can’t leave her on her own, not after—”

  “I thought your mum was here? I saw her in the market yesterday. She told me she was over for a bit.”

  Okay, I’d have to spell it out for him.

  “Chris, I’m not sure it would be such a good idea—”

  “What d’you mean? It’d be a brilliant idea. I must admit I never thought of it before but what with you inviting me round for a coffee, it started me thinking.”

  I had never invited him around. He’d come up with that idea all by himself. I’d actually stressed I didn’t want him to deliver stuff. I hadn’t encouraged him. I had not!

  I shook my head gently and whispered “Sorry” at him and smiled to say no hard feelings but he was surly now, stirring his coffee around and around with such a vigorous motion that it slopped all over the table.

  “I didn’t reckon on you being snotty as well,” he said. “I thought you were different but you’re like all the rest of them. So nice to see you, Chris, your broccoli’s the best in the market, Chris, it would save my life if you’d deliver to the house, Chris. Oh, you’re all over me when you want something, but if I suggest something as normal as a get-together that isn’t fruit-and-veg related, you can’t get away from me quick enough.”

  “Chris, it’s not like that at all.” I was genuinely horrified that I’d upset him. “Here let me top up your coffee. Tell me how your mother is. Will we ever see her back on the stall again one day? You should get her to help you out on Saturdays like you used to do.”

  But he continued to look at me with a belligerent expression on his face and I was wondering what on earth I was going to do with him when I heard the sound of the front door opening.

  Tommy was the last person I expected to walk in at that precise moment but boy was I glad to see him. I leapt up and kissed him square on the mouth before he could indicate there was any tension between us. Chris looked on in amazement.

  “Wow!” said Tommy. “Looks like you’re pleased to see me.” He grinned. “I stopped by to tell you that I just came from the hospital and they’re releasing Mum on Friday. She really wants you to come with me to take her home. She doesn’t know that we—you know—that we’ve had another—”

  “Of course I’ll come with you,” I said quickly not wanting him to reveal we weren’t speaking in front of Chris. “Thank God she’s coming home. Tommy, this is Chris. You’ve heard me speak of his stall on the market and how it’s my favorite place to shop. Chris, this is my boyfriend, Tommy Kennedy.”

  Chris’s eyes widened at the word “boyfriend.” He regarded Tommy dubiously. “I’ve not seen you in the market,” he said.

  “That’s because I don’t live round here,” said Tommy, reaching over and finishing off my cup of coffee. I didn’t say a word.

  “So you two don’t live together?” Chris perked up.

  “Well, yes, we do as a matter of fact,” I said quickly. “Tommy’s just been away.”

  Tommy looked at me quizzically.

  “Well, your stuff’s still here,” I said by way of explanation.

  “Best be off,” said Chris. “Can’t be dilly-dallying. Got a stall to run.”

  “Nice meeting you,” said Tommy.

  “Ta for the coffee,” said Chris and when I saw him out to the door he muttered, “You never said nothing about no boyfriend. And he never stopped you seeing Selma Walker’s husband, did he?”

  He was gone before I had a chance to reply.

  “Weird-looking bloke,” said Tommy when I went back into the kitchen. “Listen, I’m sorry about the other night. I was drunk.”

  I was drunk and I also admitted that I’d been having an affair with a French woman. I could bring it up again or I could let it go. I opted for the latter. We weren’t done with it yet, we’d have to deal with it sometime and I’d have to come clean about Buzz. To put a cynical slant on it, after Buzz’s dramatic visit I needed Tommy back in the house. And to put a noncynical slant on it, I found I was desperately happy to see him.

  I made him some lunch and filled him in on what had happened while he’d been gone. When he heard about Buzz he came over and took me in his arms, hugging me to him and stroking my hair.

  “Sounds like all your worst nightmares came true,” he whispered. “I wish I could come back and protect you.”

  I pulled away from him.

  “No, it’s okay. I want you to come back. We’ll forget the other night. I didn’t—”

  “I’ve got to think of Mum,” he said. “I’ve been wracking my brains trying to think who could look after her and then I realized the obvious person was me. I’m going to move into her house to look after her. I’m going home, so to speak.”

  But what about me? a voice inside me wailed.

  “But what about when you’re at work?”

  “I’ll hire someone to be there during the day. I can barely afford it but it’s important Mum has someone with her. She’s very weak and you know what she’s like, she’ll go lifting stuff all over the house and do herself an injury twenty minutes after I’ve left for work.”

  I need you, I kept thinking but my need couldn’t compare with Noreen’s. I was healthy, I was relatively young. It wasn’t as if I would be alone in the house.

  But it was agony. The more I listened to Tommy talking about his mother and how scared he’d been that he might lose her, the more I realized how much I loved him. He was a sweet person. Please, God, I hope I hadn’t entirely blown my chances of living with him.

  “I’m going to enjoy living with her again.” He was getting into his stride about Noreen. “We were always a good team. I’m her straight guy. She’s the comedienne—as you know to your cost. She never stops talking, she has an opinion on everything under the sun, and more often than not she can make you laugh about it. I’m the opposite, I know. Yes I am,” he insisted when I made as if to protest. “I’m just an ordinary bloke but she enables me to feel okay about it. She points out that someone has to be the straight guy, the one who listens and stays in the background otherwise how could people like her have any fun at all? And I find myself thinking that if I were like her, if I were an entertainer, a talker, a wit, and someone who always finds himself the center of attention then I’d never have the benefit of listening to people like her.”

  I went to the sink to rinse Chris’s mug. Noreen had to be okay. I don’t think I’d realized before just how much Tommy cared for his mother. Listening to him now I envied him his closeness with her.

  “You know, people like me often get called boring,” he went on, “but I reckon we’re the lucky on
es. We’re always entertained. We don’t get the praise and the attention but we have all the fun.”

  As I listened to him, I wondered if he was trying to tell me something. Did he want me to be more like Noreen, to be more of an extrovert?

  “But where I’m really lucky,” he went on, “is in the fact that she understands and accepts me for what I am. It’s the saddest thing in the world when people aren’t lucky enough to be understood by their parents.”

  Of course when he said that I burst into tears. He’d always known how much my mother upset me.

  “But Tommy,” I burbled through my tears, “if you’re going to be with Noreen, when am I going to see you?”

  “I don’t know. I’m going to be pretty busy,” he admitted, “but perhaps it’s a good thing if we spend some time apart. We’ve been having plenty of rows recently.”

  I began to sob even louder.

  “Oh, God, Lee, please switch off the blubbing. I’m not saying we’re breaking up or anything like that. Mum would never allow it. No, seriously, I think we need to take stock, see where we want to go next.”

  To be translated: He needed to take stock and see where he wanted to go next.

  “Anyway, as I said, Mum wants you to come and settle her in at home when she comes out of hospital. Doesn’t trust me to attend to the finer details like shopping and making her bed. Can I count on you?”

  “Of course,” I mumbled, not looking at him. I had to stop crying and hold it together. I had to stop being needy, go along with his plan, and just hope that he’d come back to me when Noreen was fully recovered.

  I didn’t go with him to the door, knowing that if I did I might not be able to stop myself clinging to him on the doorstep and pleading with him to stay. But I peeked through the curtains and saw him encounter my mother returning from the hairdresser’s.