Never Can Say Goodbye

by Christina Jones

  Frankie still wore her earrings constantly, and thought back dreamily to the kisses – the one with mistletoe and the one without – and determinedly didn’t ask Dexter how he saw in the New Year, or who with, and he didn’t tell her. Lilly, tanned and in love with a waiter called Andreas, returned from Cyprus.

  Cherish astounded absolutely everyone by putting her bungalow on the market and moving into Brian’s spare room. ‘No point in shilly-shallying at my age. I’m living for the moment,’ she told everyone proudly. ‘It’s like being reborn. I’ve never been happier.’ And neither, it appeared, had Brian.

  Biddy had, of course, sniffed and said it would all end in tears. And Maisie Fairbrother had announced that her New Year’s resolution was to give up mediuming and take up holistic healing instead.

  And Ernie still lurked miserably – and now alone – in Francesca’s Fabulous Frocks.

  ‘You know,’ Frankie said post-work, one very cold and frosty evening in mid-January, as she and Dexter squinted at yet another pair of dubious cocktails in the Toad in the Hole, ‘I’ve just had an idea.’

  ‘Hold on to it then.’ Dexter grinned. ‘You might need it one day.’

  ‘No, seriously … it’s about Ernie.’

  ‘Oh, Frankie. I know how you feel, and I know how miserable he is, but we’ve been over it so many times. We’ve decided that Jackie and Alan couldn’t send him back because he was a newly dead ghost and he just didn’t latch on to their vibes. Even Ernie agrees with that now.’

  ‘I know. It’s not that. It’s something different.’

  ‘OK, go on.’

  ‘Well, I don’t think he’s here by accident. In my shop. I mean, he could have ended up anywhere, couldn’t he? And he’d never been in the shop before – not even when Rita had it – so it isn’t the shop he’s haunting, as such.’

  Dexter frowned. ‘Sorry, I’m not really following your train of thought at all here. And I always thought that ghosts – if I ever thought about them at all – haunted the place where they died. So, in that case, Ernie should be hanging around in Poundland, shouldn’t he?’

  Frankie nodded and stirred the turquoise concoction in front of her with the end of her dead sparkler. ‘Well, yes. Maybe – but he’s not. He’s in my shop because of Achsah’s wedding dress, isn’t he?’

  ‘I suppose he is, yes. He did say he felt close to her because of the dress.’

  ‘And the first time I saw him, after I’d realised he wasn’t a cross-dresser, when he told me, well, everything, he said the dress had been stolen by his nieces and donated to Rita. And I was thinking, as it’s the dress that’s so special, maybe if we could take the dress to a church or something – maybe even the church where Ernie and Achsah got married – and hold some sort of ceremony, it might, well, free him.’

  Dexter pushed his unfinished cocktail away and ordered a beer from the bored barman. ‘It might, but then we’d need the vicar or someone to be in on it, and maybe communing with the undead doesn’t go down very well in churches. I wouldn’t know. I’m afraid I gave up going to church after I left primary school.’

  ‘Me too,’ Frankie admitted. ‘Oh, I don’t know. It was just a thought. I really don’t know what else to do for him.’

  ‘Oooh, I sooo lurve Skype.’ Lilly teetered into the Toad, wrapped in a violet fun fur coat over her skinny jeans and hitched herself onto a stool beside Dexter. ‘Me and Andreas have just been talking for ages. Oooh, I miss him so much. Still, he’s coming over at Easter. Only another twelve weeks to go. If I can live that long without him.’

  ‘I’m looking forward to meeting him,’ Dexter said, trying not to laugh. ‘Frankie’s told me a lot about him.’

  ‘That’s because he’s been the only topic of conversation since she got back.’ Frankie played with her tiny cocktail umbrella. ‘And I bet he’ll have been replaced by someone local several times over before Easter.’

  ‘No he won’t.’ Lilly pouted and looked at the discarded cocktail. ‘Have you finished with this drink, Dexter?’

  ‘Yes – be my guest.’

  ‘Cool, thanks. Oooh, it’s lovely. I’ll order another one. And anyway, Andreas isn’t just coming over for a visit. He’s moving here. He’s going to live here. With me.’

  ‘What?’ Frankie shook her head. ‘Since when?’

  ‘Since tonight. We talked about it while I was over there, and he’s got a second cousin or an uncle or something who runs a Greek restaurant in Winterbrook, so he’s sorted out a job there and I said of course he’d be living with us, well, me – so it’s all organised.’

  ‘Well, congratulations,’ Frankie said faintly, wondering first if Lilly and Andreas had considered visas and work permits and assumed Andreas had, and secondly how much she really wanted to share the Featherbed Lane house with a madly loved-up Lilly and a permanent fixture.

  ‘Er, yes – congratulations.’ Dexter tried to keep a straight face.

  ‘Ta.’ Lilly beamed. ‘And anyway don’t make it sound like I hog all the conversations. The ghost-busting has been talked about just as much as Andreas. I can’t believe I missed it. I can’t believe they’ve really gone and I’ll never see them again. I really liked Jared.’

  ‘I know, so did I, but they’re happy now. And we were just talking about poor old Ernie again,’ Frankie said. ‘And trying to come up with a decent plan for reuniting him with Achsah. For the umpteenth time. I wondered if we could have some sort of church service.’

  Lilly ordered another doubtful cocktail. ‘What? Like a funeral?’

  Frankie laughed out loud. ‘Lill, how do you do it? You’re brilliant! Oh, Lilly, I love you!’

  ‘Good.’ Lilly blinked her long pink-and-sparkle eyelashes. ‘But I’m not sure what I did there.’

  ‘Nor me.’ Dexter looked confused. ‘Did I miss something?’

  ‘A funeral.’ Frankie smiled excitedly. ‘Why on earth didn’t we think of that before? It’s so obvious, isn’t it?’

  ‘Is it?’ Dexter still looked puzzled.

  ‘Yes, blindingly. Listen. We’ll give Ernie the funeral he wanted and never had. Remember I said Slo Motion told me the dreadful nieces ignored all Ernie’s requests and went for the cheapskate funeral option and that his ashes had never been buried or scattered or anything?’

  ‘Yes, and –?’

  ‘And so, if we arranged to have Ernie’s ashes buried in the grave with Achsah where he wanted to be in the first place, surely, that would mean he’d be laid to rest at last, wouldn’t it?’

  Dexter exhaled. ‘God, Frankie, that’s brilliant. Why on earth didn’t we think of that before? So, what do we do next?’

  ‘Go and see Slo and tell him what we want to do and ask him to arrange it.’

  ‘Actually, I think –’ Lilly twirled her little umbrella ‘– that the first thing you should do is ask Ernie. Just in case. I mean, if it was me, I’d want to know if someone was planning to bury me somewhere, just in case I didn’t want it. It seems rude not ask him.’

  Dexter looked at Lilly in astonishment. ‘You know, Lilly, you really are very clever, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yeah. Sure. For a bimbo airhead. It’s been said before.’ She leaned across the counter towards the bored barman. ‘Hi, gorgeous. Can we have the same again all round? Ta.’

  ‘So,’ Frankie said to Ernie in Francesca’s Fabulous Frocks, about an hour later. ‘That’s the plan. What do you reckon?’

  Ernie, leaning against the 1950s dress rails, beamed all over his little goblin face and ran his fingers through his grizzled hair until it stood on end. ‘Oh, my word, Frankie, duck. That sounds just about perfect to me. I mean, I know I didn’t want to be cremated, but what’s done is done, but if you could just lay me to rest with my Achsah, I’d be right happy. Then, at last, our bodies and our souls would be together again, and we could rest in peace, together, for … well, eternity.’

  Dexter took a deep breath and tried to steady his voice. ‘Um – yes. So, if we go and see Slo, and tell
him we want to organise a small ceremony for you – that we’d like him to inter your ashes in Achsah’s grave, you’ll be OK with that?’

  ‘More than OK. I don’t want no church service or hymns nor nothing – I had all that at the crem. I just want to be with Achsah. In the churchyard at Tadpole Bridge.’

  ‘Wonderful,’ Frankie said. ‘And I know it’s what you want and what we’ve been trying to do for ages, but I’ll miss you, Ernie.’

  ‘Ah, and I’ll miss you an’ all, duck. And young Dexter here. You’ve been like a little family to me, you have.’

  Frankie gulped and wiped her eyes.

  Dexter cleared his throat. ‘So, we’ll go and see Slo tomorrow, shall we?’

  ‘I’ll ring him and make sure he’ll be in and doesn’t mind us popping round,’ Frankie said, nodding happily. ‘And then we’ll arrange the funeral for as soon as possible. Ernie, I think we’ve found the solution at last, don’t you? I don’t see what can possibly go wrong this time.’

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  ‘ … so, you see, it ain’t as easy as all that. Sorry, ducks.’ Slo Motion gazed at them sadly the following evening. ‘I know you’re disappointed.’

  They were once again sitting in his cosy Hazy Hassocks flat, with Essie plying them with coffee and sandwiches.

  Frankie sighed. ‘Oh, sod it. I thought it was going to be really simple.’

  Dexter nodded at Slo. ‘So, what you’re saying is that you can’t just give us the casket, and we can’t just bury Ernie’s ashes in Achsah’s grave, even if we all know it’s what he wants.’

  Slo coughed wheezily. ‘Exactly, Dexter, lad. Look, if it were that simple then I’d have done it meself. I knew what old Ern wanted, and I knew the nieces hadn’t given him the funeral he’d planned. It would have been so easy for me, being in the business and having the ashes on the premises so to speak, to have a word with the vicar at Tadpole Bridge, open up Achsah’s grave quietly, and pop Ern in.’

  ‘But you can’t, and we can’t?’ Frankie frowned.

  Slo shook his head. ‘No, duck. The ashes legally belong to the next of kin, you see. It’s only the next of kin who can decide on the dispersal or disposal.’

  ‘But the nieces – Thelma and Louise – as far as I can gather –’ Dexter leaned forwards ‘– didn’t give a toss about Ernie. So why wouldn’t they give their permission for you to do what Ernie wanted?’

  ‘Money,’ Slo said simply. ‘They didn’t want to spend a penny more than was necessary. And it costs to open up a grave and have an interment. And they weren’t going to pay for it. No way.’

  ‘But we will,’ Frankie said. ‘Dexter and I have already agreed we’d pay. You must have Thelma and Louise’s contact details. Tell them we’ll organise it and pay for it. Surely they’d be OK with that?’

  Slo wheezed pleasurably a bit more. ‘Ah, duck. Mebbe they would and mebbe they wouldn’t. But there are laws, lots and lots of laws, to do with burials. And the next of kin have to agree in writing to hand the ashes over to a third party. I’d have to write to them, and they’d have to sign the papers to allow you to take charge of the mortal remains, then return the signed arrangements to me for me to organise the interment. It’s complicated.’

  ‘Oh, bugger it then.’ Frankie sighed crossly, leaning back in her chair and watching the fire dance in front of her. ‘And that will take ages, won’t it? From taking over Rita’s shop I know only too well what legal paperwork is like.’

  ‘This can be done quite quick.’ Slo nodded. ‘As long as all parties are in agreement. But there’s no guarantee that Thelma and Louise will even give a jot about what happens to Ernie’s ashes. Why should they? He meant nothing to them. I doubt if they got much, if anything, from his estate, and they certainly won’t bother about him resting in peace.’

  Dexter frowned. ‘You mean, they’ll probably just ignore your letter?’

  ‘Ah.’ Slo nodded. ‘Having met ’em, I’m afraid they will, Dexter, lad.’

  ‘Nooo,’ Frankie sighed. ‘And I thought we’d really found the answer this time.’

  Slo took a mouthful of coffee. ‘So, you’re still saying that Ernie is haunting your shop, are you, duck?’

  ‘I am and he is. And –’ Frankie leaned forwards ‘– I know you don’t totally believe me, but it doesn’t matter. We – Dexter and I – love him, and want him to be reunited with Achsah, and no, I haven’t told anyone about the other stuff, and I never will.’

  ‘What other stuff?’ Dexter stopped mid-sandwich. ‘Something that Slo told me in total confidence,’ Frankie said. ‘It just made me more sure than ever that Ernie was a ghost when I was doubting it, that’s all.’

  Dexter nodded. ‘Oh, he’s a ghost all right. And desperately unhappy. And … well, I think I might have thought of a way round all this.’

  Slo shook his head. ‘You can’t go cutting corners, young Dexter. Not with bodies. There are very strict laws in place for a good reason. There’d be bloody mayhem if people took the law about the dead into their own hands.’

  ‘Oh, I realise that.’ Dexter finished his sandwich. ‘But what I was thinking was, why don’t we – me and Frankie – take the paperwork, letters, whatever it is this pair of nasty nieces need to sign, by hand, and wait until they’ve done it, and then bring them back to you.’

  ‘Wow! Brilliant!’ Frankie was suddenly filled with hope again. ‘And that way we could tell them face to face that this isn’t going to cost them anything – other than a couple of minutes of their time.’

  Slo nodded. ‘Yes, that might well work. In fact, I don’t see why it shouldn’t work. Good thinking, Dexter, lad.’

  ‘And,’ Frankie said eagerly, ‘you could just ring them and tell them we’re on our way, couldn’t you?’

  ‘I could, and I will, but you know they’re not local, don’t you?’

  ‘Aren’t they?’ Frankie frowned. ‘How not local?’

  ‘Northern.’ Slo sighed. ‘Birmingham, Bolton, Burnley, Blackburn – somewhere like that.’

  ‘Blackpool,’ Essie supplied helpfully as she came in with refills of coffee and sandwiches. ‘I remember it was Blackpool because I used to go there for holidays when I was a kiddie and I tried to talk to them about it when they were here to organise the funeral, but they were a right dour pair and didn’t want to talk about anything.’

  ‘Blackpool!’ Frankie sighed. ‘Oh, but that’s millions of miles away.’

  ‘Only a few hours drive,’ Dexter said cheerfully. ‘We can be there and back in a day.’

  ‘Really? And then we can organise Ernie’s funeral?’ Frankie said. ‘Can’t we?’

  Slo nodded. ‘I’ll look up the file and find their contact details. I’ll ring ’em and tell ’em what’s happening and give you the address – if they agree to see you, of course.’

  ‘You make them agree,’ Essie said severely. ‘Poor old Ernie deserves the best. And these lovely children are kind enough to want to give him the best. You make them agree, Slo.’

  ‘Okey-dokey, Essie, duck,’ Slo chuckled. ‘I’ll give it my best shot.’

  And he did.

  Three days later, long before it was light, on a cold, wet and windy morning which had turned the snow to slush and made everywhere look disgustingly grubby, Frankie and Dexter set off for Blackpool in the Mercedes.

  Frankie had told Ernie everything, and had asked him please not to appear in the shop while she was away – just in case Cherish or any of the customers spotted him and caused another Jackie-and-Alan influx.

  Cherish had been ecstatic to be left in sole charge of Francesca’s Fabulous Frocks for the day, and Brian had assured Dexter seriously that the flower stall would also be in good hands.

  ‘And you and Dexter can stay over,’ Lilly had said, widening her eyes. ‘Can’t you? Have a sort of dirty weekend – or at least a mucky night – in Blackpool?’

  And Frankie had said definitely, categorically, absolutely not.

  ‘Why on earth not?’ L
illy had frowned. ‘You are so slow, Frankie. He’s the most gorgeous man on the planet, after Andreas, of course. And you go out together all the time.’

  ‘Mostly after work. As good friends.’

  ‘Whatever.’ Lilly had sighed. ‘He fancies you like mad, you’re crazy about him. He’s even kissed you. Twice. You said.’

  ‘Yes, and it turned me upside down, but that’s as far as it’ll go.’

  ‘Why? Neither of you have any ties, and you must be over the heart-breaker and life-wrecker by now.’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Frankie had agreed. ‘Totally over. But I have no intention of going back there again.’

  ‘As if Dexter would break your heart,’ Lilly had scoffed. ‘He adores you. Everyone can see it.’

  ‘Can they? Lill, I know nothing about his past. There are still far too many secrets about why he left Oxford. And most of them must involve women – or one woman in particular. I don’t know enough about him, and he clearly doesn’t want to tell me. And then there are all those other women here.’

  ‘What other women? OK, he played around when he first arrived, but he hasn’t looked at anyone else for weeks.’

  ‘He spent New Year with someone else.’

  Lilly’s face had fallen. ‘Did he? Oh, bollocks.’

  ‘Where are we?’ Frankie looked across the car. ‘Are we nearly there yet?’

  ‘No. For the millionth time.’ Dexter grinned. ‘We’re still on the M40. We’ve still got the M42 and then miles and miles of the M6 to go.’

  ‘Oh, OK.’ Frankie snuggled down in her seat, lulled by the rhythm of the windscreen wipers. ‘Wake me up when we can see the sea.’

  ‘Lightweight.’ Dexter sighed. ‘And I thought we were going to share the driving.’

  ‘I am not driving this car. It’s too big, too scary, and I’m not insured.’

  ‘You’re covered on my insurance.’

  ‘Am I? Damn. OK, then we’re on a strange motorway and I might damage it.’