[Brenda & Effie 06] - Brenda and Effie Forever!

by Paul Magrs

  It’s a second or two before the realization hits me.

  He’s talking to me! He can see me!

  Gila and Robert stare dumbfounded at Panda. Then they turn to the empty space he’s addressing.

  ‘Well, Brenda?’ barks Panda. ‘What’s wrong with you all, eh? Why are you all acting so strangely?’ Then he looks startled as he processes something for the first time. ‘And why are you in the nude?’

  This surprises me too. I look down and I can’t see anything of myself. But somehow Panda can and he turns away discreetly.

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Robert asks. He looks as if he’s ready to seize the creature and shake him to pieces.

  ‘But she’s there! She’s right there!’ Panda protests. ‘You can’t miss her! Look at her! Brenda dear, honestly, put something on! You’re embarrassing the gentlemen in the room…’

  Of course I’m yelling. ‘I’m here! Yes, it’s me!’ But it’s a bit like screaming from the bottom of a well. To them I’m just an empty patch of air, with dust motes swirling through the lamp light.

  That sensitive boy Gila is trying to make sense of it. ‘Panda is seeing things we cannot.’

  Robert shakes his head angrily. ‘He’s lying. He isn’t really seeing anything at all. He’s just saying these things to taunt us.’

  ‘What?’ Panda cries.

  ‘Well, we don’t really know who or what you are,’ Robert snaps. ‘Why should we trust you? You could be something utterly malign disguised as an innocuous toy.’

  ‘Toy?!’

  ‘And what’s more, if Brenda really was here amongst us somehow… don’t you think she would let us know? Why would she just show herself to you? We’re her real friends!’

  Robert is really quite cross now, jumping off his stool and striding about the attic sitting room, frowning so hard it’s like he’s willing me back into existence.

  ‘Perhaps it doesn’t work like that, Robert,’ says Gila patiently. ‘Perhaps Panda can somehow connect with her soul… now that she’s dead… in a way that we can’t.’

  Robert swings round. ‘Brenda always said that she didn’t have a soul! Did you never hear her? It’s because of who she is… or was, rather. And how she was created. She was put together by a crazy scientist, Gila. Out of spare body parts and anything he could lay his hands on!’

  ‘No soul?’ Gila says. ‘That’s what she thought?’

  Robert nods.

  ‘Then perhaps she was wrong. Because… I feel like there’s something here. Something besides us. And I believe Panda when he says he can see her.’

  Panda coughs. ‘Yes, I’ve had a right eyeful.’

  I’m mortified that he thinks he can see me in the altogether.

  Robert looks stricken. ‘I… I’m afraid I don’t believe it. If Brenda could… make herself into a ghost, or whatever… she would come to me! I would know! I was her best friend, after Effie. In fact, Effie doesn’t count now. I’m sure she’s caught up in this. Anyway, Brenda would make herself apparent to me… and she’d let me know she was alright…’ His words dribble away and he looks so miserable I long to go over and give him a hug.

  While Gila goes to comfort him, Panda stares at me. ‘See what you’ve caused? Now look, Brenda, I’ve been locked up in your handbag all night, and I really have no idea what’s caused all this mess. Are you dead? What happened? And how can you be dead? I thought out of everyone, you’d be indestructible?’

  ‘Panda, I don’t know!’ I begin, but straight away he’s pulling faces. ‘What is it?’

  He bellows at me, ‘I can’t hear you! Speak up!’

  ‘Oh, this is hopeless. Can you lip-read?’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re saying, woman!’

  ‘Maybe I can write it down… oh, hang on, I can’t even pick up a pen in this state, can I? Wait, what about charades?’

  ‘Do stop hopping up and down, Brenda,’ he groans. ‘Be sensible. How did you die? Can you mime it?’

  So there I am for a few moments miming Mr Danby chopping off my head. I’m acting it out all energetically, quite forgetting that I’m starkers.

  ‘Someone pulled your bloody head off?’ cries Panda.

  At this point Robert has had enough. ‘I can’t listen to any more of this. That Panda is crackers. Come on, Gila. Let’s lock up here. We can decide what to do about practicalities and stuff, tomorrow.’

  I don’t want them to go. They can’t just leave me in this place of mine where I can’t even sit down comfortably anymore.

  ‘Wait!’

  I’ve never given it much thought before, but it’s pretty perilous being a ghostly being. What if I nod off or lose concentration? Could I just sink through the floor and carry on falling? What if I woke up and I was sinking immaterially through the crust of the earth?

  I’m filled with a sudden, gloomy panic.

  ‘Don’t just leave me here with Panda!’

  I get a scowl from Panda at that, and then the boys are gone. They hurtle down the stairs, thumping down the stair carpet in that pleasingly noisy, material way that I used to take for granted. The door clashes and they’re gone.

  ‘Oh dear,’ says Panda. ‘Whatever are we going to do to convince them you’re still here?’

  I can feel tears starting up. I’m helpless now. It’s not a feeling I’m used to. But I really don’t know what to do.

  So I go for a flight around the town.

  I leave that querulous bear (‘Bear?!’) behind and I go for a spin around the abbey and the church in the nude. I wish I could feel the cold night air against my skin, or the cool crackle of the clouds as I skim through them, but there’s nothing.

  Mr Danby. I can see his horrible, gurning grin before me, plain as daylight. He’s been plotting and planning this revenge on me for ages. I never thought he’d go so far.

  Well, he’s succeeded, hasn’t he? He’s given me a makeover from hell, just like the Deadly Boutique promised to, a few years back. He’s waited to get me into his nasty clutches and this is what he reduces me to.

  I’ve lost weight, certainly. I need no longer worry about my appearance. My fleshly self is no longer here. No scars or terrible ravages. No make-up or creams any more. No more concealing garments or wigs…

  For the first time I realise that I really am free of all that stuff. Trying to fit in, trying to blend. Pretending to be just another old lady in a town crammed with them. I think I made quite a good attempt of it, didn’t I? For as long as it lasted?

  But all that’s irrelevant now.

  I’m a wisp of nothingness. A gossamer thread on the air. I can be skinny, beautiful and perfect. A nymph or an angel, even. That’s what I have become.

  I began my strange life as a monster. A demon from hell. And now, at long last, I’m an angel. I can believe that, can’t I? I’m all golden with a halo spinning over my head. My profile is stunning, my features are regular and all is symmetrical. My breasts are pert and smallish, my waist is absolutely tiny. This is who I was meant to be. All that before, all the rest of it… that was an aberration. A mistake. And this is what I am now. Brenda the divine.

  So I feel a bit cheerier as I work off some frustrated energy by zooming across the town. Beyond the lights of Whitby, as far as the dark hills and moorland.

  I could go and not come back, couldn’t I? I could give thanks to Mr Danby for setting me free at last.

  The gross and solid flesh has dropped away. My unnatural life is over. At this point I could forget it all, and float happily into the ever after…

  It’s a thought, I suppose.

  I drift a bit further… down the coast to Scarborough.

  Bugger it. This is no good.

  I want my life back.

  I want to feel like me again.

  §

  It’s the next morning and I’
m back in town. It’s time I made a start on investigating my own demise. And the place I start is in Effie’s mucky antiques store. When I slip through the walls I find it’s in even more dirty disarray than usual. It’s early in the morning and Effie’s sitting by the warm stove in her kitchen, trying to get warm. She’s in her nightdress and holding a huge cup of tea in both hands. There is remorse written all over her.

  If I was corporeal I’d dash over and shake her, or hug her. Shake her probably – savagely, and demand to know what she thinks she was playing at.

  Then I see that there is someone else with her. A dumpy figure in a semi-solid state: it must be Effie’s legendary Aunt Maude, with a nimbus of blue fire flickering around her.

  ‘This is a right balls-up, isn’t it?’ the old ghost moans.

  ‘It’s not my fault,’ Effie sighs. ‘I never told Mrs Claus to do it.’

  ‘But you told her about it. And you know how keen that evil woman is to please you, Effie: to show that she can be a good mother to you. So, obviously she took it into her wicked head to do your dirty work for you.’

  Effie hangs her head. ‘I know. I still can’t believe it. Brenda. Dead. It’s all my fault.’

  ‘It’s worse than that, actually,’ says her aunt. ‘It’s a waste. I’ve been reading the restored pages of the Books of Mayhem, and I think I understand what’s at stake. The Bronte sisters wanted Brenda killed in a particular way, as befits the mysterious ceremony they’re so keen to perform. It is Brenda’s blood that they wanted, it turns out. And now it’s been shed in vain.’

  Effie looks at her aunt sharply. ‘The police took her body away. If it’s her blood that’s required, then surely it’s not too late…’

  ‘Her living blood. It needed to be siphoned off from the living form of the abomination you knew as Brenda. It’s too late now.’

  ‘I don’t know how I got caught up in any of this.’

  Maude chuckles, ‘You never had any choice. This was your destiny, Effryggia. You were born for this purpose: to grow up as a sleeper agent, programmed by the phantom Bronte sisters. You were supposed to become friends with Brenda. And, when the time was right, you were going to be in the right place to kill her for her blood.’

  Effie sobs into her hands. ‘That’s not who I want to be! I am her real friend… I would never have hurt her…’

  ‘You would have, when you heard destiny calling. Tell me, when you first met Brenda, didn’t you experience a queer sensation? A buzzing in your ears, maybe a tingle in your blood?’

  ‘Well, yes, but I just thought that was because we got on so well, and I thought, here’s a woman I could be friends with. Also, we were drinking some very strong coffee.’

  Maude shakes her head. ‘No. It was destiny calling. It was your innermost soul waking up, knowing that here was a woman you were fated to one day destroy.’

  Effie swears then, rather rudely. ‘I wouldn’t have done it. No matter if it was fate or karma or what ever the devil it was. I would never have harmed Brenda. The Brontes can bugger off to hell. Brenda was more important to me than anything they had planned.’

  My heart glows at this. It’s just what I need to hear.

  ‘It’s too late anyway,’ her Aunt Maude sighs, as if she can feel disaster in the air. ‘The tiresome creature is dead.’

  ‘Don’t call her a creature,’ Effie warns her, sounding furious.

  Or tiresome, I think.

  And this is when I decide to test out an idea. Aunt Maude’s a ghost, right? And I guess that’s what I am too. Or something like it. So if we’re of the same element… maybe I might meet with some success when I… hurtle forward and boot Aunt Maude up the saggy old arse.

  My hunch is right! The fat, tweedy old spinster goes sprawling onto the kitchen table with such force that she actually sends the breakfast things scattering. She even cries out in fear.

  ‘Aunt Maude…!’ shrieks Effie. She can vaguely see her aunt in distress, but she can’t see what’s assailing her.

  I kick old Maude up the bum once more for good measure, and then I bellow down her lughole: ‘Your Effie is worth ten of you, and all of your witchy sisters! And she’s worth fifty of your nasty, scheming Bronte sisters!’

  Suddenly Aunt Maude is a wreck. She clutches the stripped pine table and she’s gibbering with shock and fear. She stares up into my face – which I suppose is contorted with fury, and looking its most fearsome.

  ‘The abomination!’ she howls. ‘Out, out, cursed creature!’

  ‘That’s quite enough of the insults, thank you!’ And I box her ears with both big hands. She sobs and I must admit that I am finding just the tiniest bit of satisfaction in physical violence. I’m almost ashamed of myself.

  In fact, I’m laughing as Effie shouts: ‘Oh, what is it, Aunt Maude? What foul thing is attacking you?’

  And the once-formidable Maude replies, ‘It’s your bloody best friend, Effryggia! That’s who it is! She’s here – in a disembodied state! And she’s hitting me!’

  All at once Effie’s face lights up with joy. ‘She’s here? In spirit! She’s actually here?’

  I wish I could let her see me. Instead I grip her elderly aunt by the throat and growl: ‘Tell Effie I’m still here – and we’ve got to find a way to get me back into my body!’

  Aunt Maude relays this to her niece and I stay long enough to see Effie’s unalloyed delight at the news. Then I am out of there, streaking up through the ceiling and the neglected attic, up through the eaves, into the open air. I could get used to this flying business. I feel like Wonder Woman, or someone like that. Someone more used to this magical flitting about.

  My next stop is the Hotel Miramar, where Robert is going about his usual morning tasks in a dull state of mind. My apparent end has only just struck him properly, and I believe he may even be wondering what he’s doing here in Whitby now. Without Brenda and being a part of her gang, what’s the point?

  Here he is, sitting at the nice new reception desk with Penny. Both of them are in their work uniforms and they look the picture of professionalism. None of the guests checking in or checking out would ever guess that their off-duty activities see them involved with horrible dark forces and vile curses.

  I hover about observing as they deal with customers, and then draw closer when they get a moment to talk to one another.

  ‘But if Brenda’s gone, then it’s even more important that you stay here,’ Penny is protesting. ‘You need to stay and carry on her work. Fending off the monsters, guarding the Bitch’s Maw…’

  He sighs. ‘But without her though, it literally doesn’t seem worthwhile.’

  ‘What, you’d let the monsters come out of hell? You’d let just anyone mess about with the powers of the gateway?’

  He shrugs. ‘I don’t know. Of course not. All I’m saying is that it’s not going to be the same without Brenda.’ Then he looks at Penny sharply. ‘Anyway, you can’t talk about other, unscrupulous sorts messing about with dark forces. Not after you were Danby’s assistant that night.’ The way he looks at her, you can see he’ll never forgive her. Even if she had no idea what was planned for the climax of that evil magic show.

  ‘I was hypnotized! I told you that!’ Penny cries. ‘There was nothing I could do about it.’

  Robert makes a show of looking mollified, ‘Yeah, okay.’ But, knowing him well, I can tell he will never feel the same about Penny now. She was up there, on that stage covered in sequins, when Danby chopped off my head. In Robert’s heart he’ll always believe that Penny could have done something to prevent the hideous scene that followed.

  Before he can return to his ideas about picking up sticks and leaving town, the phone rings. He answers blandly, expecting a business call, and he’s surprised to hear Effie’s voice on the other end. She’s sounding urgent and excited. She’s also whispering, which makes him frown and call out: ‘What
is it, Effie? What are you on about?’

  ‘She’s alive, Robert! She’s still alive!’

  Robert shakes his head, looking at the receiver as if Effie has lost her mind. The last time she sounded as worked up and fervid as this she was being possessed by the alien bamboo wickerwork god, Goomba. ‘What are you saying?’

  ‘It’s true! She’s visited me here, in my home, just a matter of moments ago!’

  ‘Y-you mean she’s got up off the mortuary slab and just walked home?’

  ‘No, no, that’s not what I mean,’ says Effie impatiently. ‘I mean she’s a spirit. A ghost. And she’s come back to haunt us! She’s communicating with us! She wants us all to know that she’s all right!’

  Robert sighs. ‘But Brenda was always adamant that she never had a soul. Now, I don’t know much about the, um, metaphysics of it all, but…’

  ‘It doesn’t matter! She’s here! I’ve felt her presence!’

  Actually, the way that Effie’s going on is enough to put anyone off and start them backing away very gradually, or put down the phone. It reminds me of when she was a bit religious, a while ago. She sounds that insistent.

  Robert gives in. ‘Well, I guess that’s good news…’

  ‘Look,’ Effie says. ‘We have to get busy. I’m not sure how long we’ve got, but there are things we need to do urgently.’

  ‘Oh yes?’

  He’s humouring her and she lashes out. ‘Yes! Don’t you patronize me, Robert! You’ve got to help me – you and your young friends. If we want Brenda back, then we have to act pretty damn quick.’

  ‘W-want her back? You mean…’

  ‘Of course!’ she bellows down the phone. ‘We can bring her back to life! It’s been done before, hasn’t it? We can make her good as new!’

  There’s a pause as Robert takes this in. He glances at Penny, who has picked up the gist and is looking agog. ‘What do we need to do?’ he asks.

  ‘First we need to get her body back,’ says Effie. ‘Which might not be that easy.’