Tamsyn Murray-Afterlife 01 My So-Called Afterlife (3 page)

Jeremy got to his feet. ‘You’re in a bad mood. Why don’t we concentrate on finding you something to wear? It’s about time you had a change of scene.’

I don’t know if you’ve ever tried to accessorise with only the contents of a public lavatory to choose from, but let me tell you, it’s not blimmin’ easy. We are not talking Claire’s
Accessories here. Call me picky, but I’m not convinced lavvy-chic is ever going to catch on.

‘Are you sure about this?’ I cast a dubious glance around the cleaner’s cupboard. The gigantic spider in the corner fixed me with an evil stare from his industrial-strength lair. Sadly, death hadn’t cured me of my knee-wobbling terror of the eight-legged monsters, and he kept me awake on numerous occasions by creeping around the shelves. I think he enjoyed it. Whoever said spiders were more scared of us than we were of them couldn’t have met the Beast of the Bog.

‘There must be something in there you can use. Isn’t there an overall or something?’

I stuck my head out and adopted a petulant expression. ‘It’s no good. I haven’t a thing to wear.’

Jeremy raised a disbelieving eyebrow. ‘What, nothing at all?’

‘
Nada.
’ I studied the cupboard interior again. ‘Except for the most tragic pair of lime-green jogging bottoms I’ve ever seen, and there’s more chance of my mum’s hairdresser declaring he’s straight than there is of me being seen dead in those babies.’

He tapped on the door, making me jump. I hadn’t heard him approach.

‘No one can see you except me, and I promise not to laugh. Close your eyes and pretend they’re Prada.’

I heaved an unhappy sigh and scowled down at the jogging bottoms. Someone, somewhere, was going to pay for this.

‘All right, Mr Style Guru. How, exactly, do you suggest I get them on?’

Unfortunately for me, it was easier than I thought. My fingers floated through the material just as I’d expected, but when I pulled, the trousers came with them. I grimaced at them for a moment, unsure whether to be pleased or disgusted, before poking an experimental foot through one leg hole. The other followed. Disgust won. By some extraordinary design fault, the trousers were too tight around the knee and ballooned to mammoth proportions around the waist.

I had to hand it to Jeremy. Not a peep escaped him when I finally edged out of the cupboard. The horrified silence said it all.

‘I’m stuck here for eternity.’ I waved a miserable hand at my frog legs. ‘I cannot go out in these. My bum looks the size of a small planet.’

‘They’re not that bad.’ Jeremy sounded as convincing as a lap-dancer auditioning for the part of the Virgin Mary. ‘And it’s not as though anyone but me can see them.’

My nose wrinkled in disgust. ‘They stink of bleach.’

Jeremy tilted his head sideways. ‘Look on the bright side. They might just be your ticket out of here.’ He extended an arm to me, like I was a Victorian lady. ‘Shall we?’

I swallowed. Now that it came down to it, I was nervous. The toilets might not be the Ritz, but they were relatively quiet and hardly anyone walked through me. Forgetting for
a moment the fact that I resembled an upside-down pear, how was I going to cope with the crowds of gormless tourists who hung around Carnaby Street at all hours of the day and night?

‘Come on, Kermit.’ Jeremy jerked his head towards the stairs. ‘How bad can it be?’

Think of the worst, most unpleasant cross-country run you’ve ever done. Your lungs are burning, you’re certain you’re going to throw up and there’s no end in sight. Imagine you’re doing this in a gale force wind and your ears are about to pop horribly. Hold on to that thought and you might have some idea of how it feels when someone walks through you. Multiply it by around ten and you’ll know how I felt on my way through Leicester Square.

‘I hate you.’ I backed away from the kerb and shot Jeremy a weakly venomous glare. ‘I’m going to follow you home and haunt you.’

Not wanting to come across as a raving lunatic by apparently talking to himself in front of several hundred people, Jeremy responded with a pointed glance at my hated leg-wear.

‘You don’t think I can be scary dressed like this? How about if I sang to you? Twenty-four seven.’ I pitched my voice as high as it would go. ‘
Oooohhhh baaaby, you’re the besssst . . .
’

Jeremy’s eyes took on a pinched look and he hastily interrupted my tuneless wailing. ‘I think that’s enough exercise for one evening.’

The red-faced man on his left turned mournfully towards him. ‘Speak for yourself, mate. The doctor says I need to shift another ten pounds.’

‘Ten?’ I scoffed as we dodged down the less crowded side streets back to Carnaby Street. ‘Twenty, more like it.’

Jeremy didn’t speak again until we reached the entrance to my toilet.

‘Are you really going to torture me with non-stop boy band lyrics?’

I shuffled my feet. The journey back hadn’t been so bad, once I’d worked out a shuffle-hop system to dodge people. Maybe I was getting used to being invisible.

‘It depends on whether you keep on with the muppet jokes.’

‘If I could find out more about the Church of the Dearly Departed, would you like to go along one evening? I could organise a night off work.’

My eyes narrowed in thought. If tonight was anything to go by, getting around would become easier with time, and I had to admit I was curious. What did spiritualists get up to, anyway? A year ago, I’d have laughed at the idea of people talking to ghosts. I wasn’t laughing at all now.

‘Yeah, all right. I’m up for it if you are.’

He nodded, looking pleased. ‘Well done tonight. I know it wasn’t easy.’

I stood at the top of the stairs after he’d gone, watching the living go about the business of enjoying themselves in the
cool night air. Six months ago I was one of them, laughing and joking with my mates, unaware that I’d soon be nothing more than a spectator. Part of me wanted to try and warn them to seize the moment, tell their friends and family they loved them before it was too late. Instead, I swallowed my sudden wave of misery and trudged down the stairs to my cupboard. It wasn’t much consolation, but at least I could part company with the puke-coloured pants.

The Church of the Dearly Departed was in Kensal Green, which meant a trip on the dreaded Underground. Although the prospect made me feel sick, the reality wasn’t so bad. I even got a seat, which had almost never happened when I was alive, and no one sat on me. Thanks to Jeremy’s brainwave of threading my neck chain through an old rubber plug from a stock I found in the cupboard, at least I no longer looked like a bag lady’s less fashionable sister. I’d considered hiding it in my pocket but the nasty bulge it made in my super skinny jeans cured me of that idea. Besides, it felt more secure around my neck and became part of me, like a sort of cheapo necklace. It made going out in public a lot more bearable, for me at any rate. Jeremy, on the other hand, had to put up with my stream of comments about our
fellow passengers, none of which he was able to answer in the busy carriage. He seemed to be bearing up well.

‘I mean, seriously, no one wears Converse with shorts. They make your feet look massive and those black socks are a definite fashion no-no —’

‘For the love of God, will you shut up!’ Reaching the end of his patience, Jeremy bellowed at me across the carriage. Meekly, I did as I was told and watched as, red-faced and fuming, he subsided into his seat. A lot of passengers changed carriage at the next station.

‘What time does it start?’ I asked, once we were free of the crowds and making our way along the street.

‘Sen-hurty.’ Ever conscious of drawing attention to himself, Jeremy hissed the words from the corner of his mouth. I totally understood his concern. It wasn’t the kind of neighbourhood you wanted to get noticed in.

‘Are we nearly there yet? I’m not used to all this walking.’

His response was a single grunt.

‘Do you think we should have got a taxi or something? I’m really not up for – whoa!’

Rounding the corner, we came to an abrupt halt. Directly across the road stood a modern red-brick building, with an enormous sign reading
Church of the Dearly Departed
. Queuing patiently outside was the biggest congregation I’d ever seen.

‘It must be some service,’ I breathed. ‘Last time I saw a crowd like this the Ra Ra Ras were rocking Islington Academy.’

I caught Jeremy giving me a strange sideways glance, but I was already moving forward, intrigued about the big attraction. ‘Come on, let’s join the line.’

‘Or we could go straight in?’

I tutted. ‘How rude would that be? Didn’t your mum teach you any manners?’

Frowning, Jeremy said, ‘Rude to who? We’ll miss the start if we don’t get in there now.’

My gaze strayed to the mass of people in front of me. ‘They won’t start with half their congregation on the pavement.’

‘What are you talking about?’ he shook his head, puzzled. ‘Everyone’s gone in apart from us.’

I looked hard at him. ‘Jeremy, how many people can you see?’

He stared back. ‘Is this a trick question?’

‘Tell me you can see the girl in the blue dress over there, and the old man with the walking stick?’

Confused, he shook his head. ‘There’s only you and me.’

I’d heard enough. ‘Excuse me.’ I stepped forward and spoke to a slender, ebony-skinned girl of around my age. ‘Are you here for the spiritualist service?’

She looked up from her phone and rolled her eyes. ‘Duh. Why else would I be here? No one else is going to pay me any attention.’

You didn’t have to be Einstein to work out that something odd was going on. If I looked hard enough, I could make out the faintest blue tinge around some of the people.
I’d been dead a few months but, as far as I remembered, the living didn’t glow. The penny dropped.

I turned to Jeremy excitedly. ‘There are other ghosts here. I guess you can only see me.’

His eyes darted sideways. ‘Why can’t I see them?’

‘Maybe you’re not psychic enough?’

He shifted uneasily. ‘And they’re here, right now?’

Nodding, I took a good look around for myself. Now that I knew what was going on, some of the things which had been jumping up and down begging to be noticed fell into place. For a start, the mix of people was too weird for words. There were young, old, and everything in between, including – hurrah – teens. From what I could tell, a range of nationalities seemed to be represented, too. One man was carrying a kettle, another had a pair of garden shears. My gaze rested on a grown man dressed up as a baby. I didn’t want to know what that was about.

‘I think I’d better go in first. We don’t want you standing on anyone’s toes.’

Still glancing from side to side, Jeremy agreed and followed my lead as I joined the throng. I had no idea what was going to happen in there, but whatever it was, it certainly pulled in the punters.

Inside, an expectant hush descended over the waiting mixture of the living and the dead. We squeezed in at the back, where it was standing room only with more people still to come in. I savoured the new sensation of brushing up
against the other ghosts, and smiled apologetically as I accidentally nudged the chubby, heavily made-up Emo girl beside me. She didn’t smile back. Instead, she blew an enormous bubble. It popped loudly.

‘Dearly beloved.’ A strong voice echoed through the buzzing air as a white-robed minister climbed into the pulpit and spread his arms. ‘Dearly departed. Welcome, one and all!’

The answering calls were deafening. For some of my fellow ghosts, it was clear that the relief of being heard was too much to bear. A woman in front of me broke down in tears.

‘Can you hear them?’ I whispered to Jeremy.

He shrugged. ‘A few voices. Any chance of a seat? There are loads of empty pews.’

Scanning the packed benches, I replied with a sharp shake of my head. ‘You can’t plonk yourself on the lap of someone you’ve never met. Honestly, I worry about you sometimes.’

‘Would it hurt?’

‘Not you, unless I find a way to smack you around the ear, but it wouldn’t be a picnic for the ghost.’

The minister went on. ‘Do we have any amongst us who seeks answer this evening?’

Once again, the roar of voices swelled as hundreds clamoured to be noticed. I craned my neck to see what was going on at the front.

‘What’s happening?’ I hissed.

Emo girl threw me a shark-eyed look through her
straggly, jet-black fringe. ‘Are you going to talk all the way through? It’s no skin off my nose, but there are other people trying to listen.’

Feeling the burn of embarrassment rising up my cheeks, I waved my hands in apology. ‘Sorry. It’s my first time here. I haven’t really got the hang of it yet.’

Seemingly satisfied, she jerked her head towards Jeremy. ‘Dunno why you’d bother. It looks like you’ve got your own psychic anyway.’

‘Haven’t you?’ It crossed my mind that I might be very lucky to have someone who could see me.

‘Shhh!’ An elderly woman dressed in a hideous floral tent glared at us ferociously.

Emo girl considered me for a moment, then pointed outside. I leaned across to Jeremy. ‘I’m going to find out what’s going on. Stay here and do not sit on anyone.’

We threaded our way through the congregation and outside into the falling dusk. I was amazed to see more ghosts had arrived.

‘It’s popular here.’

The girl shrugged. ‘Not everyone’s as lucky as you. Word about the Dearly D gets around. This is the only way some of us can get a message through to the living.’

She sounded as though she spoke from bitter experience.

‘Is that why you’re here? My name’s Lucy, by the way.’

‘I’m Hep. And no, I haven’t got anything earth-shattering to say to the world. I’m just here for the vibe.’

I nodded, wondering what to say next. I was torn
between curiosity about the church and wanting to know about my new friend. She was the first ghost I’d really talked to. Were there rules to be observed? Maybe it was rude to ask her how she’d died.

‘So. How did you go?’ she said.

Oh. Obviously not. I took a deep breath and tried to sound casual. ‘Murdered. You?’