LITMIR.BIZ

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No sign that she had any clue I was there. Her saucer-like eyes, the same beautiful pale green as her mother’s, were wide open but staring blankly at the ceiling. Letting out a frustrated sigh, I stood up and started pacing around the room. What could I do to get through to her? If the dog could sense me, surely there was a chance that Ella could too, no matter what Lizzie had told me. What about all the claims of ghost sightings over the years? There had to be something in it. And didn’t they say that children were more open to that kind of thing than adults?

      Ironically, before I died I’d been a complete non-believer when it came to the supernatural. As a journalist, I’d built a wall of scepticism around myself that only hard facts could penetrate. I remembered laughing with colleagues about people who’d phoned in with stories of hauntings, dubbing them ‘crackpots’. Now here I was with a whole different perspective.

      Other than the little I’d gleaned from Lizzie, my only knowledge of what it meant to be a ghost – sorry, a spirit – was based on fiction. But what I was experiencing, which I’d only started to analyse once the initial shock of being dead had eased, wasn’t anything like the books I’d read or films I’d seen. Try as I might, I still wasn’t able to do a Patrick Swayze and pass through solid objects. I could walk about and sit or lie down, but that was pretty much it. Taking care not to get trapped behind closed doors had already become second nature. My sense of touch had vanished. I was as numb as if I’d been anaesthetized. It was like I had no mass and was enveloped in a thick bubble that kept me apart from the world around me. And yet, conversely, when I wasn’t trying to interact with that world, I still felt as real and solid as I had before my death.

      Then there was the whole thing about not being able to touch people. I’d tried it several times now; on each occasion I’d been repelled with the same violent force, which didn’t hurt me but knocked me for six and always went completely unnoticed by the person involved. Smell and taste had abandoned me too, along with the need or desire for food or drink. My sight and hearing were all I had left. And yet that hadn’t been the case when I’d met Lizzie. I could definitely recall feeling her tap me on the shoulder and that cool handshake of hers in contrast to the sunny weather. What does that matter? I thought. She’s not here any more. I sent her away.

      So how could I break through to my daughter? I couldn’t get the lights to flicker; I couldn’t move inanimate objects or make my presence known at all. ‘Come on, Ella,’ I said. ‘Give me something. Give me some sign that you can sense me. You must be able to. I’m right here, darling.’

      Without warning, she got out of bed, forcing me to dive out of her way. She knelt where I’d been a moment earlier. I wondered what she was doing until she started talking in a quiet voice. ‘God? Are you there? My name’s Ella. The vicar at school says we can talk to you like this if we’re sad. Is my daddy with you? Nana says he is. She says he’s in Heaven. I really miss him, you see. I was thinking that maybe you could let him come back soon. He said he’d get me an ice cream. Nana and Grandad are looking after me, but I’d still really like him to come home. I hate feeling sad all the time. Amen.’

      Her words were like a needle pushing through my soul. They spurred me on to talk to her some more, desperate for that breakthrough I craved, but whatever I said and however I said it, it made no difference. She still couldn’t hear me. All the same, I stayed at her bedside and whispered tales of gruffaloes, captured princesses, a dancing dog, and a cat called Mog: stories committed to memory after countless nights of reading them to her. I carried on long after she fell asleep, hoping beyond hope that some part of her might hear me and feel comforted.

      ‘Goodnight, my beautiful girl,’ I said eventually, my repertoire complete. I leaned over the bed, where she lay in a deep sleep, and blew a kiss goodnight as close as I dared to the soft skin of her forehead.

      ‘Night night, Daddy,’ she muttered.

       CHAPTER 3

       ONE DAY DEAD

      I couldn’t believe it. She’d replied. I’d said ‘goodnight’ and she’d heard my voice; she’d said ‘night night’ back to me. My instinct was to shout and scream, hoping she’d wake up and see me. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Part of me was afraid it wouldn’t work, but mainly I didn’t want to interrupt her sleep. She looked so peaceful and I knew how much she needed her rest. Be patient, I told myself. Now’s not the right time, but it will come.

      I was buzzing. I felt hope. If I could get through to her when she was asleep, then surely there was a chance to do the same when she was awake.

      I decided it was time to try to contact Lizzie. She’d given me the impression that it would be impossible for Ella to see or hear me, but now, after what I’d just witnessed, I was sure she was wrong. I needed to get some proper answers.

      I walked down the stairs, tiptoeing past the closed door of the kitchen, where Sam was sleeping, to enter the lounge. The landing light barely stretched this far, so the room was shrouded in darkness. I knew my way around, though, and manoeuvred myself into my favourite leather recliner, remembering how comfy it used to feel. Now it didn’t feel like anything. Comfort and discomfort were indistinguishable in my current state. And I could no more push the seat back into the reclined position than I could turn on the TV or pick up the paperback I’d left on the coffee table a couple of nights ago, blissfully unaware that I’d die before finishing it.

      ‘Hello?’ I said. ‘Are you there, Lizzie? Can you hear me? I need a word.’

      ‘William,’ a voice replied from across the dark room. ‘I thought you’d never call.’

      There was a clicking sound and all the lights turned on. Lizzie was perched on the couch, looking exactly the same as when we’d last met: skirt suit, mac, ponytail.

      She smiled. ‘Hello, stranger. Like the dark, do you?’

      ‘Not especially, but I don’t seem to be able to do simple things like switching on a light any more. Unlike you. How does that work? Is it something I can learn or am I stuck like this? I kind of assumed I’d be less … useless.’

      ‘You should never assume anything. Assume makes an ass of you and me. You’ve heard that saying, right?’

      I waited for her to continue – to answer some of my questions – yet nothing else came. I bore the silence for as long as I could, throwing her my most pathetic, helpless look in a desperate bid to penetrate her defences. But it was futile: she just stared right back at me.

      ‘Come on,’ I wailed. ‘Give me something. At least tell me why I get hurled against the nearest hard surface whenever I get too close to someone. What’s that all about?’

      Lizzie grimaced. ‘Yes. That can be unpleasant. It’s best avoided. There’s nothing you can do, I’m afraid. You simply can’t share the same space as a living person.’

      ‘Great. Anything else?’

      She shook her head. ‘Your stay here as a spirit is supposed to be temporary. Of course if you agree to come with me – to move on – you’ll get all the answers you need. But remember, the clock’s ticking on that option.’

      ‘How long?’

      ‘That’s not yet been decided. I’ll let you know as soon as I hear. Do I sense a change of heart? You must be getting lonely on your own.’

      ‘I’m not on my own. I’m with Ella and my parents.’

      ‘They can’t see you.’

      ‘That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about.’

      ‘Oh?’

      I shifted forward in my chair. ‘I’ve had a breakthrough.’

      Lizzie raised an eyebrow. ‘How so?’

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