Chapter 10 John #2
John frowns. ‘I have no idea. One day she was here, and the next she just … wasn’t.’
‘But you’ve never been able to pass over.’
‘No. I have wondered if it had to do with how I died. Maggie fell down the cellar stairs and broke her neck. They were renovating that part of the manor when she disappeared, so maybe the link between her place of death and herself were severed? Of course, that won’t happen to me, because I died outside. ’
Mia looks up from the photo albums. ‘Do tell.’
John shudders. ‘Not much to tell. I was careless and left a garden rake lying out. Right on that stone path that winds around the back of the cottage. Wasn’t watching where I was going, stepped on it, of course. I took the tines right to the back of the head.’
‘Gross.’ Mia grimaces. ‘So, you bled out, then?’
John nods. ‘It was off season, and there weren’t many people here at the manor. Took too long for someone to find me.’
‘That’s horrifying.’
‘Yes, well, it happened. And I’ve been stuck here since then, spending the last thirty years trying to cross over.’
It occurs to John that’s not entirely true.
It’s not like he’s exhausted every option.
At first, there was a bit of novelty to being a ghost. Despite the indigestion, it was rather thrilling to be able to walk through walls.
He’d played around with that for a year or two.
Then he’d decided to read every book in the manor library, and that had taken quite a bit of time.
But since then? He’d mostly been twiddling his thumbs, content to watch the months tick by without doing much about it.
‘Can you leave the grounds?’ Mia asks, peering at another set of Christmas pictures. ‘Go into town, even?’
‘I wish. The first year after the accident, I walked all over the grounds to find my boundaries. I’m fairly limited. I can go to the cottage, and the house obviously. And then about as far as the orchard. No further.’
‘I would have lost my mind.’
John chuckles. ‘Maybe I have. How would you know?’
‘Fair,’ Mia chuckles and then continues perusing the albums. ‘Hey, wait a minute, I think this might be you!’
She spins the album around so John can see it. There’s a group of people clustered by a Christmas tree, which is located in front of the bay window. But this is not a Martin Robinson tree. It’s simply done up, with an angel tree topper and plenty of tinsel.
‘Ah. This is all the staff at Willowby Manor the Christmas before I died.’
Mia studies the picture. ‘You were a sharp-looking man, John. Quite the catch. Actually, everyone in this group is good-looking. Especially that redhead in the corner with the big shoulders. I’ve always loved a man with great shoulders.
Although Sam has gorgeous thighs and I never minded those either …
’ Her voice trails off, seemingly lost in thought.
John nods. ‘Lot of power in strong thighs. But I personally preferred the broad-shouldered type.’
‘So the redhead worked here too?’
John swallows hard and shakes his head. ‘No. That’s Alastair McGregor.’
‘Such a dashing name,’ Mia observes. ‘Who was he?’
‘A friend,’ John says slowly. ‘We grew very close that year.’ He sighs. ‘I’m not sure how to talk about this. Alastair was a great guy. Funny. Charming. He had such a unique perspective on the world. I used to listen to him talk for hours.’
Mia sobers, dropping all pretence of teasing. ‘This Alastair was important to you.’
John sighs. Mia is latching on like a dog with a bone, and he’s not certain he’s ready to get into all the messy details of his last few months alive. ‘He was, at a certain point in my life. But by the time I died, we hadn’t spoken in months.’
‘Hmm.’ Mia taps the photograph with a finger. ‘Do you think this Alastair has something to do with why you ended up stuck in the in-between?’
It’s not like this hasn’t occurred to John over the years.
After all, he’s had a lot of time to think.
But even now, after so much time, he’s not ready to delve into that.
‘Well, Mia, you’re the first living person to be able to see me in thirty years, so, I would imagine that being stuck here has something to do with you. ’
‘I’d hate to think that you’ve been stuck here all this time just waiting for me.’ Mia shakes her head. ‘No … there’s something more here.’
Sadness washes over him and he huffs out another sigh. ‘I think I’m done reminiscing, Mia. I’m going to the cottage for a bit. I need some peace and quiet. I’m not used to all this excitement and energy.’
Mia’s lips work from side to side as she looks at him. Then she raises her eyebrows and shrugs. ‘OK. See you later then.’ Setting aside the photo albums, she uncovers the presents and starts measuring out wrapping paper.
John lets himself out of the room, still feeling troubled as he walks along the corridor.
When he was alive, he hadn’t really felt the need to chase after his dreams, or anything like that, content with a simple, safe life.
Alastair had been the exact opposite. It had both challenged and scared John and, ultimately, it’s what had driven them apart.
He stops briefly by Sam’s room, peering through the cracked door.
Inside, Sam is painstakingly wrapping up a small box.
Compared to the hastily wrapped others on the bed, this present is a cut above.
John lets himself in and moves closer so he can see who Sam addresses the gift to.
Sam pulls out his pen and – to John’s surprise – marks the box for Mia. When he turns to place the wrapped gift on the desk, John deftly replaces Sam’s pen for one of his own dried-up ones, and saunters back out of the room.
It’s curious that Sam has a gift for Mia, John thinks. Could he unwrap it later and see what Sam’s gift is? He debates the feasibility of this as he heads downstairs.
On his way to the back door, John passes through the kitchen and scoops up a few of the biscuits Aunt Gertie has put out. He takes a hearty bite and chokes slightly as the biscuit crumbles in his mouth.
Ugh. Dry as always.