Chapter 12 John
John
It’s been nice, having the house full all week.
As John trails inside behind Mia, Sam and Charlie, he soaks up the sounds of laughter and conversation.
Mia hops around on one foot, trying to unzip her snow-soaked boot, and Charlie keeps nudging her just enough to keep her off balance while howling with laughter.
Sam, after removing his boots and carefully hanging up all of his outerwear, takes pity on Mia and steadies her with one hand under her elbow.
Which, surprisingly, Mia allows him to do.
She also doesn’t tease Sam when she notices his mismatched socks, which John had been counting on.
‘Are those rockstar avocadoes?’ she asks innocently.
‘Ah, yeah.’ It’s hard to tell if Sam is blushing or if his cheeks are still red from their time outdoors. ‘Half my socks have gone missing, unfortunately. And these glowing bookworm ones are my favourite.’
Mia flashes him a look that, for once, isn’t full of venom. Interesting. It seems that this cold war might be coming to an end, and John has a theory in the back of his mind that he’s quickly becoming sure of.
‘Please tell me that food is ready,’ Charlie moans as he dashes towards the kitchen.
John steps back quickly to avoid Charlie barrelling straight through him.
Walking through walls is unpleasant enough.
Having a whole person step through his incorporeal body is the worst kind of sensation.
John likens it to going on one too many carnival rides in a row.
The world starts spinning in a very unpleasant way.
Plus, he’s surmised that it must be unpleasant for the other person as well.
They always stop and shudder, and make a comment about ‘someone walking over my grave’.
Mia and Sam follow Charlie, walking at a more normal pace.
‘Oh, hey, Mum,’ Mia calls as she walks to the fridge. Penny and Martin enter the kitchen, both dressed up. Mia removes a rich brown glop of dough wrapped in clingfilm. ‘Are you guys heading out soon?’
‘We’re on our way right now, dear. The Fletchers have asked us to lunch at The Hairy Dog.’
‘Shame.’ Martin shakes his head. ‘Because what you whipped up this morning smells incredible. Much more appetizing than hairy dog.’ He winks at Mia, and she giggles in response.
Charlie is pulling the heavy cast-iron pot out on to the stovetop. Using an oven mitt, he lifts off the lid, then audibly groans. ‘Oh my God, Mia. I don’t know if you’ve outdone yourself, or if I’m just that hungry. I need a fork. Stat.’
‘Don’t you dare stick a utensil in there like a Neanderthal,’ Mia chides. ‘Grab some plates, and we can all sit down. I’ll serve us up.’
Charlie makes a sound of protest, but Sam crosses to the cabinets and pulls out a stack of plates. John sniffs the air – the chicken is fragrant and the root vegetables have cooked down into a delightful concoction that he wishes he could taste.
‘I don’t suppose we have time to share a few bites,’ Martin asks, looking at the chicken longingly.
Penny checks her watch. It’s the silver one that Martin gave her a few Christmases ago. ‘We really can’t, Martin. You know how Earl gets about tardiness.’
Martin sighs the anthem of the long-suffering, then looks straight at Charlie and Sam, his glare perfectly menacing. ‘I’m having some of the leftovers this afternoon. If you two chuckleheads polish it all off, you’re sleeping in the snow tonight.’
Mia giggles again and pats her father on the arm. ‘Don’t worry, Dad. I’ll make sure they save you a plate.’
‘Fine, we’ll leave him some. Can we eat now?’ Charlie calls out plaintively. ‘I’m going to pass out from hunger.’
Mia rolls her eyes, and Sam quips, ‘Good news, folks. There’ll be more for us.’
‘Come on, Martin. We simply cannot be late!’ Penny kisses Mia and Charlie on the cheek and tugs Martin towards the door.
John leans back against the wall beside the breakfast nook and settles in, crossing his arms over his chest and his legs at the ankles.
As he watches the Robinsons together, a pang of nostalgia hits him.
This is what happens when you die in your thirties.
He’d never spent much time thinking about the future when he was alive, too concerned with the now.
Even once Alastair had come on the scene.
But now, seeing Mia and Charlie banter, and Penny cajole Martin out of the door, he can admit to himself that he would have liked to grow old.
Have a family. Enjoy a home filling up with his children and their significant others, welcoming them home at Christmastime, and catching up on all the happenings in everyone’s lives.
Maybe even bouncing a grandchild or two on his knees.
He knows he’ll never be able to find that happy ending for himself, but that doesn’t mean he can’t help Mia find hers.
Perhaps that’s why he has had to stick around all these years.
Perhaps, left to her own devices, Mia would end up sad and alone like John.
But he can help ensure that doesn’t happen to her, and he knows exactly where to start.
John had already had his suspicions, but after Sam’s heroics at the end of the snowball fight and Mia’s subsequent lack of animosity towards him, the attraction between the two of them is now obvious.
John is certain that it won’t take too much effort to push Sam and Mia together.
All they need is a subtle nudge in the right direction.
The three young adults are absorbed in their meal, too hungry to make much conversation.
Sam scarfs down his first helping, and true to his word, scoops up a hearty portion on to a plate that he carefully places on the counter.
Then he refills his own dish and makes short work of finishing that helping as well.
‘That snowball fight was really something, wasn’t it?’ Charlie exhales, finally satiated. ‘Reminded me of the battles we used to have here as kids. Do you remember, Mia?’
Mia has moved to the counter, where she’s rolling out the dough she made earlier. ‘I do. We had those toy machine guns – who gave those to us?’
‘It had to be Grandpa Morris. Any excuse for him to tell us his war stories. And then we’d play out our own war with Ben and Stanley,’ Charlie reminisces.
‘Each team had their own bases, and we’d run all over the gardens, hiding behind trees and pillars …
man, that was so much fun.’ Charlie says this to Sam, who’s gathering up the dishes and walking them over to the sink.
‘Sounds like it.’
‘They weren’t very good at it, if I remember correctly.’ Mia arranges the biscuit cutters across the dough and presses them all down. ‘And little Stanley was a bit of a cry-baby.’
‘A bit!’ Charlie laughs. ‘That’s something of an understatement. Remember when he took one of your dolls from your room and tried to hang her from the rafters in the chicken coop? You were so mad.’
‘Beth was my favourite dolly!’ Mia objects.
‘I don’t remember all the details. I just remember you were spitting mad, and after rescuing Beth, you grabbed Stanley by the ear and dragged him all the way down to the road.
You kept threatening to tie him up and leave him there with a sign that said – wait, let me get this right – “Free boy to a good home. Or a bad one.”’
Sam’s jaw drops and he lets out a startled laugh. ‘Wow, he must have been terrified.’
Charlie snickers before continuing the story. ‘Stanley was so upset and when you finally let him go he ran to Uncle Fred and cried for over an hour.’
Mia shakes her head as she carefully transfers the biscuits to the baking trays. ‘Mum grounded me for a week, and Dad made me miss dinner that night. But I still think Stanley got off easy. He deserved worse for what he did.’
‘Something you should know about Mia,’ Charlie announces to whoever might be listening. ‘She can really hold a grudge.’
Sam says nothing and simply continues carrying dishes to the sink, but John has the distinct impression that he winced.
‘Yeah, well, I might hold a grudge, but at least I didn’t pee so often in the garden that I killed Mum’s roses.’
Charlie lets out an offended gasp. ‘You knew?’
‘Of course I knew,’ Mia scoffs. ‘We only had the one bathroom up here, remember? I would have peed outside too if I could have got away with it.’
‘You can’t tell any of these stories once Molly gets here,’ Charlie begs. ‘I’ve just about convinced her I’m not a yob like her past boyfriends.’
‘So, I shouldn’t mention how you refused to take a shower for two weeks when you were thirteen because you insisted you didn’t stink? The headmaster had to call Mum because the teachers were complaining.’
‘Ugh. That’s disgusting, Charlie,’ Sam chimes in. ‘Mia, feel free to tap me in if you need any more embarrassing stories about him – I’ve got a few winners.’
Mia and Sam swap looks, and Mia laughs under her breath.
‘Those are exactly the kinds of stories you shouldn’t share, Mia.
’ Charlie looks at her beseechingly. Then his gaze turns mischievous.
‘Of course, I could talk about that time when you were in secondary school and you forgot your homework, so you poured ketchup all over your trousers and pretended you’d got your period so Dad would come pick you up. ’
‘You wouldn’t dare,’ Mia threatens.
‘Try me,’ Charlie grins.
The siblings continue to reminisce while Mia bakes up the biscuits.
Sam keeps himself busy by washing the dishes and sweeping the floor.
Eventually, he takes up a spot on the stool opposite Mia and pulls out the notebook from the pocket of his cardigan.
He jots down a few words, and when he sets the pen on the counter, John creeps forward.
When he’s confident no one is paying attention, he swaps the fine line Sharpie for one in his own pocket.