Chapter 21 JOHN
John
John places another log on the fire and then returns to the comfortable wingback chair by the bay window.
He’s not sure when exactly he started thinking of this chair as ‘his’ chair, but as he settles in and opens his book, he acknowledges that he’s definitely taken ownership of this particular piece of furniture.
It was inevitable, he supposes. Everyone wants to feel like they belong, in some way or another, even disembodied ghostly beings.
He’s just flipped a page when the log on the fire cracks, startling him. At the same time as the crackling fire, there’s a clatter in the kitchen that piques his curiosity, and he sets aside the book to go and investigate.
‘Oh, there you are.’ Mia stamps her feet clean of snow and then unzips the red leather boots she’s wearing. ‘I’ve been looking for you all morning.’
‘Well, it wasn’t much of a search,’ John responds, chuckling. ‘I’ve been down here this whole time. Let’s just hope no one ever actually goes missing. You’d never stand a chance at finding them.’
‘Yes, well, we’ve been very busy with all the festivities.
’ Mia groans as she flexes her toes. ‘These boots are so adorable, but they’re killing my feet.
Also, can I just say that you picked quite the time to return to your quiet, non-meddlesome ways.
My family has been scolding me all morning.
I could have used a good distraction to divert them. ’
‘Do tell,’ John says, pulling out a chair at the rustic table and sitting down.
‘Well, that’s all there is to tell. They disapprove of me and everything I stand for.’
John laughs. ‘I hardly think that can be true.’
Mia takes a seat beside him and crosses one leg over her other knee.
As she kneads her sore feet, she seems to decide to unburden herself.
‘Mum says I’m being horrid to Sam, and she doesn’t understand it and why can’t I just let the past be in the past.’ She digs into the arch of her foot and sighs in relief.
‘And Charlie thinks I never heard Sam out way back when, and that wasn’t fair either.
He knows how hurt I was so I don’t get why he’s throwing it in my face now. ’
‘What about your Aunt Gertie?’
‘You know what? She actually didn’t yell at me this morning.
And she bought me the most thoughtful gift.
A vintage silk scarf.’ Mia straightens up.
‘Speaking of which, I was going to grab my sunglasses when I came down here for my slippers. With all the snow reflecting the sun, I almost ended up blind on the way down here.’ She dashes up the stairs and the floor creaks above John’s head as she walks back and forth.
Then there’s a thundering back down the stairs until Mia sits down again, setting her belongings on the tabletop.
‘I’m going to need to switch to slippers or my feet won’t make it through cooking,’ she explains.
‘These really are completely ridiculous,’ John observes, looking at the garish slippers.
‘I know. That’s why I love them. Tacky as an American hugging the Queen.’
John tilts his head back and laughs, long and loud. He feels lighter today than he’s felt in ages. ‘I didn’t realize how healing it would be to talk about how I treated Alastair. Thanks for listening to me last night.’
‘Of course. I’m not the monster my family seems to think I am, even if I can’t stand Sam.’
A curious statement, given how much she seemed to have thawed towards Sam yesterday.
‘You’re not a monster, Mia,’ John assures her. ‘At least not a terribly awful one.’ He’s teasing her, and it earns him the smallest of smiles. ‘So the present giving and receiving went well?’ he asks. ‘Did you play Santa or did Charlie get assigned to that task this year?’
Mia sighs. ‘Mum had Sam do it.’ She massages her feet again, grimacing all the while.
Momentarily distracted from her foot ministrations, Mia picks up her sunglasses and slides them on to her head like a headband, pulling her hair out of her face. John admires the stylish glasses, and then does a double-take.
‘Wait a minute. Can I see those?’ He gestures to the sunglasses.
‘Sure.’ Mia pulls them off and hands them over.
‘Well, isn’t that fascinating. I used to own a pair just like these,’ John gushes, turning them in his hands. ‘These are Robert La Roche, aren’t they?’
‘Yeah.’ Mia smiles wide. ‘They were one of my best vintage scores. The seller gave me a discount because the owner carved his initials into them. Which to be honest, I considered a selling point. See?’ She takes them back from John and shows him the letters inscribed on the inside of one arm. ‘JHH. Isn’t that awesome?’
John goes very quiet. What are the odds? He looks again at the glasses. Exactly the same style he wore years ago. ‘You know what, Mia? I think those glasses might just be mine.’
Mia is silent, too stunned to say anything at first. After a beat she asks, ‘But how did they end up at the market?’
John runs a finger over the frame while he considers her question.
‘They packed up my things from the cottage a few weeks after I died. Boxed them up and loaded them on a van – I always assumed they shipped everything to my mother over in Birmingham. Maybe she eventually donated them to a charity shop, or sold them on consignment?’
Mia nods vigorously, her mood finally lifting.
‘I bet you’re right! How cool is this?’ Then she startles, and sits up straighter in her chair.
‘I can’t believe I forgot to tell you! I had another idea of how to find out what happened to your mum.
’ She taps her phone and pulls up a photo album.
‘Here, I saved the pictures to my phone.’ Turning the screen, she shows John the picture.
John stares at the image for a long moment.
It’s undeniably his mother. Her face is much more wrinkled, her deep-set eyes cloudier than he remembered, and instead of the sensible, straight bob she had throughout his entire childhood, she now wears her iron grey hair in a close-cropped pixie cut.
He wouldn’t say it flatters her, but it seems appropriate for her age. ‘That’s my mum,’ he says in wonder.
‘Oh, amazing! I was so hopeful.’ Mia swipes her finger across the screen and another picture shows up, this time of his mum in lavender trousers, standing beside a man with a cane in a dated suit.
‘I couldn’t find a Susan Hackett anywhere.
But then I searched up retirement communities in Birmingham.
There are quite a few, and most of them have a website of some sort.
They all do these events for the residents – poker tournaments, jigsaw puzzle competitions, that kind of thing.
Maybe it was just dumb luck, but I came across some pictures of a few weddings at these retirement homes.
And I got to thinking, what if your mum got remarried after you died?
It took some digging, but I combed through the county records and found a Susan Ann Hackett who married a Terence Crawford ten years ago.
When I googled Susan Ann Crawford, I found these pictures.
’ Mia looks up at John. ‘You two have the same eyes.’
‘I can’t believe you managed to find her.’ John looks at the photo again, still in awe. His throat feels suspiciously scratchy. ‘She looks so happy. Thank you, Mia. You have no idea how much this means to me.’
‘It took a bit of digging,’ Mia repeats. ‘And a fair bit of luck. Just like I was lucky when I found your sunglasses at the flea market.’
‘I paid fifty-five pounds for them, back then. They were the height of fashion, you know.’ John’s thrilled to know his mum is taken care of, and he’s still grappling with the reality that Mia owns something that belonged to him when he was alive.
Such a strange turn of events, but then again, it brings him a measure of comfort to think that all of those hours Mia has spent sifting through vintage wares has paid off in such a tangible way.
‘Well, I only paid twenty-nine pounds. But hey, if they’re yours … that’s really cool. Do you think this is why I was able to see you? Because I own something now that literally belonged to you before? Did that somehow create a sort of psychic link between us or something?’
‘Could be. It’s definitely more plausible than some of the other options I’ve been considering.’
Mia leans forward, intrigued. ‘OK, spill.’
John leans back in the chair, still fiddling with the sunglasses.
‘Well, there’s the secret blood relative angle, but that’s a pretty uncomfortable connection.
Let’s hope it’s not that one. Erm, we could have both been born on the same day with the same celestial conditions, kind of a planetary alignment sort of thing.
Oh, and then there’s my personal favourite – I could be simply a complete hallucination.
’ John waggles his eyebrows at Mia, making her giggle.
‘And of course, we can’t forget the possibility that everyone can actually see me, but they’re all just ignoring me.
’ He feels remarkably heroic as he observes how Mia’s mood is improving the longer she spends with him.
Now, if he can just get her talking about whatever happened regarding Sam … but he’ll need to be clever about it.
‘Well, besides Aunt Gertie, of course. You know, I can never tell if she can actually see you or not when you’re in the room.’
‘Neither can I,’ John responds wryly.
‘This is fascinating.’ Mia gives a delighted wriggle. ‘Well, if these sunglasses are actually yours, I want to see you wear them!’
John slides them on his head and lifts his chin, striking a pose. ‘What do you think?’
‘Oh, extremely posh. I can see why you picked them, back in the day. They flatter your face shape.’
Pleased by her compliments, John takes off the glasses and folds them gently. ‘Better not wear them, though. Can you imagine if I forget I’m wearing them, and people see a pair of sunglasses just floating around?’