Infinite Space
They watched Wilbur standing on the driveway. Well, the Ghost was watching Wilbur on the driveway as he waved goodbye to Nora. His dreaming consort, on the other hand, was looking saucer-eyed over at Josh on the tractor-mower in the distance.
‘Bloody hell, this place is massive.’
‘It is. The whole garden is five acres. That includes the lawn, the drive, the woodland, the tennis court …’
‘Tennis court? But you had no one to play tennis with.’
‘I know. Exactly.’
‘And you live here? What about London?’
‘I’d had enough of London.’
‘“When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life.”’
‘Don’t Samuel Johnson me, Dreamer,’ he said, as cross as an old dead man tends to be with his younger self.
‘When a man is tired of London, he is tired of London. London wasn’t the answer for us either.
It’s never about the place. It’s about the reason that drives you to the place.
My reason for London was work and ambition.
Both of which had become a drug to soothe the pain …
Then, after Maggie left me, London itself had become a place of pain, so I ran away again. ’
The unseen watchers now turned their attention to Nora as she opened the door to her brother’s Vauxhall Corsa, parked on the gravel driveway at the rear of the large manor house. They saw Joe Seed and his partner Ewan in the car, looking in wonder at the vast garden.
The old living Wilbur had, of course, walked out of the house to see her off. And gave a little wave to Joe in the driver’s seat. ‘Have a good time tonight in Cambridge.’
Nora smiled in the sunshine. ‘I will. And thanks for the conversation. Remember what I said, don’t try and rush it when you play. Take your time … Slow and steady. You’ll get there in the end.’
‘Yes,’ said Wilbur. ‘I suppose I will.’
Slow and steady, thought the Ghost. If only he had lived like that.
If only he had been able to live with the understanding death had given him.
He would now give eternity just for a year, a month, a day alive with this knowledge.
Stopping that perpetual rush. Reaching out to those he loved.
Making amends. Not scared of falling into the nettles of emotion.
He was, he supposed, the intervention. He’d helped show the Dreamer his possible path and now he could wake up and change. He’d been a book to leave on the shelf. And that other Wilbur – the living one – could still prove to be as wise as Nora Seed.
‘It was lovely talking to you today. It meant a lot.’
‘Likewise,’ said Wilbur. ‘Likewise …’ He knew he was repeating himself, but couldn’t seem to help it.
‘Thanks for not thinking I was insane.’
‘Likewise!’
The Ghost pointed at him. The mist of memory had evaporated. He could remember it all now. ‘I was starting to feel really ill. Can you see it?’
‘Not really. We’re a good bluffer.’
‘See you next Saturday,’ Nora was saying, clearly thinking nothing was wrong.
‘Yes. See you then.’
Nora climbed into the cramped back seat, looking remarkably happy.
‘She seems like a lovely woman,’ said the Dreamer.
The Ghost sighed in agreement. ‘She understands herself. At forty-two years of age. Whereas at double that, and with the help of my own death, I am still only just getting there.’
They watched as Wilbur got the remote control from his pocket and clicked the gates open. After the car drove away, he walked the short distance back to the house and they followed. He stopped once, and turned towards them.
‘Does he see us?’
‘No. Senses, maybe. But not sees.’ And then he remembered. ‘Not yet.’