Conversation
A woman, not young but still lithe, with glossy dark hair swept back, and a plain face distinguished only by enormous green eyes, drifted along the corridor of a childrens rehabilitation centre. Her shift was nearly over, and soon shed be heading home to her husband.
With the children gathered in the lounge, distracted by some film shown by a young supervisor, she wandered through the bedrooms, checking for broken furniture and the messes children left behind. These children, new to the centre, were rarely careful with propertyneither theirs nor the centres.
The silence was suddenly broken by the clear, piping voice of seven-year-old Lucy, tumbling down the corridor:
Miss Harriet, Miss Harriet, big sister Chloes been rummaging in your desk! Lucy gasped, words tripping over themselves. She snapped a bit off the paper-cutting knife and took it to the girls loo.
Harriet, not waiting for the girl to finish, hurried her step, almost running. She shoved open the lavatory doornobody. Relieved, she exhaled. But from behind the next door, in the shower room, came a faint rustle. The shower had been left barely ajar, though usually locked. She pushed it open and saw a strange sight: a tall, beautiful girl holding a small, sharp blade, staring at her own reflection. Behind her stood a phantom, a mans shade, gripping the girl’s wrist, the blade hovering over her left hand.
Talk to her, you know you hear me and see me! said the ghost.
Harriet smacked Chloes hand; the little blade clattered nastily against the white basin, then skittered down the drain.
What is this? Harriet demanded. What could drive you to destroy yourself?
I just cant bear living beside that traitor! Chloe spat.
My dear, you wont leave life with thisjust earn scars for life. Theyll never let you into a good job, or marry. Your fiancés parents will see the marks and say No madwomen in the family. Now, who is the traitor?
Who else? Chloe cried. My mother!
Whom did she betray?
My dad. She betrayed dad! Chloes voice wavered.
Harriet already knew Chloe’s father was gone, but she pressed on, gently:
He passed, a year and four months ago, and already she forgets him. Promised to remember, lied about it.
What happened to your father? Harriet asked.
He was ill for agescancer.
Who cared for him?
Who else but Mum? Shes his wife.
Did she send him off to a hospice, or hospital?
No way. Hes family. Mum said soshe worked from home that last year, wouldnt leave him alone.
How did he behave? Was he easy, quiet?
Chloes brow crumpled. Memories flickeredangry words, flying dinner plates. The shadow behind her frowned as well.
It was all sortsnot always nice. Sometimes food went flying, hed snap at Mum and me, but he was hurting. Really, he was kind. Men just dont cope with pain.
Mum said shed never forget him Chloes voice trailed.
Why do you think shes forgotten?
At first, she swapped the mourning photo. It was rubbish, anyway. The new one? He looks healthy, smiling. She said she wanted to remember him happy. Then she bought tickets for a symphonic ensemblelike before. I love classical, even if its old-fashioned. But you think going to a concert is betrayal?
You shouldve seen her, fussing over new clothes and fancy hairtrying to look young. But shes oldthirty-eight! Chloe snapped.
The ghost watching bowed his head:
Oh, my daughter.
Chloe, every woman wants to look lovely, whatever her age, Harriet said.
Exactly. Mum said that. I thought shed only spruce up for the concert, but soon she wore new things at work, kept changing her hair.
Whats wrong with looking good? Hows that connected to remembering your dad or betrayal?
She started getting complimentsfrom Uncle George next door: Irene, you look wonderful! At work: Such a young woman with such a grown-up daughter! Shell find someone soon, remarry, and Dad will fade away.
Chloe leapt up and ran from the shower.
The phantom drifted closer to Harriet, weary:
Speak to her again. They need to let me go. Thought, after my nasty behaviour that last year, theyd forget me fastat least after forty days. Yet theyre always How would Dad do it? Would Dad like this?
Were you unpleasant before death?
Abominable. Chloes rightmen are bad at pain, turn childish, fussy.
But they must let go. Im changing, soon Ill be a spiteful ghost, not a loving father or husband. They must shape their futures, the living must care for the living. My wife still remembers our best moments at night.
Its not healthy. Could draw dark spirits, Harriet warned.
My daughter says Dad this, Dad thatbut Im gone. She cant force Irene to live in the past. Speak to my girl.
Why not speak yourself?
How? A cold gust swept through the showersoap and towels tumbled from the shelf.
Dont be angry, just slip into Chloes dreams tonight. Explain to herher mothers still young. Sixteen is old enough to understand about womens happiness.
You want me to tell her Im abandoning her mother?
Oh, youre a bodiless spirit, its time you crossed over. If she keeps dreaming about you, shell invite a hungry demon instead.
You may be right, Harriet. Ill try talking to her myself. The phantom faded.
Harriet checked her watch. Her shift was over, the childrens film had ended and chatter filled the corridor. She peered into the girls roomChloe lay turned to the wall, sighing, brooding over her actions.
Later, wandering home through the twilight, Harriet dwelled on her strange exchange with Chloe and the ghostly father. Had she acted rightly? Would the ghost find a way to speak with his daughter?
In the girls dorm, Chloe dreamedrestless, strange. Her father perched at the end of her bed, stroking her hair:
What on earth are you up to, my dear? So grown-up, still so silly.
Dad, is it really you?
Yes, sweetheart. We need a real talk.
About what?
Why are you fighting your mother?
Shes betraying you! Chloe sobbed.
Youre still little, thinking that dressing pretty is betrayal. She dresses up for you, so your friends see you have a young, lovely mumnot just some old auntie in worn clothes.
You think so?
My girl, you have to keep living, and Mum shouldnt be alone. Loneliness is dreadful. Tell me, hows school?
Im prepping for university, you know I always loved maths. Taking pre-courses, doing assignments.
Well done. Soon youll move away, Mum will be here solo.
But Dad, theres no uni in our town.
I dont mind if you study elsewhere. But your mother must live fullynot just work and home. And Chloe, you and Mum must let me go. Ive lingered too long, time for me to cross over.
Cross overto the other side?
Yes, lets call it that. Dead shouldnt cling to the living.
Will we never talk like this again?
Sometimes, not often. But you and Mum must live forward, not backward. Life goes on, happiness is yours to claim.
DadI think I understand. Ill do my best to make Mum happy, like before.
A gentle sorrow swept over the ghost. They would be fine without himhe could watch, help in hard moments, but not stay.
My girl, he whispered, stroking her hair. Tomorrow, when you go home with Mumwill you return home?
Yes, Ill call her as soon as I wake.
Tomorrow, when you leave, press a coin into Miss Harriets handany coinand say For your work.
But shes just our supervisorwhy pay her?
Please, do as I ask.
Alright.
It was the last day of spring half-term.
Harriet arrived at work, and after breakfast, gathered the children in the classroom to check bags and planners, making sure they were ready for the new term.
Chloe bounded in, eyes shining:
Mums coming soon, and were going home!
Youre certain?
Certain. Dad came last night and explained it all. He said we have to let him go. He said he needs to cross to the other sidebut I dont really understand.
Long ago, people said a dead soul lingered forty days near their family, then crossed over. If kin grieved too much, remembered them as if alive, the soul got stuck and became an angry spectre.
Is that true?
I dont knowjust an old story.
Irene, Chloe’s mum, entered, and Chloe tearfully flung herself into her arms:
Mum, forgive me! I understand now. Lets go home.
When all was settled, Harriet escorted them out.
Thank you, Irene smiled, radiantlooking nowhere near thirty-eight.
All the best! Stop at church, light a candle for Chloes father, and one for yourselves. May things work out well for you.
Mother and daughter stepped into the sunshine, and Chloe found a five-pence coin in her pocketremembering her fathers instruction.
Just a minute! she said, darting back inside. Miss Harriet? Where are you?
Chloe? Whats wrong? Harriet appeared.
For your work, Chloe said, pressing the coin into her palm. Dad told me to.
Well done. Now run, dont look back or return!
Mother and daughtersisters in spiritwalked through the warm spring day, giggling and sharing ice cream.
Mum, Mr Thomas from next door has been eyeing you, I swearthe way he looks at you!
Chloe, are you matchmaking now?
So they walked on, happy and beautiful, as friends and kin, bright and strange in the English springThey both burst into laughter, the kind that ached in their cheeks and shook the worries from their hearts. As they walked, sunlight sparkled on Chloes hair, and Irenes arm curled gently around her daughters shoulders.
At the corner, Chloe paused to glance backjust for a momenttoward the centre, and felt the air shimmer with warmth, as if her fathers smile lingered in the breeze.
By evening, their tiny kitchen was full of music, the radio switched to classical, and they danced between pots and pans, reinventing their rituals for the days ahead. Irene caught Chloes gaze and in that instant, grief faded, making room for hope, and the promise that home could be rebuilt, heart by heart.
That night, Chloe slipped the five-pence coin onto her windowsill and whispered, Thank you, Dad. Well be alright.
Outside, the stars burned bright above the world, and among them, a fathers love twinkled softlyfree at last.
