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Setting up some tables in the ballroom, Alison and Mike were lost in thoughtful moods as they placed some sandwiches and platters of food around the room. The ghosts bore witness to the scene as dressed in all black, with Mike’s tie askew, they knew that the guests would be arriving any moment for the wake of Mike’s great uncle Harry. Alison patted her stomach. The morning sickness had eased over time, but there was still the constant heartburn to contend with. Mike waved a small medicine bottle at her.
“Ah ha! Found the Gaviscon!”
“Ah thanks, Mike, think Julian nicked it.” She looked at him and he shrugged.
“Force of habit,” he said.
She grabbed the bottle from Mike and then sighed. “Seems weird, doesn’t it? Thinking about our new life arriving soon when your great uncle just died.”
“Yeah, it’s a shame he’ll never get to meet our little one.”
“Mike, he barely met you. You hadn’t seen him since you were two.”
“Yeah, but I feel a connection, you know? Barry was like me, a free spirit.”
The ghosts all nodded in agreement.
“And a bit of alright if I say so myself, proper ladies’ man,” Mike added, straightening his tie.
“First,” Alison said with a smile, “It’s Harry, and second, you were never a ladies’ man. Oh, and third, Harry was gay, Mike, been with his partner since the sixties.”
“Ok so not exactly like me but according to my dad’s stories, he had a bat-shit crazy partner who could see things.”
“What?”
“Yeah, rumour has it that Barry’s partner Gerald could see ghosts.” Mike started to leave the room when Alison pulled him back by his sleeve.
“Hold on, wait, Mike, what? He saw ghosts? And you never told me?”
“Yeah, got beaten up on Hampstead Heath back in the day. When he woke up, he swore he could see ghosts. Of course no one believed him.”
“Do you believe it?”
“Well, when my dad told me the stories, no. But now…” he looked at Alison. “He could be another you.”
Alison didn’t know how to respond, caught up in the madness of his revelation.
“Look at her,” Fanny said with a chuckle. “Disappointed to find she might not be the only one. Thought you were special, did you?” She leaned in close.
Alison folded her arms. “No, actually, quite the opposite, it means I might actually have someone who knows how it feels.”
“Well, there’s no time to worry about it now,” Pat said, looking out the window. “Looks like the mourners are here.”
“How glorious they look in their black,” Thomas added, looking at a young woman in a sleek dress.
“How respectful,” said Kitty. “I remember everyone looked wonderful at my wake. Father wore his best. Eleanor wore a large black veil. Even the servants turned out to say goodbye.”
“Sounds like you were very loved, Kitty,” said Pat, tapping her shoulder gently.
“Well, my wake was a much grander affair than this,” Fanny said, raising her nose in the air. “It wasn’t all egg sandwiches and fizzy pop. George always knew how to throw a good party.”
“And how to throw a good woman out of the window,” Julian said with a snigger.
“Julian!” Alison said, shocked, but not really shocked by his terminology.
“What, I said she was good!”
“Well, you would know about throwing women from windows,” the Captain said aside to the others whilst Alison assisted Mike with setting up the booze.
As Pat and Robin watched the guests arriving, Thomas sat down on one of the seats and sighed with deep contemplation. When he realised no one was listening, he sighed again, this time with much more gusto.
“What is it, mate?” Pat asked.
“Probably depressed because he not the one dead and being remembered today,” Robin said, rolling his eyes upwards.
“I think you’ll find I am actually dead, Robin.” He sighed again, folding his arms. “Very, very, dead.”
“We’re all dead, man,” the Captain said, pointing his swagger stick at him. “But today is not Thomas Thorne day, it’s the wake of a gentleman named Harry Cooper.”
“I never got to see my wake,” Thomas said. “But one assumes it was little turned out. Remembered as little in death as in life. Some are remembered more after they perish but not I, no, I am cast aside, even as I lay in the ground, they do not weep.” He turned around to find that the others, used to hearing the same old story, had departed his company. He sighed. “That’s right, desert me at my hour of anguish. Leave me tormented and tortured!”
…
A while later when the guests had eaten, mingled and were nearly ready to go, the ghosts watched on in curiosity as Alison and Mike finally met Gerald, the deceased’s partner. He was an elderly man with wispy white hair, dressed smartly in a suit with a polka-dot cravat and shiny shoes.
“Yes, we love the house,” Alison said, answering his query about Button House. “And some say, well, many say, that the house is haunted, don’t they, Mike?”
“Yeah, totally haunted.”
“Really?” he replied, revealing little emotion to her statement.
The ghosts looked at him, waving their arms in his face, trying to provoke a reaction. Robin was sticking his tongue out and Kitty was showing her flossing dance moves, whilst Julian opted for poking him. The man’s face twitched momentarily before he was neutral again.
“He can’t see us,” Kitty said, sighing. “He’s not reacting.”
The Captain stood to attention. “Don’t give up, Catherine, there’s always a chance he’s just learnt to block us out like someone being interrogated in the war. Must not react no matter what they throw at you.”
“Believe me, can’t be done,” said Alison as she tried to indeed ignore all their accompanying comments and narration as they all spoke over one another.
“So, you and uncle Barry…” Mike began, taking Gerald’s arm.
The ghosts all said ‘Harry’ in unison to which Alison whispered to Mike.
Mike continued: “Sorry, Harry. You were together a long, long time. Must be tough.”
The Captain in particular watched in interest as Gerald bowed his head, a tear forming in his eye.
“It wasn’t always easy but we made it work and, in the end, well, we could be ourselves.”
“And it was just the two of you?” Alison said, trying to work out whether they shared their lives with any of the spirit world.
“Well, there was my wife for a time,” he said with a chuckle. “But that didn’t end well.”
“At least you didn’t push her out of a window!” Fanny added unhelpfully.
But suddenly there was a reaction. “Out of a window?” he replied instantly without thinking.
“You can hear them?” Alison asked, flabbergasted, feeling excited at the prospect of having someone she could converse with about the life of someone who could communicate with the dead.
The ghosts all clapped and cheered, knowing they existed to someone else at last.
“The ghosts? Of course I bloody can! They’re standing right here!” He turned to look at them with exasperation. “Do you know how rude it is to stare at an old man, stick your tongue out at him and talk about his love life? I’ve dealt with dead people like you for many years and that’s not just because I was a crime scene specialist. Do you have any idea how hard it is to examine a recently dead body when its spirit is hovering beside you, telling you not to disrespect them?”
“Gerald, I’m so sorry, I thought I had it bad,” said Alison, hoping that the other guests hadn’t heard his outburst.
“Judgments from the living, judgements from the dead, it never goes. Only recently have I been able to live in peace, just me and Harry. And it’ll be nice to get back to him.”
“You…still see him?” Mike said, looking around, up at the air.
“Oh yes. He popped off at home, in the bath of all places. Actually, he never submerged so he’s a dirty naked Harry, bit wrinkly too with dangly bits.”
“Good lord!” the Captain replied.
Julian looked down. “I’ll never complain again.”
“How mortifying!” Fanny said. “Dying in the bath, most undignified.”
Pat stood forward. “Gerry, I am so sorry for what you’ve been through. But it must provide some comfort that you can still see Harry.”
“A lot of Harry,” Thomas smirked.
“But the fact you can see ghosts,” Alison said to Gerald. “Do you think there’s more of us out there?”
“Most likely but not many. I’ve told some people; thought I was crackers. Spent two months in a loony bin. Learnt to keep it a secret after that. And after a while, learnt to ignore the ghosts too.”
“You’ll have to teach me that,” Alison said, smirking at her friends.
Gerald sighed. “I’m sorry to break up this wonderful little gathering of the dead and the undead but I rather would like to be on my own now. I hope you don’t mind, Alison. You and Mark put on a wonderful spread but like Harry, I think it’s time to go.”
Alison and Mike helped the old man to grab his coat and leave with all the other funeral guests. The other ghosts watched on and the Captain was silent as they saw the old man leave in a taxi followed by the other cars leaving the property. It was quiet then, the living having left, Alison and Mike outside and only the dead remaining.
“Well how about that?” Pat said.
“Makes you wonder,” Robin said. “Could be other Alisons, all over the world.”
“I’d like many Alisons all over the world,” said Thomas with a deep poetic sigh.
“There could be loads of us,” Kitty said. “Just imagine, lots of different Button Houses with lots of different ghosts, oh how exciting.”
“Alas we won’t see any of them, Kitty,” Thomas said.
“Thank goodness for that,” Fanny said. “You’re all quite enough, thank you. Isn’t that right, Captain? No more ghosts, especially foreign ones.”
He didn’t reply, caught in a daydream, wistful and reminiscent.
Pat put his arm on his shoulder. “Cap, are you alright, mate?”
“Oh, I don’t know Patrick. It’s all this wake business. Seeing Gerald talk about Harry, how open it all is now, I feel like I’ve woken up after a long sleep. Imagine had I been born when Mike was or if I’d lived as long as Gerald, well, how different life could be.”
“We all think like that,” Pat said. “I missed out on so much. Had always dreamt of seeing the Millennium.”
Robin scoffed. “Seen one, you’ve seen them all.”
“Know what he means. I was looking to the future. All millennium this and millennium that. Never got there,” Julian added.
“Well, we are here!” Kitty said. “We’re seeing all the years we didn’t think we would. Isn’t that wonderful?”
“Which is a head and shoulders above the rest,” Humphrey piped up from the floor. They all looked down at him and nodded.
“Look,” Pat said, “let’s try not to get morbid.”
Whilst the other ghosts chatted excitedly about Gerry’s gift, wakes, and the ghost of naked Harry Cooper, Pat looked at the Captain again, noticing he was downcast, his head low. He nudged him playfully.
“Penny for them, Cap?” he asked softly.
“Oh, Patrick, it’s nothing really.”
Pat led him outside the house, past Alison and Mike who were still chatting to a couple by the gate, and to a bench beside the blossom trees that graced the property with such beauty over the early spring period. They both sat down and Pat looked at his friend. He knew the Captain wouldn’t open up without some gentle prodding.
“Reminds you of the past I suppose,” Pat said.
The Captain looked at him. He’d always been thankful for Pat’s friendship.
“You can tell me about him you know? Havers I mean. Gerry mourning Harry did remind you of Havers, didn’t he?”
Nodding, feeling a tear form in his eye, the Captain nodded. “You weren’t here when Havers came back were you? After I was dead, I mean.”
“I had no idea, mate. Why don’t you tell me about it.”
The Captain nodded, stared up at the blossoms, squinting in the sunlight as the low sun shone through the trees. He relayed his story:
…
It was the 1950’s and he had been dead for many years. He had not seen Havers since that day, since that day he had died beside him, touching his hand. He had thought about him often, wondered how he had been and how he had fared. It was with complete surprise when the man arrived one day, one random day in early spring, walking slowly up the path next to the blossom trees. Havers picked up one of the flowers and smiled at it.
Kitty ran over to the Captain as he stood stretching in the hallway. “Captain, Havers is here! Havers is here!”
The Captain was surprised by Kitty’s reaction—surely she wasn’t aware of the significance of their relationship? To the others they were simply colleagues, friends at best. He followed her anyway.
“I like it when old faces return,” she said with enthusiasm.
When he saw Havers, he didn’t know what to do with himself. The other ghosts were there—Thomas, Robin, Fanny, Mary and Humphrey—but he still felt alone. He couldn’t tell them how much Havers meant, couldn’t tell them who Havers really was— all he could do was watch on as though Anthony was nothing but a name of a person who had once resided there. He watched Havers for a few moments, making note of how the man had aged. He didn’t look too much older, except for the specks of grey at the side of his temples, and the fact he placed on reading glasses to glance at the book he was holding but other than that he was as beautiful as he remembered him. By this point the other ghosts were deep in conversation, not as interested in Havers as he was.
He was greeted at the door by a young Heather Button. “Anthony, welcome,” she said. “You wanted to look around?”
“I was stationed here during the war,” Havers said, reminding her. “It holds a lot of memories for me.”
After an awkward walk in which Heather didn’t know how to respond, she looked at the book he was holding. “Poetry?”
“No, war diaries.”
“Oh.”
“My Captain and I are used to read them when we had the chance.” He smiled, and the Captain found the sudden flush of his lieutenant’s cheeks endearing. “He wasn’t one for poetry as he was a good military story.”
Walking alongside the man he’d long since seen, the Captain watched as Havers was led to the room where they had been parted. He saw Havers gulp and stand motionless in the middle of the space.
“Could I have a moment alone?” he asked Heather to which, surprised that an empty room held such memory, nodded and left him be.
Havers walked around the floor and then bent down, touching the wood with his hand gently. The war had left him with scars of the physical but the mental scars that followed were worse. Being witness to the Captain’s death tormented him still.
“It was like a bad dream,” Havers whispered to the air. “One minute we were reunited, the next you were gone. I wake up every night thinking of you.”
The Captain turned away, unable to watch, unable to reach out, unable to touch him even for a few seconds. “I think about you every night too,” he whispered, still facing the wall.
“I brought your favourite book. How we laughed and cried together over these diaries,” he said.
Watching him for minutes, unable to respond was unbearable. If only Havers had the gift to see ghosts and to know he was there. He sighed. It was impossible. All he could do was watch as Havers left him once more. He held out his hands to where Havers stood by the doorway but they passed right through his body.
He wanted to say goodbye once again but his voice just echoed around the empty space.
…
“Oh Cap, I’m sorry,” Pat said, bringing the Captain back to reality and the 21st century. “I too know what it’s like.”
“Oh of course, yes, when your wife and son come to visit for your death days.”
“It’s hard watching them go on after you, mate.”
“Indeed it is.”
“But at least you can talk about it now? I suppose…well, I suppose, Havers is passed now, or he’d be extremely old.”
“I assume so. But unlike Gerald, I can’t know what happened to him, whether he was happy.”
“Well, there’s Alison and there’s records. Perhaps one day we could find out?”
“I’m not sure, Pat.”
“Well,” Pat said, tapping the Captain’s knee. “If you ever are ready, we’re all here to support you and we’re not exactly going anywhere, are we? Eh? Eh?” He laughed.
…
After a long day of funerals, wakes, revelations and emotions, Alison and Mike climbed wearily into bed.
“You seem happy,” Mike said, “you know, considering we spent the day saying goodbye to uncle Barry.”
“Harry! And yeah, it’s weird, isn’t it? It’s just meeting Gerry and realising I wasn’t alone.”
“You’re hardly alone!” Mike said.
“You know what I mean.” She snuggled up close to him. “But it made me think too.”
“About the baby?”
“No, not really. I meant about us.”
Mike pulled away from her. “You’re dumping me is that it? Now you have your ghost-seeing friend, you don’t need me?”
She shoved him playfully. “No, Mike. I just mean, well, one day we’re going to get old and one of us…”
“What? Get a hip operation?”
She whispered. “Will die, Mike.”
Mike shook his head. “Nope, not happening.”
“I mean, look at my parents and then there’s all the ghosts. Most of those died before they were forty.”
“Yeah, but that was the old days. Not so many young people die anymore.”
“Yeah, but even if we’re lucky to be old, it’ll happen someday.”
“Nah.” Mike leaned back casually. “Someone will have invented some kind of immortality machine by then.”
“I’m serious, Mike. One of us is going to have to leave the other.”
“Not necessarily. You’ve seen the beginning of Beetlejuice. We may end up going together.”
“Maybe, but chances are we’re not. If I go first, you won’t be able to talk to the ghosts.”
“I can’t talk to them now.”
“But I’m the go-between.”
“So, you want me to die first?”
“Of course not!”
He yawned. “It’s alright. It’ll probably be best. Then I can come and haunt you like dirty Barry.”
“Just think, you can finally see the ghosts then!”
He nodded, grinning. “Ah yeah, perhaps dying won’t be so bad then.”
“Of course you’d have to die at home.”
“You had to ruin it.”
Alison smiled at him and held him close. “Whatever our future holds, it’ll be alright, won’t it? For us and the little one?”
“Yeah, course it will because for now we have each other.” He kissed the top of her head and closed his eyes where they both surrendered to sleep.