DEAD GOOD (10 page)

I’m not sure if I’m going slightly crazy or not and it might be a symptom of madness but I almost want to snigger. A freakin’ ghost kitchen! Who the hell’s ever been haunted by a ghost kitchen – hmm? In their life? I’m sure there haven’t been any films made of ghostly kitchens, have there? Just as we enter, the woman turns round and she smiles right at us – as if she’s been expecting us.

‘
Buongiorno
,’ she says gently and simply returns to her stirring as if this is the most normal thing in the world. Well, I suppose it might be for her. Nonna still likes to cook I remember Leo telling me last night. So here she is, then.

‘Hi,’ I hear myself say back automatically and I see her head nod slightly.

‘S’that?’ Davey asks, pulling out a chair and hauling himself up on it.

‘Um… I think…er….’ I do almost tell him “This must be Mia’s grandmother” but then I remember that if I let on to Davey that I can see these people as easily as he can, then before I know it he’ll be telling mum and dad we’ve got ghost-guests, then they’ll get us sectioned and taken into care or at least get us put on tablets that’ll make us sleep for ever and we’ll be visiting psychiatrists until we leave home… no, I can’t let on that I know anything. At least if he mentions anything to mum and dad I can make out he’s mad. That’s understandable for a three year old. They see things. They make stuff up. They get bored and invent things. That’s more believable than “hey mum and dad we have a whole family of ghosts staying here with us – in fact, they’re not really staying here – they live here and we’re more the visitors than they are because this is where they died – Leo, Mia, Nonna and Nonno…” I realise now that we have only one member of the family left to meet. Unless you count me jumping over him on the landing as a meeting.

‘So, milkshake, then, Davey?’ I say brightly, ignoring his previous question and trying even harder to ignore the waving woman’s backside at the blurry ghost-cooker.

And he’s right, of course. There’s a distinct aroma of tomato sauce cooking and it smells delicious. I feel like I could even go right up, put my finger into the pot on the top and have a taste, it smells so good. My stomach rumbles and I walk over to the bag of bread that’s on the worktop. Our worktop – not the fuzzy vague one that’s over by the cooker – our real one. I slip two slices of bread into the toaster and then take some milk out of the fridge, pouring it into Davey’s beaker whilst I wait for my toast to pop up. I’m so tempted to look over at the other cook in this room but I can’t let Davey know I can see her.

‘Aaaahhh-kaaayyy then,’ he shrugs off the chair again and walks incredibly slowly towards the door to the stairs. He turns slightly before he leaves and looks again at the woman and the cooker and then he turns and looks at me. I feel a stab of shame because I know he’s confused. He can see both of us and yet I’m pretending I can’t see her. I know if I were Davey, then I’d be very confused – if not a little scared – that I thought I might be seeing things. Oh god, I hate having to do this but it’s for his own good, isn’t it? I’ll tell him about it one day – when this is all over and we’ll have a good laugh about it. We will. I’m certain of it.

As he drags himself away from the kitchen and up the stairs, I fetch my toast, spread some butter and jam on it and sit at the table – my eyes firmly on Leo’s grandmother. I’m not sure what the correct thing is to do in a situation like this. Should I speak first? Although we’ve already acknowledged each other – should I say something else? It feels a bit rude not to.

Of course the easiest thing in the world would be to leave with my toast and go back to my room and eat in peace. That would be the sensible option.

Jeez! What the f… as I go to leave the table, I notice the smell of cooking isn’t so strong. I look back over at the hob and Nonna’s disappeared. And very stupidly I actually feel a bit disappointed. Now why on earth would I feel like that?

‘Your phone young lady,’ Mum appears and slides it across the kitchen table at me. ‘Mmm…’ she says sniffing the air. ‘What’ve you been eating?’ I wave my toast and jam at her pathetically in an attempt to lead her off the scent. So mum can smell ghostly cooking too then can she? Does that mean she’d have seen Leo’s Grandmother if she’d still been here? I quickly check to see if she’s returned but there’s no sign still. Ah well, I guess time will tell.

The text was – predictably – from Amber checking to see if I’d changed my mind about her bringing “anything” with her for lunch. By anything I guessed she meant something like garlic, holy water, some crosses, the Star of David and all the ingredients for a makeshift Ouija board. Maybe even a priest, knowing Amber. Needless to say I didn’t even bother replying and she’s been here now since half eleven, almost beside herself with excitement. Mum thinks she’s mad.

‘Your idea of lunchtime is way off our usual mark, Amber,’ my mum said when she’d turned up all beady eyed and quivery with anticipation. ‘Did you find us alright?’

‘Oh yes Mrs Preston…. I mean Alison. ’ she beamed back. ‘I know all about your new house.’

And that smart remark earned Amber her first kick to the shin of the day. Actually she’s doing pretty well now – much better - considering I had to drag her upstairs at one point and give her a bloody good talking to in the bathroom with all the taps running so nobody could hear me raise my voice at her. So like I say, she’s better now and behaving as near normal as possible for Amber. In fact I’ve told her in no uncertain terms that if she so much as mentions anything untoward, whether intentional or otherwise, then she’s not setting foot in this house again – that’s worried her. She’s still insisting on being able to communicate with the “Other Side” and I don’t think she means our neighbours.

Whoever they are.

She’s managed to say nothing controversial all through the roast lunch and now mum’s getting the dessert out of the fridge, I think we’re almost home and dry.

‘So, Amber,’ Dad says. ‘How’s school? Anything new to report?’

He’s rubbish, my dad, at asking anything sensible. It’s always “how’s school?” or “how’s your mum and dad?” or “how’s……” and then I can’t think another thought. Because just as mum kicks the fridge door shut with the back of her foot and balances a trifle over to the table, a familiar figure is revealed from behind the fridge in his cool jeans and funky t-shirt and waves cheekily over at me from where he’s presumably just … um… materialised?

In fact I’m so surprised at seeing him that I do a silly little finger-wave back like a total arse.

thirteen

‘Maddie?’ I hear a voice like an echo in the distance. ‘Madeline? What’s wrong?’

My mum is passing her flattened palm across my eyes and back like she’s trying to revive me from deep hypnosis or something. I must look like a complete idiot. I still haven’t moved. When the word “gobsmacked” was invented, this image of me – right now was what they had in mind. I shut my mouth. Everyone around the table is staring at me apart from Davey who is obviously also staring at Ghost boy – I mean Leo. He’s even pulled a chair over to the table now for god’s sake… one of his misty ghostly ones, and is sitting right opposite me next to Amber. Please god, if she really is psychic then let her be a good sport and say nothing to alert mum and dad. Please, please please.

‘What’re you doing?’ Amber says frowning and lifting a spoon of jelly to her lips. ‘What’s with your fingers – and why are you…. Oh….wait a minute…..you’ve….ah…oooh…’ she trails off and stares excitedly at the air beside her where I am focussing.

Clearly she has put two and two together and arrived at the right answer. I blink quickly, try to touch her leg under the table to drag her back to reality and then stare at my hand that bent up and down so, so stupidly just now and rub it with my other hand.

‘Ooooh…’ I wince dramatically. ‘Phew, that feels a bit better now!’ I bend the fingers again just like I think (I hope) I did with my stupid wave earlier and pretend to inspect my joints for abnormalities, twisting my fingers round one way and then another and then bending them again as if I’m testing them to study them closer. Leo is beside himself with amusement at my ridiculous bad-acting capabilities. If a ghost could cry with hilarity then he’s pretty much nearly there. Davey joins in as well though, much to the unease of our parents, rocking and giggling and pointing. Oh sweet crap.

‘Davey?’ mum spins to stare at him for a change, leaving me able to breathe and glare really really wide-eyed at Amber in an attempt to stop her from saying anything. She mouths back an “o-k-a-y” rather theatrically and I nod my thanks. ‘What is the matter with you two this afternoon?’ mum is frowning incredibly deeply now. ‘First Maddie thinks there’s something wrong with her fingers – and then Davey starts laughing for no reason – are you both going mad or something?’

She shakes her head and returns to spoon trifle into her mouth, checking cautiously on both of us as she eats, for other signs of psychosis.

‘Brilliant!’ Leo laughs, rocking on the chair opposite me. ‘You’re sooooo funny you two, you really are! There’s you,’ he points at me, ‘pretending like there’s nothing wrong and I’m not here or something and making out your poor brother’s seeing things, and then there’s your dippy pal,’ he actually pokes his finger in Amber and she doesn’t flinch once, just lifts her eyes in an annoyed “what?” at me as I watch them sitting together in stunned silence. ‘Amber, here, who thinks she’s got a direct hotline to the Other Side. You lot! You’re all mental!’

‘All men-tal!’ Davey pipes up like a ricochet.

I roll my eyes. Great. Well done laughing boy. Just what we don’t need right now.

Mum’s eyes fly wide at her baby’s outburst and then she frowns heavily. ‘Wha-? No, no… I didn’t say…’ she pats his chubby hand apologetically, ‘well I didn’t mean that, Davey. I just meant… oh, I don’t know. I just think we’ve all had a very stressful few days and the strain is probably getting to us all,’ she raises her eyes to the ceiling and sighs deeply. Then she looks over at dad who’s been incredibly quiet throughout all of this. ‘Phil?’ she encourages him. ‘Don’t you think?’

My dad nods his agreement without looking up. ‘Absolutely,’ he says. ‘We’ve all been under a great deal of pressure. It’s no wonder we all think we’ve started seeing things that aren’t there, eh?’ And with that he picks up his plate, goes over to the sink and scrapes his trifle into the bin beside it. I replay his words in my head and Leo even looks a little interested.

What did he just say? Is he actually now admitting that what happened the other night actually DID happen and wasn’t something I brought on myself just to annoy everybody with?

‘Dad?’ I urge. ‘What do you mean “seeing things that aren’t there?”

He slows slightly as he walks past the table to leave the kitchen and turns to mum in query. She shakes her head. ‘Nothing, love,’ he says. ‘Forget it. We’re all not really being ourselves lately, are we?’ And he leaves the room.

‘So,’ says Amber as we sit on my bed later on, ‘do you think your dad can see these ghosts as well then?’ She is thrilled. She seems to believe she’s at the epicentre of a whole new ghost phenomenon and that they’re here because they need us to help them find the light and lead them into to it – away from this land-of-limbo she still insists they’re living in – to find their salvation or somesuch other nonsense.