Never Can Say Goodbye (36 page)

‘What other stuff?’ Dexter stopped mid-sandwich. ‘Something that Slo told me in total confidence,’ Frankie said. ‘It just
made me more sure than ever that Ernie was a ghost when I was doubting it, that’s all.’

Dexter nodded. ‘Oh, he’s a ghost all right. And desperately unhappy. And … well, I think I might have thought of a way round
all this.’

Slo shook his head. ‘You can’t go cutting corners, young Dexter. Not with bodies. There are very strict laws in place for
a good reason. There’d be bloody mayhem if people took the law about the dead into their own hands.’

‘Oh, I realise that.’ Dexter finished his sandwich. ‘But what I was thinking was, why don’t we – me and Frankie – take the
paperwork, letters, whatever it is this pair of nasty nieces need to sign, by hand, and wait until they’ve done it, and then
bring them back to you.’

‘Wow! Brilliant!’ Frankie was suddenly filled with hope again. ‘And that way we could tell them face to face that this isn’t
going to cost them anything – other than a couple of minutes of their time.’

Slo nodded. ‘Yes, that might well work. In fact, I don’t see why it shouldn’t work. Good thinking, Dexter, lad.’

‘And,’ Frankie said eagerly, ‘you could just ring them and tell them we’re on our way, couldn’t you?’

‘I could, and I will, but you know they’re not local, don’t you?’

‘Aren’t they?’ Frankie frowned. ‘How not local?’

‘Northern.’ Slo sighed. ‘Birmingham, Bolton, Burnley, Blackburn – somewhere like that.’

‘Blackpool,’ Essie supplied helpfully as she came in with refills of coffee and sandwiches. ‘I remember it was Blackpool because
I used to go there for holidays when I was a kiddie and I tried to talk to them about it when they were here to organise the
funeral, but they were a right dour pair and didn’t want to talk about anything.’

‘Blackpool!’ Frankie sighed. ‘Oh, but that’s millions of miles away.’

‘Only a few hours drive,’ Dexter said cheerfully. ‘We can be there and back in a day.’

‘Really? And then we can organise Ernie’s funeral?’ Frankie said. ‘Can’t we?’

Slo nodded. ‘I’ll look up the file and find their contact details. I’ll ring ’em and tell ’em what’s happening and give you
the address – if they agree to see you, of course.’

‘You make them agree,’ Essie said severely. ‘Poor old Ernie deserves the best. And these lovely children are kind enough to
want to give him the best. You
make
them agree, Slo.’

‘Okey-dokey, Essie, duck,’ Slo chuckled. ‘I’ll give it my best shot.’

And he did.

Three days later, long before it was light, on a cold, wet and windy morning which had turned the snow to slush and made everywhere
look disgustingly grubby, Frankie and Dexter set off for Blackpool in the Mercedes.

Frankie had told Ernie everything, and had asked him please not to appear in the shop while she was away – just in case Cherish
or any of the customers spotted him and caused another Jackie-and-Alan influx.

Cherish had been ecstatic to be left in sole charge of Francesca’s Fabulous Frocks for the day, and Brian had assured Dexter
seriously that the flower stall would also be in good hands.

‘And you and Dexter can stay over,’ Lilly had said, widening her eyes. ‘Can’t you? Have a sort of dirty weekend – or at least
a mucky night – in Blackpool?’

And Frankie had said definitely, categorically, absolutely not.

‘Why on earth not?’ Lilly had frowned. ‘You are so slow, Frankie. He’s the most gorgeous man on the planet, after Andreas,
of course. And you go out together all the time.’

‘Mostly after work. As good friends.’

‘Whatever.’ Lilly had sighed. ‘He fancies you like mad, you’re crazy about him. He’s even kissed you. Twice. You said.’

‘Yes, and it turned me upside down, but that’s as far as it’ll go.’

‘Why? Neither of you have any ties, and you must be over the heart-breaker and life-wrecker by now.’

‘Oh, yes,’ Frankie had agreed. ‘Totally over. But I have no intention of going back there again.’

‘As if Dexter would break your heart,’ Lilly had scoffed. ‘He adores you. Everyone can see it.’

‘Can they? Lill, I know nothing about his past. There are still far too many secrets about why he left Oxford. And most of
them must involve women – or one woman in particular. I don’t know enough about him, and he clearly doesn’t want to tell me.
And then there are all those other women here.’

‘What other women? OK, he played around when he first arrived, but he hasn’t looked at anyone else for weeks.’

‘He spent New Year with someone else.’

Lilly’s face had fallen. ‘Did he? Oh, bollocks.’

‘Where are we?’ Frankie looked across the car. ‘Are we nearly there yet?’

‘No. For the millionth time.’ Dexter grinned. ‘We’re still on the M40. We’ve still got the M42 and then miles and miles of
the M6 to go.’

‘Oh, OK.’ Frankie snuggled down in her seat, lulled by the rhythm of the windscreen wipers. ‘Wake me up when we can see the
sea.’

‘Lightweight.’ Dexter sighed. ‘And I thought we were going to share the driving.’

‘I am not driving this car. It’s too big, too scary, and I’m not insured.’

‘You’re covered on my insurance.’

‘Am I? Damn. OK, then we’re on a strange motorway and I might damage it.’

‘The motorway?’

‘The Mercedes.’

‘You mean you’re not up for a challenge?’

‘Oh.’ She smiled at him. ‘I’m always up for a challenge.’

‘Good,’ he laughed. ‘So when we stop at the services halfway up for something to eat, you can have a little test run round
the car park, then you can drive us the rest of the way to Blackpool.’

‘Which means, if we survive, I’ll get the lovely tricky bit of trying to find the right house once we get there?’

‘The satnav will take care of that. We’ve got a full address and postcode.’

‘I wonder what they’ll be like? Thelma and Louise?’

‘Awful,’ Dexter sighed. ‘We know they’ll be a pair of dragons. But it doesn’t matter. At least they’ve agreed to see us and
sign the papers. We don’t have to become good friends or anything with them, do we?’

Frankie leaned her head back against the soft leather and closed her eyes. No they didn’t. It was all going to be OK.

Several hours later, hours when Frankie had been bursting with pride at driving the Mercedes confidently along the latter
stages of the motorway in the teeming rain, they were following the satnav’s strident instructions and crawling round the
back streets of Blackpool, heading for Thelma and Louise’s house.

‘It’s very disappointing.’ Frankie frowned. ‘I thought Blackpool would be all sun and colour and noise and crowds and kiss-me-quick
hats. I didn’t expect it to be wall-to-wall grey.’

The sea and the sky just seemed to blend into a mass of gun-metal, the streets were wet, deserted and windswept and all the
attractions were closed.

‘It’s January,’ Dexter said reasonably. ‘It’s pouring with rain and freezing cold. And it’s as far out of season as you can
get. We’ll come back later in the year for the illuminations and ride
on all the white-knuckle machines on the Pleasure Beach and eat fish and chips from the paper.’

Frankie laughed. ‘Sounds perfect. If we’re still friends by then, of course.’

‘And why wouldn’t we be?’

Frankie shrugged. ‘I never assume anything any more. Never plan too far ahead. That way I don’t get too disappointed.’

‘Oh, I’m definitely planning on coming back here in the autumn to do the full touristy bit.’

‘With me?’

Dexter sighed. ‘Yes, Frankie with you. Well, that is if you still want me, after—’

‘After what?’ The light-heartedness of the ping-pong banter had suddenly been snuffed out. ‘After what?’

‘You’ve now reached your destination,’ the satnav squawked. Frankie pulled the Mercedes into the kerb outside a row of neat
terraced houses.

She looked across the car at him. ‘You can’t just leave it there. After what?’

Dexter undid his seat belt. ‘Something I should have told you a long time ago. And something we can perhaps sort out when
we’ve got Thelma and Louise to sign the papers. It’ll keep. Right now, Ernie’s the most important thing on the agenda, isn’t
he?’

As Dexter locked the Mercedes, Frankie shivered in the freezing wind blowing straight from the sea along the narrow street.
But it wasn’t just the bitter wind and the spattering rain that chilled her. Inside, her bubbling happiness had died.

‘Ready?’ Dexter smiled gently at her as they stood outside the green front door, patchily faded by the constant onslaught
of sun and salt-filled wind. ‘For the last stage?’

Frankie nodded. She didn’t trust herself to speak. She knew her voice would wobble and then he’d know just how important he
was to her.

Dexter rang the bell.

The door was opened almost immediately. Thelma and Louise must have been waiting for them, Frankie thought list-lessly, hiding
behind the net curtains, peering out.

Oh, get a grip, she told herself crossly. Forget Dexter and his secrets. We’re here for Ernie.

‘Yes?’ A thin-faced woman with narrow lips and a pointed nose, looked at them distastefully.

‘Mrs Butterly? Thelma Butterly?’ Dexter asked. ‘No, she’s my sister. I’m Louise Reeves. My sister Thelma’s inside. You’re
the ones who’ve come about Uncle Ern, are you?’

‘We are,’ Frankie said. Her voice was croaky. She cleared her throat. ‘And we’ve got the papers. We won’t take up much of
your time.’

‘You’d better not,’ Louise said ungraciously. ‘Come on in, then.’

Dexter stood back to let Frankie step inside the narrow hall first. It was spotlessly clean but very cluttered with furniture
and ornaments.

Louise led them into an equally clean but crammed and cluttered living room. An almost identical thin and ferret-faced woman
looked up from the leather sofa.

‘You the people from down south about burying Ernie?’

‘We are,’ Frankie said again. ‘It’s very nice to meet you, Thelma, um, Mrs Butterly.’

‘Ah.’

As they weren’t invited to sit down, they didn’t. Frankie felt increasingly claustrophobic in the overstuffed room.

‘Give us the papers then,’ Louise said. ‘No point in hanging around. Although why you want to be bothering yourself with Uncle
Ern’s remains I’ve no idea.’

And we have no intention of telling you, Frankie thought angrily.

Dexter smiled as he handed over the sheaf of papers and Slo’s letters. ‘It’s something we do. We work for the undertakers,
you see. In a sort of freelance capacity. We, um, deal with unburied ashes. When the chapel of rest starts to run out of shelf
space for the caskets, we … er … we trace the nearest and dearest and take over the interment of the remaining ashes.’

Frankie stared at him. What a brilliant liar he was! Which, she thought ruefully, was probably just as well, as she hadn’t
given any thought at all to what they’d tell Thelma and Louise about why they wanted Ernie to rest in peace.

‘Like a charity?’ Louise gave the papers a cursory glance.

‘Yes, er, sort of,’ Dexter said quickly.

‘Must be mad.’ Thelma shook her thin head. Even her hair was thin, Frankie thought. ‘Dead’s dead. Who cares what happens after?
And Uncle Ern left nothing worth having. Couldn’t even raise a few bob on most of it. We kept the few bits that might be useful,
and dumped the rest of his rubbish.’

Including Achsah’s wedding dress, Frankie thought angrily.

‘That’s not our concern,’ Dexter said smoothly, taking out his pen. ‘All we want you to do, as next of kin, is sign the paperwork
to say you give us, and Motions, the funeral directors, the authority to take charge of the ashes and give your, um, Uncle
Ernie a decent burial.’

‘Be glad to,’ Louise said, snatching the pen.

Phew. Frankie exhaled. It was going to be OK.

‘How much?’ Thelma looked at them. ‘Before I put pen to paper. How much?’

‘Oh, it won’t cost you anything at all,’ Frankie said, trying hard to smile. ‘We’re taking care of all the funeral expenses
for Ernie, er, your uncle.’

‘I should bloody hope you are,’ Louise snapped. ‘We ain’t parting with another penny for this pointless funeral. We were out
of pocket the first time.’

‘No, no,’ Dexter said hurriedly. ‘Frankie’s right. It’s all taken care of.’

‘You might be do-gooders –’ Thelma squinted at him ‘– but you can’t be that simple? We ain’t paying you. You’re paying us.’

‘Exactly.’ Louise nodded. ‘You want our signatures on this paperwork to say you take care of Uncle Ernie’s ashes, then you
pay for them, OK?’

Oh shit … Frankie closed her eyes.

‘Er, well, it’s not normal … ’ Dexter looked frantically at Frankie.

‘I don’t care what’s normal. You don’t get nothing for nothing in this world,’ Thelma said icily. ‘You want us to sign, then
you pay us.’

‘OK.’ Frankie pulled a face, trying to remember how much she had in her purse. She couldn’t let Ernie down now. ‘We’ll give
you twenty pounds.’

Thelma and Louise laughed. A lot.

‘Forty,’ Dexter said.

They carried on laughing.

‘Well, how much do you want?’ Frankie glared at them. ‘Bearing in mind that we’re a charity.’

‘Soft in the head is what you are,’ Louise snapped.

‘Bothering yourself with other people’s dead relations. We want a hundred.’

‘Each,’ Thelma added, her eyes glittering greedily.

Oh God … Frankie shook her head. She had no idea if Dexter had any cash at all on him. She thought she might have about sixty
pounds and some loose change.

‘Frankie?’ Dexter looked worriedly at her.

‘Sixty-ish.’

‘OK.’ He glared at Thelma and Louise. ‘You sign and you’ll get your two hundred.’

‘Let’s see the money then.’

Between them, Dexter and Frankie emptied their purse and wallet and pockets onto the coffee table. Louise fell on it and counted
it with all the alacrity of Shylock.

‘Yep.’ She nodded at Thelma. ‘It’s all here. Sign away, Thel.’

The odious Thelma signed in all three places, followed by the equally odious Louise.