GHOST STORY

‘So, this is what it’s like to be a ghost,’ he thought. ‘This is what happens when you die. I never knew, but I do now. And I’m apparently a separate thing from my body. Surprising for someone like me. I’d never believed in all that stuff. How embarrassing.’ And another thing – who’d ever have thought a ghost could smile at himself?

‘And she finally went and killed me. I wonder how she did it.’ He had no recollection of his death itself, all he knew was that he was dead now. But she must have managed it somehow. It was unexpected, but somehow not surprising. But he was hurt - he’d thought she’d have more respect for him than this. Surely she could simply have left him.

He was certain she’d been having an affair. Mysterious absences with pitiful excuses. Looking guilty when he came in and she was on the phone, hurriedly ending the call. A man’s name in her phone, someone he didn’t know. The unfaithfulness must have started recently, because the strange behaviour had only begun a few months ago.

They’d been married for ten years now, and it had been everything he’d ever wanted in a marriage. He thought back to when they’d met at college. The attraction had been immediate and mutual. He had been studying science, she was on her first year of a psychology degree. They had spent that year together, in coffee shops, at concerts, in his small apartment. At the end of the year he’d asked her to marry him. She’d laughed and told him to be more patient – he hadn’t even met her parents yet. He went with her to see them next summer and made a good impression. They were married and life had been good. They were well off, happy, busy. The only regret they had was that they had never been able to have children. They’d both been given every test that the ingenuity of mankind could come up with, and the results came back negative. Nothing wrong. With either of them. They just couldn’t have children.

He’d thought they had a good relationship, where either of them could air grievances and get things out in the open so they could be resolved. And as far as he was aware, it had always been good. They’d had their disagreements – of course – what couple didn’t? But they’d been able to talk them through and sort them out. It was difficult being a man nowadays – too easy to be misinterpreted, too difficult knowing what was expected of today’s man. Not that he wanted to go back to the way it was in his parents’ time, with the husband being unquestioned head of the family and the wife being little more than a servant. He’d seen it with his mother and father and the whole idea repulsed him.

But there it was. Her behaviour had changed. Their open discussions had ceased. He had asked if anything was wrong, but she’d just smiled and shaken her head and said everything was fine. But he was certain she was keeping something from him.

She must have met someone. Someone who had something he couldn’t provide; who knew what. He had become distant and snappish; she must have noticed; she wasn’t stupid. Maybe he should have confronted her with it, accused her. But he’d clung onto the thought that perhaps he was mistaken, that maybe there was an innocent reason for her behaviour. And accusing her unjustly would be just about the worst thing he could do to her – it would damage the marriage irreversibly.

But now he was dead. He must have been right in his suspicions and now it was too late. How had she done it? Poison? A faked ‘accident’?

A marriage that had once been so happy. He’d been so sure she loved him. Until recently. She must have decided to get rid of him to be with this new man. Well, apparently she’d got away with it; she hadn’t been arrested. Now she could go off with the new man, smiling over her success. But she could have just divorced him, couldn’t she? Did she have to kill him? Was it about money as well?

It was difficult for someone who didn’t believe in ghosts to find he’d become one. From what he’d heard – and he really hadn’t made much of a study of the subject, ghosts were people with unfinished business, particularly in cases of violent death.

But being a ghost had its advantages. He could overhear without being seen.

She was talking to her sister. As he listened he realised how wrong he’d been. As wrong as it was possible to be.

‘He never knew. He’d lost his cuff-links; he couldn’t find them now matter how he searched. His mother had given them to him. They were the only thing he had to remember her by. I’d been learning how to work precious metal. I was working from a photo he had of them. I’d wanted it to be a surprise.’

‘I almost had them finished. He never saw them. I was so upset. He saw my instructor’s name in my phone,’ she smiled sadly. ‘I think he thought I was having an affair.’

‘If only he’d seen that bus coming, everything would have been different. I do miss him so.’

And suddenly the memory came back. He’d been distracted, obsessed by his thoughts of her unfaithfulness and had walked across the road without looking. Straight in front of a bus. He remembered impact, the sudden blackness.

That night as she slept, he stood by her bed. He stroked her beautiful hair, the soft skin of her cheek, as he’d done when they were first married. ‘I love you,’ he said. ‘I have always loved you.’

In the morning she awoke. She rang her sister. ‘I had the strangest dream,’ she said. ‘He was there with me, and he told me he loved me, and nothing else mattered. He was happy, and he loved me.’

‘That’s nice,’ replied her sister. ‘Would you like to go out for coffee?’