«Oi, Dave, Dave… What, still asleep? Listen to meget up, or youll sleep your whole life away. Look at him, will you? Sleeping like a log… David, Im telling you, youll miss your chance if you dont wake up now!»
«Margaret, for heavens sake, just let me sleep a bit longer.»
«Sleep? You can sleep when youre retired.»
«Yeah, or when Im dead. Same difference.»
«You wont sleep then either. Up you getcome on!»
David dragged himself to the mirror, bleary-eyed, his face creased from sleep.
«Well?»
«Still dawdling. Go wash up, shave, make yourself presentable. Youve got time. Get on with it.»
«What time, Margaret?»
«Enough time, thats what.»
David shuffled to the bathroom, grumbling under his breaththough not too loudly, unless he fancied a slipper to the back of the head. Bloody woman, still bossing him about even now.
«Dave, did I ever tell you? I can hear your thoughts sometimes. No? Well, now you know.» Margaret settled cross-legged on his bed, floating slightly. «Side effect, I suppose. Now go on, wash up, brush your teeth, and for goodness sake, shave. You look like youve been living in the woods.»
Dave knew better than to argue. Even in life, it had been pointless.
Margaret wasnt just his ex-mother-in-lawshe was a ghost.
No, he wasnt losing his mind. No, he hadnt drunk himself into delirium. One day, shed just… appeared. After the funeral.
«I hear you, you know. Almost always,» she said, drifting closer. «How did my Linda manage living with you? Youre a right dinosaur, you are.»
David waved her off and headed to the bathroom.
He and Linda had divorced a year ago. The kids were grown, living their own lives. Linda had snapped, called him a tyrant, accused him of stifling her growthwhatever that meant. Shed packed a bag, slammed the door, and left.
David, baffled, had stood there alone.
When he called her, shed ranted about him being a misogynist, a relic of the past. Hed never been called such names before.
And how was he supposed to stop being a «patriarchal oppressor» when he literally built houses for a living? Strange woman, that Linda. And now she was spouting nonsense from some life coach.
Still… she made a mean shepherds pie.
David nearly choked on his own drool at the thought. Halfway through shaving, he bolted into the hallway.
«Margaret! Margaret!»
«Whats all the shouting about?»
«Margaret, teach me how to make shepherds pie. Please.»
«Ha! As if Id just hand over my secret recipe!»
«What, you gonna cook for the angels now?»
«Cheeky bugger.»
«Anyway, Lindas is better than yours.»
«WHAT? I taught her everything she knows!»
«Maybe, but she surpassed you.»
«Rubbish! What meat does she use?»
«Lamb, obviously.»
«Idiot! Its beef!»
«Oh, and I suppose youll say it has to be in that old pan of yours?»
«Exactly! That one!»
So, between arguments, Dave scribbled notes in a pad and cooked.
Clean-shaven, he sat at the kitchen table, eating the most glorious shepherds pie of his life.
«Mum… youre a genius.»
«What?»
«This pie… its incredible.»
«And Lindas?»
«Pfft. Doesnt even compare… Wait, are you crying? Can ghosts cry?»
«Dunno,» Margaret sniffled. «Youre a right git, Dave.»
«Oi, you what? Whatve I done now?»
«Nothing… just called me mum.»
«So?»
«So now Im crying, you wazzock.»
«Alright, alright… Whyd you come back, anyway?»
She sighed. «I was supposed to make you happy.»
«How?»
«By setting you up with Gladys from next door. Youd bump into her taking the bins out at seven-forty-five, and»
«Wait, what? And then?»
«Then youd… well, youd get on. And Id be free to move on. That was the deal.»
«So you knew all this a year ago?»
«Course I did.»
«Why didnt you do it?»
Her ghostly eyes darted. «Because you kept pestering me about shepherds pie!»
«Me?!»
«Yes, you! Now Im stuck here until I make you happy.»
«Happy? You think Id be happy with some stranger? I *am* happy! Ive got your recipe now. And youyou keep me from rotting away in my own mess. Im not lonely. Ive got you… Mum.»
«Oh, sod off,» she shrieked, vanishing into the wardrobe. Sobs and wails echoed from inside.
Dave decided to tidy up.
«Youre cleaning that mirror all wrong. Use the yellow cloth!»
***
Linda hadnt slept well. Shed dreamt of her motheryoung, beautiful, reaching for her.
She tried to watch her life coach, Desmond Miracle, but the video wouldnt load. She called instead.
The man whod «opened her eyes» was supposedly available 24/7.
No answer.
«Hello?» A groggy voice snarled. A red-faced man glared through the screen. «Who the hell calls at seven in the morning? You off your rocker?»
Linda slammed the laptop shut. That wasnt Desmond. That was… some monster.
She sat still, then decided to visit the flat where her exthat terrible, oppressive manstill lived. She was happy now. Almost. Something was missing.
She didnt know why, but she needed to see David.
***
David and Margaret were playing chess, laughing.
«Hes lost it,» Linda thought, watching her ex-husband chat and play with… no one.
«Linda! Mum, your movecheck!»
Linda swore the pieces moved on their own.
«You look well,» David said. «Mum says youve lost weight. Not eating? Fancy some shepherds pie? Her recipe.»
«David… are you okay?»
«Are *you*? Mum says youve been listening to quacks.»
«David… what mum? Shes been gone a year.»
«Yeah, shes been haunting me since.»
«David… love, youre not well.»
«Im brilliant. Shes teaching me to cook. Come on, try the pie.»
Linda humoured him.
The pie… the smell was just like her mothers.
«You made this?»
«Yep. Mum shared her secret. Stop crying, MargaretLinda, ask her something only you two would know.»
«David, this is»
«Just ask.»
«Fine. Mum… what secret did I tell you in third grade?»
«That you fancied… wait, *me*? You fancied me in third grade?!»
Linda sat heavily.
She fired off more questionsher prams colour, her first tooth, Auntie Mabelall answered perfectly.
«This cant be… David, is she really here?»
«Yeah. Sort of. Shes a ghost, Lin. Mumshow yourself.»
For a fleeting second, Linda saw her. Then again, in flashes.
«Shes fading,» David said. «But she loves you. Wants you happy. Wants *us* happy. Whats that mean, Margaret? Waitwhere are you?»
«Mum…?»
***
David woke with a gasp. Linda jolted up beside him.
«Lin?»
«David? How did I? Wait… was that…?»
«A dream,» David whispered.
«You dreamt Mum was a ghost? And Id left you for some life coach?»
«Linda!»
«David!»
A fist hammered on the door.
«Up, you layabouts! Sleepin your lives away!»
«Mum?»
«Margaret? Youre alive?»
«Course I am! Linda, stop watching that nonsense. Life coachesrubbish! Had the strangest dream… like Id spent a year haunting you two. Now get upwere going to the cottage. Plenty of work. David, youre learning to cook properly.»
***
«David… whyd you never call me mum in thirty years?»
«Dunno… Mum.»
**Lifes too short for grudges. Sometimes happiness is right where you left it. Sometimes happiness is right where you left it.
