«Oi, Dave, Dave… why you still kippin? Listen? Get up, youll sleep your whole bleedin life away. Blimey, look at him, eh? Still out cold… Dave, get up, Im tellin ya, youll miss your chance!»
«Agatha Margaret, give us a break, let me sleep, for heavens sake.»
«Sleep? Youll have plenty of time to sleep when youre retired.»
«Yeah, or when Im six feet under.»
«Not likely. Up you get, come on… eh?»
Dave peered into the mirror, bleary-eyed and unshaven.
«Well?»
«Not movin, are ya? Go wash up, shave, make yourself presentable. Youve got time. Go on.»
«What time, Agatha Margaret?»
«That time.»
Dave trudged to the bathroom, muttering curses under his breathlest he catch a slipper to the chops or the back of the head. Bloody woman, still bossing him about even nowhe thought bitterly.
«Oi, Dave, did I ever tell ya? I can hear your thoughts sometimes, eh? Did I? No? Well, now you know,» his mother-in-law perched cross-legged on his bed like some ghostly yogi. «Side effect, innit? Go on, wash up, brush your teeth proper, and dont forget to shaveyou look like a proper tramp.»
Dave knew better than to argue. Even when she was alive, it was pointless.
Agatha Margaret wasnt your average mother-in-lawshe was a ghost.
Right.
No, he hadnt lost his marbles. No, he wasnt off his rocker. Its just… one day, Agatha Margaret had turned up in his flat.
After shed been buried.
«I hear ya, Dave. Most of the time, what youre thinkin,» she nodded, floating gently toward him. «How did my Sally ever put up with you? Youre a right dinosaur, you are.»
Dave waved her off and headed to the bathroom.
He and Sally had divorced a year ago. Kids grown, lives moved on. Sally had had enoughcalled him a tyrant, said he stifled her growth, stuffed her things in a bag, and slammed the door on her way out.
Dave stood there, bewildered.
He rang her. She said she wanted nowt to do with some backwards, misogynistic relic. Never in his life had Dave been called such filthy words.
And how, according to Sally, could he stop being a relic? He built houses for a livingsheds, garages, the lot. Strange woman, that Sally. Swore like a sailor, too.
Turns out shed been listening to some life coach blokewhat was his name? Percival Moonbeam or summat. Decided her life with Dave had been misery. Said hed treated her like a workhorse, made her cook stews and fry bangers.
Though, truth be told, Sallys bangers were top-notch…
Dave nearly choked on his own spit as a thought struck him. Half-shaven, he bolted into the hall.
«Agatha Margaret… Agatha Margaret!»
«What? Whatre you screechin for?»
«Agatha Margaret, teach me how to make your stew. Go on, please?»
«Oh, right, like Id just hand over me secret recipe!»
«Whats it to you now? Gonna cook for the angels, are ya?»
«Cheeky sod.»
«Well, its true… Sallys stew is better than yours.»
«Better? I taught her, you daft git!»
«So?» Dave kept shaving, door wide open. Decency be damnedhis day off was already ruined. She wouldnt let up.
«So?» Agatha Margaret flickered, wobbled, then settled on a chair. Early on, shed bobbed about like a balloon, spinning mid-air. Now shed got the hang of itcould even pick things up. Like slippers. «I taught Sally, you muppet.»
«Not denyin it. Just sayin, pupil surpassed the teacher.»
«Wha? Say that again. What meat does Sally use in her stew, eh?»
«Pork, obviously.»
«Exactly, you plank. Its beef, you want.»
«Oh yeah? And I spose its got to be cooked in that pot, not this one.»
«Are you thick? That one over there»
Between the two of them, Dave whipped up a stew, scribbling notes like a madman.
Sitting at the table, clean-shaven, he took a bite. Bloody heavenly.
«Mum… youre a genius.»
«Eh?»
«This stew… its unreal.»
«What about Sallys?»
«Pfft. Mum, hers dont even come close… Youyou crying? Can ghosts even cry?»
«Dunno,» she sniffed. «Youre a right git, Dave.»
«Oh, charming. Whatve I done now?»
«Nothin… just called me mum, didnt ya? Now Im blubberin. Dave, I was tryin to sort your life out.»
«Hows that?»
«Well… I was gonna send you out with the binsclean, shaved, lookin smartat half six. And just then, Geraldine from next doord come out. Forty-seven, never married, just moved in. Youd bump into her, literal-like, and…»
«Right… and then?»
«Nothin, Dave,» her eyes dartedas much as a ghosts can. «You mucked it up with your stew nonsense.»
«Me?»
«Yeah, you! Now Im stuck here till I sort you out proper.»
«Sort me out? Who decided Id be happy shackin up with some strange bird? Im happier than you think.»
«Hows that?»
«Im alive, aint I? Got the recipe for the best stew in the world. Got you naggin me so I dont starve or rot in me own filth. Not lonely, am I? Got you… Mum.»
«Oh, sod off,» she shrieked, vanishing into the wardrobe. Sniffles and wails echoed from inside.
Dave decided to tidy up.
«How dyou clean a mirror like that? Honestly, Daveuse that cloth there!»
***
Sally hadnt slept well. Dreamt of her mumyoung and beautiful, reaching out, calling her name.
She tried to watch her life coach, Zenith Starlight, but the video wouldnt load. Rang him insteadhe was always available, day or night.
No answer.
«Ello?» A groggy voice crackled through. A red, puffy face filled the screen. «Who the devils callin at this hour? You off your nut?»
Sally snapped the laptop shut. That wasnt Zenith. That was some hung-over ogre.
She sat, then decidedfor no reason she could nameto go to Daves flat.
***
Dave and Agatha Margaret were mid-chess match, laughing like loons.
«Gone mental,» Sally thought, watching her ex-husband chat and play with thin air.
«Oh, Sally! Your move, Mumcheck!»
Sally swore the chess pieces moved on their own.
«Lookin well, Sally. Mum says youve lost weight. Not eatin? Fancy some stew? Mums special.»
«Dave… youre alright?»
«Me? Never better. Mums promised to teach me her bangers next.»
«Dave… what mum? Shes… been gone a year.»
«Uh-huh. Lived with me this whole time.»
«Dave… Davey, whats happened to you?»
«Im grand, Sal. Best Ive been. Cmon, stews waitin.»
Sally decided not to argue with a madman.
The stew… the smell… just like her mums.
«Dave… you made this?»
«Yeah. Mum spilled her secrets. Stop cryin, Agatha Margaret… You dont believe me, Sal? Ask summat only you and your mum would know.»
«Dave, I»
«Go on. You think Im barmy anyway.»
«Mum… what secret did I tell you in Year Three?»
«That you fancied… what? You fancied me back then?»
Sally sank into a chair.
«What colour was my pram? How old was I when my first tooth came in? Whos Aunty Marge?»
Every answer was spot on.
«This cant be… Dave… My mum… shes really here?»
«Yeah. Sort of. Shes a ghost, Sal. Mum… show yourself.»
For a split second, Sally saw her. Then again, in flickers.
«Shes losin energy, Sal. But she loves you. Wants you happy. Wants… us happy? Whats that mean, Agatha Margaret? Waitwhere you goin? Mum»
Dave woke with a gasp. Sally jolted up beside him.
«Sally?»
«Dave?» She clutched the blanket. «I dont… how did… Was that?»
«A dream,» Dave whispered.
«You dreamt it too? That Mum was a ghost»
«Aye. And that youd left me for some life coach»
«Dave!»
«Sally!»
A fist pounded the door.
«Honestly! Sleepin the day away!»
«Mum?»
«Agatha Margaret, so youre alive?»
«Not for your benefit! Sally, stop watchin that nonsenselife coaches, my foot. Had the strangest dreamlived with you and this daft git for a year as a ghost. Get dressed, were goin to the cottage. Plenty to doknock some sense into you, Sally. And you, Davelearn to make stew proper. Just in case…»
***
«Dave… whyd you never call me Mum in thirty years with Sally?»
«Dunno… Mum. «Reckon I was always too proud, or too daft. But in that dream it just slipped out. Felt right.»
Agatha Margaret sniffed, wiping her eyes with the edge of her cardigan. «About bleedin time.»
Outside, the kettle began to whistle, though no one had lit the stove.
Dave looked at Sally, Sally looked at him, and for the first time in years, they both smiled.
