Is Daddy okay?’
‘No, darling. I have to tell you some terrible news.’
‘What is it? What’s wrong? Has he hurt himself? Is he in hospital?’
Tears were flooding down Mum’s face. I could hardly bear to watch. ‘There was a terrible accident, my love. Daddy was really badly hurt and … I’m so sorry … he died.’
Ella was silent for a moment before asking: ‘What do you mean? What kind of accident?’
‘Daddy was riding his bicycle. He was, um. He was in a crash.’
‘A crash? How? What hurted him?’
‘It was a car.’
‘Where is he now? Has he gone to the hospital?’
‘No, darling. He died. He’s not here any more. He’s in Heaven. He’s with your mummy.’
Ella stood up. ‘He can’t be. He’s taking me to get an ice cream later. He’s just a bit late. It’s naughty to tell lies, Nana. Do you want to see my new hairband? I’ll go and get it. It’s in my bedroom.’
She ran out of the room and up the stairs, leaving Mum distraught.
‘Go after her!’ I cried.
But at that moment Mum’s mobile phone started ringing. ‘Hello? Oh, Tom, it’s you. Thank goodness. Are you still with the police?’
I left Mum talking to Dad and went upstairs to Ella’s bedroom, which she’d persuaded me to paint bright pink about a year ago. I couldn’t see where she was at first; then I heard a rustling sound coming from inside the princess castle I’d given her the birthday before last. We had talked about taking the pink play tent down, as she hadn’t used it for a while, but when I peered through the mesh window, there she was. She was hugging Kitten, her favourite soft toy, and staring at the floor.
I knelt down right by the window. ‘I wish you could hear me, Ella. You’re my world, my everything. I’m here for you and I’m not going anywhere.’
‘I know you’re not dead, Daddy,’ she said, startling me.
‘Ella?’ I replied, reaching my arm into the tent to touch her – to make contact – only to find myself flying backwards through the air and slamming against the wall on the far side of the room. No pain again, but it was clear I wasn’t able to touch anyone.
‘Please come home soon, so Nana can see that she’s wrong,’ she continued, oblivious to what had just happened. ‘You promised you’d never leave me and I know you meant it. Please come home, Daddy. I miss you.’
Mum and Dad decided to stay at our house for the night, to keep things as normal as possible for Ella. They took the poky third bedroom, which was only slightly bigger than the double bed it contained. I’d have rather they used my room, but they felt it wasn’t appropriate – and it wasn’t like they could hear my protests.
I was finding it increasingly frustrating that no one could hear or see anything I said or did. The only external confirmation of my existence came in the form of my parents’ dog, Sam, who’d arrived with Dad. A usually placid King Charles spaniel, he barked incessantly and ran around in circles whenever we were in the same room. It excited me at first, as I wondered whether I might be able to use him to make contact with my family. But it soon became clear that there was little chance of any Lassie-type behaviour. He wasn’t the brightest of pets. Plus he’d never liked me much when I was alive and apparently death hadn’t changed that. Trying to talk to him only served to increase the volume of his barking, so I soon abandoned that possibility.
There was another moment of excitement when, to my surprise, I realized I could see my reflection in the mirror. My mother was brushing her teeth in the bathroom. I must have passed mirrors before that, but this was the first time it had registered.
‘Hey,’ I shouted, jumping up and down; waving like a lunatic. ‘Look, Mum. Here I am.’
But she couldn’t see my reflection any more than she could hear what I was saying.
I waited for Dad to follow her and tried again. I stood beside him as he too brushed his teeth and washed his face. There I was, clear as day, right next to him, asking him to look at me. But apparently I was the only one who could see it.
At least I looked to be in one piece. I was relieved not to see any sign of the injuries I’d suffered in the crash.
‘None of this feels real,’ Mum said to Dad after the two of them got into bed. ‘I keep thinking – hoping – I’ll wake up and it’ll all have been a bad dream.’
Dad took her hand and let out a sigh.
‘I just feel numb,’ she continued. ‘After the initial shock of it all – after telling Ella what happened – it’s like … I don’t know. As if it’s happening to someone else. Not me. Why aren’t I crying now? I feel I’m not reacting as I should be.’
‘There is no right way to react,’ Dad replied. ‘Parents aren’t meant to outlive their children.’
‘But how do you feel, Tom?’
He sighed again. ‘I’m putting one foot in front of the other. We have to be strong for Ella.’
I couldn’t listen to any more of their conversation. It felt too much like eavesdropping, so I walked to Ella’s room instead. Sitting down on the floor next to her bed, I was consumed by a rush of fears and anxieties.
How on earth would this fragile little girl manage without me? Would I ever get through to her and, if not, how could I survive here alone?
Oh my God, I’m dead, I thought, the terrible truth starting to sink in. I’m actually dead. My life’s over. I’ll never hug Ella again. I’ll never wash her hair, brush her teeth or read her a story again. All those little things I used to take for granted. Gone. Forever.
Then I thought back to the accident. Why the hell did I go out on my bike in the first place?
Ella coughed in her sleep. I looked over at her flushed face and her blond curls, matted and unruly across the pillow, and it was enough to jolt me out of my spiral of self-pity. ‘Stop it,’ I said. ‘Stop feeling sorry for yourself. She’s the only thing that matters now.’
I hadn’t got a clue whether or not ghosts – or spirits, as Lizzie put it – were able to sleep. I didn’t feel particularly tired. But I lay down on the floor next to the bed and tried to clear my mind, if only to be able to do my best to get through to Ella in the morning. It took a while, but eventually I drifted off.
I woke up the next morning alone in Ella’s bedroom. Apparently she’d already got up. To my dismay, I noticed the door was shut. My experience so far as a spirit had been that I couldn’t interact with anything around me. This meant I was trapped. However, I remembered
