bristle again. I’ve been carrying my anger around for so long, I can barely remember sometimes what I’m so furious about. It’s the sort of thing Adam has been saying to me for years, and I’ve always thought he was exaggerating. But now I’m here alone in this car park, apparently dead, with a disembodied voice for company, I think perhaps he has a point. There’s a dark pool of fury inside me, something I’ve suppressed for years and one of a number of places I don’t want to go. But I am not going to tell the voice that.
‘Who are you?’ I say instead and, to my astonishment, a mangy-looking black cat wanders up and perches on a bin.
‘Call me Malachi,’ says the cat, stretching out its paws. ‘I’m your spirit guide.’ This is not in the slightest bit reassuring.
I must be delusional. It’s the bang on the head. I’ve fabricated that I’m dead and in a car park talking to a cat. In a moment I’ll wake up in hospital and see Adam and Joe peering worriedly at me and everything will be normal again.
‘Right, this has gone beyond a joke,’ I say. ‘I am going to leave now.’
‘You can try,’ says Malachi, ‘but you won’t get very far. You need to listen to what I say. Just because you’re dead doesn’t mean you can ignore the rules.’
‘I can’t be dead,’ I wail again. ‘This isn’t happening.’
‘Sorry to disappoint, but you’re very very dead. Anyway, in the situation you find yourself in, what’s so odd about talking to a cat? This isn’t who I really am. Just a convenient shape I take on in moments like this. I could be a tramp, but the police would probably move me on. A cat’s more convenient. No one pays much attention to a cat scavenging through the bins at midnight. More to the point, I’m here to help you.’
‘Why?’ I say suspiciously.
‘Because it’s my job,’ says the cat wearily. ‘Though, quite frankly, I’ve had easier material to work with.’
‘What do you mean by that?’ I say, furious again.
‘Well, let’s start with untangling the mess you’ve made of your life.’
‘I haven’t made a mess of my life,’ I protest. ‘I liked my life. I’d really like it back please.’
‘Too late for that,’ says Malachi. ‘But we can put a few things right if you like. We can start with your past.’
‘Suppose I don’t want to,’ I object. I make a point of never looking back and wondering if I could have done things differently. That way madness lies, if you ask me.
‘Fair enough,’ says the cat. ‘But I can’t help you till you want to be helped. If you’re not prepared to listen to me, you’ll be stuck here until you’re ready to move on.’
‘I refuse to listen to this,’ I say. ‘Any minute now I’m going to wake up and this will have been a horrible nightmare.’
‘Your choice,’ he purrs. ‘You stay here guarding the bins then. Let me know when you’re ready. I’ve got better things to do with my time.’
With a flick of his tail he is gone. And I am left here alone, floating around Lidl’s car park, trapped on the very spot where I died.
Emily
Emily Harris hadn’t been sure whether to go to Livvy Carmichael’s funeral or not. She knew Adam wouldn’t be able to talk to her, but she wanted to support him anyway. She’d tentatively texted him to let him know she’d be there, but he hadn’t texted back. She had no idea what that meant. They’d barely spoken since the awful night when he’d rung her to tell her what had happened. She had no place in this. Adam had to be there for Joe, and Emily knew in her heart that might mean whatever they’d had together could be finished forever. She felt desperately sad that Livvy was dead – no one deserved such an end, not even her rival who had caused Adam untold pain for years. But now Livvy was gone she didn’t know where it left her and Adam. Maybe he was only with her because everything had been so hard for him. Their love might fade away in the fallout from this terrible tragedy. It was shitty and miserable but there was nothing she could do.
Emily crept into the back of the packed church. The mood was sombre, and she felt blacker than she’d ever felt in her life. Poor Livvy. What a godawful thing to have happened. Poor Joe. Poor Adam. Poor bloody everybody.
The organ started to play ‘The Lord’s my Shepherd’, and everyone rose. In a blur, Emily watched Adam, his fair head bowed, looking blankly ahead escorting Joe, his skinny frame hunched and miserable, and a small fair-haired woman, who must be Livvy’s mum, Felicity, as they followed the coffin down the aisle. The three of them clung to each other, for support, and Emily felt more than ever that she had no right to be here. She nearly turned and fled, but Adam glanced up at her as he walked past and gave her a quick and grateful smile. He looked so sombre and sad. Emily wished beyond anything she could be by his side.
The funeral passed in a blur. Felicity got up and read something about Death not being the end in such a dignified manner, Emily felt a lump rise in her throat. She had a sudden terrible memory of her own mother’s funeral, and marvelled at Felicity’s courage. Emily couldn’t do anything but sob that day; to be able to read for your own daughter and not break down took some doing.
Adam also read a passage about love. He didn’t look at the congregation, focusing his attention on getting every word out. Emily could see what it cost him, and longed to be with him to comfort him. And then Joe got up, and said simply. ‘My mum was the best. She looked after me, and now she’s gone. And I miss her.’
There wasn’t a dry eye in the church after that, and the rest of the service was punctuated with people sobbing. After it was over, Emily escaped as quickly as she could. The family were going on to a private burial, and she had no intention of attending the wake.
A crowd of people clustered around Joe, Adam and Felicity, so Emily walked down the path to the road where her car was parked. She’d done what she came to do. Although Emily had thought what she and Adam had was special, Livvy being dead altered things. Her rival was gone, but not in a way anyone would have wanted. Was Adam’s love for her enough to withstand his grief? All Emily could do was wait and see if Adam would come back to her.
As she was unlocking the car door, she heard a shout, ‘Emily, wait.’
It was Adam. The temptation to hug him was immense, but Emily hung back.
‘I just wanted to say thanks,’ he said. ‘It meant a lot that you came.’
‘Of course I came,’ said Emily. ‘How are you bearing up?’
‘Not well,’ said Adam. He looked tired and strained.
‘You’d better get back,’ said Emily uneasily. ‘People might talk.’
‘I’m not sure that matters any more.’
‘You have Joe to think of,’ she pointed out.
‘I know,’ said Adam. ‘Emily, you do understand, don’t you? Joe has to be my priority right now. And – well – the next few months, I
