The Boy Who Lived With Ghosts: A Memoir (8 page)

“What the hell are you doing on these steps?”

It’s a man in a suit, coming out of the Conservative Club.

“Choo-choo!”

“What in God’s name is that?”

“It’s our Pop,” says Emily.

“No, that thing there. Shouldn’t it have a head?”

He’s pointing at our Guy.

“Blew off!” shouts Emily.

“Blew off!” shouts Pop. “Choo-choo!”

“Why is his tongue hanging out like that?”

“Nana took his teeth away!”

“What was she doing with that boy there?”

“Dancing,” says Margueretta.

“Well, you can’t dance here. We don’t have a license. Now clear off the lot of you!”

We have to take our headless Guy home. Nana wants her bloomers back. But first I need to be sick because my head is dizzy and my hair is falling out. Dad will be upset that all his socks are gone. But I won’t tell Nana that my dad thought our Guy looked like her.

18

P
op is dead. Nana said it’s for the best and he’s with Saint Peter and the bright lights of Heaven. But I will miss him. We were watching the telly when Pop rolled up his bed blanket and said he wanted to go home because the war is over now. Then he died near the front door and some men came to take him away.

But he’s back in the front room now. Nana said I have to say goodbye to him but there’s no way I’m going to give him a kiss for all Eternity. I will not kiss someone who is dead. It was bad enough that time with Great-Auntie Maisie smelling like sick. And anyone should know that a dead person would have no idea that someone is giving them a kiss. Nana still says I have to give him a kiss.

Well, I’m not doing it.

But I did look at him.

He’s in his suit and he has his medals from the war on his chest. And someone has put his teeth back in and his tongue isn’t hanging out. I don’t know how they did that because it was a really big tongue. He’s also wearing lipstick and makeup. I think Nana must have done that but he does not look like a clown. He looks like a ghost.

“I’m glad he’s gone!” Mum said.

I don’t think you should say you are glad that someone is dead. But Pop was my mum’s stepfather and she says he wasn’t a very nice man. I think this may have something to do with Auntie Beryl and the playing cards with the naked women. Anyway, Mum’s glad he’s dead.

“I’m going to bury him with Grandpa,” Mum said. “It was a two-for-one burial plot. They never agreed in life so now they can fight in the grave!”

“Well, there’s no money to bury him any other way. Will they be buried, side-by-side? Dead beside each other?” Nana asked.

“No. We’ll bury them one on top of the other. When Grandpa died, the man at the Co-op said it would be cheaper in the long run to get a double burial plot. But only if I knew someone else who was going to die soon. Quite a bargain, I thought. But it’s not side-by-side.”

“Aye, sounds like a bargain, hen. Who did you tell him the second dead person would be?”

“I didn’t have to tell him a name. It’s just that there’s no point in buying a double burial plot if you only have one person to bury and no one else is going to die anytime soon.”

“Och, that would nae be a bargain, lassie!”

“Anyway. It’s worked out well with Pop being dead. So Pop can fight with Grandpa for all Eternity. Serves him right. And I got two whole books of Co-op dividend stamps. If I had two million of those books of stamps, I’d be a millionaire!”

“Aye. And if we had bacon we could have bacon and eggs. If we had eggs,” said Nana.

Nana glanced at me. You cannot hatch eggs into chickens. Anyone should know that.

“Well, things are looking a lot better. Now that he’s finally got another job.”

Dad’s been working for a removal company called Humphries. He says it’s the best job he’s ever had and sometimes he brings the big brown removal truck home and let’s me sit at the driver’s wheel. But we don’t pretend it’s a police car because it’s too big.

But Dad’s not working today because we’re having a wake, which is what they call a party for a dead person. And Dad’s in the front room now playing the “Twenty-third Psalm,” which is the one about the Lord being my
shepherd I shall not want. Dad says he misses Pop too and he cried when they told him Pop was dead. He’s been playing funeral music on his organ all day.

“Have you thought about something?” Nana asked.

“What’s that?” Mum replied.

“When you go up to Heaven, will you be the person you used to be?”

“Used to be?”

“Well, there’d be no use in being Pop as he was when he died, sitting with the Archangel and not knowing who he is. Or hiding in a corner with his tongue hanging out.”

“True enough. I never thought of it that way.”

“Well, which
me
will it be who meets ma Maker? Will I be a young lassie? Or will I be old?”

“Well, it will be you, of course. Whatever you want.”

“Aye, but when I go to meet ma Maker will ma first husband be there too? That could be very awkward, you know! I canny live for all Eternity wi’ two husbands. One at a time was bad enough!”

“Ha! Right enough. Well, there was no love lost with the second one!”

“Careful! He’s nae in his grave yet, lassie!”

“Aye. But he’s dead. And I’m not.”

“And what if I was to marry again? Then I’d have three husbands. And all of them lazing around in Heaven wanting cups o’ tea. That doesnee sound like Heaven to me!”

“I think you probably have whatever you want in Heaven, Mother.”

“Well, what I want is some peace and quiet.”

“I’ve always said you get your reward in Heaven.”

“Well, I need a reward now. Let’s have a wee dram to say goodbye to the old beggar. And a tune. I canny listen to that awful organ music a minute longer.”

“Don’t worry. He’ll be off down the Fitzroy soon enough,” said Mum.

“Not when he finds out I’ve got a bottle of Teacher’s Whisky! Here, Johnny, take this glass of whisky to your father and tell him to come into the kitchen.”

I’m walking up the black passageway to the front room. One sip. I’ll just take one sip. God, it’s burning my mouth! One more sip. One more. Not the same as the sherry. One last sip.

“Daddy! This is for you! And Nana said you are to come into the kitchen.”

“Come over here and sit with me, wee Johnny.”

“Have you been crying, Daddy?”

“I have, son. I have. It’s a sad time. Do you love your old dad?”

“Yes! I love you!”

“Ah, and I love you too. And your sisters.”

“And Mum!”

“Of course I love your mum.”

“I don’t like being in here with Pop. He scares me.”

“Dead people canny hurt you. It’s the living ones you need to worry about. Aye, the living ones will do you harm.”

“Will you die one day, Daddy?”

“Och, you say the funniest things. We will all die one day, but you shouldn’t worry your wee head about these things.”

“I don’t want you to die, Daddy.”

“Don’t worry. Your daddy is not going to die. I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying right here with my wee laddie. Hold my hand, Johnny. Hold my hand tight. Hold on tight.”

“I want to stay with you forever.”

“Of course, wee Johnny. Of course. You are my boy. My bonny, bonny boy. Forever and ever. My boy.”

“Can I go with you to see a man about a dog?”

“Och, there you go again, saying the funniest things!”

“I want to go with you. I want to be with you, Daddy. I want to be with you forever and ever and ever!”

“You will, wee Johnny. You will, my dear, wee boy. Forever and ever.”

19

W
e will never be cold and hungry again. Miss Jones said there are really hot places in other parts of the world where it never snows and you can walk around in nothing but your underwear all day if you want. She said they have bananas and coconuts growing on trees and you can just reach up and take one—and no one even cares. And they have flying fish that jump right out of the ocean onto your plate for you to eat. One of those places is called Australia and it’s right under our feet. If we could dig all the way through the earth we would be there and we would never be cold and we would have as much food as we want to eat.

I have therefore started digging to Australia.

I told Emily she has to help me. She was not very happy about that because it’s so cold outside but I can’t dig all the way to Australia on my own—any fool would know that. So I said she could use the hammer and I would use the coal shovel. But the ground in our back garden is very hard and Mum said that’s because it’s the middle of bloody winter and it’s frozen solid. And I said that’s why we need to dig our way to Australia and then we will never be cold again. Mum said that’s a very good idea because we’ve run out of coal for the fire and she hasn’t seen my dad for three days.

We had only been digging for about an hour in the dark when those men started banging on our front door. Mum was in the backyard with us when all that noise started. She told us to wait in the backyard but we didn’t and even though our shoes were covered in mud, we ran through the house after her. We took the hammer and coal shovel with us.

Those men were not very nice and they shouted at my mum because they said my dad has got their money and it’s in a biscuit tin under my mum’s bed.

“There’s no biscuit tin under my bloomin’ bed!” Mum shouted back at them.

But they never listened. They said Dad told them all their money was in a safe place and a biscuit tin under your bed is a very safe place. So they pushed past my mum and ran down the dark passageway to the stairs. Mum grabbed the coal shovel from me and ran after them. I grabbed the hammer from Emily and ran after my mum. Emily screamed—the way girls do.

We chased them all the way up the stairs and the fat one got his foot caught in that hole at the top of the stairs and serves him right. And I thought he would have to stay there for the rest of his life with his foot caught in that hole. But he pulled it out just like that so it isn’t true that your foot will be stuck forever.

Well, Mum was just as surprised as me when one of them shouted out that he had found the biscuit tin under her bed. Of course, it was really dark in the bedroom and anyone could make the mistake of thinking it was a biscuit tin when it was, in fact, my dad’s piss pot. And it made the man very angry when he found out it wasn’t a biscuit tin full of money but was a piss pot full of piss and all the piss splashed on him and the other man.

My dad hates emptying that piss pot.

“We’ll be back! Mark my words! We’ll be back, and this time we will have the police with us. Do you understand? We want our money! That thief will not get away with this!” they shouted and drove away in their big brown Humphries van.

Mum said it was bloody obvious that my dad had not hidden a biscuit tin full of money under her bed. No one listens. And anyway, if there was any money in the house, she would use it to buy coal for our fire and then we wouldn’t be freezing to death. Yes, and we would not have to dig all the way to Australia. Although we are also hungry and it would be quite nice to have some bananas and coconuts.

We do have a biscuit tin. It’s in the pantry and that’s where Nana keeps her Dundee cake but I didn’t tell the men about that biscuit tin because the cake’s all gone so you will only find a few crumbs in there and certainly no money.

If I was going to hide some money, I wouldn’t put it under my bed. I would dig a hole in the backyard and bury it. That’s what pirates do. They bury their treasure and make a map with a cross on it. I would make a treasure map in invisible ink and keep it in my pocket and if anyone found it they would just see a blank piece of paper and I would laugh because only I would know that it was a secret treasure map. Nana told me you can make invisible ink with lemon juice but I’ve never tried it because we don’t have money for lemons. But I saw a real lemon once in the grocery shop.

If we were in Australia right now, I would go outside and pick a banana off a tree. A banana and a coconut. And I would give them to my mum because she is crying. She cries a lot and I think it’s because we don’t have any coal for the fire and my dad is away seeing a man about a dog. But I think he will come home soon and bring some coal with him and we will be warm again.

Yes, he will come home soon and we will sit around the fire and he will tell us stories about where he has been and all the adventures he has seen. Maybe he will have a treasure map with him because he’s hidden some money somewhere and he’s not stupid enough to hide it in a biscuit tin under his bed.

Mum has wrapped some blankets around us and told us to sit close together. Now Emily is crying too and the tears are making little tracks on her cheeks through all the mud on her face. I gave her back the hammer and told her to keep hold of it.

I don’t want to dig to Australia now. It’s cold and dark tonight.

20

T
hose men came back again with a policeman and they searched our whole house. They even looked under my bed but they only found my empty piss pot and my set of six whisky glasses with the Scottish soldiers on them. And the policeman was really excited when he found the biscuit tin in the kitchen cupboard but it only had some crumbs in it from the Dundee cake. I already knew that.

The policeman said my dad is in a lot of trouble and that made my mum cry and the two men said there would be more tears before this is over. They’re going to get their money back one way or another. Then they all left.

“What did they say?” Nana asked.

“They said he’s a thief. He’s got the money from all those house moves and he should have handed it in at the end of the week. It’s not his money,” Mum replied.

“So where is it, lassie? Where is all the money?”

“Where do you think?”

“Spent.”

“Aye, spent. Spent on all his pals down the Fitzroy. Down his bloody throat, that’s where.”

“My God. A sinner under our own roof. I’ve never heard the like of it. I will say an extra prayer tonight, that’s right enough. A sinner under our very own roof.”