‘You!’ I repeated, my mouth gaping open like a befuddled goldfish.
‘Oh… yes,’ he said, having the grace to look a little sheepish, ‘perhaps I should have mentioned it.’
I sank down onto the sofa in the place recently vacated by Jimmy, my head falling into my hands. Maybe there’d been some kind of mistake.
‘You’re… you’re…’ I gulped, no it couldn’t be. ‘You’re… dead?’ I faltered, looking up into his eyes, which seemed so much greyer and deeper than before.
He shrugged, an apologetic smile forming on lips.
‘Yep, I am.’
No mistake then.
The whole country was in mourning following the tragic death of one of the country’s most well-known and well-loved celebrities in a freak accident. Grim-faced newsreaders repeated the news of the untimely demise of Mr Nice-Guy raking over the details of his last hours to find answers to the most unfathomable question. How exactly had Jimmy Mack died? Why had it happened? What private demons had driven Jimmy Mack to an early grave?
In the surreal surroundings of my flat which had taken on an other-worldly quality with the presence of Jimmy lounging on my sofa, the television confirmed to me what I really didn’t want to believe. I was now wrapped up under the duvet, having nabbed it back from Jimmy considering my need to be much greater than his. Hardly daring to surface, only my eyes peeped over the top of the cover at the screen, as tears rolled down my cheeks for the dead man standing beside me.
‘Oh, don’t cry!’ he said, pacing up and down and flapping his arms ineffectively.
‘Don’t cry? Are you serious?’ I jumped up from the sofa and followed him step for step across the carpet. ‘You are… a hugely famous TV star and you’re standing in my living room and if that wasn’t mind-blowing enough… you’re also… you’re also dead! How do you expect me to react?’
‘Yeah, well if it’s any consolation, it’s pretty weird for me too. Do you think I wanted to end up here? I should be on my way to the Heavenly Hilton or wherever it is you’re supposed to go, escorted by a couple of blonde angels.’
‘Oh God!’ I cried, attempting to hurl the duvet across the room, but only managing to tangle it between my legs. ‘Let’s just get this clear,’ I added, slowing my breathing, ‘you are actually… a ghost, then?’
‘Well, it looks that way.’ He actually laughed. As if this were a laughing matter. He glanced down at his moleskin trousers, the pale blue chambray shirt; his sleeves rolled to his elbows, with not even the tiniest speck of blood in sight. He looked real enough to me, solid, living, eminently touchable.
‘Oh, no, no, no. I just can’t get my head around this at all.’
I grabbed a handful of tissues from the box on the table and blew my nose noisily, looking at Jimmy accusingly. What the hell were we supposed to do now? Who should I call? The police, the doctor, an undertaker?
I took a deep breath.
‘So, um, tell me. H-how did it happen then? The accident?’
‘Well, that’s the funny thing, I don’t really know. It all happened so quickly. I was on my way to my parents’ place in Mettlesham. It’s their ruby wedding anniversary this weekend and I was supposed to be taking them out to dinner tonight to celebrate.’ He screwed up his mouth, looking wistful. ‘I left the studio early afternoon and as it was such a beautiful day I decided to take the back roads instead of using the motorway.’ He paused as if reliving those last few moments. ‘I came round the bend and then, well, the steering just flew out of my hands. There was nothing I could do. The car flipped over and over. I didn’t think it was going to stop. And then my head hit the steering wheel or the dashboard, I can’t remember which. And that was it. Game over.’
My gaze settled on the innocuous-looking graze adorning his forehead.
‘Did it hurt?’ I didn’t really want to know the answer, but couldn’t stop myself from asking.
‘Not really.’ He shrugged, pondering the question. ‘It was pretty instantaneous. There was a lot of noise. In my head. And lights, lots of flashing lights, but I didn’t really feel anything.’
‘No? Well, that’s something, I suppose.’ I sighed. ‘I am so sorry,’ I said, sinking back down onto the sofa, not knowing what else to say. What exactly do you say to a dead man? The thought of his grieving family, friends and whole legion of fans was uppermost in my mind.
‘Don’t worry about it. It’s hardly your fault. I appreciate this must be very strange for you, me being here, but please don’t cry over me. The whole dying thing… it’s not half as bad as you’d imagine.’
I felt like sticking my fingers in my ears and la-la-ing into oblivion, but Jimmy was looking at me intently.
‘Well, you’re looking better than when I first came across you, I must admit.’ A bit peaky still, but his voice sounded much stronger and his presence seemingly so much more vivid.
‘Hey, I bet I’m the best-looking dead man you’ve ever met?’
I couldn’t argue with that. He was the best-looking man I’d ever met. Living or otherwise.
When he laughed his grey eyes twinkled mischievously, but I was finding it hard to find anything to laugh about. This whole episode was making me feel very uneasy.
Jimmy went on, considering me thoughtfully.
‘It’s just that I think there may have been a few problems in the um, well I don’t know what you’d call it, but in the handing over process, I suppose.’
‘The handing over process?’ A feeling of trepidation filled every pore in my body. ‘Um, what do you mean?’ I asked, not certain I wanted to hear the answer.
He scratched his head, managing to look both vulnerable and gorgeous in equal measure.
‘For some reason, I seem to have got stuck here with you. Obviously not alive, but neither fully gone over to the other side either. Betwixt and between, I suppose. I think that’s why you were sent my way. To help me.’
‘Ha, ha!’ I laughed, rather too heartily, only now it was Jimmy’s turn to look serious. ‘But how can I possibly help you?’ I said slowly, quietly, the deep apprehension growing in my chest.
‘To get to the other side, of course.’ He said it as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Chapter Two
Why me? It was a question I asked myself a dozen times over in the hours following Jimmy’s arrival in my life.
I liked to pride myself on my efficiency and capability. It’s what I’m good at. Throw a problem my way and I’ll sort it. Even if I don’t immediately know the answer, I’ll find someone who does. But whoever it was up there who thought my organisational skills stretched to finding homes for recently deceased people, however well-known and however gorgeous, was surely having a joke at my expense.
I tried to broach this sensitive subject with Jimmy.
‘Were you not given any idea when you, um, passed… what you were supposed to do? Where you were meant to go?’
In a short space of time, he seemed to have made himself very comfy on my sofa and was brandishing the remote control with authority, flicking between channels to get the most up-to-date coverage on his demise.
‘Huh?’ He looked mildly irritated as he turned his gaze to look at me.
‘When you… you know…’ I didn’t like to say the word aloud, almost as if I didn’t mention it then it wouldn’t be such a permanent arrangement. Instead, I made a genteel fainting motion.