Anton's ghost
As I grew older, I got a job at a university. I kept myself to myself, but I enjoyed my work. At lunchtime, I would head to the library and study the film books and borrow DVDs to watch at home later. But then one day, mum had a stroke and she died two months later. It was a huge shock. I decided to take some time off, while the students were away, hoping it would give me the chance to adjust. With mum gone, I was lonely but my movies and film books kept me going.
On the
day that it happened, the summer heat was becoming unbearable. I hadn’t been
outside of the house for a while and I thought a little outing would do me
good. I was deciding where to go when I realised it was the anniversary of
Anton’s death. I could go on a trip to visit his grave. I got up and searched
through the mound of books in the hallway and eventually found the location. St
John’s Church, Hampstead.
I
started to get excited - it would be a day to remember. I made up some
sandwiches and then eased my way through my overgrown garden to the tangled old
rose bush, selecting the biggest blooms for a floral tribute. I also unearthed
a small trowel, in case the grave needed a tidy.
And
then, on a whim, I went back inside and fetched a small card from the bureau. I
would write him a note. Dear Anton, I have always loved you, and I will
never forget you. Forever yours, Miss Audrey Matthews, Bear Gardens, Morden. I
wrapped the flowers in some paper and sticky-taped the note on the side.
Perfect. I laid everything on the back seat of mum’s navy Morris Minor, and I
was off.
It was a horrible journey, even with my Satnav to guide me. I usually avoided driving through London and I lost count of the beeps from angry drivers. But I didn’t care. I was on an adventure. A homage to the film star I had loved for so many years.
***
By the time I had got to
St John’s, it was late afternoon and as I had hoped, the churchyard was empty.
I began my search to the left of the church, but the headstones looked too
overgrown and eroded to be markers for a sixties burial. I crossed the path to
the other side of the cemetery and spotted Anton’s grave almost immediately.
His name was emblazoned across the white marble stone in black letters with the
dates of his birth and death and ‘Our dear friend’ written underneath. A
wilting posy of sweet peas lay next to it, probably left by another fan like
me.
‘How
kind of you to come and see me, Audrey.’
The
figure stepped around towards me and then I recognised him – the hair, the
moustache and that beautiful smile. Everything I loved and remembered.
The
deafening sound of banging on my front door forced me to open my eyes again.
It was like someone was trying to break the thing down.
‘No, I’m not,’ I said. ‘I’ll just ignore them.’
But the
banging continued, and so I got up to the door and looked through the spy hole.
Two police officers were hovering on the steps, looking very angry and
impatient to be let in. I opened the door a crack. ‘Can I help you?’ I said.
‘Are you Audrey Matthews?’
‘Yes, that’s right. Is there a problem?
‘I’m afraid so madam. We need to speak to you about an incident at St John’s Church in Hampstead today.’
‘Yes I was there today,’ I said, but there didn’t seem to be anything untoward happening. I’d rather you didn’t come in, as I’ve got someone with me.’
‘Miss Matthews,’ said the meanest-looking officer. ‘We have reason to believe you have disinterred some ashes from a grave and as I’m sure you’re aware, this is a very serious offence. The churchwarden found a note with your address by the graveside, and the car in your driveway was seen in the vicinity.’
I
opened the door. I thought - what an earth were they talking about? At least
Anton would be able to tell them I’d done nothing wrong. But as we walked into
the living room, I saw that Anton had disappeared from the sofa and in his
place lay a large brass urn. The lid of the urn had come loose, and a cloud of gritty-grey dust had spilt out and spread over my cushions.
‘Excuse
me a moment,’ I said. I ran to the bathroom and was violently sick. As I
flushed the toilet, I noticed my hands were caked with soil and my fingernails
were black and all broken.
‘Are you ok?’ called out one of the officers ‘Do you need any help?’
‘Just coming,’ I said.
I took
a deep breath and forced myself to go back into the living room.
Anton had appeared again, he was standing by the mantelpiece and smoking a cigarette. He exhaled slowly. ‘Oh, Audrey,’ he said. ‘I think you might have some explaining to do.’
* * *
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