Rest in peace
Grandad’s photo clattered
off the back of the mantlepiece as Julie and David watched Strictly Come Dancing.
The frame glanced off their boxer,
Alfonso, who woke up with a loud woof and lumbered towards the
kitchen in search of biscuits.
‘How on earth did that happen?’ said David.
‘Shh,’
snapped Julie, who was lying sprawled across the sofa in her onesie. ‘The
scores are in.’
David
got up from his armchair and picked the photograph up from the rug. ‘Lucky the
glass didn’t break. Really odd. It’s never done that before.’
‘It’ll
be a vibration from the lorries outside. Move out the way; it's Anton Du Beke.’
‘Anton
Du Lally, more like.’
The
Viennese waltz was drowned out by a crash in the upstairs bathroom. This time,
even Julie looked up.
‘That
can’t be a lorry,’ said David pulling on his slippers.’ I’ll go and have a
look.’
He
returned a few minutes later. ‘Well, there's a funny thing. The shaving set
your Grandad bought me for my fiftieth was lying on the floor, and the taps
were running full pelt. I wonder if he’s trying to make contact?’
‘Don’t
be daft. Why would he wait for two years before deciding to haunt us? You’re
making too much of it.’
The
lights flickered above them, followed by a loud click as the TV switched itself
off.
‘You
see,’ said David. ‘I knew that old bugger wouldn’t leave us in peace.’ The
lights went out completely, plunging them in darkness, and Alfonso ran back from
the kitchen and stood in the doorway, whimpering mournfully.
‘Grandad?’
said Julie. ‘If it is you, please turn on the lights. You know I never liked
the dark.’
As if
answering her plea, the lights returned to their former brightness. The TV
switched on again, but this time the channel had changed to an episode of Dad’s
Army. ‘We’re doomed,’ said Private Frazer.
‘That
was Grandad’s favourite programme,’ whispered Julie.
‘Well,
that proves it, doesn't it? Your Grandad’s come back. But what on earth for?’
‘I
haven’t a clue, but I hope this doesn’t go on all night.’
The
noises gradually died down, but in the morning, Julie woke up and heard a
torrent of water gushing from the taps. ‘Not again,’ she sighed. She went into
the bathroom and turned them off.
‘David
did you leave these taps on?’
‘I’ve
not been out of bed yet.’ David called from the bedroom. ‘Turn ‘em off, will
you. Those taps sound like they are running for their lives.’ He chuckled and
was about to return his dreams of Tess Daly when Julie screamed, ‘Quick, come and
look at this!’
David
leapt out of bed and ran to the bathroom. His reflection in the
mirror was obscured by two words written on the mirror in shaving foam.
VISIT
ME
Julie
stood shaking like a pair of maracas. ‘The mirror was clean when I came in.
What do you think it means?’
David
grabbed a wad of loo roll and started wiping the foam off. ‘It’s obvious, isn't
it? He wants us to come and see him by the little pond. In Fornham,
where we sprinkled his ashes.’
Two
loud knocks echoed through the walls as if Grandad agreed.
‘Ok,
Ok,’ said Julie, ‘I can’t put up with all this nonsense. We’d better go and see
him before he causes any more trouble.’
David
nodded. ‘You’re lucky I’ve got the day off. Although I can’t say, I planned to
spend it searching for Grandad, or at least what’s left of him.’
‘You
never did like my family,’ said Julie. ‘Let’s go before he floods the whole
house.’
‘This
roundabout’s new’, said David, giving way to an empty road. ‘What’s that sign
say? Three hundred luxury homes and exclusive retail outlets?’
‘Oh
no,’ said Julie. ‘I hope this isn’t what I think it is.’
Unfortunately,
it was. Julie and David got out of the car and recoiled in horror at the
building site in front of them. An army of builders swarmed about the site
pouring concrete and dodging under rows of scaffolding. A young man in a shiny
suit and an orange hard hat jogged over to them, waving his iPad. ‘Excuse me;
you’re not allowed beyond this point. The site won’t be ready for months yet.’
Julie
pointed to a row of bulldozers. ‘Excuse me, but my Grandad’s buried here, or
rather, we sprinkled his ashes by the pond. It looks like it’s disappeared.’
‘Sorry
Madam, but that’s where we’re putting the Tesco Local. We had to fill that pond
in, I’m afraid. At least we didn’t find any newts.' The man grinned, and Julie
stifled an urge to knock off his hat.
‘My
Grandad hated Tesco’s,’ she said. ‘He’d only do his shopping at Waitrose.’
‘I’m
sorry Madam, but you need to leave now - health and safety and all that. We’ll
have the retirement homes available for viewing as soon as we can. Oh, and I’m
sorry for your loss.’
‘Grandad
died two years ago,’ said David, ‘but now the beggar seems to—’
‘Come
on, David,’ interrupted Julie. ‘We best be off.’ She pushed David back towards
the car. ‘We don’t want that man thinking we’re crazy.’
‘Maybe
we are mad,’ said David. ‘But no wonder your Grandad’s angry, with that lot
trampling all over him. I hope he understands there’s nothing we can do.’
***
Grandad
didn’t understand. On the car journey home, he conducted a symphony of tappings
and rappings. Julie was particularly annoyed by the windscreen wipers, which
sprang into life in five-minute bursts (although David kept pretending, he
knocked the switch by mistake.)
The
couple arrived home to find every light in the house switched on and every
cupboard in the kitchen wide open. Poor Alfonso sat squashed under the kitchen
table, too scared to even think about scavenging.
They
heard a series of thumps repeating in quick succession from the spare room
above them. They ran upstairs and found the wardrobe door swinging open. They
watched in amazement as the door slammed shut, then opened again.
‘Of
course!’ cried David. ‘The urn! I’d forgotten about the urn.’
‘What
do you mean? Grandad’s urn? I was wondering where that had got to. I thought we
must have left it by the pond.’
‘No, we
bought the urn home with us. Kath phoned to say her waters had broken and you
rushed off to the hospital. That’s why you don’t remember it.’
‘So,
you stuffed him in the wardrobe? That’s hardly a fitting resting place for a
man who won medals for his country. How disrespectful.’
‘It was
only his urn. But you never know, there might be a bit left.’
‘Of
Grandad? Oh, David.’
‘It's
worth a shot, isn't it? We could rebury the urn someplace else and hope he's
satisfied with that.’
David
rummaged around in the back of the wardrobe and extricated the urn. Julie
opened the lid and gave it a little shake. ‘Yes, it sounds like there’s a bit
of grit left in the bottom, but I’m not sure there’ll be enough.’
‘It’ll
have to work. I don’t want to spend the rest of my days hearing him blunder
about. Why don’t we try that picnic place you took us last year?’
‘That
might work. Grandad used to drive us there in his camper van. We’d light a big
fire and cook sausages. I lost count of the times the wardens told us off.’
‘That
sounds perfect for your Grandad, and it's not as far as Fornham. We can be
there and back before dark.’
Picking a shovel from the garden, they deposited it with the urn in the car
and drove to the picnic area. It was mercifully empty. They found a secluded
spot under a tree for the burial, and when Julie had finished smoothing over
the earth, she said a little prayer. ‘Goodbye, Grandad, I love you.’
The
house was silent when they got home. No photos somersaulted from the walls, and
Alfonso returned to his cherished spot in front of the fireplace. Life carried
on as before - until the morning David opened his paper and read a terrifying
headline.
‘Julie,
will you look at this,’ he called out. ‘Hell, this is the worst news ever.’
Julie
came down the stairs, rubbing her wet hair with a towel. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Look
at this! ‘Third Runway given the green light’. And guess where they are going
to put it – slap bang in the middle of the place where we buried that urn.’
‘You’ve
got to be kidding me’, said Julie reaching for the paper. ‘Whatever will
Grandad, think about this?’
The
ceiling light above them exploded, raining glass down upon them like sparks
from a firework. ‘I think we know exactly what Grandad is thinking,’ said
David.
* * *
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