NEITHER HERE NOR THERE                                                           

by Richard Banks

Brian sat on the shelf over the fireplace between the cuckoo clock that Deidre had purchased in Austria and a china horse that had once belonged to her mother. He would, of course, have preferred to sit in his usual seat in front of the fire but that was now occupied by someone he once regarded as a friend. In the all too recent past it would have been understood that the chair was his chair and his alone, not even Deidre would have sat there. Guests, as Ernie once was, would have sat where they were bid minus their overcoats and caps but otherwise attired in such a way that if they had been instantaneously transported to a meeting of the Rotary Club they would have been appropriately and adequately dressed. 

         He stared down disapprovingly at Ernie who, having unfastened a button on his shirt was now reaching beneath the shoulder strap of a string vest to scratch an unusually hairy armpit. At the other end of his person, his stocking feet were resting on the brass rail that bordered the grate. This was too much! It was an insult, a desecration of all he held dear. In past times he, Brian Greenside, husband of Deidre who still bears his name, would have ejected this unprincipled Casanova from the house and administered the good thrashing he so richly deserved.

         But that was then and this was now, a now begun by the number nine bus that had rendered him a passed over person in more ways than one. Since then he had become an invisible blob of irregular dimensions, no larger than a paperweight and no heavier than a bubble.

         Devoid of voice but not of vision his role in life seemed only to observe it. With no eyelids to close, his only way of not seeing what he was not wanting to see was to remove himself to another place. Had Tottenham been playing at home that evening he would have taken himself there and, oblivious to whatever the weather was doing, perch himself on a beam above the directors’ box. If that was the best life could show him the worse was surely what he was now observing. To make matters worse Deidre, having washed the dishes, was now sitting in her chair and stretching out her unslippered feet towards those of Ernie. Reasoning that the meeting of all four feet might not be the least of the unpleasantness to come, Brian decided to remove himself up the chimney and onto the flat roof of the loft extension. He had not been there long when he was joined by a dim orb of light.

         “Having a bit of trouble, son?”

         It was a voice he knew well. Even after ten years there was no mistaking it.

         “Dad?”

         “That’s right, son. Just a jiffy and I’ll turn up the power. …..Yeah, that’s better. Sorry the picture’s only black and white but it’s not too bad, all things considered. I mean to say, it works by the power of thought and I was never much good at that.”

         “No Dad, that’s brilliant. Just one thing.”

         “Yes, son.”

         “Is that you?”

         “Of course it’s me, don’t you recognise your own father?”

         “Not like that, Dad. You can’t be any older than twenty-one. Haven’t you got something a bit more recent, like, after I was born?”

         The face on the orb registered an expression of bemused concentration. “Hang on, I’ll have another think. What about that?”

         “Yes, better, you’re getting there. Keep going another ten years. Yes, you’re nearly there. A bit more. Stop! No, back a bit. Yes, that’s it. Fantastic!  Blimey, Dad, can you do the same for me?”

         “Wish I could Bri but that’s an upstairs job. So, what’s keeping you, son, your mother can’t wait to see you again? Your old life’s over, time to give the new place a try. It’s not so bad, there’s more churches than pubs and most of them are wine bars, but the football’s second to none, ten divisions and five generations of ‘all time greats’ to choose from. Bet you never saw Stan Matthews play, you can now.”

         Brian felt an emotion that in the days when he had eyes would have made them brim with tears. “Can’t do that Dad. Not just now. There’s something I need to see to, unfinished business, can’t leave things as they are.”

         “You’ve got to let her go, son. It’s her life. There’s nothing you can do now.”

         “No, it’s not about Deidre. Can’t say I’m overjoyed about lover boy; didn’t expect that after only a month, but no, it’s not about her.”

         “Then what is it, son? Come on, you can tell me.”

         “You mean you don’t know about the money I won? I thought you lot were supposed to be all seeing, all knowing.”

         “Give me a break, Bri, I’m only a Grade 7, trainee, and that’s not going too well. Come on now, get it off your chest. You never know I might be able to help.”

         “Well, I won the lottery, didn’t I. Half a million quid. Couldn’t believe it ‘til they gave me the cheque. But what was I to do with all the money? Deidre was full of plans that would have seen it all frittered away, but I had other ideas. Wouldn’t it be better, I said, if we kept half and gave the rest to Jilly so she and Tom could stop renting and buy a home of their own. But no, she was all for hanging-on to the lot. After all, she said, our daughter would inherit everything once we were dead. Surely she could wait until then. However my mind was made up, so when I paid the cheque into our account I wrote out one for £250K and put Jilly’s name on it. Well, why shouldn’t I, it was my money. So without saying anything to Deidre I set-off to deliver the cheque in person. Couldn’t wait to see their faces. Too excited I was, didn’t look where I was going, never knew the bus was there until I was under it. Can you believe it? Was I ever meant to be lucky?”

         Ignoring the question which he supposed to be hypothetical Dad’s thoughts turned to his grand-daughter. “So, Jilly never got her cheque?”

         “No. The hospital put all my clothes in a plastic bag and gave them to Deidre who put them in the bin, except the suit which she probably thought would come in useful for the someone  presently in my parlour. No way was he going to squeeze into it, not that fat lump, so the suit stayed in the cupboard where she put it. If the silly mare had thought to look through the pockets she would have found my wallet and the cheque inside it. So, no, Jilly never got the cheque and until she does I won’t be going anywhere, up or down.”

         “Oh!” Dad considered the facts and concluded this was probably a Grade 1 problem. “Don’t see what you can do, son. If the living could hear, you would be able to tell Jilly where the cheque is, and if you had hands and feet you could take it to her, but all you have of any use is your sight and that’s no help on its own. You never know, son, Deidre might find the cheque and decide to do the right thing, after all Jilly’s her daughter as much as yours.”

         The blob that was Brian began to vibrate and almost doubled in size before emitting several flashes of light that exploded into the night sky like fireworks.

         “Steady on son, there’s no need for that.”

         The blob took a deep breath and with a groan returned to its normal size and shape. “No, Dad, I’m staying here. If you want me upstairs you will have to help me get that cheque to Jilly.”

         “But what can I do, Bri. I can’t work miracles, that’s not going to happen for at least a thousand years, and even then they will all have to be signed off by a fully qualified Seraphim. Every day people pray that they come into money. None of them ever get what they want; it’s not what we do.”

         “But you do have the power of thought, wasn’t that what you were telling me. You can make things happen just by thinking them. Isn’t that how it works?”

         “Not with me, son. Not yet. The power’s too weak. Let’s put it this way, if I was the petrol in your car you wouldn’t be going much further than the end of the road.”

         “Turn it up, Dad, you can do better than that. And what about me? Don’t I have the power of thought? I must have some. The two of us together; I know we can make it work.”

         Dad’s image wobbled and appeared to age several years. “But you’re a ‘No-Comer’, neither one thing or the other. Not sure you have any powers.”

         “But I do, Dad. Didn’t you see the sparks that shot out of me. Come on, I know we can do it, the two of us together! What have we got to lose?”

         Who knows, son, but I’m not getting any messages from up above, so why not. What have you got in mind?” 

         “Two home visits, that’s what. Plant the same idea in two persons heads and leave the rest to them.”

         “And the idea is that Jilly should have the suit?”

         “You bet. Deidre’s got no use for it. It’s only a matter of time before she throws it out so if we can make Jilly want it, I mean really want it, Deidre will only be too ready to hand it over.”

         “And supposing she looks in the pockets first?”

         “She won’t, not after what we tell her. Anyway that’s for later. First off we need to head over  to Jilly’s. Come on, I’ll tell you what to do on the way.”

         They arrived shortly after 11.30 to find the bedroom reverberating with the sound of impassioned interaction. The gasps and shrieks of the two participants reached a noisy crescendo that, on the parting of bodies, subsided into an urgent, but less noisy need to take-in oxygen.   “Blimey, son. What a time to arrive! Thank goodness the lights were out. Maybe we should come back later.”

         “No, Dad, this couldn’t be better. They’ll soon be spark out, dead to the world and not a sound to be heard, no TV, no mobiles, nothing to distract Jilly from what we’re going to tell her. The signal we’re be sending might be faint but it’s the only one she’ll be hearing. Now remember, we need to think the same thing at exactly the same moment so it’s, one, I want Dad’s brown suit more than anything in this world, two, it’s in the cupboard in my old room at Mum’s and three, fetch it now and don’t delay.”

         “Shouldn’t we be saying something about the cheque?”

         “No, Dad, too much information, let’s keep it short and simple. She’ll find it, I know she will.”

         Jilly turned onto one side and quickly succumbed to a blissful drowsiness. Tom also was scarcely awake and within a few minutes the murmour of shallow breathing indicated that they were both soundly asleep. Brian and Dad got busy and did what they had come to do and, cautiously satisfied with their efforts, left as unobtrusively as they had arrived. It was time to return to Deidre who hopefully would not be caught in flagrante. To their relief she was alone and Ernie nowhere to be seen. As Brian feared she was in full snoring mode.

         “Blimey, son, don’t think we’ll be heard through all that. What do we do now?”

         “Wait. Just wait. Two hours at most. Until then we practice. So, this is what we tell her: the suit is possessed by an evil spirit that means her harm, and that she must give it to the one who wants it.” Having synchronised the words they waited patiently on Deidre’s bedside table until a ferocious snore interrupted her slumbers and sent her scurrying to the bathroom. She returned several minutes later and settled back under the covers. As the lavatory system fell silent, Brian and Dad gathered either side of her pillow and with all their remaining energy repeated the message they had come to deliver.

         They drifted wearily into the front bedroom which had been Jilly’s room and parked themselves on the windowsill determined to witness the comings and goings of the day that they hoped would include the departure of the suit in Jilly’s hands. Their patient, if sometimes sleepy vigil was eventually rewarded by the rising of the sun and the sight of early risers setting off to their work. Unusually Deidre was also up and muttering to herself in a way that suggested she was not in the best of moods; a boiling kettle in the kitchen beneath them indicating that she was now at breakfast.

         In the distance a rumble like thunder heralded the approach of the refuse men. The noise gradually increased until their lorry was only several doors away at which point Deidre rushed out and having waved her arms frantically at the nearest dustman engaged him in a discussion he at first seemed unwilling to prolong. Having overcome his reluctance by the proffering of a ten pound note Deidre took a firm grip of his arm and almost dragged him into the house. A few seconds later they were up the stairs and in Jilly’s bedroom.

         “It’s in there,” said Deidre, pointing at the cupboard, “dark brown suit, on a hanger. Just get  it out of the house and put the damn thing in the cart.”

         The dustman clearly puzzled as to why Deidre could not have done this herself, peered apprehensively at the cupboard and considered the possibility that inside there might be something other than a brown suit. “So, it’s just a suit then?”

         “Of course it’s just a suit. I told you it was just a suit. All you got to do is take it away. What’s the matter? Want more money? Is that it? OK, I’ll make it twenty quid. Now, do you want it or not?”

         The dustman very definitely did want it, and even more wanted to escape this strange, overwrought woman who quite possibly was on the dangerous side of unhinged. He pulled open the cupboard door, which was hinged, and discovered, to his evident relief, the suit hanging inoffensively inside. He snatched it up and pausing only long enough to claim his reward fled down the stairs and out into the street where he ran as fast as he could after the refuge lorry.

         Clutching her purse, Deidre staggered almost drunkenly out of the bedroom and collapsed onto her own bed unaware that her former husband had thrown himself off the windowsill and was rolling about on the carpet shouting expletives that fortunately could only heard by his father. When his energy reserves became too depleted to sustain this activity he propped himself up against the wainscot where he was joined by Dad. They sat in silence, Brian not wanting to talk and Dad not knowing what to say.

         The impasse was eased, if not resolved, by the ringing of the door bell. The sound of Deidre descending the stairs and opening the front door was followed by a voice that was unmistakeably Jilly’s. She advanced into the hallway before coming quickly to the point.

         “Hello Mum, sorry to come round so early but I need to have Dad’s suit, you know, the one he was wearing when, when…when he was taken from us.”

         “You mean when he was run over by the bus.” After a thwart start to the day Deidre was in no mood for euphemisms. “Well, you’re too late, the bin men took it away five minutes ago. Glad to get rid of it, the wretched thing was giving me nightmares. Why on earth didn’t you ask me for it yesterday when I gave you Dad’s cheque? The suit’s of no use to you or anyone else. Who’s going to wear an old suit with a tyre mark down the back. You keep your mind on the money, that’s what your Dad wanted you to have, not a manky old suit.”

         “Yes, Mum, thanks for the cheque. I’m sorry you and Dad fell out over the money. I know how much you wanted to buy that villa in Spain, and I wouldn’t have blamed you if you had. But, well, I’m glad you didn’t. Why I need to have Dad’s suit I don’t know, but I feel sure he wanted me to have it just like he wanted me to have the cheque. So, if you tell me which way the bin men went I’ll be on my way.” On being told that they would probably be no further than Green Street Jilly about turned through the still open door and set-off in rapid pursuit.

         Brian and Dad who had been watching from the top of the stairs watched on as Deidre shut the door and with a weary sigh abandoned the hall for the kitchen. For once Dad was the first to react.

         “So Jilly’s got the cheque. Blimey, when did that happen?”

         “Yesterday, of course, weren’t you listening? Must have been after Deidre did the shopping. You know what I’m like with supermarkets; came home early and left her to it. Didn’t even see her find it. And not a word to anyone; how did she keep that to herself?”

         “No idea, son, but then we can’t always be watching and listening, and maybe we shouldn’t have been trying. Life’s for the living, best to leave them to it. After all they don’t get to see what we’re up to. Let’s face it, all we have done since yesterday is give Deidre nightmares and make Jilly pine after an old suit that’s of no use to her or anyone else. Gawd knows what the going rate will be for getting that back. Still, I suppose Jilly can afford it. You’ve done your best by her, and so has Deidre. It’s job done. Like the good ship Enterprise it’s time to boldly go - upwards and onwards.  Just say the word and we’ll be off.”

         “Need more words than one, Dad.”

         “Like four?”

         “You guessed it. Come on, let’s say it together?”

         “Why not, son. On the count of three?

         “Three it is. Start counting, Dad.”

         “One, two, three..”

         “Beam me up Scotty!”    

             

Copyright Richard Banks