Twenties Girl 68

There’s no reply. I should have known this was a ridiculous idea. I should leave.

“There we are!” Ginny straightens up from the CD player. “It should come on in a minute.” She zaps the TV off and we both stand motionless, waiting for the music. And then it starts. A scratchy 1920s recording of a jaunty, jazzy tune. It’s a bit faint, and after a moment Ginny increases the volume to full blast.

On the other side of the room, an old man sitting under a tartan blanket with a tank of oxygen next to him turns his head. I can see the light of recognition coming on in faces around the room. Somebody starts humming along in a quavery voice. One woman even begins tapping her hand, her whole self lit up with pleasure.

“They love it!” says Ginny to me. “What a good idea! Shame we’ve never thought of it before!”

I feel a sudden lump in my throat as I watch. They’re all Sadie inside, aren’t they? They’re all in their twenties inside. All that white hair and wrinkled skin is just cladding. The old man with the oxygen tank was probably once a dashing heartthrob. That woman with distant rheumy eyes was once a mischievous young girl who played pranks on her friends. They were all young, with love affairs and friends and parties and an endless life ahead of them…

And as I’m standing there, the weirdest thing happens. It’s as if I can see them, the way they were. I can see their young, vibrant selves, rising up out of their bodies, shaking off the oldness, starting to dance with each other to the music. They’re all dancing the Charleston, kicking up their heels skittishly, their hair dark and strong, their limbs lithe again, and they’re laughing, clutching each other’s hands, throwing back their heads, reveling in it-

I blink. The vision has gone. I’m looking at a room full of motionless old people.

I glance sharply at Ginny. But she’s just standing there, smiling pleasantly and humming along to the CD, out of tune.

The music is still playing away, echoing through the rest of the home. Sadie can’t be here. She would have heard the music and come to see what was going on. The trail’s gone cold yet again.

“I know what I meant to ask you!” Ginny suddenly turns to me. “Did you ever find that necklace of Sadie’s? The one you were looking for?”

The necklace. Somehow, with Sadie gone, that all seems a million miles away now.

“No, I never did.” I try to smile. “This girl in Paris was supposed to be sending it to me, but… I’m still hoping.”

“Oh well, fingers crossed!” says Ginny.

“Fingers crossed.” I nod. “Anyway, I’d better go. I just wanted to say hi.”

“Well, it’s lovely to see you. I’ll show you out.”

As we make our way through the hall, my head is still full of the vision I saw of all the old people dancing, young and happy again. I can’t shake it.

“Ginny,” I say on impulse as she opens the big front door. “You must have seen a lot of old people… passing on.”

“Yes, I have,” she says, matter-of-factly. “That’s the peril of the job.”

“Do you believe in…” I cough, feeling embarrassed. “In the afterlife? Do you believe in spirits coming back and that kind of thing?”

My mobile phone rings shrilly in my pocket before Ginny can answer, and she nods at it.

“Please, do get that.”

I haul it out-and see Dad’s number on the ID display.

Oh God. Why is Dad calling? He’ll have heard about me leaving my job somehow. He’ll be all stressy and asking what my plans are. And I can’t even dodge the call, with Ginny watching.

“Hi, Dad,” I say hurriedly. “I’m just in the middle of something, can I put you on hold a minute?” I jab at the phone and look up at Ginny again.

“So what you’re asking is, do I believe in ghosts?” she says with a smile.

“Er… yes. I suppose I am.”

“Truthfully? No, I don’t. I think it’s all in the head, Lara. I think it’s what people want to believe. But I can understand what a comfort it must be to those who have lost loved ones.”

“Right.” I nod, digesting this. “Well… bye. And thanks.”

The door closes and I’m halfway down the path before I remember Dad, still waiting patiently on the line. I grab my phone and press Talk.

“Hey, Dad! Sorry about that.”

“Not at all, darling! I’m sorry to disturb you at work.”

Work? So he doesn’t know.

“Oh, right!” I say quickly, crossing my fingers. “Work. Yes. Absolutely. Work! Where else would I be?” I give a shrill laugh. “Although, as it happens, I’m not in the office right now…”