Never Can Say Goodbye Read online

  ‘What?’ Perplexed, Frankie shook her head. ‘What on earth are you talking about?’

  ‘Spirits, sweetheart. Presences. The souls of the dead.’

  The shop was gradually returning to normality. Frankie wished she was.

  ‘Is she OK?’ Dexter, followed by Lilly, clambered across the pile of boxes. ‘Did she have some sort of funny turn?’

  ‘Ah.’ Brian nodded. ‘She did. She often does. That’s why she don’t get out much. Her troubles make her a bit of a social piranha. It causes a lot of problems, see? Maisie’s a medium.’

  ‘She’s never!’ Lilly gawped. ‘She looks like a large to me.’

  ‘A medium.’ Brian looked pityingly at Lilly. ‘You know, gel. Communes with the dead.’

  Dexter laughed.

  ‘It’s no laughing matter.’ Maisie did the back-of-the-hand head-smiting thing again. ‘They’re not laughing, the spirits in this shop, sweetheart. They’re unhappy souls.’

  ‘Bloody hell,’ Frankie groaned. ‘This is lunacy. Maisie, this is a perfectly normal shop. It’s old, yes, but with no dodgy history. It was never an old hospital or a church or built on some prehistoric graveyard. There aren’t any spirits here. There never have been. Anyway, I don’t believe in ghosts.’

  ‘Oh, I do,’ Lilly said happily. ‘And you must do, Frankie. You’ve seen the film. We watch it loads of times. Especially on duvet days. You always cry.’

  ‘Patrick Swayze and Demi Moore are acting. It isn’t a sodding documentary.’

  Lilly looked crestfallen.

  ‘And you –’ Frankie turned to Brian ‘– should have told me about … well … about her, um, troubles.’

  ‘You said you knew.’ Brian sounded sulky. ‘I said she had troubles and you had to take her as you found her and you said yes.’

  Oh, God …

  ‘All I knew about Maisie,’ Frankie hissed through gritted teeth, ‘was that she has a shoe fetish and eats Toast Toppers.’

  ‘Does she?’ Dexter looked at Maisie with new interest. ‘Lovely – I haven’t had a Toast Topper since I was a kid.’

  Frankie groaned.

  ‘No, well –’ Brian blinked slowly ‘– maybe I should have said. She sees ghosts. They make her come over all funny. But she says she can talk to them. And they talk back to her.’

  ‘Rubbish,’ Frankie said sharply. ‘And please don’t tell anyone else that. Especially not here. You know what Kingston Dapple’s like – it only takes one whisper to start the rumour mill grinding.’

  ‘Ah, you don’t need to worry about that, gel. Everyone local knows about Maisie. If she says a place is haunted then we just accept that it’s haunted. We take it as read so to speak. We’re all used to it. No one gets scared off by Maisie’s ghost stories.’

  ‘Is that because no one’s ever seen one of Maisie’s ghosts?’ Dexter queried. ‘Has there ever been a sighting?’

  Maisie, still quivering, gave a soft sigh. ‘I see them, young man. And that’s all you need to know.’

  ‘But no one else does – has?’

  Maisie looked piqued. ‘Well, no, not yet … ’

  ‘Which is why, gel,’ Brian whispered to Frankie, ‘you don’t need to fret too much over this. Look at ’em – all the locals. They ain’t taking too much notice, are they?’

  Frankie looked round the shop. OK, it was true that the crowd in the shop were definitely divided into two camps. Those villagers who clearly knew all about Maisie’s ‘troubles’ had stared at her during the fainting episode with amused concern but little surprise; whereas those to whom Maisie the medium was a whole new phenomenon, had been shocked rigid.

  Brian beamed kindly at Frankie. ‘Don’t worry, gel. She ain’t the best in the business by a long chalk. Maisie’s ghost-busting won’t affect your little shop.’

  ‘It might,’ Lilly said. ‘Especially if she eventually manages to conjure one up.’

  ‘I’m not damn Paul Daniels,’ Maisie said huffily. ‘It’s not a magic act.’

  ‘Course it’s not, gel,’ Brian said soothingly. ‘We all knows that. Now, if them old spirits are giving you a bit of gyp here, shall we get you home?’

  ‘That would be lovely, sweetheart. Thank you.’ Maisie looked at Frankie. ‘Sorry not to have been able to help with the clearing up. I wasn’t expecting, well, to be taken over the way I was. And can I give you a word of advice?’

  ‘Please do,’ Frankie said faintly.

  ‘Well, sweetheart. I’d suggest that you let me come back when the shop’s empty and let me talk to the poor souls who are here. See if I can get them to leave, you know, sweetheart? I’m afraid you won’t be successful until they’ve gone.’

  Frankie sighed. ‘Thank you for the offer, but honestly, no. And anyway, if you think this place is haunted, then why didn’t the ghosts cause a problem for Rita? I’ve worked here for three years with Rita and no one’s ever mentioned ghosts.’

  ‘They were probably here all the time, sweetheart. I don’t know. I never came here. And Rita wouldn’t have noticed anyway, would she? Rita was very one-dimensional, sweetheart. No imagination.’

  ‘Rita had loads of imagination,’ Frankie said robustly. ‘But not even Rita would have imagined she was surrounded by the souls of the dead or whatever they’re supposed to be. It’s complete nonsense.’

  Maisie bridled. ‘It’s not nonsense. I can only assume that Rita’s life-aura was very strong and blocked the spirits from making contact. Now she’s gone they’re free to roam.’

  ‘Like spectral ramblers?’ Frankie sniffed derisively. ‘And what you really mean is that Rita didn’t believe in ghosts, don’t you? Well, neither do I. The shop has obviously been unhaunted for years and years – there’s no reason at all why it should be any different now.’

  ‘But there is.’ Maisie looked sorrowful. ‘Because now we know there are unhappy souls here, don’t we? Now I’ve made contact, now I’ve intercepted their spiritual space, they’ll be waiting for me to speak to them and release them from their haunting hell to give them eternal freedom.’

  ‘Well done.’ Dexter clapped his hands. ‘Very nearly as good as Stephen King.’

  Despite everything, Frankie smiled to herself.

  ‘Oh.’ Lilly looked puzzled. ‘Are they trapped, then? The ghosts? Oh, poor things.’ She flickered the inch-long blue eyelashes towards Frankie. ‘We shouldn’t leave them trapped. It’s cruel. Maybe Maisie should—’

  ‘NO!’

  ‘Whatever … ’ Lilly flapped her hands. ‘But I still think—’

  ‘And I think that when Dexter and Brian take these boxes to Biff and Hedley’s they should pop Maisie in the car and take her home,’ Frankie said quickly. ‘Then maybe the rest of us can finish off in here and have time to go to the Toad before last orders.’

  ‘Slave driver,’ Lilly muttered, teetering away, every inch of her radiating irritation like a cross cat.

  ‘Sounds like a plan,’ Dexter said. ‘OK with you, Maisie? Lovely – now let me fetch you a chair so that you can sit down and calm yourself for a bit. You’re obviously not feeling too well at the moment. We won’t be long.’

  Dexter climbed back over the boxes, disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a chair. Maisie subsided weakly on to it, the voluminous raincoat billowing out round her.

  ‘OK now?’ Frankie asked.

  ‘As I’ll ever be in this place.’ Maisie’s eyes darted fearfully round the shop, obviously still seeing things that weren’t visible to anyone else. ‘Or at least until you come to your senses, and let me sort out your unwanted visitors.’

  ‘None of my visitors are unwanted,’ Frankie said firmly. ‘And please, Maisie, I don’t mean to be rude, but can we just let the haunting stuff drop now?’

  ‘You can if you like, I can’t. It’s my calling, sweetheart. I didn’t ask to be blessed – or cursed – with this gift.’

  ‘I’m sure you didn’t. But I’d honestly rather not hear any more about it. Especially not tonight. I’m
far too busy to cope with anything else.’

  ‘Whatever you say.’ Maisie pushed trembling hands through the cauliflower perm. ‘But one day you’ll need me here, that I can promise you.’

  Frankie sighed, holding the door open against the storm and watching as Dexter and Brian started hefting the boxes of clothes into the boot of Dexter’s car. ‘And when that day comes I’ll be in touch, OK?’

  ‘OK, sweetheart.’ Maisie seemed mollified.

  The rain slashed icily against Frankie’s face and she shivered. Someone walking over her grave, her gran would have said. Nonsense! All nonsense.

  ‘There.’ Dexter grinned, the wind whipping his hair across his face, and slammed the car boot shut. ‘All done. Let’s get Maisie buckled into the back then we can squash some of those carrier bags round her.’

  As Brian clambered excitedly into the passenger seat, Dexter, with surprising gentleness, helped Maisie up from her chair and out into the car.

  It was a pretty swish car, Frankie thought. Especially for someone who allegedly hadn’t got a job. Was it a BMW? Or a Mercedes? Or one of the new Jaguars? And how on earth could someone like Dexter afford a car like that? Was he into something else? A little iffy business on the side? Was that why he had to leave Oxford so quickly? Was that the cause of his troubles?

  Oh, well – again, it was none of her concern, was it?

  As Dexter blew her a kiss and started to drive away through the horizontal rain with the car’s engine purring luxuriously and the windscreen wipers working overtime, Brian waved happily. Maisie didn’t.

  Frankie closed the door.

  ‘Here!’ A sharp jab in her ribs made her jump. ‘What was all that about?’

  Frankie glared down at Biddy-the-funeral-goer. ‘Sorry? And that hurt.’

  ‘All that malarkey with Maisie just now.’ Biddy’s pointy nose quivered. ‘She told you this place was haunted, didn’t she?’

  Frankie nodded, rubbing her ribs. ‘Yes, as you obviously well know, and I don’t want to talk about it because it’s all nonsense.’

  ‘That –’ Biddy fastened the duck-egg blue ensemble more tightly round her ‘– is where you’re wrong. If Maisie says there are ghosts in here then there are.’

  ‘And I’m telling you that there aren’t. Now, did you find anything you liked?’

  Biddy gave a mighty sniff. ‘Actually, I did. There was a lovely little two-piece in oatmeal – Cherish says oatmeal is perfect on me, like a dewy sunrise on a spring morning – that would have done me a treat. But that … that –’ she jerked her ginger head towards Lilly ‘– little madam told me I’d have to pay twenty pounds for it. Twenty pounds! Daylight robbery! I told her I could get it cheaper in Marks and Sparks!’

  ‘Oh dear.’

  ‘Ah, mind you –’ Biddy flourished a second-hand Big Sava bag under Frankie’s nose ‘– I went into my bartering – good at bartering I am, ever since our seniors group had that day trip to Boulogne – and got it for a tenner!’

  ‘Goodness.’ Frankie peered into the bag and tried not to chuckle. The extremely ugly oatmeal suit had been languishing unloved and unhired in Rita’s shop for at least two years. ‘That’ll teach her then, won’t it?’

  ‘Yes, it will.’ Biddy straightened her shoulders and preened. ‘And you, too. You can’t pull the wool over my eyes. But you mind what I say – Maisie isn’t as daft as she looks. If she’s raised the dead in this place then you’ll be out of business before you know it.’

  Waiting until the door closed behind Biddy, Frankie pulled a face, and then returned to the seemingly never-ending job of sorting out years and years of unwanted clothes.

  By ten thirty the sorting out was almost done. Everyone had gone. The shop floor was cleared, the majority of unwanted articles from Rita’s reign had all found new homes, the dresses that still needed checking for flaws were piled beside the changing cubicles, and the frocks that needed to be delivered to the dry-cleaner’s were stacked beside the counter.

  Lilly, disappointed that Dexter had taken Maisie home and gone to Winterbrook and therefore wouldn’t be available for a quick drink in the Toad, had left with Sukie, Phoebe, Clemmie and Amber for the delights of the Weasel and Bucket in Fiddlesticks instead.

  Frankie leaned against the counter and ran her hands through her hair. She was so tired. And so grubby. The years of accumulated second-hand clothes had harboured more dust than she’d imagined possible. Oh, for the bliss of a long, hot soak …

  The door opened, allowing the wind and rain to roar inside, with its usual accompaniment of whirling, dancing dead leaves.

  ‘That’s some storm.’ Dexter shook raindrops from his hair and looked around. ‘And you’ve worked miracles in here.’

  Frankie nodded. ‘Everyone was brilliant – we’ve done far more tonight than I thought possible – and I’m so grateful to them. All that’s left to do before I open next week is to clean the whole place from top to bottom, decorate it, replace the clothes rails, sort the dresses into decades and sizes and colours, then fill the rails with frocks and make sure they’re all priced, oh, and start making the entire premises look festive, and do two huge Christmassy window displays, and—’

  ‘Enough.’ Dexter laughed. ‘Stop right there. I’m exhausted just thinking about it.’

  ‘Me, too,’ Frankie sighed. ‘I’m just hoping the adrenaline kick will keep me going for the rest of the week, and everyone has promised to help when they can.’

  ‘Count me in then.’

  Frankie looked at him in surprise. ‘Are you sure? Won’t you be busy with setting up the flower stall?’

  ‘Not too busy to help you out. After all, I’m only just across the cobbles; I can nip backwards and forwards when I’m needed. No sweat.’

  Frankie paused. Maybe she had got him wrong … Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all. ‘OK then, thanks, but you may well live to regret that offer. And I certainly wasn’t expecting you to come back tonight. Not after the round trip to drop Maisie off in Hassocks and then on to Winterbrook with the charity shop stuff.’

  ‘I thought I’d see if you still needed a hand with clearing, and help you lock up.’

  ‘Thanks, but there’s no need. I’m quite organised now.’

  ‘So I see, but I thought we were all going to have a celebratory drink in the Toad in the Hole.’

  ‘Sorry, but everyone decamped to Fiddlesticks about half an hour ago. Country pub. Lax on closing times. I’m too exhausted to join them, but I can give you directions if you like.’

  Dexter shook his head. ‘No, you’re OK. I’ll give it a miss. I’ve had more than enough excitement for one night. That was some floor show … Maisie’s barking, isn’t she?’

  Frankie laughed. ‘In a nice mad way, yes. Although I do think she sincerely believes she has some sort of spiritual gift. Anyway, thanks so much for taking her home. It was very kind of you. Was she OK?’

  Dexter grinned. ‘She was recovering nicely by the time me and Brian got her back to her flat. She seemed to accept that she’d made a bit of a fool of herself and that her pronouncements weren’t exactly welcome, and certainly didn’t say anything about making a return visit.’

  ‘Thank goodness for that. The last thing I need is some nice-but-batty medium telling everyone that my new shop is haunted before I even get started. Hopefully, any rumours started tonight will just die a death. Right – I’m not going to even think about it, or the shop, any more tonight. I just need a long hot soak in the bath.’

  Dexter’s eyes sparkled. ‘Sounds like a plan to me – as long as you get the tap end.’

  ‘Alone,’ Frankie chuckled.

  ‘Spoilsport. But what about the drink in the Toad? Are you too tired for that, too? If we dash across now we should be in time for last orders. And honestly, I could do with a pint.’

  Frankie hesitated. A relaxing, chill-out drink with Dexter, after the evening’s hard work, was a pretty enticing prospect. And just one drink – because she was driving and so w
as he – wouldn’t hurt at all, would it? It wasn’t like a date or anything, was it? And it would be an opportunity to get to know him a bit more, wouldn’t it?

  And, all right, she admitted to herself, it would be just fabulous to be out with someone as gorgeous as Dexter, even if it was just as sort of work colleagues. Although Dexter was clearly exactly the sort of man she shouldn’t be going out for a drink with, but …

  ‘OK.’ She grabbed her coat and the shop keys before she could talk herself out of it. ‘Lovely. Let’s do it.’

  After making sure everything was switched off and the shop was securely locked, they hurtled across the cobbles, almost blown off their feet by the ferocious wind.

  Dexter looked around the interior of the Toad with some surprise. ‘This isn’t what I expected. From the outside, I thought it would be all beams and horse brasses and wall-to-wall rustics.’

  ‘It should be,’ Frankie agreed, as they picked their way through the minimalist pale bar furniture. ‘Well, except for the rustics, of course. They’ll never set foot in here again. They all get taxis out to the pubs in Fiddlesticks and Bagley-cum-Russet.’

  ‘Can’t say I blame them.’ Dexter stared morosely at the Toad’s solitary nod to the festive season – one very minimalist white and blue artificial Christmas tree. ‘This is a bit of a travesty for a coaching inn.’

  ‘A lot of a travesty. I’ve no idea how they got planning permission to mess about with it. And how it stays in business is something of a mystery to everyone in Kingston Dapple.’

  ‘Yeah, I can see it’s not exactly heaving.’

  ‘It’s always empty. Rita and Ray campaigned against the changes – loads of the villagers did – but it went ahead anyway. All anyone wants round here is a proper pub, serving proper pints and pub grub that involves recognisable things with chips.’

  ‘They do sell beer?’

  ‘Mmm, I think so. But it’s not in casks or kegs or barrels or anything. It’s in little dinky bottles with funny names.’

  Dexter laughed as they approached the blue-lit bar. ‘I’m sure I’ll find something, but what would you like? No, let me guess. White wine? You look like a girl who knows her way round a nice Chardonnay.’