Time to Say Goodbye: a heart-rending novel about a father’s love for his daughter. S.D. Robertson
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shed on the sports field at my old primary school. ‘Do they still call it that?’
Arthur smiled. ‘They do, although it’s lucky to still be standing, if you ask me. The new caretaker doesn’t creosote it anywhere near often enough. It smells so damp these days.’
‘You can smell?’
‘Yes. Sorry, I didn’t mention that, did I? That comes back too if you stay. Again, it’s not the same as it was, but it’s better than nothing. It’s a bit like having a heavy cold the whole time.’
‘And taste? Do you get that back?’
Arthur laughed. ‘I wish. No, that’s gone for good, along with eating or drinking anything. The smell is the closest I get to food these days. Sometimes it kills me, getting a whiff of hot buttered toast or freshly brewed coffee. Bacon’s the worst, mind. I still get cravings after all these years. I used to love my food. Not that it did me any good. It was clogging up my arteries that caused the heart attack that killed me. That and the fags, although I don’t miss them at all – horrible things.’
‘Do you think you still get to eat and drink on the other side?’ I asked. ‘You know, if you pass over.’
‘I’ve often wondered that myself,’ Arthur replied. ‘I like to think you do; that you can eat whatever you like, whenever you like, as often as you like, with no negative consequences.’ He licked his lips. ‘Now that would be bliss.’
‘So why did you stay?’
He fell silent for a moment before replying: ‘I had my reasons. But don’t you think for a second that I chose not to go because of what it’s like over there. By all accounts it’s the most perfect place imaginable. I stayed here because I had to. It’s not something I’d recommend.’
‘It’s not all that bad, is it? You seem to be doing okay.’
He snorted. ‘Do you really want to pass the rest of your days watching the world go by around you? Haven’t you felt the loneliness yet?’
He stared at me, awaiting an answer. ‘Yes, I do feel it sometimes,’ I replied eventually.
‘It only gets worse,’ he said. ‘That horrible feeling of being invisible gradually eats away at you. It’s like you’ve lost your identity, your purpose, your self-worth. Many spirits over the years have let it get on top of them and lost their minds. Those are the ones that give us lot a bad name, carrying out the hauntings and so on. Maybe I’ll end up that way one day. I’ve come close before now.’
‘But don’t you keep each other company? Don’t you have any spirit friends?’
Arthur shook his head sadly. ‘Nice idea, lad, but it doesn’t work like that. Those of us that choose to stay all have our reasons for doing so. You could probably call them our obsessions. We each have our little corners of the world and we rarely stray from them. Being a spirit here is a solitary life.’
‘So what are you saying, Arthur? Is your advice to abandon my six-year-old daughter and take the elevator upstairs without looking back? That’s what you’d do, is it? This is bullshit. I thought you were here to help.’
‘Calm down, lad. I wouldn’t feel qualified to offer such advice. I’m simply laying out all the cards in front of you. I didn’t mean—’
Arthur stopped mid-sentence. His eyebrows crinkled into a look of concern and his pupils flicked from side to side as he appeared to listen for something.
‘What’s the matt—’ I started to ask before he held one finger up to his mouth.
‘Got to go,’ he whispered, looking backwards and then vanishing.
I rushed to my feet. ‘Arthur? Arthur? What the hell?’
A dark shadow fell across the skylights.
I didn’t utter another word. I was too afraid. Someone or something was out there and Arthur’s disappearance didn’t bode well. As the shadow remained across the skylights, I could hear the muffled sound of movement on the other side of the pavilion’s timber walls. I cowered into a corner, terrified without knowing why. Leave me alone, I thought. But it didn’t. The presence moved slowly along the perimeter of the building, rustling here and scratching there, until it eventually stopped by the entrance, darkening the gaps around the doorframe.
I closed my eyes, gritted my teeth and held my head in my hands, half trying to hide and half bracing myself for whatever might happen next. When I opened my eyes again, I saw the door handle turning. Please, no, I thought. Why did you abandon me, Arthur? You knew what was coming and you left me.
The locked door shook in its frame for a few terrifying seconds and then the handle rose again. The shadow sank to the bottom half of the door and there was an irregular sniffing sound that seemed to go on forever. I heard more movement as whatever it was circled the pavilion once more, tapping the wall here and there as it went. And then there was silence. The shadow lifted from across the skylights and I was alone again.
‘Bloody hell,’ I said, standing up. I felt utterly exhausted. ‘What the hell was that? What just happened?’
I expected Arthur to return, but after a few minutes there was still no sign of him. ‘Hello, Arthur, can you hear me?’ I called. ‘It’s safe to come back. You do realize that I can’t get out of here by myself, don’t you?’
But he didn’t return.
A bell rang outside and, a few minutes later, I could hear the sound of children playing. I walked over to the door and peered through a crack. I could just about make out the schoolyard and a blur of different coloured coats running to and fro. It made me think of Ella. Was it also break time at her school? Would she be playing with her friends or standing alone? The former, I hoped, but her teacher had told Mum and Dad that she’d become introverted since my death. They had discussed moving her here now that she was living at their house, but they’d decided not to, fearing she might struggle to make new friends in her current state of mind.
What are the chances of anyone coming in here today? I wondered, staring at the locked door. Not likely at this time of year, as most of the equipment I could see lying around was for summer sports.
I called Arthur again, but there was still no response, which left me with only one option. I looked up through the skylights. ‘Lizzie? Are you around? I’m in a fix. I need your help.’
‘You called,’ a voice said from behind me.
I turned to face my guide. ‘Hi, Lizzie. Thanks for coming. I was afraid you might not bother after last time.’
‘That’s water under the bridge,’ she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘Um, well, I need some help getting out of here.’
She scanned the pavilion. ‘I see. How did you get yourself trapped in this strange little hut?’
‘Long story. Arthur brought me here and then got called away.’
‘Arthur?’
‘Yes. Arthur Brown. You know, from my funeral.’
She gave me a blank look. ‘You’ve lost me. Anyhow, let’s get you home.’
She tapped my shoulder and we both appeared on my parents’ empty driveway. ‘How’s that?’
‘Perfect. Thanks a million.’
‘Would you like me to let you inside the house too? It looks like no one’s home.’
‘That would be wonderf—’
Another tap on my shoulder and we were inside, sitting together on the sofa.
‘How’s