Dad Comes to Visit Read online

  Dad Comes To Visit

  Michael White

  (Copyright © 2012)

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental. No Ghosts were exorcised during the making of this book.

  By The Same Author

  Paul McCartney’s Coat and Other Stories

  Tours of Note

  The Fae Wynrie

  Vallum Aelium

  The Greatest Virus of Them All

  Here Be Dragons

  The Road from Ballylaneen to Skellig Michael

  Liverpool

  Overboard!

  (Autumn 2012)

  About the Author.

  (Or... “It’s all about me.”)

  Ex-drummer, ex-software author and ex-flares wearer Michael White was born and lives in the north-west of England. In a previous life he was the author of many text adventure games that were popular in the early 1980’s. Realising that the creation of these games was in itself a form of writing, he has since made the move into self-publishing, resulting in many short stories and novellas. Covering an eclectic range of subjects the stories fall increasingly into that “difficult to categorise” genre, causing on-going headaches for the marketing department of his one man publishing company, Eighth Day Publishing.

  Having accidentally sacked his marketing director (himself) three times in the last two years, he has now retired to a nice comfortable room where, if he behaves himself, they leave him to write in peace.

  In his spare time (!) Michael likes to listen to all kinds of music, and is a big fan of Steven Moffat, whether he likes it or not.

  Michael is currently working on several new projects and can be contacted on the links below.

  Website: www.michaelkwhite.co.uk

  Email: [email protected]

  Twitter: @mikewhite2011

  Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.co.uk/-/e/B006Y7JHCK

  Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/mikewhiteauthor

  Dad Comes To Visit

  Now this must have been a Monday or maybe a Wednesday. Actually, it was Wednesday because it was fish and chips and it is always fish and chips on a Wednesday, see. Dai came down the stairs and sat on the couch with a right old strange expression on his face. I was watching a bit of telly at the time. Can’t really remember what. Anyway I said to him, “What’s up with your face then, Dai?” He looked at me in a kind of odd way and said, “Well now Gwen I don’t want to worry you but your Dad is sitting on the bed upstairs, like.” Now I laughed out loud at this and swore at him for a bit, which made him look kind of really pissed off. Well, sort of.

  See, my dad has been dead about eleven years now. I knew the date so well as it was three years after my ma had died. Not that there was much chance of forgetting! Therefore, I concluded, there was not much likelihood that he was sitting on the bed upstairs. So, wondering what he was up to I decided to play along. “What’s he doing then?” I giggled, and for truth this seemed to make Dai even angrier. “He’s not doing nothing. Just sitting there.” Dai paused for a minute and looked quite serious. “I only went in to get a towel like, and he was just sitting there. Turned to me and said, “Hello Dai” and I kind of ran back out of the room. Gave me a right fright, so it did.”

  It was only then that I realised that Dai’s hair was still wet. Turning off the Telly I stomped out of the room. “Alright then” I called to him as I went up the stairs. “I don’t know what you are up to but I will play along for now. I’ll just go and...” and when I opened the bedroom door there he was. My dad that is. Sitting as large as life on the bed. Only thing was I could see the lamp on the other side of the room right through him. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck standing up, and that’s the truth. “Hello Gwen” he said, smiling. “Hello dad.” I replied, feeling kind of strange inside, “what are you doing here then?”

  Dad looked a bit fed up, really and sighed to himself. “Just fancied a bit of a change, really, Gwen. Couldn't do me a favour and switch the telly on, could you? Got an awful lot of Coronation Street to catch up on, I would imagine.”

  Well, I tip toed across the room and switched the portable on, whilst at the same time being very careful to keep one eye on what dad was doing. Which wasn’t much, really. He was just sitting there all transparent. He seemed to perk up a bit when the telly came on though.

  “Thanks Gwen” he said. “You can leave me to it if you want. No need to make a fuss, like.” I hesitated for a bit, but dad seemed engrossed in the telly now.

  “Would you fancy a sandwich, dad?” I asked more in desperation than anything. “Got a nice lettuce there I have, and probably some ham too.” Dad didn’t turn away from the telly but sighed again once more, just a little bit deeper this time.

  “Thanks for asking, Gwen, but I don’t need any sandwiches any more, what with me being dead and all. Nice thought though.”

  “Okay Dad.” I said and left the room, closing the door behind me. Dai was standing on the stairs. I noticed his hair was still as wet as before. He seemed poised on the top step but had a look about him that he didn’t want to go any further up the stairs, and definitely not in to the spare room.

  “Is he still there?” he asked, peering over my shoulder.

  “That he is.” I gasped, which did not seem to make Dai any happier.

  “What’s he doing?” he said and I pushed past him to make my way down the stairs.

  “He’s watching a bit of telly. Said he didn’t want anything to eat, though. I think I’ll make him a sandwich in case he changes his mind though.”

  Dai was leaning over the banister now. “Changes his mind? Sandwich? What are you talking about, Gwen? He’s dead, isn’t he? What’s he doing sitting in our spare room?

  “I don’t know.” I shouted. Dai was starting to get on my nerves a bit now. “Says he fancies a change. “ Dai threw his hands up in despair at this and made his way pretty quickly down to the hall. I tapped him in the chest as he made to move past me. “Now don’t you go making a fuss, Dai Jones. If my dad wants to come and visit that’s up to him. He is my dad after all” and I sniffed loudly before going to make dad a sandwich. Dai sulked off to the front room and plonked himself in front of the telly.

  “I’ll have a cup of tea if you’re making one.”

  So there we were sat in silence for an hour or so before we decided to go and have a look to see if dad was still in there. It had got a bit darker now and when we opened the door (Dai creeping behind me like a frightened kid) we saw the glow of the small television and another glow coming from dad. As we entered he spun round to face us, clearly agitated.

  “Thank God you’re here, you two!” he said, looking greatly relieved.

  I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck standing when he said this. Behind me, Dai took a step backwards.

  “Why dad?” I spluttered.

  Dad pointed at the television and gave it the two fingers just like he used to do when he was alive.

  “It’s only bloody River Cottage, isn’t it? Can’t stand that daft haired bugger! Could you try ITV Wales for me please, Gwen?”

  So we turned over the telly and after making sure there was nothing else Dad wanted, we decided to go to bed. Not much point hanging around in there now, was there? Dad seemed to be engrossed in a documentary now so off we went.

  When we were lying in bed Dai asked me what was going on and so I asked him how on Earth he thought I knew. As if I had planned it or something! Anyway, I turned my light off but it was just a little bit difficult to get sleep what with the ghost of my dad being in the next ro
om and what have you. Dai seemed to be spending a fair bit of the night tossing and turning too. Eventually we drifted off, the sound of the telly in the next room creeping under the door.

  Morning came.

  I had just got out of the shower and went back to our bedroom to get dressed. Dai was sitting up in bed, his hair all over the place. For shame, he looked as if someone had gelled his hair in the night. He always did, first thing in the morning.

  “Is he still there?” he asked, nodding towards our bedroom door.

  “He is.” I said, “He’s watching morning telly now. Asked me whether the Big Breakfast was still on. Says he liked that.”

  “Oh bugger.” groaned Dai.

  “I know,” I said, frowning. “Bloody Chris Evans. Can’t stand him, the ginger bastard.”

  Dai groaned and went to take a shower.

  Shortly after Dai was eating his bowl of cereal and I was making a piece of toast when there came a sound like a scratching at the back door. Dai looked puzzled and went to open the door. When he did, nothing. “Odd.” he said, “sounded like a cat.”

  Now we haven’t had a cat for years. Not since poor old Tiddles had gone under a bus, anyway.

  “Must have been the wind.” I said, though neither of us looked convinced.

  “Gwen.” said Dai, placing his now empty bowl in the sink. “We need to get this sorted out. We can’t have the ghost of your dad sitting upstairs all the time. What if we have guests over? He would scare them to death, he would! “He folded his arms across his chest in that way that I have come to realise says he is putting his foot down. Usually I let him get away with it.

  “Right oh” I said, “You’re the man of the house. You need to go and have a word with dad, see?” I couldn't help but notice he went visibly paler himself when I said this. “Go on then. You’re right. We need to sort it out.”

  Dai nodded, gave me a look that seemed to question whether it was his decision to do this, but made his way upstairs none the less. I was right behind him as he went in to the spare room. Dad was sitting there watching the telly tubbies.

  “Can’t make out a bloody word of this one.” he muttered, “Try the other side for me please Gwen. There’s a good girl.” and so I pushed past Dai. Who was standing there trying to look important and failing terribly. As I made past him I tripped a little bit on the mat and I stumbled to where Dad was. I couldn't help but gasp as my hand went right through him. Felt a bit cold did that. I think it is fair to say that I didn’t like it at all. I scuttled back to where Dai was.

  “Morning.” he coughed and Dad turned towards him, looking him up and down.

  “You’ve put on a bit of weight haven’t you Dai?” It was more a statement than a question. Dai seemed to pretend not to hear him. “It will be all those burgers you eat. You need to cut them down a bit now don’t you?”

  Dai muttered something I did not catch under his breath.

  “Thing is, dad” I said, scowling at Dai standing there tongue tied and full of burgers too, according to the ghost of my dad who was sitting on the bed in my spare room watching sponge bob square pants, “We were wondering why you are here, see. Not that we have a problem with you coming for a holiday now and again but to be honest it’s not a situation we ever saw arising what with you being dead and all. We just need to know what is going on, really.”

  Dad seemed to be growing a bit tired of daytime telly now, and I can’t say I blame him.

  “As I said Gwen. I just fancied a bit of a change. I won’t be here too long. I was just a bit bored up there.” and he pointed upwards, his vaguely transparent eyebrows rising in unison with his hand. He winked to us both as we followed the direction he was pointing. Could have been worse, I thought. Much worse. I decided to try a different tack.

  “What’s it like in heaven then, Dad?” I asked and heard Dai sigh next to me.

  “Oh not too bad” he said, smiling. “Not over fond of the knitting though.”

  “Knitting?” scowled Dai, getting increasingly agitated.

  “Well you can’t sit there all day watching telly now, can you?” I tried, desperately attempting to change the subject.

  Dad shrugged. “A bit of telly does no one any harm, Gwen. But you’re right.” I noticed that Dai now looked a little bit smugger at this. “Is it okay if I have a few pals over? We won’t get in the way or the like. Won’t make any noise.”

  Dai nodded slowly, giving his permission, now completely defeated. I dragged him from the room by his arm, tutting as I went.

  “Well that told him now, didn’t it?” I shouted. “I’m off to work.”

  Dai made his way downstairs to do the same.

  “Sorry Gwen” he mumbled, almost to himself. “It was just the thing about knitting. Completely threw me, it did.”

  So we both went to work.

  ***

  “This is Thomas” dad said, slapping one of the other three ghosts gathered around the bed on the back. He pointed to the other two in turn. “And this is Alwyn and last but not least Dylan.” Alwyn nodded to us as we both stood in the doorway in total amazement. Dylan doffed his transparent cap and raised himself a short way off the bed in greeting.

  “Nothing to do with the rabbit off the magic roundabout” he grinned and then winked at us both.

  “I thought not” replied Dai dryly. “Though nothing would surprise me around here at the minute.”

  “What are you all doing then?” I asked. They all seemed kind of huddled about the bed and I couldn't quite see what they were up to.

  “We were just having a game of cards” said Alwyn, as plain as you like.

  “Poker.” said dad. “Glad to see I haven’t lost my touch.”

  I sighed and led Dai from the room, down the stairs and then we had our tea.

  Whilst we were both sitting at the kitchen table we heard the scratching at the back door just like we had the night before and Dai and I jumped up and opened it, just in time to see a transparent cat tail swish and then vanish in to the hedge. On the step lay the small form of a ghostly see though bird. The bird suddenly stood up and looking vaguely perturbed suddenly flew in to the air and vanished, leaving the step empty. Dai stood and we both stared at each and closed the door. I didn’t have the heart to tell him about the three ghostly white tomatoes in the fridge that I didn’t seem to be able to pick up or the small ghost of a budgie that seemed to be flapping about to and fro in the parlour. Didn’t seem to be the right moment to tell him, I thought to myself.

  As we were both sitting there feeling a little bit shell shocked the thin form of an old woman drifted in to the kitchen, and after opening a door that wasn’t there vanished through the wall. Dai went an even whiter shade of pale, which I would have thought a moment before was completely impossible.

  “I’m off to the pub” he said, grabbing his coat. I went with him.

  A few hours and quite a few drinks later Dai and I were lying in bed desperately trying to ignore the sounds of quite an old to do coming from the spare room. It seemed the card school was still in full flight. “Gwen” said Dai, tapping me on the shoulder. “Are you still awake?”

  “Well it’s hardly likely I am going to be asleep what with Las Vegas going on across the landing now, is it? Oh, and before you have any funny ideas that may be my dead dad in there it’s still my dad. No hanky panky Dai Jones, you understand?”

  Dai laughed aloud in the dark. “It’s not that, Gwen. Just that I got talking to a bloke at work today about our problem.”

  I spun to face him in the dark. In the spare room a loud cheer could be heard obviously at the conclusion of another hand. “Don’t you be blabbing off to all and sundry about what’s going on here, Dai!” I whispered. Dai tutted.

  “No - it is just that he is a bit of an amateur ghost hunter. Everyone at work thinks he’s a bit loopy to be honest. But I was wondering if he could come around and give us a bit of advice, see? Can’t do any harm now, can it?”

  I had to agree that
it didn’t seem such a bad idea to me. Truth is I could do with a bit of advice. Course I could go across the landing now and give them all what for. But dad had never listened to me when he was alive, so it was unlikely he would start listening now he’s dead. Besides, it was hardly as if I could grab him by the scruff of his neck and throw him out now, was it?

  “Okay.” I conceded. “But we’ll have none of that excommunicating going on. Just advice, that’s all we want.” I imagine Dai was grinning in the dark by now.

  “Don’t be daft, Gwen” he laughed. “You need a priest for that. Just advice. If he’s agreeable I’ll get him around tomorrow night.

  With that thought in mind we both tried to get some sleep, though mostly in vain.

  ***

  Dai rang from work the next day to say he would be a little bit late as he was giving his friend a lift to pick up his ghost hunting gear, but wouldn’t be too long. I wondered what gear it was that he needed, for truth. It was beginning to look like my house was beginning to turn into a free for all for every spook in the neighbourhood. As well as the poker party, which showed no signs of coming to an end (mind you, they did have all of eternity, I suppose) the ghost tomatoes were still in the fridge, a ghostly cat kept leaving ghost animals on the back step, a phantom budgie was all over the parlour now, and to cap it all there were random appearances of the little old lady we had both seen the night before all over the house. Just after I had got home from work I had found her in the airing cupboard tutting to herself. It was starting to get right on my nerves, and that’s no lie!