F r e a k

1

The first time I saw a dead person, I was standing in the queue at Sainsbury's, clutching my mother's hand in mine as we waited to pay for our stuff.

I was absently looking around, wondering if we were going to be stuck here much longer, when I saw the last person I expected to see, firstly because she was totally, one hundred per cent against chain stores like Sainsbury's and secondly because she was meant to be dead. She walked down the aisle, staring straight ahead with bleak, grey eyes. I remember being transfixed by her skin - it was all yellow and papery, and I'd never seen anyone with skin like that before.

In retrospect, I probably looked quite odd, staring intently at an empty spot of air. But I guess people overlooked it, since I was only four years old, and entitled to having imaginary friends.

Anyway, I tugged on my mother’s sleeve, still staring at the woman. She had died literally just a week ago, and my mother had gone to her funeral. The old woman hadn’t had much of a family, so as her neighbour and only friend, my own dear mother had seen it as her duty to go to her poorly attended funeral, as well as help out in arranging it.

But I was only a little girl, and my mother had told me sternly, in her don’t-argue-with-me voice, “You can’t come, Ashlynn.”

I sulked about it for the next two days, because as far as I was concerned, going to a funeral was an adventure.

However, it was an adventure I was going to have to miss out on.

So you can imagine my shock at seeing the dear old woman casually walking around Sainsbury’s, a week after I had been told that we would never be seeing her again.

My mother hadn’t been quite sure how to explain death to a four year old, but she had done her best.

“Mrs Wroclaw is going to live with God now, Ash.”

“Will we ever see her again?”

“Hopefully not for a very long time, but yes, one day I expect we’ll see her again. But I don’t want you to think about it, okay? Just remember, don’t bring her up in conversations. People might get upset.”

“Yes, Mummy.”

Now, I tugged again at my mother’s sleeve, trying to get her attention so that I could accuse her of lying. After all, if Mrs Wroclaw had gone to live with God, why was she doing her weekly shop here in Sainsbury’s?

I said as much to my mother.

My mother sighed, sounding tired. “What are you going on about, Ash?” she asked wearily.

“Mrs W. is standing right there!” I replied, accusation clear in my voice. “You said we wouldn’t see her again!”

“Sweetie, this isn’t the time for your jokes.”

A scowl took over my face. “You lied!” I told her, pointing an accusing finger at her.

“Stop it, Ashlynn!” I started at the harshness of her voice. “Jesus, when will you learn?! There are certain lines that cannot be crossed! Mrs Wroclaw is dead! Gone! Poof!” She snapped her fingers to illustrate her point.

My face crumpled. I took a deep breath. I think my mother sensed a storm coming on, because she abandoned her shopping basket and rushed out of Sainsbury’s just as the loud, ear-piercing wail left my throat.

Later that evening, my mother sat me down in the living room and put her motherly voice on.

“I’m sorry I got cross with you in the shops, Ash,” she said to me, “but please don’t pull something like that again. Do you hear me? It wasn’t a very nice joke to play on Mummy. Mrs Wroclaw wasn’t in the shop, you hear? So please don’t ever say you saw her again, because you can’t have done. She’s up in Heaven, and she can’t be in two places at once.”