up in the loony bin, but that’s a risk I’m willing to take.’
Fuck, this guy is going to ruin my day one way or another. I think of the scene in Ghost where that man goes into Whoopi Goldberg’s body. Ugh, I could not handle that. Just rip the band-aid off. Get it over and done with.
I walk towards the front. The priest slows down his talking and stares at me, horror dawning on his face. I ignore every fibre of my being telling me to sit the fuck back down.
I turn to face the horrified crowd. Seamus and Niall are staring at me, open mouthed. Eamon’s family and friends start whispering to each other.
‘Hi, everyone.’ I do an awkward wave, swallowing down the lump in my throat. ‘I’m so sorry to interrupt, but… I kind of… have a message.’
‘A message?’ Someone shouts from the back.
‘Yes,’ I nod frantically. ‘A message for Ciara.’
A lady, I’m assuming Ciara, squirms in her front row seat.
‘Could I have a word with you privately?’ I ask.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Saturday 17th October
Of course I’ve been sacked. I don’t know why I was shocked. Maybe I was holding out some small bit of hope that they’d take pity on me. But no, turns out, when you tell the grieving widow that her husband of forty years has been having an affair, it doesn’t go down too well.
I don’t think I’m cut out for it anyway. With this weird being able to speak to the dead thing, it was never going to end well.
I can’t tell Ella the truth, she’s already depressed and can’t cope as well as I can. She never has been able to. Always been babied by my hippy dippy parents.
As I dry myself the next morning after a bath, I remind myself that I’m a strong, independent woman. I repeat this mantra to myself as I blow dry my hair, angrily shaking it about like it has personally wronged me.
Right, this is it. Time to open up the pub. My hair is bouncier than usual due to all of the angry fluffing. I quickly try to calm it down with my hands. I don’t know why I’m crushing on such a Neanderthal.
I take a steadying deep breath. You can do this. Now is the time to go face the public and hope they’re not all talking about the weirdo who ruined Eamon’s funeral. Suki watches me and yawns before slumping her head down on the bed and going back to sleep.
I bound down the stairs and into the kitchen, but as soon as I open the door, I know something has happened. The atmosphere if heavy and full of tension. Ella is talking to Clooney in hushed serious tones. He is frowning back at her, as she bites her lip.
‘Oh god. You know already, don’t you?’ I ask, staring at them both.
Ella stares back at me. ‘Know what?’
‘Heard that I got sacked. The big scene I caused at Eamon’s funeral.’
Clooney runs his hand through his hair.
‘Phoebe, I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ she says, shaking her head slowly.
‘Oh. What’s wrong then?’ I ask, looking between them. My scalp prickles. This is bad. I just know it.
‘I…’ she starts, her face pale, gulping down panic. ‘I… think we’ve been robbed.’
‘WHAT?’ I yell, running through to the bar and opening the till. What’s she talking about? We still have money in here? We haven’t even opened up yet. I walk back into the kitchen.
‘No, the safe,’ she says, her voice soft, treating me carefully like I’m a bomb about to go off.
I run through the kitchen and into the safe cupboard. She’s right. The safe door is open and it’s empty. All of last week’s takings are gone. I collapse onto the floor, staring into the empty hole as a similar one blasts through my heart. Why is it, no matter what we do, everything just turns against us? I don’t think I could feel more helpless. Just when I feel we might be okay, something else goes wrong.
Clooney follows me in. I can feel his concern radiating from him.
‘Have you searched to see if they’re still here?’ I ask, suddenly fearful that they could have gone to our living quarters. I could have gone right past them without even realising.
‘Shit, no.’
He runs into the sitting room and then I hear him thundering up the stairs, opening and shutting doors. Right now the guy could still be here. He could open the door to murder