The closeness of shadows

Shirley had known Agatha for as long as she could remember, inseparable since infant school. So when Agatha suddenly disappeared that June without a word, it felt like Shirley had lost a part of herself, and the months that followed were filled with heartbreak and unanswered questions. But then, five months later, Agatha came back, just as suddenly as she’d left.

Shirley was thrilled to begin with, her lifelong friend had returned to their small town and everything that had been disturbed was now slotted back into place, but things were different, and Shirley was beginning to wonder whether she liked Agatha being around at all. Shirley found Agatha rather changed, she’d developed an insistence of following Shirley everywhere, persistently, whether she was invited or not. Shirley found it difficult to know what to say to her friend, and her happier disposition was beginning to fade.

Agatha had spent the entire Saturday morning trailing behind Shirley through the town centre, hovering at her shoulder as they wandered from shop to shop, muttering disparaging remarks about the items Shirley stopped to admire. Shirley, meanwhile, was on a mission. She was seeing James that evening and wanted a new top for the occasion. They’d been dating since spring, and now that the weather had turned colder, she was all too aware that her wardrobe was starting to feel repetitive. One more appearance of her red sweater, and James might start thinking it was the only thing she owned.

Shirley was perusing a rail of tops in a boutique, well known for stocking the latest trends. “Hey Agatha, what do you think of this one?” she asked, holding out a black sweatshirt with a slashed neckline and a motif of small stars.

“It’s okay I suppose,” Agatha’s response was far from encouraging, “a bit different for you.” Agatha barely gave the sweatshirt a glance. She’d been back for just over two weeks and though Shirley had been thrilled to see her, however changed and distant she seemed, she wished that Agatha would be more enthusiastic about her ongoing relationship with James. Their dates together had been going well and Shirley was determined to keep it that way.

Neither Shirley nor Agatha had much success with boys back in high school. They were an odd pair, never part of the popular crowd - Shirley with her unruly mass of brown curls and glasses, and Agatha with her mousy bob and braces. Agatha’s braces were taken off when she was seventeen, but by then the damage was done. Even though she was rather pretty, people still remembered her for her awkward smile and horsey teeth

After finishing school, Shirley had found work as a bank clerk, and Agatha at a nursery. In the years that followed, both were happy and settled, still living at home with their parents but finding their way in their small familiar world. During their free time, they remained as inseparable as ever, just as in their school days. That was, until James arrived on the scene.

“Well, I think it will look okay,” Shirley held the sweatshirt up against her chest, “I can wear it with my jeans and that little star necklace I’ve got, you know the one.”

“It won’t keep you very warm with that neckline.” Agatha had her back turned and was looking at a display of chunky knits, the like of which, along with festive socks and scarves, were flooding all the shops.

“It’ll be fine, I’ll wear a scarf if it keeps you happy!” Shirley retorted, a little frustrated at her friend’s new found tendency to dismiss everything. “We’re only going to the cinema, not the Arctic,” and with that Shirley defiantly proceeded to the sales counter where a sizeable queue was beginning to form.

There was a lengthy queue in the coffee shop too, where Shirley ordered hot chocolate and treacle tart. Agatha proclaimed that she wasn’t hungry and sat silently as Shirley savoured each mouthful of tart and sipped at her creamy hot drink.

“This is lovely… you always liked the cakes in here,” Shirley smiled at her old friend, remembering the Saturdays they’d spent together in their younger years. Both were now in their late twenties and Shirley had finally moved out of her parents' house earlier that year, relishing the freedom of having her own space. It certainly made dating less complicated. She’d met James at the bank where he came each week to deposit takings from his roofing business, and after a little flirting at the counter, he’d asked her out. It wasn’t exactly against bank policy to be dating a customer, but it wasn’t encouraged either and the only person who knew about Shirley and James’ relationship was Agatha.

Coffee and treacle tart consumed, Shirley headed to her favourite bookshop on the town square. At the door she turned to her friend who was still following behind. “Are you okay Agatha?”

“Of course, I’m fine.” Agatha flashed a half smile, her teeth perfectly aligned.

Shirley paused and then cautiously, “You don’t seem it, that’s all.”

“You carry on,” Agatha gestured towards the door, which was swinging open and closed as people went in and out, “you find your book, or whatever it is that you want.” Agatha’s tone was cold, though Shirley could sense that she was trying to cover it with that bizarre smile that Agatha had adopted, her lips pulled tight across her teeth and gums. There was something a little disarming but equally disconcerting about it.

“I just wanted to look for something for James,” Shirley paused, sensing her friend’s displeasure, “for Christmas, you know.”

“Oh, of course, for James,” Agatha stared, unblinking at Shirley, her eyes deep with something that Shirley could not fathom, something that only Agatha could see. “I’ll just follow you,” she continued suddenly as if snapping back into reality, “don’t mind me.”

‘But I do mind,’ Shirley thought, but she kept her thoughts to herself and minded herself about what thought did. After all, Agatha had been gone for such a long time and it really was nice to have her back, even if she was somewhat altered.

Back at Shirley’s flat, Agatha perched on the worktop, her legs dangling as she watched Shirley unpack her shopping on the kitchen table. It was late afternoon, dark already and the kitchen was quiet except for the steady ticking of the plastic wall clock. Shirley glanced up at it. “I’d better get a move on, James is picking me up in half an hour,” her voice trailed off, “five o’clock he said.” She smiled at Agatha, attempting to lighten the dark mood that seemed to follow her around. “I’ll probably see you tomorrow if you like.” Even though Shirley desperately needed some time to herself before the working week began, she felt an obligation to spend time with Agatha, she being her only real friend in town.

“I’ll stick around here for a while,” Agatha slid down from the worktop and moved towards Shirley, “are you really going to wear that?” She looked at the new sweatshirt as Shirley removed its tags.

“Well, that’s what I bought it for,” Shirley didn’t look up, “what’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing I don’t suppose, it just doesn’t seem like your kind of thing.”

“I like it, I think James will like it too.”

“James… of course,” Agatha gave Shirley the look again, straight white teeth flashing a masquerade of a smile, a ghost of a smile.

Shirley knew of course that this different and somewhat sharper version of her friend was a result of Agatha’s tragic death that summer. A horrific car accident one evening on the winding road that cut through the hills to the west of the town. The car had been speeding and as it took a bend on the wrong side of the road, it collided headlong with a heavy truck. Agatha hadn’t stood a chance. Shirley had been inconsolable, her heart wrenched apart, the very essence of her being was broken, she’d drawn into herself, taken weeks off work, unable to accept that her friend had gone. Shirley had sought comfort in James, who gave her space to grieve, but she tried to keep him close as she attempted to navigate the dreadful days and weeks that followed.

The Agatha who had been at Shirley’s side for the last two weeks, was an Agatha that only she could see and hear. For reasons unknown, Agatha had returned, but Shirley didn’t know why, and they hadn’t spoken about it. So thrilled was Shirley to see her friend again that she hadn't dared ask too many questions. But now, Agatha’s obvious problem with James was becoming unbearable. She’d never had any issue with him when she’d been alive, she’d been quite encouraging, but now, Shirley needed to know.

“Agatha, it’s great that you’ve come back, really it is,” Shirley, who’d been upstairs and changed, sat down at the table, her fingers fiddling with the cardboard tag from the new sweatshirt she was now wearing, “but we haven’t talked about it, I don’t know why you’ve come back, why you follow me everywhere I go… and why you suddenly have a problem with James.”

“You’ve noticed that then?” Agatha sat on the chair facing Shirley.

“Of course I’ve noticed, you’ve made it pretty obvious. Is that why you’ve come back? To have a go at me about James?”

“Coming back wasn’t easy you know.” Agatha’s face was set straight, the chilling smile no longer there. “I could have just moved over to the other side straight away, you know what I mean by that?”

Shirley nodded. “Yes, I think I do.”

“I could have gone, but I didn’t. There were things that I needed to reconcile, things that weren’t right, but I didn’t know what to do for the best. It’s not like I’ve been dead before, it takes a bit of getting used to,” Agatha gave a grim smile.

“Oh Agatha…!”

“It’s fine, I’m used to it now, but I’ve been hanging about in between places for too long. I decided the best thing to do was come back to you, I couldn’t bear to watch any more.”

“Watch what? Me? Me and James?” Shirley's face contorted as she tried to make sense of the little information she had. All she knew was that her best friend was dead and now she’d come back in some sort of ghost form, because she wasn’t happy about her dating James. “I don’t understand, you’ll have to explain to me Agatha.”

“I don’t want to break your heart again Shirley, but I can’t let you carry on with this whole charade,” and as the clock continued to tick, it’s hands gliding past five o’clock, no knock at the door came, and Agatha spoke carefully to Shirley, her dear friend who she couldn’t stand to see hurting herself for any longer.

June had been bright and sunny, with the promise of a good summer on its way. Agatha had been preparing the children at nursery ready for their parents to collect them at the end of the day, including a new pair of twins, about two years old, who’d started that day and Agatha was anxious to make sure their parents were happy with how the day had gone. The stream of various mums and dads arrived and each child happily headed off home and Agatha was beginning to wonder where the twins' parents were, when a man arrived, flustered and late. The man was James. It took a moment for both he and Agatha to recognise one another as he hurried over to the twins to greet them. “Sorry you two, daddy went to the wrong nursery!” James didn’t look up but carried on blustering around the two children. “Their mum dropped them off this morning, I haven’t been here before, she did all the signing up and that sort of thing, honestly, what must you think of me!?” James turned and then the smile fell off his face “Agatha! I didn’t know you worked here.”

“To be fair, you never really asked,” said Agatha plainly, “come on you two, let's get you off home. Your mummy will be wondering what’s happened to you. What a silly daddy you have.” She shot a withering glance at James.

Agatha walked out of the nursery and across the play area with James and the twins towards his car on the other side of the gate. “They’ve had a good day, settled in really well. Please, make sure you let their mum know, she was quite anxious when she dropped them off.”

“Agatha, I can explain.”

“It’s none of my business James, but I don’t want to see Shirley get hurt.”

James bundled the twins into the car. “I really can explain. The twin’s mum will be collecting them tomorrow, so…”

“Your wife?”

“Yes, yes, my wife, but let me pick you up when you’ve finished here tomorrow, and I’ll explain everything.”

And so, against her better judgement, but driven by loyalty and concern for Shirley, Agatha agreed, and the next day, after the twins' mum had collected them and the children and other staff had left, she locked up the nursery and got into James’ car.

Whatever James could have said would not have altered Agatha’s opinion of him. To her he was a cheat and a liar, and poor Shirley, he had certainly turned on the charm for her. His explanations were hollow, nothing could justify what he had done. He complained to Agatha that his wife had suffered with depression since the birth of the twins, life was difficult, work was hard. ‘Poor James’ Agatha muttered to herself bitterly as the car made its way into the hills. Here was a grown man who couldn’t deal with responsibility, who wanted the highs but no ownership of the lows. Their conversation became heated, Agatha making it clear what she thought of him and as James began to realise that she was not going to cover for him, his frustration flared and he slammed his foot hard on the accelerator. The car hurtled around the bend into the path of an oncoming truck and in an instant their conversation ended in a dead silence.

The local newspaper had thankfully handled the story with an element of sensitivity, barely mentioning the passenger in the car. Agatha was given a brief mention as ‘the nursery worker’, but the main focus remained on the tragic death of James, leaving two children fatherless and a grieving widow.

There was of course no mention of Shirley and when she read the newspaper report, she’d grappled to understand what was real and what was not. There was no wife and children, of course there wasn’t, it wasn’t real, it wasn’t James, it couldn’t be, not her James. But the loss of Agatha, nothing could have been more excruciatingly painful than that.

“So you’ve tried to cope as well as you could,” Agatha looked across at Shirley, a depth of compassion in her eyes that Shirley hadn’t seen since her return, “but you have to face it, we’ve both gone, me and James, and however much you felt for him, he really wasn’t worth it.”

Shirley wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her sweatshirt, gasping for breath. “But James, he’s been so…”

“He’s gone Shirley. You’ve got to stop all this, going to places you used to go together, talking as if he’s still here, you’re even still cooking meals for him.”

“How can I stop though?” Shirley reached out to touch Agatha’s hand, but of course there was nothing there.

“James moved over straight away Shirley. He didn’t hang around to worry about you, or his wife or his kids. He went straight to the light. His conscience, the little he had of one, was completely clear. Some people are just like that.”

“He was all that I could hold on to. Because no one else knew, it didn’t matter, I could still… But what about you? You haven’t gone, you came back.” Shirley knew what Agatha was saying was true, even if the pieces didn’t seem to fit in the broken jigsaw of her mind.

“Well, I couldn’t leave you in the state you’re in could I?” Agatha smiled, and this time it was a real smile, the one that Shirley had seen so many times over the years.

“Thank you,” Shirley sniffed, “and you’re right about this sweatshirt, it really isn’t me.”

The two friends sat a while as the clock ticked and a sense of calm filled the kitchen. The parts of Shirley’s fragile and battered mind and soul began to align a little and she was grateful for her friend’s company, however short lived she knew it had to be.

“You mustn’t stay too long Agatha, you know, you must move over, go to the light, whatever it is that you do when you’re…”

“Dead, I know, it’s okay. Don’t worry, I’ll go one day, just as soon as I know you’re strong enough.”

The following Saturday morning Shirley pulled on her favourite red sweater. It was cold and crisp as she made her way to the town park chatting happily with Agatha, and Shirley felt a lightness that she hadn’t felt in months. The ducks on the lake dabbled and splashed about, jostling for the pieces of bread Shirley tossed to them. “Silly ducks,” she laughed, turning to Agatha, but Agatha was not there. “Agatha?” Shirley looked searchingly about, but Agatha had gone.

Across the lake, something flickered at the edge of Shirley’s vision, a shimmering presence, not quite of this world. It hovered in the trees, a pale outline, quietly watching. Agatha hadn’t gone far. Not yet. Shirley meant too much to her. The light was calling her but she wasn’t ready to leave. Not until the time was right.