Except she didn’t. No one did. Instead, after a while, everyone began to spread out. Cora and Luke crossed the stream, and Fash and Abi moved up alongside me, veering slightly deeper into the woods. There was a curtain of trees between us, but that didn’t stop me hearing what they were saying.
‘Fash?’ Abi said, and I could tell by the way she was trying to keep her voice down that she was worried about anyone else listening in.
Fash looked at her, I guess, and waited for her to go on.
‘What do you reckon happens when you die?’ she asked him.
There was a beat, as though Fash was trying to process what she’d just said. ‘Bloody hell, Abi,’ he hissed at her. There was a gap in the trees then, and I saw him glance over, but I couldn’t tell if he was worried about Luke overhearing, or me.
‘No, I know. But seriously. What do you reckon happens?’
I could have told her what happens if she’d really wanted to know. Nothing happens. Zilch. It’s lights out and then it’s over. All that bullshit about God and heaven and having a soul … if it were true, what would be the point of living in the first place? It’s lies, is what it is. A fucking comfort blanket. When you die, you’re dead, end of story. Literally.
But obviously that’s not what Abi wanted to hear.
‘I don’t know, do I?’ said Fash. ‘Why are you asking me?’
He sounded uncomfortable, like death was the last thing he wanted to talk about. Which I suppose it is for most people most of the time, but even still …
‘Your mum’s religious, isn’t she?’ said Abi. ‘So I just … I don’t know. I just wondered what you thought, that’s all.’
‘My mum’s a Muslim, so what? Luke’s parents are religious, too.’
‘Yeah, but I can’t ask him, can I?’ said Abi.
‘If you did he’d probably say the same thing as me. That he doesn’t know either.’
‘I know you don’t know,’ Abi said. ‘No one knows. But what do you think? That’s all I’m asking.’
Fash exhaled, like he could tell Abi wasn’t going to give it a rest until he answered.
‘I think … I think something happens. But I don’t know what.’
I snorted. I couldn’t help it. But I’m pretty sure neither of them heard.
‘Really?’ said Abi, sounding like someone had just offered her a free iPad. ‘You really think that? That dying isn’t the end?’
‘Keep your voice down, Abi, for Christ’s sake,’ said Fash.
We all walked on for a bit, and neither of them spoke.
Eventually Fash gave a sigh. ‘What I think is …’ he said, in a whisper, and you could tell he was struggling to find the words. ‘I think there has to be something else. Because … I don’t know. It’s like … thoughts. You know? Like, where do they come from? And dreams and ideas and … and all that stuff. The stuff that isn’t muscle or bone or fat or whatever. The stuff that’s us. The real us, I mean. That has to go somewhere. Right? And maybe there’s no heaven or hell or anything, but there’s definitely got to be something. Like …’ He sighed again. ‘I don’t know. Like the way we can’t see infrared. Radio waves. Pollution. Things that are all around us right now. So maybe the afterlife is like that. All around us, but the only thing is, we can’t see it. Not until after we die.’
At first, when he finished his little speech, I figured he was taking the piss. I kept waiting for him to start laughing, to tell Abi he was yanking her chain.
But he didn’t. Meaning he actually genuinely believed that shit.
‘Right!’ said Abi. ‘That’s exactly what I reckon! And what you were saying about the things that are around us right now. That’s what I think about ghosts.’
‘Ghosts?’ said Fash, and I couldn’t help but glance across. Abi was about ten metres away, deeper in among the trees. Fash had turned towards her, meaning he couldn’t have seen me looking.
‘Right,’ Abi said. ‘Like, if ghosts exist, there has to be something else.’
‘I guess …’ said Fash. ‘Although I’m not sure I believe in ghosts exactly.’
‘I do,’ said Abi. And in my head I’m like, There’s a fucking surprise. ‘I’ve even seen one once. Of my gran. In her old house. My granddad lived there on his own for a bit, after she died, and until his stroke put him in a home, and me and my mum used to stay with him practically every other weekend. And it was one of those times I saw her.’
‘You did?’ said Fash. ‘What was she doing?’
‘She was in the garden,’ said Abi, ‘watering the plants, I think.’
I turned away to cover my snort. I couldn’t help it. It just slipped out. I mean, seriously. You’re dead. You can walk through walls. So what’s the first thing you decide to do when you come back? Turn the hose on the fucking hydrangeas.
‘Yeah, well,’ said Fash, who’d glanced my way. ‘Like I said, I’m not sure I believe in ghosts.’
I could tell he wanted to change the subject, but Abi sort of had him trapped.
‘But what you were saying before,’ she pressed. ‘About there being something. Do you reckon, like, with Sadie –’
But that was as far as she got.
Fash turned on her. And he snapped like he never snaps at anyone. Not even the dickheads who always give him such a hard time at school.
‘I said I don’t fucking know! OK? Just give it a rest, will you?’
And he stormed off, leaving Abi standing where he’d left her. She saw me looking over, and she flushed. I couldn’t tell whether she was angry or ashamed or what. She turned away, dropping her head, and hurried on as though following after Fash.
We walked for hours, after that. No one talking much, everyone dripping wet. We took shelter under an elm tree at around lunchtime, and
