When alive, Ottie didn’t believe in an afterlife, so it came to her as a complete surprise to find herself in Heaven welcomed by Sylvia, her closest friend. It was as though there had never been that ten year break, and they chatted long and amicably. As both were philosophy graduates, they discussed Hell, Sylvia uncertain whether it existed, but saying that a famous explorer claimed to have gone there and to have seen a Daesh suicide bomber, eager for his 70 virgins, materialize in a retirement home for elderly nuns. “If true, it suggests Nemesis has a sense of humour” finished Sylvia. “Or she’s signed the Human Rights Convention” laughed Ottie.
Soon, missing her library and her cigarettes, Ottie decided to visit the living, specifically her daughter, where she would find both.
At first she was discrete, but this changed when she caught Anna selling some of her books. “How could she do that to me? Never in my wildest dreams did I think she would betray me like this. She knows how I hate lending books, never mind selling them. And she’s given up smoking.” But no-one offered any sympathy, least of all Sylvia.
In desperation, Ottie haunted Anna. Whenever she listed or was about to list one of her books on the internet, Ottie would take it and hide it. This wasn’t hard given the quantity of books, some piled on the floor, some stacked on tables and others shelved in double rows.
In the beginning Anna would joke about the disappearing books: “I can just see her, fag in hand, an angry ghost hovering over her books. I’m waiting for the earth to open up and swallow me”
“If only” muttered Ottie.
Then things began to go sour. As more and more books vanished, as bigger and bigger gaps appeared on the shelves, Anna became convinced that she was on the edge of senility, that she had forgotten where she had put them or even worse, that she had made the titles up. As her stress increased, Anna began slinging abuse at Ottie, blaming her mother for the lost books. This upset Anna even further as she knew that ghosts didn’t exist.
It was Sylvia who finally intervened. “Stop being so stupid. We’re dead and our books are now somebody else’s. For an old book to help shape a new library is the ultimate reincarnation and you of all people should know that. Show me where they are, and we’ll pile them under the spare bed. Poor Anna will spend a lifetime wondering who put them there, but so be it.” Ottie did as she was told.
Tormenting Anna, Ottie called it teasing, had become as much part of the game as reclaiming her books. It was her other life. She would continue, but much more surreptitiously, not as often and not as maliciously. And as she really did love her daughter, she might sometimes even put books her way and who knows, maybe even a packet of cigarettes.
A true story
Soon, missing her library and her cigarettes, Ottie decided to visit the living, specifically her daughter, where she would find both.
At first she was discrete, but this changed when she caught Anna selling some of her books. “How could she do that to me? Never in my wildest dreams did I think she would betray me like this. She knows how I hate lending books, never mind selling them. And she’s given up smoking.” But no-one offered any sympathy, least of all Sylvia.
In desperation, Ottie haunted Anna. Whenever she listed or was about to list one of her books on the internet, Ottie would take it and hide it. This wasn’t hard given the quantity of books, some piled on the floor, some stacked on tables and others shelved in double rows.
In the beginning Anna would joke about the disappearing books: “I can just see her, fag in hand, an angry ghost hovering over her books. I’m waiting for the earth to open up and swallow me”
“If only” muttered Ottie.
Then things began to go sour. As more and more books vanished, as bigger and bigger gaps appeared on the shelves, Anna became convinced that she was on the edge of senility, that she had forgotten where she had put them or even worse, that she had made the titles up. As her stress increased, Anna began slinging abuse at Ottie, blaming her mother for the lost books. This upset Anna even further as she knew that ghosts didn’t exist.
It was Sylvia who finally intervened. “Stop being so stupid. We’re dead and our books are now somebody else’s. For an old book to help shape a new library is the ultimate reincarnation and you of all people should know that. Show me where they are, and we’ll pile them under the spare bed. Poor Anna will spend a lifetime wondering who put them there, but so be it.” Ottie did as she was told.
Tormenting Anna, Ottie called it teasing, had become as much part of the game as reclaiming her books. It was her other life. She would continue, but much more surreptitiously, not as often and not as maliciously. And as she really did love her daughter, she might sometimes even put books her way and who knows, maybe even a packet of cigarettes.
A true story
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