Shiver the Whole Night Through by Darragh McManus Page B

usual things people get  …  um –’
    â€˜Buried in?’
    I paused before nodding.
    â€˜My cousin Carmel dressed me for the funeral,’ Sláine said. ‘She knew what I’d have wanted to wear. We used to talk about it a bit, you know – how would you like to be buried, if you
had
to choose  …  People have a fascination with all that stuff when they’re young, don’t they? I suppose because you never actually believe that one day it’ll happen to you for real.’
    She gave me a steady, piercing look, her head slightly tilted. I wondered if she somehow knew I’d considered that very thing myself, a week before. How could she know, or get inside my mind? Then again, how was this possible anyway? How could she stand here before me as – what?
    I said uncertainly, ‘Are  …  are you a  …  a ghost?’
    She smiled softly. ‘I’m not sure what I am. All I know is that I died a week ago. Now I’m  …  here.’ She spread her arms wide and gestured around her.
    â€˜In the forest?’
    â€˜Yes. Mostly.’
    â€˜You – live here now? Sorry, that sounded so stupid.’
    Sláine laughed. I went on, ‘You’re here, though? This is where you  …  stay now?’
    She nodded and thought for a moment. ‘It’s hard to explain. I don’t  …  Time doesn’t seem the same as it used to be. It’s not as if I spend all day and night walking around Shook Woods. I don’t get bored the way I might have  …  before. I sort of just
exist
now. I’m aware of my own existence and in control of it, but it’s not how it was when I was alive. It’s a strange feeling. Almost more a state of mind than an actual thing. Can you understand any of that?’
    â€˜I don’t think so. I’m sorry, I wish I could.’
    â€˜It’s all right. Are you still afraid of me?’
    I realised that I wasn’t. I said, ‘No. I feel  …  comfortable talking to you, I think. Does that make sense?’
    â€˜It does.’
    â€˜So the forest, is
this
a state of mind to you? Is that what you meant?’
    â€˜You know how I’d describe my existence now? Like a waking dream. I don’t sleep any more but all the hours feel like I’m walking through a never-ending dream. Except the dream, as you see, is very real.’
    She gave a little ironic bow. I rolled another cigarette and said, ‘It is, isn’t it? It’s really real. Christ. Weird and all as this is, I’m glad you’re real. I thought I was going mad. With the sign on my window, what you wrote on the glass, the message  …  That
was
you, wasn’t it?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜So you can leave here?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜Whenever you like?’
    She thought about this. ‘Mm  …  sort of. Yes. I’ll say yes, to all intents and purposes.’
    â€˜And go where you want?’
    â€˜No. I can’t – something seems to be stopping me from actually entering places. Buildings, or even an enclosed space, like a yard or someone’s garden? I can come right up to them, and no further. Don’t know why.’
    â€˜But you can touch them. I mean you must have touched my window, the outside. Made the ice do something on the inside. I don’t know. Caused some parts of the glass to get very cold or whatever. Made the words form like that, turning condensation into little streaks of ice?’
    Sláine nodded and smiled. She seemed pleased I’d worked out the mechanics of it. So was I: surprised and pleased.
    A crucial question marched to the front of my brain, begging to be asked. ‘Why me? Why did you contact me? We hardly knew each other.’
    â€˜I saw you here, that day. You came to the tree where they found me. You seemed  …  lost. Alone. And I was alone, so