She smiled at him. She seemed concerned for him. For something in his expression. Or at least that was how the Ghost read it.
A minute later she said, ‘Do you ever feel free? You know, like that starling over there … Do you see it? There on the branch.’
He looked at the bird, surveying the scene from high in a beech tree.
‘Free? I don’t know.’ He thought about it. ‘I think I sometimes feel like places can trap you. Especially Sheffield.’
‘It’s the hills.’
‘Seven. Just like Rome.’
Maggie’s eyes lit up. ‘You can feel free anywhere though, I reckon.’
‘But I don’t know,’ Wilbur was saying. ‘I don’t know if I ever feel free. I don’t know if we are meant to feel free. What about you?’
‘I don’t know if I ever feel free,’ mocked the Ghost. ‘Ah, it must be so hard. Sitting on a bench next to the loveliest human being that ever lived, alive and warm inside your own skin. Thatisfreedom, Wilbur, you idiot! You young cynic! Stop reading your French philosophers and wake up, lad! That is as free as it gets!’
Maggie stared at him a long time. ‘I feel free when I draw. There’s a moment, when you really get into it, and you aren’t consciouslythinkingabout it. You are just doing it.’
The elderly lady who had been laying flowers walked by.
She looked at them with kind, slightly mischievous eyes. ‘Good evening, you two.’
‘Evening.’
After she passed, Maggie said, ‘She thought we were a couple.’
‘Well, reality is perception. That’s what my mate Charlie says when he’s tripping on acid … He’s working at Bagdale’s now. I’m trying to straighten him out. I’ve got him a job. He does all the accounts.’
‘You are waffling,’ his ghost said. ‘You always waffled when you were nervous. She doesn’t want to know about Charlie being your accountant. She wants you to make a move because she’s really not happy with Edward and he treats her terribly, that’s the truth of it. He tries to control her and she wants out and craves an escape and she’s hinting and you are just sitting there like a bloomin’ lemon in a still-life painting. Tell her what you think of her!’
Wilbur turned, as if looking for someone.
‘Are you all right, Wilbur?’ Maggie had noticed that Wilbur looked distracted.
‘Yes. Sorry. Just feel like I’m going a bit mad. I thought I heard something.’
‘What did you hear?’
‘Like someone talking. No. It’s nothing.’
‘Oh my God,’ whispered the Ghost.
Wilbur shook it away. He may not have heard any of the Ghost’s words but something of what was said seemed to get through.
‘When I’m with you,’ he said.
Maggie’s confusion grew. ‘What?’
‘That’s the answer to your question. I feel free when I am with you. I don’t mean it in an odd way. I know you are courting. But I just need to tell you. I feel free with you. Sitting on a bench. Talking. It is the most free I ever feel.’
Maggie looked at him. At first there was nothing. And then she smiled and it was like a door opening.
She leaned in and kissed him. Just a small kiss, but on the lips.
‘Oh,’ he said. That was it. Justoh.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Maggie.
