2 comments/ 8567 views/ 2 favorites Peter, June and the Whatevers! By: Denham_Forrest Our thanks go to the numerous people from all around the world who have attempted to assist the author in preparing this story for posting. However like most files on his hard drive, it has been much fiddled-with since it was first posted on-line. Some readers might find this one a little difficult to understand, but is that unusual for a Wanderer story? Anyway as the characters themselves have little idea what the devil is going on; so the reader should not feel alone. Another of DC's little tongue in cheek compositions that is not intended to be taken seriously. Colloquial clarification: 'Gander' and 'Shufti' are both euphemisms for 'look'. * There are times when you should know -- right from the get-go -- that something unnatural is going on that ain't exactly kosher! Like I did the night I awoke at some unearthly hour and instantly became aware that standing beside the foot of my bed was an apparition... To-whit, one patently beautiful and very naked female! In fact, I could only just make out her form; but I could see enough to recognise that she was completely sans apparel, and that her figure... well it went in and out in all the right places, if you get my drift. Unfortunately, that gave me just enough information to work out exactly whom the woman had to be, as well. The fact that I'd married the lady in question some six years previously might make you just a little curious as to why I would be so surprised by her presence. Or perhaps you're wondering why I was more than slightly perturbed to find her standing there... totally naked, bedside my bed! Well the point is... you see... after the first few days, our marriage could not have been described as a good one. It really hadn't lasted very long -- roughly eighteen months to be precise! Before all the shouting was over, and those 'Legal Eagle tossers' had taken their exorbitant screw. Yeah well, we can't all get it right the first time, can we? It seemed to me, that shortly after our nuptials June had turned into a right... no, lets leave that for the present, you'll get the idea as we get further along, I'm sure! Anyway, June always claimed that it was me who had turned into a miserable old git! And to be honest, she was possibly quite correct there. But, when just a few days after you've taken your vows, you learn that you've been kept in the dark... no, not just yet! Where was I? Oh yeah, that night in my bedroom! After carefully studying the apparition for a short while -- as best I could, considering the lack of ambient illumination -- I convinced myself that I just had to be dreaming. So, trying my best to ignore the vision... not such a simple task when it's an incarnation of June's naked form standing before you; imaginary or otherwise! Bugger, for a short while there, I had even been tempted to turn the bloody bedside light on; so that I could get me a better gander! But I also figured, that putting some illumination on the scene would probably rouse me from my slumber... my dream world anyway. Consequently I discounted the idea, and then -- after getting a right-good-eyeful, as best I could -- I turned over and tried to... Well, I'm not quite exactly sure what the hell I was trying to do really. Pretend that June was not in my dream world anymore, I suppose! And, maybe even attempting to convince that dream world to take me somewhere that I would find a little more... relaxing... conducive to a good nights rest. "Well, that's bloody nice! I come to visit my loving husband for the first time in God knows how many years, and he turns his back on me!" June's dulcet tones suddenly filled the void of silence. If I had been asleep, then that surely would have woken me. Hence my confusion during the next few minutes, when I wasn't too sure if I was awake or not. One has to take into account that the actual fact that it was June's apparent presence that was doing it's best to convince me that I had to be dreaming. "You're not here June! I'm dreaming; go away!" I mumbled. "Oh, have nice dreams about me all the time, do you, Pete? That is flattering!" That all too well remembered voice, replied. "No I don't, June! Dreams in which you feature are usually classified under the heading 'recurring nightmares!' Now go away, please! Get off my bloody cloud, will you?" I found myself replying quite forcefully. "Ooh, is my lover-boy still a little rattled with me? Come on lover, I'd have thought you'd have got over all that by now!" "June... Jesus, what am I doing, talking to a sodding dream... a fantasy? Nothing but a figment of my troubled imagination. An illusion conjured up by my tormented, tortured unconscious mind. I must be going completely bleeding bonkers!" "Hey, I'm no fantasy, lover. Although I might be an illusion! You know, I don't understand how any of this works! Turn on the light and you'll see that I won't disappear. Or at least... I don't think I will!" The apparition... June, didn't sound too sure of herself either. "You know, they were a little bit vague about how all this was going to work!" she went on. "They kept me there for hours, God knows how long, explaining everything. But it all came at me so fast that it's kinda hard to remember exactly what they said now. And well, they were pretty vague about just about everything really. "But they insisted that... When it comes down to brass tracks, that you are my best bet! You know, I'm not really supposed to be here anyway, Peter; but they've bent the rules a little, just for little ol' me!" "What the hell are you babbling on about...? Kind-a loosing my decorum slightly; I'd got frustrated; sat up in bed and switched on the light. That light suddenly allowed to me get a far better shufti at June's... er, physical attributes, and in consequence I dropped in a couple of, involuntary, reactionary type... exclamations. That without that shock element, I'd have preferred not to have uttered. "Jesus wept, you are here... and looking even better than I remember if anything!" Luckily though, I quickly regained a little composure and hurriedly came up with some pertinent questions to fire at the apparition. "Er, anyway, as I was saying, June! Just what the hell are you babbling on about, and why are you here? Come to that, how did you get in here for a start?" I demanded. June threw me that enchanting smile of hers again, and then she did a little catwalk type twirl. In at least one respect, the woman knew exactly what she was dong! Damn that figure of hers, and damn that ruddy smile as well! That sodding smile had captured my heart the first time she'd thrown it my way in the university library. And, along with June's other -- all too obvious physical -- attributes, had kept me on a pretty tight-leash right up until the day they'd dropped the bomb on me, five days following our wedding. From that day forwards we drifted apart; our arguments always centring around ... well money. And you might find it surprising when I say, not for the lack of it either! ------- I suppose I'd better explain. When I'd met June at Uni, she was just another student struggling to pay her way through college like almost everyone else; or so I and everyone else thought. June even had a part-time job back then, and never appeared to be rolling in the readies. Consequently, I had not the slightest idea that she hailed from a much more affluent family background than myself. Albeit one that had mostly skipped one generation. In fact -- I discovered much later -- June's parents weren't exactly well-off themselves; but her grandfather had been bleeding-well loaded! Her grandparents had disowned June's mother when she'd insisted on marrying a man they did not approve of. I gather that June's grandparents were of the opinion that her father had been after the family assets or something along those lines anyway. So they'd disowned their daughter (June's mother) when she insisted on marrying the guy. Effectively excluding June's mother from the family, and any access to the extensive family assets. When June and I had met -- and while we were courting -- I had not been informed that June's grandfather had bequeathed all of his worldly worth to his only grandchild; nor that that grandchild was June. Neither had I been informed that - since her grandfather had toddled-off to meet his maker, some years previously -- June was set to inherit his private empire on her thirtieth birthday, or... on the solemnisation of her marriage; whichever came first! What came first was our bleeding wedding of course, and that inheritance brought with it the demise of a once beautiful relationship. Now one might think, "What's this dumb-arse complaining about? After all, he married a real looker, who had a bleeding fortune tucked away in the bank!" Hey, I had no objection to all that cash. Although I had never figured that the title of "kept man" would ever used to describe me! No, I was fine with the cash. What got up my nose, was all the ... well, brown-nosing -- I suppose you'd could all it -- that went along with all that wealth. Cocktail and dinner parties, formal receptions and things... and all the ruddy charity functions June was expected to attend once she got her feet under the table. I'm not the formal dress type at the best of times; I never have been! And my inherent frankness, somewhat down-to-earth colloquial -- and all to often, very basic -- use of the English language, raised quite a few eyebrows at some of those functions. I can't say my politics fitted in very well with that crowd either! I'm not a follower of any particular political doctrine. I suppose, if anything, I lean to the left! But I've always held strong views about the untrustworthiness of the cosy close relationships some... no sod-it, most, politicians (left, right or bleeding centre) have with those bleeding 'Types' in the City who are only interested in lining their own pockets. And then unexpectedly, there I was, married to someone who had suddenly morphed into one of those 'Types!" And then there all those miscellaneous people from all over the shop (June's financial empire) who were in the habit of turning up at all times of day and night, with papers for June to read and sign; or to have 'business conferences' with her. That was the first I knew about my wife's windfall, by the way; when some stuffed-shirt tosser turned up at our honeymoon suite door with oodles of paperwork for June to read through and sign; less than halfway through our ruddy honeymoon! There we were -- at eight o'clock that morning -- doing what honeymooners traditionally do best, when there's a knock at the bedroom door. Yeah well, when I crawled out of bed I had thought that it was our breakfast arriving! And then I made the mistake of letting the officious looking flunky into the room, when he explained that he needed to see June on a matter of great importance. And that was (effectively) the last I saw (knew, in the biblical sense) of my new wife, until well after eight that evening. I believe that same evening saw the beginning of the end of our marriage. Oh, I never recognised it at the time. I was just as shocked and enthusiastic about June's good fortune as she was! But then -- everyday for the rest of our honeymoon -- some character or other would turn-up wanting to see June, alone, for a while. We'd no sooner returned home to our nice little new home in rural Bedfordshire, when June's presence was required at the offices in the City; or at some function up in London, anyway. I went along with her that first time, and we stayed-over that night in what had been her grandfather's penthouse flat in the City. A somewhat larger abode than our own dwelling, by the way. The next day I had to return to our little house. Because of-course, I had my own job to go to. But June had more meetings on that day and eventually she stayed-over at -- what was to rapidly become -- 'her City flat' for a second night; returning to rural Bedfordshire the following day. I should add, that I don't really believe that June had been fully aware of the extent of her grandfather's legacy before our wedding. She's always claimed -- and I have no reason not to believe her -- that she'd thought that our nuptials would herald the release of a ten, maybe twenty or even possibly, a thirty thousand pound windfall. June told me that she had planned that it would be a nice little surprise for me when we got back from our honeymoon. She'd thought her inheritance would possibly finance a new car and help to lower our mortgage a little. When she'd learnt the full extent of her grandfather's holdings, it had genuinely shaken her. That was patently clear to me the first day she learned of its true extent, on our honeymoon. Although she hadn't foreseen the implications it might hold. Where the problem for us really came in was, that at university June had taken business studies, and from the instant she did fully understand what her inheritance included; June became completely fascinated by it all. It was a fact, that June's grandfather had had little direct contact with the companies he controlled for some years preceding his demise. Knowing that his health had been failing the old boy had placed overall control and the day-to-day running of his assets into the hands of people he trusted. Those same guys had run everything up until June fulfilled the requirements of the old bugger's will. Theoretically those guys could have gone on running the show. But as I said, June was fascinated by the whole damn kit-an'-caboodle. And to make maters worse, those same people who had been running the show, liked the idea of having a beautiful young figurehead to publicise all the good works for which the organisation was responsible. They saw June as a publicity asset, someone who'd definitely catch the press (and society photographers') attention at all those charity do's and the like. I really do not believe that those guys were expecting someone with anything like as much business savvy, as June turned out to have. Nor had they expected her to want to know 'chapter and verse' of just about everything that went on within the extensive organisation. I believe they had expected (and wanted) a nice innocent, little fluffy kitten, whom they could bend to their wishes. They found themselves lumbered with an inquisitive killer lion. Who knew exactly what she was doing and had a heart of iron. And once she'd got her feet properly under the table, someone who took no prisoners amongst any of them! In consequence our marriage began to fall apart rather rapidly. June always wanted to be in the thick of things at the office, so that she could keep up with developments throughout the whole organisation. And, I had my cushy little number out in the sticks. Not exactly my dream job, but near enough. As a student of archaeology, a position with a private museum weren't the best. But they encouraged me to get involved with archaeology digs and investigations locally, and it would do me until I found something more fulfilling. I'm sure you can imagine how it went. Monday through Thursday -- and very often Friday night as well -- June stayed-over in the City flat. Well, as I understand it most evenings she was one of the last to leave the offices. She was also -- I'm reliably told -- very often one of the first of the top floor incumbents to arrive there as well. There just weren't enough hours in the day, for June to travel out to Bedfordshire every night. Consequently our relationship developed into a kind of weekend affair. At the beginning, we both made a conscious effort to keep things going. If June didn't come home on the Friday evening (Saturdays all-too-often as well), because there was some function or the other that she had to attend; then I would travel up to town to go with her. But as I've already mentioned, those formal do's (almost all of them tended to be of that type) and me... well, we just didn't mix very well! I wasn't a great hit at any of the dinner parties June was invited to either. Basically because I'm a little too outspoken about my views on... well, just about anything really. I'm a spade is a spade, type person and there's no two ways about it! Even when I was at school 'diplomat' could never have been included in a list of my possible career options, if you get my drift? Although a royalist, I hold a rather dim view of most of the idiots who habitually frequent the Houses of Lords and Commons, and the vast majority of the folks who work in (or rather control) the City of London. Or, in general, most people who consider themselves to be part of the upper (or ruling) class. I can't say that many of the modern (so called) 'celebrities' impress me much, either! You know, film and pop stars, or -- it seems -- any idiot who can get their face on the bloody TV or into the newspapers nowadays. Yeah. I do mean 'idiot's', most of them. The depths some will people sink to, just to get their picture into the newspapers or on TV, really does amaze me! The fact, that my new wife was considered part of the establishment, by that time and rapidly became a celebrity as far as the press and media were concerned; didn't help smooth the waters of our rapidly deteriorating relationship. And, I'll happily admit to telling more than one hopeful reporter to "eff-off!" when they approached me asking for an interview. They probably really wanted an interview with June, but she had her publicity advisors gathered closely around her by then; so only approved reporters got with a hundred yards of her. Now, I can't say that June didn't try to make it work; I have to admit that! But with hindsight, the only thing she really could have done -- to save our relationship -- was to have left those tossers' running her grandfather's empire in the first place. But June had rapidly become completely distracted by what she perceived as her new responsibilities! When it became obvious that things were going downhill (fast), June tried to organise a job for me inside -- what was by then -- her empire. I was offered the position of historical and archaeological consultant to the whole damned organisation. On not a bad little screw, I might add! I even went up to the City and looked over the bleeding great office that would be my domain. However, I could not discover from anyone, what my duties would actually involve. It soon became clear to me, that no one in the place knew what I would be supposed to do, either. It was pretty obvious to me, that June had instructed some flunky to find me a job that would require me to move up to and live in the City with her full time. And her minions had promptly invented one that they thought would fit my talents. Well, a job title anyway, I doubt that any of those tossers had any idea what the job was supposed to involve anyway. June's plan of course had been to get me living with her in the London flat. Which as I have already said was several times larger than our little 1930's house out in the wilds of Bedfordshire. However much to my wife's disappointment, I told her that the job would not be suitable. No, I didn't tell June to stuff-it! You might not believe it, but I was still hoping that our marriage could somehow survive. But my turning the position down, did not exactly do much to enhance our rapidly faltering relationship. Regretfully power (and money, or rather the excess of it) corrupts the mind, and June had suddenly found an excess of both dropped into her lap. What, with trying to understand every pie that her newfound empire had its fingers into. And reining-in those guys that had been pulling all the strings for the previous few years. June didn't really have the time to... placate a sulking husband. Peter, June and the Whatevers! Yeah, I'll admit it; I was sulking! Through a complete freak of nature, I'd captured the heart of the most beautiful creature in the world, and made her my wife! But then, her grandfather's empire had sneaked-up and snatched her away from me! Nine months later, we weren't on speaking terms and the gossip columns were openly predicting an imminent divorce. Some of them had the audacity to say, that "unnamed sources" close to June were suggesting that I'd only married June because of her impending inheritance. Bleeding cheek, before our nuptials I'd been completely ignorant of June's inheritance As I've said, eighteen months after our wedding ceremony, it was all done and dusted! And -- until that unexpected materialisation in my bedroom -- I'd seen nothing of June (in person) since. I had heard about her of course, on the TV, radio and in the newspapers. From the media reports I soon learnt that there were a whole collection of would-be suitors lining up to take my place. Film stars, millionaire businessmen, and even a few Peers of the Realm! Or Right Honourable -- soon to be -- Peers of the Realm anyway. Toffee nosed tossers, looking for some mug to finance their ancestral pile I figured! Oh, June picked one of them, eventually; the wedding was all over the media. But -- that night -- I could not have told you his name. It had been upsetting enough seeing June on TV, cavorting around on red carpets on the arm of some slimy-git or the other. Once I heard the word wedding mentioned, I went out of my way... well, not to listen or watch anymore when her name was mentioned. So that was roughly the situation that morning, when June suddenly appeared in my bedroom. Well it was still the middle of the night to be precise. ------- "I'm not babbling lover; I'm trying to explain to you the unexplainable!" June replied. "How did you get in here June and why aren't you wearing any clothes?" I demanded. "Ah well, the no clothes bit was supposed to ... well, beguile you. You never could resist..." "Yeah, yeah, I know, the little brain used to do all the thinking, June!" "I thought he was a nice little brain, I've never found one better anyway!" "June, I'd prefer not to discuss any of your sexual adventures, if you don't mind. Now please tell me, how did you get into my house? You can't have a key, I changed all the locks after I found that tart from your office, wandering around the place." "She isn't a tart, Peter. She is... was my personal assistant and she was collecting some of my belongings for me!" "She was trespassing June! We were legally separated by that time and you'd moved into the London flat fulltime. If you required anything from the house, then you should have arranged collection of it through our legal representatives; you knew that! And by the way, you're trespassing now; so will you please explain just how you got in here?" "I sort-of materialised, Peter!" June replied, with a very strange expression on her face. It was like she didn't really believe what she was telling me, herself. "You simply materialised ... here, in my bedroom... naked... in the middle of the night? Pull the other one, June!" "Ah now, you see, Peter, it's true! I did just... well, materialise. I knew this was going to be more difficult than they told me it would be!" "Who said it would be? Are you sure quite that you're alright, June? I can call you a doctor, if you wish!" "Oh Christ, Peter, I'm fine. But I'm not fine, if you understand me! Look, Peter, I know this might be hard for you to understand, but I'm dead, and I am not dead at the same time. Or would it make more sense to you, if I said that I'm dead but June is still alive right now. But I won't be alive in seven days time!" "No, I wouldn't understand! But it does go a long way towards convincing me that you are need of a good doctor, June! Preferably a psychologist, I would suggest... A.S.A.P!" "Okay, you've a right to be sceptical; but you watch this; if I can get it to work! This isn't easy you know, and they were a little on the brief side, when it came to explaining everything!" "Who were?" "They were the ... well, the whatever-they-are's, who run that place!" "What place are you talking about, June?" "Oh bugger, Peter; you just watch this!" Then she screwed up her face and instantly June was standing before me, dressed in a tiny bra and a thong. "Not quite what I was hoping for!" She said looking down at her newly materialised apparel. The she screwed up her face again. So suddenly, that I really didn't perceive it happening, June was dressed in what looked like an expensive black designer cocktail dress. Somewhat like that little black number, one always hears folks referring to. "No, not really what I was after, either. I really need something that you'll appreciate, Peter!" June screwed up her face for a third time and instantly she was standing before me wearing a pair of skin-tight jeans and a white blouse; not buttoned, but with the tails tied together bellow her breasts. "Ah now, that's just the biscuit. Mind you, these jeans are so damned tight, I'm not sure I can even move in the things. There'd be no slipping these buggers off, in the back of the car, Peter!" she grinned. Through the whole of the clothes changing... pantomime, -- well, what would you call it? -- I'd sat there in my bed unable to speak; totally mesmerised. "I, er!" Was about the some total of my words, for the next five minutes or so. But eventually I managed to fumble out, "How did you do that?" "I don't really know, lover; it seems that everyone can do it when they are dead!" "But if you're dead... Well, why are you here, June? What happened anyway; how did you come to be dead, in the first place?" "Well Peter, if I knew that, I probably wouldn't be dead, would I? I'd have done something to stop myself becoming dead. So I suppose that I wouldn't be here, anyway. But, I'm not ... well, June isn't dead, in fact. Not yet anyway!" "But you are June!" "No, Peter, I'm June from next week sometime. Or maybe it would make more sense to you if I explained that I'm the dead June from next week, who shouldn't be dead and I've come back in time to ask you for your help in not becoming dead, in the first place!" "This is all sounding a bit too much like a plot for a corny Hollywood movie to me, June!" "Yeah, don't tell me; my thought's exactly. But please let me explain, lover?" "What's with the lover, bit anyway?" "Well that's how I've always remembered you, lover. And what we always used to call each other before..." "Lets not go there, June; all that was over and done with, a long time ago! Now, you were going to explain?" "Ah, yes, well. It's like this. Last Saturday night I was sitting at home with Frank..." "Frank?" "My husband, lover! I got married again; didn't you know?" "Yeah, I think I heard; but I had no idea which mug you picked. There were so many of the buggers according to the media. Eventually, I stopped taking any notice." "Well, that was a complete waste of time and effort then!" "Pardon?" Don't worry lover, but I was trying to make someone... Anyway, as you say that's all done and gone now. Anyway one minute I'm sitting down to dinner with Fra... my husband, and the next thing I recall, I'm standing in line behind a gigantic queue of people. Honestly it was worse than passport control at New York." "I've never been to New York, June!" "Don't bother, I'm not sure it's even worth all the hassle. Anyway, for some reason I know that I've got to wait my turn in the queue and eventually I arrive at one of the desks. There was this officious looking... well, I'm not quite sure what it was, but I'll call it a him for the minute. Anyway, he taps my name into a computer and then frowns at me. "I'd watched him deal with the people in front of me, and usually after typing their names into that terminal, he'd give them a little coloured card, then send them on through one of the many doorways in the wall behind him. "But when he typed my name into his keyboard, he just sat there staring between the screen and me, with a really big frown on his face. Then he said 'There's been some sort of mistake young woman; you should not be here, yet!' So I asked him where 'here' was, and why was I 'there' anyway? "But before he/she or whatever-it-was could answer, another one appears, introduces itself as my guide... No name, he... it, just said 'I'm your guide, June!' and then he asks me to follow him... it. "He led the way through a door into a great big room... Like a massive library, where all the walls were lined with shelves all the way up as far as you could see. Those shelves were stacked with thousands and thousands of dusty old ledgers. "The guide whatever, takes me to another... er, whatever." "June, either they were men or they were women; they must have been one or the other!" "You wouldn't be saying that if you'd met any of them yourself, Peter; I can assure you of that! They were dressed like... Oh, I don't know, ancient Greeks or even Romans; in sort-of frock things ... you know, like that get-up Demis Roussos bloke used to wear on stage." "Demis who?" "Never mind, Peter! Anyway, they all had long wavy hair and talked in tones that left you wondering what gender they possibly could be." "So they could have been either?" "Or neither. I don't know, but I got the idea that they were neither one nor the other." "Perhaps they were both? That would sure put an end to all this marriage lark, wouldn't it?" "I'm pretty sure that they aren't of this world anyway, Peter!" "Aliens or Angels?" "Well, I never saw any wings or... You bugger; you're taking the rise out of me, aren't you?" "June, Aliens, spirits, ghosts or whatever you like to call them. Yeah I can accept that there might be something in them. Aliens I somehow doubt. And where the other lot comes in... Well, you know that I'm an agnostic. A particularly sceptical agnostic, at that!" "Well, I'm not. I've just been there, wherever it was, and those whatever-they-are's, were there alright. Anyway this... new whatever, he looks in one of these great big ledgers, and then he tells me that I'm dead, but that I shouldn't be! Then he's sends yet another one of them off to find out what's going on. "I had to hang around for hours until that whatever eventually comes back and tells the first whatever, and my guide, that, not only am I dead; but my body is in no condition for me to be returned to it. Which I believe, must have been their first intention. That made me a might perturbed, I can tell you! "Then the first whatever, told me it that now and again things happen in the world, that don't fit into the great scheme of things. It sounded to me like he was talking about a master plan, of some sorts. Anyway, he told me that according to the great ledger, I was not supposed to die for many years. He wouldn't tell me exactly how long I was supposed to have lived for; I did ask! "But then he went on to say that it would appear that I had died and most likely, in someone else's place. In other words, someone else was supposed to have died instead of me! I got a little irate about that..." "As you would, June! As anyone would!" "Please stop messing around, Peter; this is serious. I'm dead and I shouldn't be! Well, I'm not dead yet! But I will be, if you don't stop me dying." "Hold-up? How, am I supposed to stop you dying?" "I really do not know Peter. The whatevers' just told me that you were my best chance of not dying if I could persuade you to help me." "Ah, does that explain the nudity? What did you think; that I'd be overcome with lust or something?" "Not exactly, but near enough. The sight of my naked body always used to... well, lets just say that we never argued very much, when I was naked." "When we were both naked you mean, June! But I don't understand, why me? Surely your husband should be the one for you to turn to." "There's just a slight little hitch there, Peter! According to the whatevers', before anyone can actually see me... well, they have to be in-love with me! And if there's one thing that Frank definitely isn't, then it's in-love with me. Well, he is in-love with my cash, but not my physical self." "And what makes you think, that I'm still in love with you, June?" "You can see me, can't you?" I nodded. "Then you're in-love with me Peter, and there's nothing you can do to hide the fact! You can see me, so that means that you're in love with me!" "And these... whatevers, they told you that I'm still in-love with you?" "Why else would I be here, lover?" "I'm not sure that I believe any of this June. I think that maybe you've gone a little doolally or something. Are you sure that you wouldn't like me to call a doctor for you? I know, I'll call your husband and he can take you to see a nice doctor! "Peter, you call Frank and he'd think you've gone doolally. June is probably in her room tucked up in bed at this minute. Remember, they've sent me back seven days in time so I can persuade you to prevent me from dying next weekend." "Why can't they just do that themselves?" "Because they are not of the Earth, Peter. They spend eternity... Well, doing whatever they do when they aren't checking-in dead people. "Checking all these dead people into where, June?" "Ah that, I don't know! Heaven I suppose. All I saw was that ruddy great arrivals hall and that library place." "So, you and Frank have separate bedrooms?" "Yeah, Frank was one big mistake. I think I was on the rebound and... well, we can't always get it right can we?" "So that's two mistakes you've made. First you marry one loser, and then you find Frank? "Hey, I never made a mistake in marrying you, Peter! My mistake was in not keeping you when I had the chance. Look, I was overwhelmed with my inheritance and... I'm sorry, I forgot what was important in life!" "So then you go and marry, Frank!" "Yeah well... Do you remember that film 'The Graduate', when Dustin Hoffman stood in the gallery and called out to the bride to be to run off with him?" "Yes, but I don't see the..." "Well, where the hell were you, Peter? I bloody stood at that altar praying that any moment I'd hear your voice. Or at least you'd be banging on the window or something." "I had no idea, June. Well, public scenes like that ... they just ain't me; you know that!" "Yeah I do! But a girl can dream, can't she?" "I don't know about you dreaming. I still not convinced that I'm not dreaming all this codswallop myself!" "Well, I can soon prove to you that you're not dreaming, Peter!" June said, as her clothes vanished again, and she began to close the gap between us. But then, just as suddenly as she'd appeared in the first place, she was gone. No flash, bang, wallop or anything; June just wasn't there anymore! I must have sat there for half an hour or so, playing over the events of the night in my mind. But eventually, I put the whole thing down as a particularly vivid and off the wall dream. ------- I was at my usual morning haunt, tucking into a hearty English breakfast; when I suddenly became aware of the same... I don't know, aura, I suppose. Whatever it was it, was the same sensation that had caused me to look towards the foot of my bed during the night. At almost the same instant June's voice said. "You'll kill yourself, Peter; eating all that fried rubbish. It's not good for the heart, you know!" Yep she was back. The other side of my table, back wearing that revealing blouse get-up and I assumed the same skin-tight jeans. June was sitting there smiling that wicked smile of hers at me again. "Jesus, where did you spring from, June?" I asked. "Same place I came from this morning. My guide was a little peeved with me, he... she, said that I can touch you, but there must not be any intimate contact, or hanky panky between us." "Define intimate?" "Sex, Peter." "I wasn't intending to have sex with you this morning, June!" I exclaimed. Probably a little louder than I'd intended. "Maybe you weren't; but I certainly was intending to have sex with you!" June grinned back at me. "And, I always win at that game remember? I think that little brain of yours, takes preference when he gets aroused." I suddenly realised that I had become the centre of attention for the whole café. Almost everyone in the place was staring over at my table -- including the two waitresses -- all with bewildered expressions on their faces. "Oh, they can't see me remember, Peter! So they probably think, that you've lost your marbles and taken to talking to yourself!" June said with that smile on her face, again! That smile -- as enchanting as it always had been -- was just about beginning to annoy me a little. Whatever, I steeled myself not to reply to June again, until we were somewhere a little more private. I really didn't want the world to get the idea I'd gone completely bonkers. But -- up to a point -- that proved to be a double-edged sword, especially when you remember that the one I was trying to ignore, is my ex-wife. And, that she had an agenda in mind! June seemed to immediately understand what I was doing, and playfully sat there trying to provoke me into reacting to her presence again. But, I won that round in the end, when -- either sensing defeat or having become bored with the game -- June, vanished again. I was in my office when she next paid me a visit; this time walking straight through the closed door. Somehow I'd sensed her approach and I had watched the spectacle. I also got in first with a jibe at her. "Well now. That just goes to prove that your plans for this morning, would have come to nothing; doesn't it, girl?" "Sorry?" June replied, looking lost. "Sex June! A woman who can walk through doors! I wouldn't think anyone could have sex with someone with that... talent." "Wanna take a bet. I can do all sorts of tricks, Peter; you just watch this!" Then June took my jacket from its hanger on the wall and walked across the room with it. But when she came to the edge of my desk, she just walked right through it as if it wasn't there. But my jacket didn't pass through the desk; it ended up lying on top of it. Then I found myself, with a surprisingly heavy June sitting upon my lap. "How about that, then? I can pass through whatever I chose to and still be solid to everything else." She grinned at me; then June kissed me on the forehead. "That doesn't make much sense, June!" I found myself replying. "Nothing about this situation makes any sense to me, Peter! Well, how can I be dead, and not dead at the same time? I'm here with you, and at this moment I'm also in a planning meeting, up in the City." "Can't you just go and warn yourself that you're going to die on Saturday evening?" "I wish I could, Peter. But they tell me that I... the June that's alive that is, wont be able to see or our hear me, because I am her, and I'm dead. It's something to do with the laws of time and space. I would be able to see and hear her, because she's in the real world, but I'm not really here... there... Oh, you know what I mean! But she wouldn't be able to see or hear me, because I'm part of her future. Do you understand any of that?" "Clear as mud, June; clear as mud!" "Yes, my sentiment exactly! Those... whatever's are very good at telling you things. But they aren't very good at explaining anything." "So what's your master plan then, June. I assume that you do have one?" "Well Peter, we know that I die sometime on Saturday evening, because I can recall eating dinner that night with Frank. So you drive down to the coast during the day on Saturday and then stick to me like glue all night. Then what ever happens, you will be able to step-in and save me." Peter, June and the Whatevers! "June, you haven't really thought that one through, have you? Tell me what would happen if I walked in on that planning meeting your other self is chairing right now?" "Oh yeah. I'd have called security and had you thrown out of the building." "And if I knock on your door during your meal on Saturday. Alive June will call the cops, as soon as look at me!" "Good point, Peter! I was pretty... pissed with you! I'd better be there as well then, I can go inside and watch what's going on. When I go out later, you can follow her... me and then step-in at the appropriate moment!" "You know that you don't die in the house then?" "Well, I can't do, or Frank would have died along with me and he wasn't in that arrivals hall place." "Perhaps, he went to, another... the other, place!" "Same arrivals hall Peter! Whether you go up or down, as we see it on Earth. I didn't get the impression things worked as simply as all the church people make out though. Anyway think about it, Peter; my body was... well, it was so severely damaged that the whatevers' couldn't put me back into it. If it hadn't been, I'd probably have ended up badly injured in hospital somewhere or something; but I would have been alive! "They said that the same thing has happened one or two times in the past, and I gathered that the wrongly dead, suddenly woke-up again and reported having had an out of body experience." "I wonder how many times those guys have messed-up over the years?" "To be honest with you Peter, I just don't care. I just want to make sure that I wake up next Sunday morning back in my own body. Then I'll be around for a good few years. And then maybe we could..." "Don't count your chickens, June! If we do carry this off, then the June who wakes up on Sunday morning, will not be the same June I'm talking to now. Who, by the way, appears to have had a wake-up call! She won't know anything about... well, us here now. And she won't have had the... impetus to re-evaluate her life!" "Ah, but if you've saved her life in some way, surely..." "Surely what June? We also have to ask ourselves the question, will my presence this weekend be the catalyst that brings about your demise in the first place?" "I don't understand." "Well, as I see it, that's the intrinsic problem with the theory of time travel, June. That is in essence what you have done, travelled back to this time from sometime next week." "I still don't understand you, Peter?" "Right where is your real self right now? The June who isn't dead, yet?" "I told you she's in a meeting in the City; she should be breaking for lunch in about half an hour!" "Like me! But that June, is you; correct?" "Yes!" "And when you yourself were sitting in that meeting last week in your time. Where was the you that's here now?" "Here talking with you, of course!" "My point exactly! The nature of travelling back in time, June. For the time traveller that is. Is that whatever happens has already happened and nothing you can do will change it. You were here with me, last week in your time, and we made all these arrangements... plans to try to stop you from dying. But you are still dead, so the plan couldn't have worked. If you weren't dead, you wouldn't be here, would you? I really can't see how this can work!" "I don't understand any of it, Peter! I just know that those... whatevers'... told me that you were my best chance of not dying on Saturday evening!" "And that's the reason you came on all lovey-dovey this morning?" "No, it was not! Peter, when you suddenly discover that you might have lost everything. Well, it sets you to thinking! And I realised that the only thing I was going to miss, wasn't my companies, or the money; it was the one thing I'd forgotten I loved... YOU! "And when I saw you lying there asleep, all I wanted was to feel your arms around me again. Nothing else; just you, cuddling me in the mornings. So you will please try to save my life, won't you?" "Of course I will June. But I can't make any promises. I'm just worrying that my actually being there might... precipitate your demise, in some way. And you know, I don't know how I would be able to live with that!" For the rest of the week, June kept popping-up all over the place. Well, pulling her mysterious appearance tricks on me when I wasn't expecting it. Having June's disembodied head suddenly pop-up through the table when you're in conference with some bigwigs from the museum's governing body. Well, that doesn't do much for your decorum. Those guys must have thought I'd gone gaga, because June kept putting me off my stride by dropping in suggestive comments -- which only I could hear -- as we talked. It's also a little off-putting when you're sitting on the... john (as the Yanks call it) as well; when June's head appears through the wall and grins at you. June seemed to think the whole thing very funny and kept pulling the disembodied head trick anywhere new, that she could find me. ------- Driving down to the coast on the Saturday was a whole new experience for me. Yeah well, we've all got so used to seatbelts that few of us have enjoyed the sensation of having beautiful woman draped over you as we drive. Yeah well, ghosts don't feature anywhere in the seat-belt legislation in the UK that I know of. I parked in a little side turning, just along the road from June's house and my spiritual companion did her disappearing thing. Returning sometime later to tell me that June and her husband had finished their meal and were loading the dishwasher. Then she vanished again. The next time she appeared, June had a confused expression on her face. "It doesn't make any sense, she's sitting there watching the TV!" June informed me. "Well, were you supposed to be going out this evening?" I asked. "You know, Peter; I have no idea. I'm sure I hadn't made any plans, I'd remember surely. Perhaps something happens; you know, a telephone call or something? I'd better stick close to her!" An hour later, June appeared again. "Christ she's drinking wine now. I never drive after drinking even one glass of wine; you know that it goes to my head. Something is very wrong here, Peter!" "I'd better move in closer, June. It might be that whatever happens, does happen inside that house. It might be your husband who goes out!" June vanished again and I quietly -- so as not to disturb (or alert to my presence) any of the neighbours -- got out of the car and sneaked into June's garden. Hiding myself behind a large bush. "She's asleep in the armchair!" June's voice suddenly boomed out behind me. Almost scaring the life out of me. "And Frank?" I asked. "Watching the TV!" "Well it's only half-nine, there's still plenty of time for the balloon to go up, June!" "Peter, I said that she's asleep in the chair. I don't sleep in chairs; if I'm tired, I go to bed! Something is seriously wrong here!" "Is she breathing okay?" "Yes, I checked! Her breathing sounds a little strange, to me. But I've only heard myself breathing from the inside before; if you understand me." "I get your drift, sweetheart; don't worry!" But then -- before June got around to vanishing back inside again -- the front door of the house opened and a man walked out of it. "Frank?" I asked. "Yes. I wonder where he's going?" "To the garage by the look of it!" I replied. June's husband opened the garage doors and disappeared inside. A couple of seconds later, he drove a Porsche out if the building and parked it by the still open front door. Then he walked off towards what I assumed was a garden implements shed. I'd noted that the Porsche's personalised number plate sported just two letters JC. "You still using that cherished plate I bought you, June?" "It's my lucky number plate, Peter. I wouldn't be without it!" "But your initials aren't JC anymore!" "No, but that was a big mistake, Peter. Hopefully they might be again, one day soon." "June that maybe what you hope; but that sleeping woman, who owns that Porsche, isn't the spectre that's hiding in the shadows here with me here... somewhere! Bugger, where are you June? I can't even see you!" "Yeah, silly of me! I've made myself invisible, even to you at the moment. I know it's stupid when we're hiding from Frank who can't see me anyway?" "I didn't realise that you could do that!" "No, I know you didn't! And Peter, are you aware that you talk to yourself sometimes when you think you are alone?" "June, have you been spy..." "Almost every minute of every day Peter. I didn't have anything else to do!" "Holy crap! You're dangerous June!" "Can I help it if you talk to yourself too much Peter!" June's voice replied. Then materialising just inches from my face, June kissed me on the lips before promptly vanishing again. I was about to take the matter of June's clandestine observations of myself further, when her husband reappeared from the garden shed, carrying a plastic petrol container and a couple of what looked like spirit bottles. "Oh, my Christ!" I exclaimed when the significance of both the petrol can and the spirit bottles sank home in my brain. "June your old-man's going to do you in and burn your body! With the state of your driving, no bugger will suspect a thing!" "Thanks for the vote of confidence, Peter!" "June, you always have been the most God awful driver I've ever known. You drive much too fast for your own good; haven't I always told you that? Tell me how many accidents have you had now? I really can't believe that you haven't killed yourself already woman... in a bleeding Porsche!" "You know, you could be right, Peter! Frank must have got tired of waiting. That's what the bastard's going to do, he'll crash the car and then set light to the thing, with me still inside it. I'll bet the bugger bought me that bloody car in the first place, hoping that I'd eventually kill myself in damned thing. But hadn't you better... well, you know, do something?" "No, June; not yet! If I go jumping the gun, he'd walk right out of court without even getting his hand slapped! That's assuming the police would even knick the bugger in the first place. We're speculating, we can't prove that he's intending to do anything, yet. We'll have to wait until the last moment. Then when he's committed himself and there's no going back; I'll do my best Batman impression! "You know, I'll bet those are vodka bottles. I have no idea how he's found out about it, but I recall the effect that spiked punch had on you, back at that Uni party. You went out like a bleeding light, that evening!" "Shit! I only recounted that story to Frank, a few months back." "You told him that they'd spiked the punch with vodka at that party and what effect it had on you?" "Sure did, Peter!" "June, I'd say that you as good as committed suicide! I'll bet that he spiked that wine you were drinking earlier; the bugger didn't even have to bother to drug you. Christ, I can see his story now! 'My wife was a secret drinker officer, and she never has been a very good driver!' I'll bet that there are half-empty vodka bottles stashed away all over your sodding house already." "You think he's going to claim that I'm an alcoholic?" "Was an alcoholic, June! That petrol can suggests that he is planning on a fire as well. Those two bottles... Well, vodka's a spirit, and spirits burn just as good as petrol, don't they? Who's going look for the difference if there are the remains of vodka bottles in the car? I should imagine they'll find plenty of evidence of alcohol in your system when they do an autopsy on what's left of you after the fire." "Charming, but that would explain why the whatevers' couldn't put me back into my own body though, wouldn't it. There probably wasn't that much left of me!" By that time June's husband was carrying her unconscious form out of the house. He carefully placed her in the passenger seat of the Porsche; fastened her seatbelt and closed the door. Then he looked around, probably assuring himself that he hadn't been seen from any of the neighbouring properties. After lighting a cigarette and looking around once again, he then disappeared back inside the house. "The bastard told me, that he'd given up smoking!" June mumbled from somewhere close by. "I'd better get back to car June, we don't know where he's intending to kill her... you; so I need to be ready to follow him." "No, this is where I takeover, Peter! I'll drive your car, because unlike you I can see perfectly-well in the dark, so I wont need to turn the lights on. If Frank spots your headlights following him, then... well, he could-well decide not to kill me tonight; but he might try again another day!" "You, drive my car, June!" "Don't panic, Peter, I'll be careful; I promise. And I will be following Frank; he's not likely to want to bring any attention to himself by driving too fast, is he? Besides what good will it do me if both of us end up dead!" Then I suddenly felt a strange sensation as June's unseen hand slid into my trouser pocket to retrieve my car keys, (not an unpleasant experience). Then I watched as my keys floated away, until they entered a large bush. I heard June's voice exclaim, "Shit!" Then my keys floated back out of the bush again and took a detour right around it, before finally vanishing into the night. I crouched in my hiding place and waited until Frank came back out of the house, locking the door behind him. He had yet a third bottle of Vodka in his hand, and -- after taking swig from it himself, and taking another furtive look around -- he went to the passenger side of the car and quite literally poured some of it's contents down June's throat. I could clearly heard her cough and splutter a little. It was all I could do to refrain from intervening at that time. But I knew that I had to wait until June's husband's intentions would become obvious to the world. Almost before I realised what was going on, Frank had started the Porsche and it was disappearing through the gateway. The instant the vehicle was out of sight, I ran after it and found my own car skidding to a halt just outside on the road; with apparently no one at the wheel. Quite a disconcerting experience, but not as bad as sitting in the front passenger seat, beside an apparently empty driver's seat, as your car races along country roads at breakneck speed. "Would you mind materialising for me please, June?" I found myself asking. "Sorry, lover; I forgot about that." June replied, an instant after she had acquiesced to my request. I'm afraid that June's definition of careful driving, doesn't quite match my own. But then again, 'slow' for a Porsche, is probably rather fast for a modest family vehicle like my car. I chose to keep my eyes firmly closed for the vast majority on that journey. "You do realise where he's going, don't you Peter?" June asked after we'd been travelling for a good half-hour or so. "The cliffs at..." "Yeah. I took the bugger there once, to show him the view. And I told him that we'd spent a lot of time up there during our courting days." "Ah, he's been doing some joined-up thinking, just in case you've told anyone that you're marriage isn't quite as happy as it should be! "I can see the headlines now, 'Troubled alcoholic millionairess, commits suicide by driving off cliff at popular beauty spot!'" "My thought's exactly, Peter!" The place in question is quite well known. There's a road that runs along the cliff, maybe a hundred yards or so back from the edge. In the summer months during the daytime, there are usually a lot of tourists cars (and even to odd coach or two) parked on the grass just off the road. From where their occupants can stroll to the cliff edge, or even just sit in their vehicles, and enjoy the vista. Even at night-time -- all the year round -- courting couple's cars were often to be found parked there; but usually a little further from the road, away from prying eyes. Frank's choice of murder venue, was an awkward one as far as I was concerned. The ground was open on the cliff top, with little vegetation to hide my car behind, or cover my approach. I began to fear that I might have pulled a booboo, and mentally chastised myself for not having acted earlier; even if it had meant that Frank would get away with it. On this occasion! But that night was a very dark one and Frank -- probably fearing that there might be some courting couples parked out in the middle of the heath -- turned off the road at his earliest opportunity. The road was closer to the cliff edge there, beside the hedge that marked the edge of the open heath land. June parked on the road just before it entered the open ground; we sneaked out and crept along the road until we... Well, June anyway, could see her car and what Frank was doing. There was some moonlight that night, but for most of the time, it was obscured by broken cloud. June and I slowly moved closer. Me flattening myself to the ground every time the moon came out from behind a cloud. June, standing there as bold as brass -- knowing that Frank couldn't see her -- and looking down at me as if I'd gone nuts! After what seemed to be an age, the driver's door of the Porsche opened; Frank got out and surveyed all around carefully. I felt sure that he'd see me lying there, not twenty feet away. And I still found it disconcerting that June was standing there, right beside where I was lying. Having assured himself that there were no other vehicles parked close by (June informed me later that actually there were several other vehicles parked on the heath that night; but I never noticed any of them). Frank opened the Porsche's boot, retrieved the fuel can he'd stashed in there previously and placed it on the ground. That was as far as I was prepared to let him take it, so -- jumping to my feet -- I raced towards him. But June (who'd had apparently decided to hide herself from my view again) beat me to it. I suddenly noticed the fuel container rise from the ground and begin to float away towards the cliff edge. I really do not know what Frank intentions were, after that point. I was racing towards him howling like a banshee (whatever that is) or so I'm told. So he might have decided to run away from me. Or on the other hand -- and just as likely -- Frank could have been running after his magical flying petrol can. Whatever it made no never mind to anyone; because in his haste Frank ran straight off the edge of the cliff and fell to his certain death... maybe two or three hundred feet below. Mind you, if June hadn't managed to physically stop me, I might well have followed him! I hadn't seen that we were approaching the cliff edge, either. And, I discovered another talent that June had in her spiritual condition; she could obviously fly! "Is he dead, do you think?" June asked, as we stood on the cliff edge together, staring down at the dark sea below. "I should imagine so, sweetheart; it's a bleeding long way down there girl!" "Better check." June said quipped and promptly vanished. "He's dead!" She confirmed, on reappearing a couple of seconds later. "What do we do now, call the police? Or should I say, are you going to call the police?" "You must be joking, girl. I wouldn't want to have to explain this little lot away to anyone. No, you drive the Porsche back to her... your house and park it somewhere where no one will find it until she's woken up on her own account. There's no need for anyone to know that she or I was here at all." "I'll drive back home and... well, if anyone asks, which I doubt they will, I'll tell them that I didn't feel too well today, so I went to bed early." "Anyway, it turns out that you didn't need me here at all, June. You could have done it all on your own!" Peter, June and the Whatevers! "Oh, I needed you, alright, lover! I still do if it comes to that! But those whatevers' have their silly rules. We'll meet again soon, I'm sure!" June replied, then she kissed me full on the lips and bloody vanished again. Almost at the same instant that she had disappeared, the Porsche's engine roared into life and it took off at breakneck speed; without any lights on. "Yeah, and that won't draw attention to yourself, will it June?" I found myself saying to the empty heath. Getting back to my car I drove back home, but left the vehicle hidden away in the staff cark park behind the museum where I work. It was my habit to leave it there if I as going out drinking during the evening, and sometimes when I went up to town on weekends. So I figured that no one would remember whether it had been there all that weekend or not. Then I walked the three miles to my home, via every back cut and double I could think of; in the hope that no one would see me passing. Well think about it? A millionairess' current, and her ex husband are together on the cliff top at a popular beauty spot. One of them, the millionairess' current husband, somehow ends-up dead at the bottom of the cliff! Add to that, the fact that the ex-husband had reportedly been behaving very strangely during the previous week. Now you tell me, what are the courts are going to make of that little collection of unfortunate coincidences? Maybe they couldn't prove murder; but I'll bet that they'd have a bloody good shot at manslaughter! Consequently, I had good reason to keep my movements as secret as possible on my way home that evening... morning. When I did arrive home, spiritual June was waiting for me. She informed me that her other self was beginning to show signs of regaining her composure. I translated that into 'regaining consciousness!' June had always insisted that that spiked drink back at the Uni party, had just... un-phased her for a while. I'd carried her back to her flat that night; she was out cold and/or in cloud-cuckoo-land at least, most of the time! Anyway, after assuring me that June was safe, spiritual June gave me a kiss that made my toes curl and quite literally lifted me off of my feet. Then she said "Bye, Peter! See you soon!" and was gone. I never laid eyes on the spiritual manifestation of June again. ------- It was almost three weeks before the story hit the newspapers in a big way. There had been mention of Frank's disappearance, no more than a few lines on the inside pages of the dailies. But then, his body was discovered lying hidden in amongst the rocks at the bottom of the cliff. I hadn't got the newspaper headlines quite right. They went along the lines of, 'Troubled husband, of society millionairess, commits suicide by throwing himself from cliffs at popular beauty spot!' or variations that ran on a very similar theme, anyway. It had taken the authorities considerably longer than I'd expected, for them to locate Frank's remains. They'd discovered a hire car first -- one that had been rented in Franks name several weeks before -- hidden in a field about a mile or so inland, back from the cliff. I would suppose that the official search had fanned out from there. I have to admit, that I had wondered how Frank had been planning to get away from the scene, after he'd committed his dirty deed. Unlike the situation I'd been in for the previous few years, I wanted to read every word the papers had to say about June. June being the more famous of the two, no story or news bulletin ever failed to mention June first, when reporting fact or fiction concerning Frank, and/or his life and death. It would appear that following someone like Frank's demise, the media felt free to print just about any accusations about the man, they saw fit. One of the first things that was reported (besides his actual death) was that his marriage to June was rumoured to be on the rocks and apparently had been for some considerable time. Probably sensing that an acrimonious divorce had been on the cards, I believe the papers assumed that June wouldn't sue over anything nasty they printed about Frank There were plenty accusations made that Frank had only married June in order to gain access to some financial support from her. Always made by an unidentified person, who supposedly was close to June and/or Frank. Those accusations were remarkably similar to the ones made about myself around the time of June and my divorce. But after reading numerous newspaper articles, I gathered that Frank was considered by some pundits to be a bit of a con-artist. It was said that he was either that, or the worst businessman since creation. No one seemed to know for sure; but they did say that whatever companies Frank got involved with -- business wise -- rapidly crashed and burned. Although somehow Frank always appeared to land (roughly) on his feet... financially! But those same articles also reported that Frank was a very handsome man. Who'd reputedly been blessed with a personality that could charm the birds from the trees! Hence the various, con-artist or business failure labels. I really don't think any of the media knew for sure which way the wind blew! I, of course, was trawling though those articles, looking for any detailed information they had about Frank's death. I still did not know if anyone had spotted mine or June's cars, or even myself on the cliff top that evening. But it soon became apparent that if anyone had, they weren't talking to the police or newspapers about it. There wasn't even mention of the petrol can that the Spiritual June had dropped on the cliff edge as she stopped me following her late husband. But, with the price of fuel nowadays, I didn't find that too surprising. It was said that on the night Frank disappeared. June herself claimed that she had fallen asleep in a chair while watching television. When she awoke later that evening June found that her husband was no longer in the house. When he had not reappeared by the following morning, and after finding his car in the garage; June had called the police to report him missing. There appeared to be no suggestion that June had anything to do with Frank's disappearance or death. It was variously suggested -- by a few of the newspapers -- that Frank had probably met with either a lady friend, or a business associate on the cliff top that evening. But at the inquest the police report said they thought he'd made his way there alone, and that he had committed suicide. The coroner was informed that several large creditors had been pressuring Frank of late for the immediate repayment of loans. They also said that June's companies had refused to settle those accounts on his behalf, or extend Frank any more credit themselves. The inquest verdict was, that Frank had taken his own life, "while the balance of his mind was disturbed" and the case was effectively closed. I saw mention of a private funeral, but I didn't 'push my luck' by attending. I suppose I figured that was the end of the incident and I very much doubted that I'd see or hear from June again. ------- It was almost three months after the inquest. Having stopped off on the way home at the pub for a pint and a bite to eat, saving myself bothering to cook. I arrived home around nine fifteen PM. I'd just settled myself in front of the TV when the doorbell rang. On opening the front door I was confronted by June; who stood there staring at me. "Hi June, long time no see! Would you like to come in?" I asked. I wasn't really sure how to play things, because the June on my doorstep didn't have that 'devil may care' aura about her that the 'Spiritual' June had had. "Thank you, Peter; I would if you don't mind." She replied and stomped past me going went straight into the lounge. Of course, June knew her way around the house; it had been our house at one time. "It's about time you up-dated some of this furniture, Peter!" She commented, taking a seat on what had always been her armchair. "Some of it's looking a little dated..." "June, you didn't come here this evening to advise me on the condition of my décor. Now, what can I do for you?" I interrupted her. Well, this was the serious June. The June whom I'd happily (if acrimoniously) divorced some years before. Not that scatterbrain fun loving June (much, much closer to the woman I'd married) who'd made a naked appearance in my bedroom some months previous. You know, I'd really missed that June since she'd been gone again. "My husband killed himself a while back, Peter!" "I could not fail to notice that fact, June. It was plastered all over the TV and newspapers for weeks on end!" "Yes, I found it quite embarrassing!" "I don't doubt you would, June. But what has that got to do with me and why your unexpected arrival here this evening?" "Do you have dreams, Peter?" "Sure I do; everyone does, don't they?" "Well, since Frank's death I've been having some very vivid and confusing dreams. And I'm not one for dreaming, Peter; I never have been!" "Oh, everyone dreams June. It's just that some people don't recall what they've dreamed about when they wake-up." "Well, I have been recalling my dreams since Frank's death, Peter!" "Anything significant?" "To do with you, you mean! And yes, you do seem to feature in nearly all of them." June looked me straight in the eye. "And I have reason to believe that you know why you're in my dreams, and I've also come to believe that you might be able to explain them to me!" "Oh come-on June! How could I know about your dreams?" "Well, I suppose you could start, by explaining to me exactly what you were doing on that cliff top the night Frank died, Peter!" "I have no idea what you are talking about June!" "Peter, before we were married I watched you play rugby, more times than I care to remember. "It was cold, wet and often extremely boring. But there was a part of every match that is burned into my memory. That was when my fiancé got hold of the ball and... well, charged towards the opposing teams goal thingy, wailing like a banshee." "I didn't wail, June! I... yelled at the top of my voice. Not strictly politically correct, but it was supposed to instil fear and confusion in the opposition; and disorientate them. Sometimes I'd even rush at them yelling, when one of the others members of our team had the ball; that really did confuse the buggers." "Peter, on the night my husband disappeared, I told the police I was at home sleeping in a chair. And to be honest with you, for a while I did believe that I was speaking the truth. However, I had a strange dream that night while I was sleeping in that chair. I heard you making that noise again. And, I seem to recall seeing you run past, quite close by me, to be precise. You were dressed in that same get-up you're wearing now." "This is my best archaeological consultant gear, June! I wear it most of the time." "Peter, I'm now convinced that I didn't sleep in the chair all evening. I don't sleep in chairs anyway and I'm not completely out of my mind. That night I saw and heard you! Now will you please explain to me what you were doing there and how I came to be on that cliff top as well? I'd also like an explanation of how I got home again. I have a vague recollection of getting out of the passenger seat of my Porsche, so I'd like to know who drove it, was it you? It will go no further than these four walls, Peter; I promise you!" "You promised me lots of things once June, only to withdraw those promises eighteen months later!" "I think it better that we keep this conversation away from the mistakes we've both made in our lives, Peter." "Okay, I was there that night to save your life; but as it turned out, you saved mine!" June just stared at me for several minutes and then said. "Yes I know I did! But I dreamed about that much later; I stopped you tumbling over the cliff that night! But how could I if I was all but..." "There were two of you there that evening June! The you, who was almost comatose sitting in the front seat of your Porsche, and another spiritual version of yourself! Who was there for the sole purpose of ensuring that Frank did not succeed in his plan to murder you! "The spiritual June dragged me along -- kicking and screaming, I might add -- just in case she needed any help. "Silly really, she was you! When have you ever needed anyone's help but your own?" Once again June sat there staring back at me. Her body language told me that she was thinking, but it couldn't tell me what she was thinking. June was obviously turning something over in her mind. Then -- after what seemed an age -- she apparently came to a decision. June, needed to use the loo! "Peter. May I use your bathroom, please?" she suddenly asked "Sure, you can June. You know where it is; nothing has changed up there either." I replied with a grin. "Would you like a cup of tea or coffee or something? I can make while you're er... well, I can make it..." "Yes, I think maybe I would like something... have you any wine?" "Oh yeah, June. I've had it on the rack in there for some years now? I never was partial to drinking wine alone; you know that!" "Yes, I remember, Peter. I think a small glass would be much appreciated right now. Perhaps you'll have one too?" "I'll stick to scotch, June; I haven't got to drive home later, remember!" June smiled -- that bleeding smile of hers -- then -- picking up the large carrier bag she'd brought with her -- she headed for the bathroom. I nipped into the kitchen to locate where I'd stashed those bloody bottles of plonk. I'd failed completely to read any... ambiguity of intention, in June's request for a glass of wine. After an inordinately long wait in the kitchen -- I'd planned to meet June as she came back down the stairs -- I heard her call my name from the landing. "Yeah, I'm here June. Is there something wrong?" I asked moving to the bottom step. "I've got something for you here, Peter!" She replied, and her hand appeared over the landing balustrade holding a manila envelope." "What is it?" I asked, fearing another court summons. Oh yeah, our divorce had been pretty acrimonious and June had been forever having me served with one summons or another. It had really slowed down the divorce procedure. "And of course, I got this for you, as well!" June said moving into my view on the top step, wearing nothing but -- a very familiar looking -- tiny bra and thong. In one hand she held that envelope, in the other, what looked like a pair of jeans and a white blouse." I found myself in a surreal situation, standing at the bottom of the stairs staring up at June and wondering... Well, that bra and thong were surely the ones the Spiritual June had magicked herself into that first day. And the jeans and blouse... Well, I was wondering, how the hell could this be happening? "I didn't bother to struggle into the jeans, Peter." June giggled, "I'm sure you wouldn't want to wait while I took the things off again." "June, you say you dreamed about stopping me going over the cliff?" "Yes!" "How much else have you been dreaming about?" "Oh, I should imagine... Just about everything, Peter! You know in a lot of my dreams you didn't even realise that I was there with you." "And you've had all of these dreams since your husband died?" "They started that night I had that dream sitting in the chair, Peter. The night that Frank disappeared! I really can't be sure exactly when Frank died. But I believe that maybe you can be!" "Anyway, I've been having those dreams somewhat repeatedly ever since. Mostly the same dreams over and over again. Finally I realised that someone... or something, has been trying to tell me something. And I've only just realised what they were trying to tell me!" "Well, to be honest with you, Peter; that isn't strictly true! I believe I worked it out a couple of months ago; and I dearly hope I haven't got it wrong. But I had a lot of preparation to do before I tested the waters, so to speak! I sort-of suspected that I'd only get one chance at this, so I thought it best to get everything prepared, first!" "Some of those dreams were great fun though. Embarrassing you when you forgot yourself... remember that café where you have breakfast everyday. All that fried food, Peter; surely it can't be good for you! And then that head through desk game as well, you should have seen your face. And there were the other times when you were talking to yourself. "It all was such great fun, Peter; just like we always had together when we were at university. You know, I'd forgotten that you have to have fun in your life." All the while she'd been speaking, June seemed to be waving that envelope; as if she was trying to draw my attention to it. "What's in the envelope June!" I eventually asked; quite sternly I think. "Plane tickets to Florida! There, we can board my grandfather's motor yacht and then the worlds our oyster!" "June, you are kidding me?" "Oh no Peter, I am not. I don't understand what happened and I can't begin to comprehend why it happened. I wasn't even sure that my dreams were making any sense at all. But the fact that somehow, I actually did spend that week... tormenting you. Well, shall we say, I realised that beneath it all, you still loved me. And I, Peter; I still love you!" "So you say, June. As you did, at the altar that day! And you know, for a while, I actually did believe that you really did love me! But then you got lost in your business empire and you began to think of me, as some kind of ornament." "Yes I know that I did, Peter, and I'm sorry. But I'm not lost in it anymore, I've got people I know and can trust running everything. They'll have to keep me briefed of course... I calculate that it'll take up about one day of my time every month or so. The rest of the time, it'll be just you and me Peter. And those ancient ruins and things you were always saying that you wanted to visit." "Are you serious, June?" "Peter, I've never been more serious about anything in my whole life. If I have my way it's going to be just you and me from now on, Peter. Plus a few ancient ruins and eventually the children of course! "Now, am I going to stand here all night and catch my death of cold? Or is that little brain of yours going start making some sensible decisions?" The little brain took precedence -- as June knew it eventually would -- and I began to climb the stairs. But only after, I'd returned to the kitchen to collect the rest of that bottle of plonk. That way I could be sure that someone wasn't going to be driving home that night! ------- Our lives have progressed predictively since that evening. We did get married again, and we've visited ancient ruins all around the world. Now that we have settled down in Kent and the two-point-four children are next on the agenda. As the time passed, June related quite a few of her dreams to me in detail; but curiously she has never mentioned the Whatevers. You know, I very much suspect, that if I mentioned them to June; she'd have no idea what I was talking about! Life goes on. Please note, this story has been posted on this site by R.B. (December 2012) with the author's kind permission. The author informs me that the inspiration for this yarn came from a re-showing of the 1946 film "A matter of Life and Death" ("Stairway to Heaven" in the USA) on daytime television