-o-O-o-

Of everything I had to do that day, the last I expected was to find her on my doorstep, especially on the 10th anniversary of her death. Of course, she didn't look quite the same as she had back then. The cremation probably had something to do with that. All things considered, she looked phenomenally better than I would have expected.

"Phew, I'm dying for a drink. Dying! Get it? Ha!"

I was too surprised by her actually being there to protest, and she easily nudged me aside as she pushed the door open a little wider and came inside. I was still shocked and helpless to move as she rattled through the contents of my kitchen. Tea bags, coffee, milk, water, fruit juice, soda, my collection of sophisticated alcohols, I heard her going through them all until she settled on a bottle of Schloop, which of course was the only brand name she would recognise, every other brand in there was more recent. I stared down at the mess she'd left on my hall carpet as I heard the faint hiss of the bottle opening, and tracked my eyes slowly along the floor to where she stood. The fridge door was open and it blocked part of my view, but there were ashes on the floor and the movement of her neck and upper body as she noisily drank from the bottle was all wrong. The floor was starting to get wet under her feet.

She finished the bottle and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, leaving fragments of old metallic purple lipstick smeared over it. "What's all this stuff? Red wine? A slow cooker? Six chopping boards? You got domesticated? Chuff me, what happened to your life?"

"I'm still living it." I couldn't prevent myself from sounding defensive.

"Yeah, of course you are. And just look at you. You're so smartly dressed and co-ordinated. Those distressed jeans look so new and carefully made. And you've ironed that blouse too. Yeah, you're really living."

"Ten years have gone by, and I'm happy with my life now. I'm older, and wiser, and richer. I can wear dry-clean clothes at the weekend if I want. And, by the way, What are you doing back here? I killed you ten years ago!"

"Ooh, careful, the neighbours might hear. Wouldn't want to upset the neighbourhood watch."

I forced my voice down to a whisper. "You have no right to come back."

"Come on, you're nothing without me. Just look at you, look at this place." She waved her hands dismissively at my built in hob and hand painted spashback, the tasteful coordination of the tiles and window blind and utensils and stencils on the cupboard doors. "I mean, beige? You know, beige? Honestly?"

"Beige is a good colour for a kitchen. If you don't like it, you can leave. In fact, you can just leave anyway."

"Pfft. I don't think so. Where else could I go?"

"There's a graveyard a mile away. You're dead, you don't belong here."

She snorted derisively, scattering more ash across my immaculate counter top. "I don't recall you ever consecrating my body to the ground. Or putting me in consecrated ground come to that. Not that I mind, it wasn't really applicable to me anyway was it?"

"You're not real."

"That's right. I'm not standing here with you in your kitchen right now. In fact, I'd rather be sitting down, it's not easy standing around in this condition, it takes a lot of effort. I bet you've got a lovely three piece suite, really well padded and tasteful and clean. And beige."

"Oh no you don't. You'll mess it up. If you really must sit down I'll fetch a chair for you."

I rushed into the dining room and grabbed an easy to polish wooden chair. By the time I got back she was peeling potatoes. She grinned infuriatingly at me.

"You got a deep fat fryer? I fancy some chips."

"No, absolutely not. I don't eat anything like that any more. You can't stay here, how am I going to explain you to Phil?"

"Phil eh? Who is he? What's he like? Will I like him?"

"Look, will you just go away? I shall call the vicar if I have to."

"What, to come round for tea and scones?"

"No, to exorcise you!"

"Oh, I shouldn't think that will work. Not for me."

Of course, it probably wouldn't. What was I going to do? I couldn't leave her here by herself, what on earth would she get up to? I phoned the office and feigned a case of food poisoning for the day. Then I sat on the stairs to try to think, but she wandered out of the kitchen and waved the sliced raw potato under my nose.

"So, what am I supposed to do with these then?"

"How could you eat them even if they were cooked? You're dead."

"Oh, rub it in why don't you? You're being such a cow about this."

I stared at her, her bondage mini skirt and torn tartan shirt and worn out black leather jacket. A whole can of hairspray used to hold her artifically black hair in shape, so hard and pointy that it was dangerous in crowds. Her black suede shoes, pointy toes and pointy heels and lots of pointy straps in pointy buckles. Her black lace fingerless gloves and torn fishnet tights. Face so white and eyes so caked in kohl that she looked like a scary zombie panda. "I'm really sorry", I mumbled, "It was just something I had to do at the time."

"Yeah, well, I suppose I must have been a bit inconvenient."

"I'd never have got that job if you'd been there, and it's been such a good job. It's paid for all this stuff and I have so many friends there. I've really missed you though."

"Glad to hear it. So, what do we do now? I'm sick of being dead, I can't change the batteries in my CD player and just look at the state of my fingernails...."

I looked up at her. Shallow and vain, she was literally what I'd had to lose of myself to grow up. But being a grown up was so very dull without her. Even Phil, wonderful lovely Phil, was dull. And I don't honestly like beige very much at all. "I'm not going to let you take over like last time, you have to understand that."

"I wouldn't even try. I can tell you've got a lot stronger in the last 10 years, and I wouldn't want to piss you off again now I know what you're capable of."

"Good." I put my arms around her and embraced her tightly, and her body crumpled into ash on the carpet as her soul filled the vain purple and black hole in mine. "Welcome home", I whispered as I vacuumed up the mess she'd left and then wrote a note for Phil before leaving.