Rita shrugged and forced a laugh.
‘Why shouldn’t I see you?’
‘Because I think I’m dead,’ he sighed.
Rita had very much hoped that by the time she met Henry for tea he would have forgotten about the being dead thing. But she was now seriously beginning to wonder if he had a point. The waitress had ignored his beckoning.
‘Oh, you’re not dead, silly,’ she said, while wondering If he actually was.
Henry looked disappointed and Rita immediately regretted her words.
‘Well, if you are, then you’re the most alive, dead person I’ve ever met,’ she smiled.
‘Oh dear,’ said Henry.
‘Why do you think you’re dead?’ Rita asked curiously.
‘Because this morning I read my obituary inThe Times,’ he said. ‘It’s the 18thisn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ said Rita, feeling quite dazed.
‘Well, my obituary is inThe Timesand it clearly said I’d died on the 7th.’
Rita glanced over at the newspapers on the table at the side of the couch. Her eyes alighted on a folded copy ofThe Times.
‘Let’s look,’ she said.
Henry watched her expression as she opened the newspaper. Her hands shook. Her eyes widened in surprise and her rosy red lips parted.
‘Henry Frazer,’ she said and nodded. ‘It does say that you’re dead.’
He doesn’t look forty-nine, she thought.
Rita felt rather proud knowing someone that was in the papers, even if it was just to say they were dead. She couldn’t ever imagine being in the papers when she died.
‘But it can’t be me, can it? It must be another Henry, surely. But my wife’s name is Imogen too.’
Rita glanced down at the obituary and said, ‘Goodness, that is an odd coincidence that your wives have the same name.’
‘But if I’m not dead, then why can no one see me?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Rita, puzzled.
‘It’s another Henry,’ he said. ‘I’ve got some kind of virus that’s all.’
Henry glanced out of the window. The sun shone on the wet pavement. It looked like an oil slick. ‘So, why do you thinkthisHenry isn’t you?’ asked Rita.
‘Because my name is Henry Booker Frazer,’ he said.
What a fabulous name Rita thought. She wanted to ask if he had talked to his wife about this being dead business, but she really didn’t want to bring her up.
‘I wonder why I can see you,’ she said finally.
‘Yes, I’ve wondered about that,’ he agreed.
‘Perhaps I can help then,’ she said eagerly.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Would you come with me to my funeral?’
