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both of them at the same time. She told them to make the most of the many years they had left. Then she told them that she was fine and that she loved them both. “Even me?” her dad pressed. “Even though I never spoke to you when you used to ring up.”
    â€œOf course.”
    â€œThat’s nice,” he murmured.
    â€œShergar,” she added.
    â€œAh stop,” he said.
    â€œI’m only messing. Bye Mum, bye Dad.”
    In the morning they both remembered their dream in exactly the same way. Right down to the smallest detail.
    â€œShe called you Shergar,” Mrs. Whelan said.
    â€œShe did,” Mr. Whelan agreed.
    They both agreed that she had actually visited them. It gave them some comfort, over the days and weeks and months ahead, when the grief got too much to bear.
    Next on Lizzie’s list was Neil.
    â€œI should have loved you better,” he said. “I didn’t mean to be unkind. You know …”
    â€œâ€¦ that was the last thing on your mind. Have some respect for the dead,” Lizzie chided with good humour. “Spare me the song lyrics.”
    â€œSorry. I did love you, I just wasn’t very good at showing it.”
    â€œWell, you’ll know better the next time.”
    â€œWill there be a next time?”
    â€œOh yes.”
    â€œWith you?”
    â€œCripes no. Someone else.”
    â€œAnd you don’t mind?”
    â€œNot in the slightest.”
    â€œJaney, there is a God.”
    Last call to Sinead.
    â€œHow’s it going,” Sinead said sleepily. “But you’re meant to be dead.”
    â€œOh, I am,” Lizzie agreed. “I just wanted to have a quick word. I’d like you to do something for me.”
    â€œWhat’s that?”
    â€œDon’t wait until you’re dead to want to live your life. Just do it. Go to Italy or Greece or Paris or
somewhere
. You’re always saying you’re going to.”
    â€œOnly when I’m drunk,” Sinead mumbled. “And what would I live on?”
    â€œTeach English. Work in a bar – it doesn’t matter. Making a living isn’t the important thing. Living is.”
    â€œEasy for you to say. You’re dead.”
    â€œThat’s right, and I should know.”
    â€œI’m very busy right now,” Sinead said. “But I’ve got plans. For when the time is right.”
    â€œLife is what happens while we’re busy making plans,” Lizzie said smugly.
    â€œYou’ve changed,” Sinead complained. “You usen’t be such a know-all.”
    â€œThat’s being dead for you,” Lizzie said cheerfully.
    â€œDo you mind?” Sinead mumbled. “Being dead?”
    Lizzie thought about it. The changes that had happened after the funeralhad continued. The white, numb feelings of peace had grown stronger. Even the urgent need to talk to Sinead had calmed down a lot.
    â€œI’m fine,” she promised Sinead. “Now swear to me that you’ll tell Ginger Moran to stick his job. Go on, life isn’t a dress rehearsal.”
    â€œI’ll think about it. Call again,” Sinead invited sleepily.
    â€œNo. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”
    â€œOkay,” Sinead said slackly and fell back to sleep.
    Her last visit completed, Lizzie was feeling wonderful. Far better than any dead person had a right to feel, she thought. So what happens next?
    She looked down at her body, and was in no way surprised to see that it was gone. There was just silvery air where once she had been. The fantasticfeeling of well-being built and swelled. She was calm, she was safe, she was joyous. And there was no alarm when she felt her spirit melting. Something rushed through her, then the last of Lizzie was speeding away like a genie spinning back into the bottle. Yet she sparkled through everything in a tingle of glitter. Reforming and reconnecting. Into every drop of rain, every blade of