Throwback Thursday: ‘Stella Ryman and the Ghost at the End of the Bed’ by Mel Anastasiou

Stella Ryman couldn’t sleep. She lay on her good Sears mattress, the venetians over her bed shut as tightly as they would go, with her slippy duvet pulled up under her chin. She closed her eyes against the band of pale fluorescent light from Daffodil Corridor, which shone through the night hours in case a resident needed help. 

But in this, Mrs Stella Ryman, amateur sleuth, was on her own, investigating ways to fall asleep. She had already recited her favourite sleep mnemonic, but C my name is Cynthia, my husband’s name is Chuck had stopped working for her (although Lucille of the Greek Chorus, to whom Stella had gifted the secret of the mnemonic, said it worked a treat). 

Stella grew painfully bored but not sleepy. Hours passed. Feeling low on blessings, she decided she might as well count her troubles as if they were sheep. Her daughter Junie, out of touch for months now. Her grandson Derek, so disinterested in life that Stella had never been able to hold much of a conversation with him. Her lack of liberty. The fact that she was down to two true friends: Thelma Hu, perhaps the crankiest blind woman in Canada, and Theo Longbourne, who had the best hair and manners of any male resident at Fairmount but was married to a much younger woman from outside. 

However, it was worth remembering that her mattress was of exceptional quality, Sears top of the line. Feeling grateful to the salesman who had convinced her to buy it, she fell asleep at last.
 
Sometime in the night, a ghostly figure woke her when it sat itself down on the end of her bed.
Stella swallowed. She knew whom it must be. For, how many ghosts did she know?