Chapter 5 John
John
It’s hard not to wince when one has just announced one’s status as a ghost. John barely reins in the subconscious body movement.
Instead, he fidgets a coin between two fingers inside his pocket.
Lately he’s been practising rolling it across his knuckles, a silly, useless trick, but it’s not like he’s short on time these days.
He could probably master a few card tricks too, if he worked at it enough.
Not that there would be anyone to perform the card tricks for.
‘Really funny, mister,’ Mia scowls at him. ‘I don’t believe in ghosts.’
‘Well, believe it or not, that is, in fact, what I am.’
‘Prove it.’
Something about her tone galls him. The unbridled audacity to put the onus on him to prove he’s a ghost? After all this time, someone can see him, and they don’t believe he’s real? The nerve.
‘Listen, Miss Robinson. I’ve been peacefully tucked away in this cottage, bothering no one, for thirty years.
I don’t make the lights flicker; I don’t howl in the corridors.
To the best of my knowledge, no one has seen me floating across the grounds in the dead of night.
I’m more of a morning person, truth be told. ’
‘If you were actually a ghost, one of us would have run into you before now. There would be stories of the manor being haunted. I think you’re just a squatter. In fact, I’m going to call the police.’
This makes John laugh. He can only imagine – the police responding to the call, barging in here and seeing Mia talking to an empty room.
Maybe they’d humour her for a while, though, young and pretty as she is.
She wears her hair in a stylish cut, with a fringe that just brushes her eyebrows and draws attention to her large, expressive brown eyes.
She’s got great curves too, and John knows – well, knew – plenty of guys who would have fallen all over themselves to get her number.
Not him, of course, girls have never really caught his eye, but that’s beside the point.
‘Why are you laughing? I swear, I’ll call them right now,’ Mia reaffirms, visibly frustrated by how unbothered John is by her threats.
‘Go right ahead and call the police, darling. I imagine you’ll encounter stranger folks than I once they haul you away to the looney bin.’
‘The looney bin? No one says that any more. It’s offensive to people with mental health struggles.’ Mia grimaces, then strides angrily across the room to stare at the fire. ‘If you’re a ghost, how did you lay this fire?’
John runs a hand through his hair. He’s inordinately pleased to still have his thick head of hair.
There are some benefits to passing away so young, and his body keeping the appearance of his thirty-six-year-old self is one of them.
‘I’m no expert on ghost lore, but there are apparently different kinds of ghosts.
Some cannot interact with the physical world any more.
Some display unusual powers. Some possess telekinesis. ’ He shrugs.
Mia half turns and shoots him a glare. ‘So, make that table float then.’
John rolls his eyes. ‘I’m not that kind of ghost, I’m afraid. How about, instead, I do something a little less clichéd. See that wireless speaker the builders left in here after the renovations?’
Mia’s gaze follows his finger to the black dot on the nearby table. It chirps to life, and streams of warm Christmas music flow from the surface.
Mia shakes her head. ‘Could be voice activated.’
‘But I didn’t actually say—’ John cuts himself off with a sigh, realising there’s no use arguing the point. Instead, he places his palm on the plaster wall, sending a surge through to the electrical cables. The overhead lights flicker ominously, which makes Mia crack a smile.
‘Now that’s just faulty old wiring,’ she says.
There’s nothing to it. He’s going to have to man up and prove it in the most undeniable way.
John grits his teeth and faces Mia fully.
‘Well, you’ve left me no choice. But this better convince you, doubting Thomasina.
Because, I assure you, it is my least favourite thing to do.
And if I throw up, it will be your fault.
’ With that, he takes a deep breath, and steps through the closed bay window into the outdoors.
The wind tugs at his sweater, and he forces himself to stand still long enough for a light dusting of snowflakes to gather on his shoulders.
Then he sucks in another breath and plunges back inside.
Mia gapes at him. John shudders, stamping his feet clean of the snow clinging to his brown leather boots.
He presses a hand to his middle and groans.
‘I’ll have indigestion for the rest of the day, so I hope that’s finally convinced you.
Walking through walls always rearranges my insides in the most unpleasant way.
The only thing worse than that is passing through a living human. ’
Her mouth is still hanging open. He brushes the snowflakes from his shoulders and shakes his head like a dog, then carefully arranges his hair back into place.
‘Well, I’m glad that’s settled. So. Mia Robinson.
Why don’t you tell me what terrible events drove you down here to my doorstep?
You seemed rather at the end of your rope when you arrived at the manor last night. ’
Mia twists her fingers in the hem of her sweatshirt.
She looks to the spot outside that John had just occupied, and then back to where he stands in front of her.
She seems to debate for another few seconds and then shrugs.
‘Yeah, it was kind of a miserable day. Well, week, actually. I was trying to call my friend Lucy out here, but there’s no signal, because this whole place is positively medieval.
So, who else am I going to talk to? Mum?
’ Mia makes a buzzer sound. ‘Fat chance of that. She’ll just tell me how wonderful Sam is.
Charlie is blissfully unaware of anything twenty-three hours a day, and my dad, I love him to death, but he’s probably absorbed in the latest predictions about the cricket season.
And I can’t believe James hasn’t responded, but what can you expect from a guy who apparently was only after one thing?
’ She shakes her head and straightens her shoulders.
‘You know what? It doesn’t matter. It’s fine. I’m fine.’
John brushes the last of the snowflakes off his sweater and gestures towards the low-slung sofa that practically screams cosy. ‘Yeah, you definitely seem fine.’
‘Good. Because I totally am.’
John laughs again, and Mia flops down beside him.
‘I’m not fine. I’m furious. For starters, I spent all week perfecting the window display in the hospital gift shop I work in, just for some little demon – maybe seven, eight years old, old enough to behave himself, you know?
– to fly into the shop and destroy the whole thing. It literally took me hours to fix.
‘And my mum has been pestering me to come up all week, but it’s like, I have a life, you know?
I deserve some quiet and relaxation in my own home.
Plus, Charlie’s here, and his girlfriend is coming up at some point and me and my brother get along well enough, but not when we live in the same house, if you know what I mean.
And then, then! Charlie has the unmitigated gall to invite Sam Williams to spend the week up here. ’
‘Which is a bad thing, evidently,’ John says, loving the play by play he’s getting from Mia. Dear heavens, how he’s missed this – interaction, conversation! All of it! He could do this for hours. Days. Years! Of course, he mustn’t act too enthusiastic. He doesn’t want to scare Mia off.
‘The worst. I haven’t even spoken with Sam since – well, it doesn’t matter. I certainly haven’t thought about him in years. But Charlie knows that the last person I would want to spend Christmas with is Sam, and he invited him anyway! I mean, that’s a betrayal of the highest order.
‘I could have been rummaging through the West Abbey flea market today. It’s one of the best fleas of the year, but I can never go, because Mum always wants me up here “with the family”.
And you’re probably like, hey, Mia, aren’t you an adult?
Which I totally am, but some fights are not worth it.
Although I’m giving serious consideration to having it out with James. ’
John leans back against the corduroy scatter cushions and lifts one hand.
‘All right. Let me see if I’ve got this.
’ He ticks off his fingers one by one. ‘You had a shit week at work, which is understandable. No one wants to be working the week before Christmas. The whole week should be a national holiday.’ Mia smiles but doesn’t interrupt.
‘Your mum smothers you, which you find annoying. Also understandable, although I’m sure it comes from a good place.
I’m guessing your dad is lovely but never crosses your mum, which you also find annoying.
You braved the great snowy apocalypse and your brother Charlie brought your nemesis here for the week. Have I covered it all?’
Mia’s smile nearly turns into a chuckle. ‘Almost. You missed the flea market, and James ghosting me.’
‘I’m sorry, he did what?’
Mia raises an eyebrow. ‘He ghosted me? Oh, sorry, I forgot you won’t understand modern dating since you’ve been a ghost for the last thirty years.
’ Her tone is sarcastic enough that John debates if he should be taking offence, but he doesn’t want to ruffle her feathers any further and risk her leaving.
‘Ghosting is what you say when someone stops communicating with you with no explanation. It’s very rude. ’
‘Well, of course it is, but why call that ghosting?’ John looks marginally horrified.