something so hi-tech that she needed professional help. There was a guy … last year at the journalist awards … from one of those science magazines … now what was his name? Graham something-or-other … Graham … Zee … Graham Z … she snapped her fingers … Zatz – that was it! She’d give him a call and get some advice. She checked her watch: 12:45 … that’d make it … another couple of hours before he’d be in the office .
Meanwhile, the more information she had, the better, she supposed.
‘Your time. Okay, I’ll play your game. When exactly was “your time”?’
John straightened, looking a little surprised by her question. ‘My mother delivered me into this world on January 31st, in the year of Our Lord eighteen hundred and twenty-eight. I was incarcerated at midnight on October 21st, eighteen hundred and sixty-one.’
‘What – so you died in jail and now haunt these hallowed halls?’ She narrowed her eyes as her skepticism surfaced in earnest. ‘C’mon. Who are you really? Are you working for the viscount or Tom and Nancy, or are they all in on it?’ She walked right up to the mirror so she could stare him in the eye. ‘This has been fun but you didn’t honestly expect that I’d swallow this trash, did you? How are you doing it?’
A sad expression crossed his face for a split second before he schooled his features and returned to his former, tense stance. ‘In the first instance, Madam, I must correct your assumption: I am not, nor have I ever been, a ghost. Ghosts are quite boring souls who annoy merely for annoyance’s sake. There have been a few who have walked this place since I became trapped and I would offer none the time of day, though they are often distant relatives of one sort or another. I am quite alive, but I am incarcerated. Nor do I work for anyone – least of all the man who calls himself Lord Stanthorpe .’ His brows dipped into a dramatic scowl.
While a little overbearing, she’d found Richard to be personable and gallant, and couldn’t for the life of her begin to fathom why the ghost would be so disapproving. Perhaps it was merely to create an illusion of distance between Richard and this whole farce?
‘I have learned to have some affection for your Tom and Nancy. However, that is by the by,’ he continued. Lowering his gaze, he whispered, ‘I humbly seek your help in freeing me from this prison.’ He opened out his palms in entreaty and for a long minute, Kelly almost believed him, so genuine was the little-boy-lost expression he wore.
The sound of her mobile phone’s insistent trill broke the spell she had fallen under. She stepped back, her hand rising to her throat as if fending off a threat. Even as she made the gesture, she felt an overwhelming desire to laugh. Hysterically.
Instead, she backed up another pace and again narrowed her eyes.
‘I’m not sure how many people have been conned by this grand performance … but I won’t be one of them.’
She picked up her now silent phone and glanced at the display: a text message from Nancy saying that she and Tom would be delayed in the village. It might be a new (took out the ‘utechnology, but she’d found it very helpful in her line of work.
After closing the message she looked up at the mirror to find her visitor watching her with a fascinated expression. ‘I suppose you’re going to tell me you don’t know what this is, either.’ She waved the small handset before him.
‘Indeed, I have seen your friends using those on many occasions, although I have only seen them speak into the device.’ He straightened up and looked down his nose as if proud that he could answer her.
Kelly didn’t let herself respond – for an instant she almost forgot that the image she saw wasn’t real. Instead, she scanned her contacts and found Graham Zatz’s number then composed her own text message, hoping that the phone company hadn’t lied when they said she could message across the
Meanwhile, the more information she had, the better, she supposed.
‘Your time. Okay, I’ll play your game. When exactly was “your time”?’
John straightened, looking a little surprised by her question. ‘My mother delivered me into this world on January 31st, in the year of Our Lord eighteen hundred and twenty-eight. I was incarcerated at midnight on October 21st, eighteen hundred and sixty-one.’
‘What – so you died in jail and now haunt these hallowed halls?’ She narrowed her eyes as her skepticism surfaced in earnest. ‘C’mon. Who are you really? Are you working for the viscount or Tom and Nancy, or are they all in on it?’ She walked right up to the mirror so she could stare him in the eye. ‘This has been fun but you didn’t honestly expect that I’d swallow this trash, did you? How are you doing it?’
A sad expression crossed his face for a split second before he schooled his features and returned to his former, tense stance. ‘In the first instance, Madam, I must correct your assumption: I am not, nor have I ever been, a ghost. Ghosts are quite boring souls who annoy merely for annoyance’s sake. There have been a few who have walked this place since I became trapped and I would offer none the time of day, though they are often distant relatives of one sort or another. I am quite alive, but I am incarcerated. Nor do I work for anyone – least of all the man who calls himself Lord Stanthorpe .’ His brows dipped into a dramatic scowl.
While a little overbearing, she’d found Richard to be personable and gallant, and couldn’t for the life of her begin to fathom why the ghost would be so disapproving. Perhaps it was merely to create an illusion of distance between Richard and this whole farce?
‘I have learned to have some affection for your Tom and Nancy. However, that is by the by,’ he continued. Lowering his gaze, he whispered, ‘I humbly seek your help in freeing me from this prison.’ He opened out his palms in entreaty and for a long minute, Kelly almost believed him, so genuine was the little-boy-lost expression he wore.
The sound of her mobile phone’s insistent trill broke the spell she had fallen under. She stepped back, her hand rising to her throat as if fending off a threat. Even as she made the gesture, she felt an overwhelming desire to laugh. Hysterically.
Instead, she backed up another pace and again narrowed her eyes.
‘I’m not sure how many people have been conned by this grand performance … but I won’t be one of them.’
She picked up her now silent phone and glanced at the display: a text message from Nancy saying that she and Tom would be delayed in the village. It might be a new (took out the ‘utechnology, but she’d found it very helpful in her line of work.
After closing the message she looked up at the mirror to find her visitor watching her with a fascinated expression. ‘I suppose you’re going to tell me you don’t know what this is, either.’ She waved the small handset before him.
‘Indeed, I have seen your friends using those on many occasions, although I have only seen them speak into the device.’ He straightened up and looked down his nose as if proud that he could answer her.
Kelly didn’t let herself respond – for an instant she almost forgot that the image she saw wasn’t real. Instead, she scanned her contacts and found Graham Zatz’s number then composed her own text message, hoping that the phone company hadn’t lied when they said she could message across the
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