The Ghost-Eater and Other Stories by Diane Awerbuck, Louis Greenberg Page A

ma’am, but this is a tricky job. You’re welcome to shop around for a better quote and get back to me.’
    â€˜Um, no. That’s okay. How soon can you slot me in?’
    â€˜How about tomorrow, ma’am? Around six p.m.?’
    â€˜Fine. Perfect.’
    â€˜And, ma’am. I’m going to need a white tablecloth to work on. I find I do some of my best work on white tablecloths. Not patterned, not beige: it has to be crisp, Omo-white. Anything else just distracts me. And if you’ve got any decent silverware, please make sure it’s polished and ready.’
    â€˜Uh, sure. Whatever you need.’
    Â 
    The doorbell rang at six p.m. sharp. Jayne’s husband was at the gym. Afterwards, he was meeting some friends at the pub to watch a game. She hadn’t told him about Fred, didn’t want him to know she had resorted to this. He still believed, although somewhat less obstinately than before, that the house was just old: that wood had a habit of expanding and cartracting and gusts of wind and temperamental hinges caused cupboards and doors to open by themselves.
    She’d taken the afternoon off at work and spent it trawling the fluorescent aisles of Canal Walk to hunt for an ‘Omo-white’ tablecloth that wouldn’t break the bank. Arriving home, she’d set up the table by the pool according to Fred’s instructions. She was busy polishing the silverware when she heard the bell.
    He was waiting on the doormat, a large black duffel bag slung across his shoulder. ‘After you, my lady,’ he addressed the thin air to his left before shuffling into the house. Jayne ushered him into the lounge and put the kettle on.
    â€˜Aren’t you having any?’ he asked when she came in with the tray, laden with milk, sugar and two cups.
    â€˜Um, I …
    â€˜Of course, where are my manners, ma’am? I sometimes forget that not everyone has The Eye. Ma’am, it is my pleasure to introduce you to my colleague, Lady Anne. Lady Anne, this is my client, Mrs Jayne Finlay. It’s her spook problem that we’re here to solve.’
    From his posture and the angle of his head, Jayne gathered that Lady Anne was sitting on the sofa, to Fred’s right. She peered at the vacant space and mumbled a quick ‘Pleased to meet you’, feeling an absolute tit.
    â€˜Lady Anne is a big tea drinker, you see. She can’t exactly drink it like you and me anymore. But she does like a good warm cuppa in front of her. It reminds her of the good old days.’
    â€˜She can have mine. I don’t really feel like tea. But remind me again what exactly she’s doing here?’
    â€˜Lady Anne is going to be a great help, ma’am. She used to live here in Cape Town back in the day of those guys in your yard. She was quite the business back then. Lived in Newlands. Her house, she tells me, is a larney hotel now. There’s even a street named after her. She’s gonna help me communicate with the spooks. Explain to them what’s going on before I start eating. It always helps to have a little chat before getting down to business. I find the spooks tend to be much more agreeable that way. Otherwise, you might end up with tables and lawn chairs and all your best china flying about.’
    â€˜I see.’
    â€˜If you’ve been dead and forgotten as long as they’ve been you tend to have quite a temper, you understand. Not everyone finds being a spook agreeable, especially if they’ve been spending all those years squashed up in one dark spot like these guys under your pool. Lady Anne, on the other hand, is quite enjoying the lifestyle. She’s spent the past few centuries travelling, meeting like-minded spooks, and she’s even working on her memoirs. She was quite the writer in her day, see. She’s in the city at the moment to give a paper at a spirit conference at the Castle of Good Hope. What’s your presentation on