Ginny went upstairs to see her old bedroom one last time, unsure of why she was still in the house. Her breathing was steady, and her eyes dry. The ghosts weren’t scaring her anymore.
Her attention dropped to between her feet. The carpet could tell a few tales if it could speak.
‘You’re just a waste of space, Ginny Dean. No one will ever want you,’ whispered Birdy.
Ginny glanced over her shoulder. It was time to leave.
A young woman knocked on the front door as she called out, ‘Hello. I’m Haley. Housing officer.’
Ginny greeted her, then handed over the keys.
‘I only need a quick look round,’ said the woman. ‘Just need to make some notes if anything needs fixing.’
‘I’ve already signed everything,’ said Ginny. ‘So is it all right if I leave you to it?’
‘Yes, that’s fine.’ She rattled Birdy’s keychain. ‘Do you want this?’
Ginny glanced at the yellow circle that had the letter L embedded in its middle. Lee. ‘No. You can just throw it later.’
‘Okay.’ The woman pointed at the stairs. ‘Do you want a moment?’
Ginny shook her head. She had a lifetime of moments in that house. No more were needed.
The housing officer made her way upstairs, and Ginny turned to the front door.
‘You’re a horrible creature, just like your dad,’ yelled Birdy.
Ginny stepped over the threshold. ‘Bye, Mum,’ she said.
The dustcart came bustling down the street, removing all peace and the last traces of Yvonne Dean.
Ginny sat in her jeep, waiting for them to pass, then turned and headed home.
The crisp winter air made the sea look deathly cold, and the flurry of light snow had Berry Hill looking picturesque, even with the scaffolding outside Lottie’s harbour home.
Ginny went straight to the kitchen to have an early lunch, not that she had much of an appetite. It had been a weird day, and it wasn’t even twelve.
Crash, bang, wallop came from next door, rattling the adjoining wall and startling poor Lucky.
‘It’s okay. Just the workmen.’ Ginny pulled down some cat treats. ‘Here, let that settle you.’
Lucky meowed, curled around her ankles, then snaffled some food.
Ginny made a cheese sandwich, then sat picking at it at the kitchen table, dreaming about everything she could do to her new home. ‘You’ll have lots of land to explore,’ she told the kitten.
Mr Henshaw building the chicken coop came to mind.
I reckon I can give it a go.
She envied the couple. Their happiness. Their love. At least she would have the home.
Lucky started clawing at the leg of a nearby chair.
‘Hmm, we definitely need to get you a scratch post. Samuel won’t be best pleased when he sees the state of the banisters, missy.’ She looked out to the hallway. ‘Mind you, he’ll probably rip out the stairs.’ She smiled at Lucky. ‘Who knows! We won’t care, will we? We’ll be too busy loving our new home.’
Ginny’s phone rang, revealing Sophie’s name.
‘Hey, Soph. Shouldn’t you be working?’
