Page 117 of Love at First Fright

“If I go put my phone in the exact right spot upstairs, I can hotspot it to my laptop and then we might be able to stream something. Assuming the bandwidth holds and I haven’t hit my data cap.”

The words washed over me like static. “Um… that was a lot of technological words for someone who died before the digital revolution.”

“TV, Bat. That’s all you need to know.”

I perked up despite myself. Pushed up onto my elbows. “You can really get TV on that thing?”

“Maybe.” Charlie was already moving, heading for the door. “Give me two minutes.”

He disappeared into the corridor, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

TV.

It had been years since we’d had television at Grimthorne Manor. The last residents—an elderly couple—had owned a massive one in the drawing room. We’d all gathered round it like moths to a flame. Even Lady Grimthorne, though she’d pretended to find it vulgar.

Molly had loved Coronation Street. Watched every episode religiously until the couple died and their children sold the house. We never found out if Deirdre got back together with Ken.

Thomas had been obsessed with gardening programmes. Gardener’s World. Anything with Monty Don.

The twins adored cartoons. Tom and Jerry. The Smurfs. They’d squealed with delight at the bright colours and slapstick violence, acting out scenes for weeks afterward.

And Lady Grimthorne…

I grinned despite my exhaustion.

Lady Grimthorne had been secretly, passionately obsessed with The Vampire Diaries. She’d never admit it, of course. Would float into the drawing room with an air of aristocratic disdain, announcing she was merely keeping Molly company. That she found the whole affair terribly crass and awfully American.

But her eyes never left that screen. And when the television had been removed, she’d mourned the loss louder than anyone. Though she’d claimed she was simply concerned for Molly’s entertainment, naturally.

The memories ached. Sweet and bitter at once. Funny how clear my memories of the manor were, compared to the snippets from my real life before all this.

Charlie returned, laptop in hand, looking pleased with himself. “Right, then. What do you fancy? The Shining? Ghostbusters?” He climbed onto the bed beside me, the mattress dipping under his weight. “Or maybe Ghost? Bit on the nose, that one.”

For a moment I considered suggesting we skip the film entirely. See if he’d just let me stare at his face for two hours instead. Watch the way his expressions shifted, the way he pushed his glasses up his nose, the way his mouth curved when he smiled, the flutter of his eyelashes.

But that felt a tad creepy.

“Um…” I swallowed. “Got any rom-coms on there?”

Charlie’s eyebrows shot up. “Rom-coms?”

If I were alive, I’d definitely be blushing bright red. Small mercies. “Yeah? Like, the sweet, funny, predictable ones.”

A snort escaped him. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for a rom-com sort of guy.”

“Well.” I picked at a loose thread on the duvet. Couldn’t quite meet his eyes. “They always have a happy ending.”

The words hung in the air between us. Heavy with all the endings I’d never get.

Silence.

Then Charlie’s hand moved toward mine. His fingers passed straight through my palm, but the gesture landed anyway. It said “I’m here” in a way that twisted something inside me.

Charlie lay back on the bed, pulling the laptop onto his stomach. “I’m sure I can find something.”

The screen glowed blue. Something was happening—slowly, painfully slowly, the little red circle spinning and spinning. Charlie muttered curses under his breath, jabbing at the trackpad.

Eventually a menu appeared. Rows and rows of film posters. Smiling couples. Romantic embraces. Kisses in the rain.