Page 20 of Love at First Fright

“No, sir. The fee is all-inclusive, no matter how long this takes.” Brad’s voice remained steady, earnest. “We don’t leave until the job’s done.”

My heart plummeted straight through the floor.

What?! How long was I going to be here? Days? Weeks? Months?! Trapped in this freezing, mouldering pile of stones, playing pretend ghostbusters with Brad “I’m an ex-professional rugby player” Harrington?

London haunts. From now on, I’d only accept London jobs from Gerald. Ones I could escape from at the end of each day, back to my tiny flat with its dodgy boiler and that housemate who scurried away from me like I carried the plague. That flat was paradise compared to this.

“There are plenty of rooms upstairs,” Evelyn said, standing. “Most aren’t liveable, I’m afraid—damp, broken furniture, that sort of thing. But hopefully there’s two relatively intact. Help yourselves.”

Hopefully there’s two.

My brain seized on that phrase with the desperation of a drowning man clutching at driftwood. Please let there be two beds. Please, God, if you exist, let there be two separate rooms with two separate beds and preferably a locked door between them.

The thought of sharing a bed with Brad—listening to him breathe all night, probably snoring, definitely talking in his sleep about how amazing he was—made my skin crawl worse than that spider.

“We can show you up before we leave,” Harrison said, already moving towards the door. He clearly wanted this over with. Wanted us out of his sight so he could pretend that he hadn’t dropped thousands of pounds on “Spirit Extraction Specialists.”

We followed them back through the corridor, past that scaffolding and those abandoned paint tins, and up the grand staircase. Each step creaked under our weight. The bannister wobbled horribly when I touched it. Dear lord. We might really end up needing another ambulance out here.

The upper landing stretched in both directions, doors lining the walls like sentries. Evelyn led us right.

“This one.” She pushed open the first door.

A bedroom. Not large, but not tiny either. A single bed shoved against one wall, its mattress suspicious looking but present. A wardrobe with one door hanging off its hinges. A window overlooking the front courtyard, the glass miraculously intact.

“And this one.” She moved two doors down and opened another.

Nearly identical. Same setup—bed, wardrobe, window, though bigger. The wallpaper in here maybe showed more water damage, brown stains bleeding down from the ceiling, but the bed looked marginally better.

Two rooms. Two beds. Two separate spaces.

I could have wept with relief.

“These will do perfectly,” Brad said, wheeling his massive case towards the second room. Of course he’d claim the superior one. “Cheers.”

Harrison pulled a business card from his wallet and handed it to Brad. Evelyn did the same, pressing hers into my palm with a smile that seemed genuinely grateful.

“Call if you need anything,” she said. “Anything at all.”

I looked down at the card. Evelyn Lancaster. Managing Director. A mobile number printed in tasteful grey lettering.

My hand moved automatically, pulling out my phone to save the contact. The screen lit up.

No signal.

Not even one bar. Just that empty space where the network indicator should be, mocking me with its absence.

I held the phone up, angling it towards the window. Still nothing.

“Ah.” Evelyn’s face fell. “Yes. I should have mentioned. The mobile signal here is… problematic.”

“Problematic,” I repeated.

“Almost non-existent,” Harrison corrected. “We’ve been meaning to get a signal booster installed, but with everything else…” He waved vaguely at the house around us, encompassing all its myriad failings in one gesture.

My chest tightened. “What if there’s an emergency?” The words came out far too high. A bit frantic, even.

Brad smirked. Actually smirked at me. I glared at him. Fine. Let him think I was scared of ghosts. I wasn’t. Ghosts weren’t real, and they certainly weren’t going to hurt me. But Brad? Brad was very real. And being trapped in an isolated manor house with him, no way to call for help, no witnesses—