Page 74 of Love at First Fright

The carrying me to the sofa and stroking my hair.

The promising to protect me.

“You,” I breathed.

I stumbled backwards. My shoulders hit the trunk of the oak. Bark dug through my jumpsuit.

“That was you yesterday, wasn’t it? And the day before?”

The ghost said nothing. Just looked sad. Miserable, even.

“You… what… did you like, possess him?!”

Finally, Bat nodded.

My heart pounded louder than any drum I’d ever heard. The garden tilted. Spun. My knees buckled.

I slid down the trunk, landing hard on the damp ground. Moss soaked through my trousers.

“And… and…”

The touches in the attic. The way the air had felt alive around me.

The bathroom.

Oh god. The bathroom.

I opened my mouth to shout at him. To ask if it had been him this morning, or some other creepy ghost with boundary issues. But I found I didn’t even want to know. Couldn’t bear the mortification of knowing that this ghost had watched me wank. Had touched me. Had moaned in my ear.

“Why?” I eventually managed to say. “Why did you possess him?!”

“I had to! The first time, you were hurt!” Bat’s voice climbed higher, and he dropped to his knees in front of me. “You’d fallen down the stairs!”

“Because of all the ghosts!”

“I wanted to help you. To see if you were okay. To… to make you feel better!”

Something in my chest softened. Just slightly. Against my better judgement.

“But what was all that in the kitchen yesterday?”

Bat looked at the ground. His hair fell forward, obscuring his face completely. “Yeah. That was probably too far.”

“You think?!”

“It’s just…” He glanced up through his fringe. “You’re the first human I’ve spoken to since I died. I got a bit carried away.”

“A bit carried away?! You made me think Brad fancied me! Then you made me feel like I’d made it all up! You made me—” The words stuck. Humiliation burned through me.

“I know.” Bat’s voice dropped to barely a whisper. “I’m sorry. I really am. It’s just… the way you played my guitar…”

I froze. “Your guitar? That’s your guitar?”

Bat nodded. “Thanks for tuning it for me.”

This was mental. Absurdity on another level. I’d been thanked by a ghost. For tuning his instrument. After discovering said ghost had been possessing my colleague to flirt with me.

“No worries,” I said, aiming for sarcasm but ending up sounding mildly amused.