Page 110 of Hot Ghost Summer

“Theo,” she greets before I’ve even got the phone to my ear. “What did you do?”

“Um…” I push up onto my elbows. “I’m going t’ need you t’ be more specific.”

“An anonymous donor deposited a… sizeable contribution to the farm in the middle of the night.” She laughs, but it’s a little unhinged.

“Jayne, I didn’t…” My gaze finds Hollis’s. A slow, deliberate curve lifts one corner of his mouth. “How much?”

“Three hundred and twenty-seven million pounds,” she whispers. “Tax free.”

I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry. She can buy it all: the Old Dairy, the land, new fencing, better shelters, hire staff, all of it. I keep my eyes fixed on Hollis, even when the tears build.

“You’re the first person I’ve called,” she admits. “How did you…? Where did you…? No, don’t tell me. But I want you to know how beyond grateful I am, Theo. This is life-changing. For me, for the farm, and for the animals. I just…” A quiet sob cuts her off. “Thank you. I needed to tell you, thank you.”

“Yeah…” I clear my throat. “Yeah, that’s… I’m so pleased for you. I’m sure whoever gifted that knows what it means too.”

“Yes,” she agrees, voice thick with emotion. “Well, I’d best go and put in an order for some celebratory carrots. Maybe the organic ones.”

A laugh slips out, and so does a tear. “Yeah. Organic carrots. Give ’em one from me, yeah?”

“Of course, Theo. We’ll see you soon?”

“Yeah, bye, Jayne.”

“Bye.”

I sit with my phone in my hand for a long time, tears blurring my vision, before I ask Hollis, “Jayne thinks it was me, but it was you, wasn’t it?”

“She didn’t ask me,” he says, squatting beside my bed.

“Will you tell me?”

He gives a single shake of his head. “Never.” Pressing a cold hand to my chest, he holds my gaze steady when he says, “All you need to know is that when I bound my soul to yours, I became your guardian spirit, your quiet night, and your absolute defence against the world.”

I open my mouth, but no words come out, so I cover his hand with mine and hold it over my heart.

His brilliant eyes, in shades of crackling blue, white, and violet, brighten for a moment, and then he asks, “Can I interest you in the best cup of tea you’ll find in London this morning?”

Overwhelmed, I tackle him to the floor. “You can interest me in a lot o’ things.”

He laughs, and it’s a deep, rich sound that resonates through my core. “Come on, Baby. Up and dressed, it’s a decent walk.”

“We’re walking? You’ve changed.” I climb off him with a wink.

Hollis zaps my bare backside with a jolt of low-voltage electricity. “Don’t forget to wear a coat today.”

I do as I’m told, but only because I’m properly motivated now and not because he told me to. “Where we going?”

“You’ll see.”

“Whoa, look at that,” I flip the view on my phone’s camera so Hollis can see the imposing Victorian power station that sits flush on the water of Chelsea Harbour. I know he can see through my eyes now, so I don’t need to use the phone, but it turns out that while Londoners will respectfully cross the street to avoid disturbing you if they think you’re filming social media content, they get very antsy if they think you’re having a full-blown conversation with yourself out loud in broad daylight.

“This building is over one hundred years old and used to generate all the power that supplied London’s Underground trains,” informs Hollis through the speakerphone.

“That’s pretty cool. So, is the place we’re going for that brew near ’ere? Looks like there are some cafés over there,” I point to a newly developed plot at the base of a tall glass tower.

“Very close. Head inside the Powerhouse, through those glass doors, and—”

“Um… Hollis,” I interrupt. “I’m not exactly dressed for this kind o’ place.” I stare down at my tracksuit bottoms and matching grey hoodie, then up at the fancy steel lights in an asymmetric design that are carefully strung underneath a well-appointed brass portico.