Page 67 of Hot Ghost Summer

You asked me once how much Plot 47 was worth, but you could probably double it for this location.

My astonishment translates into a sharp whistle. “No wonder Jayne is always saying how lucky she is t’ have this place, then. Despite all the headaches and stress it causes.”

What do you mean by ‘headaches and stress?’

I explain while I make my tea. “Most listed buildings are owned by either conservation charities or local councils. This one’s council owned. But listed buildings come with rules and restrictions—a bit like me!” I give him a wink, then fish out my tea bag.

“Anyway, for Jayne t’ keep and run the rescue centre from ’ere, she has t’ comply with their demands that it’s also a community space. Which is why she hosts things like forest school and educational visits.”

Leaning against the counter, I extend my arm that holds his phone. The morning light through the high window enhances the fading green bruising around my eye.

“But this agreement with the council for the land, it’s double-edged.” I gently poke at my cheek. “Do you remember the day I got this?”

I do. I was there.

“I knew it.” But the admission leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. “So, you also overheard my conversation with Jayne?”

About the vandalism and animal cruelty? Yes.

I press my lips together into a thin line and nod.

“Right, well. That’s the stressful bit o’ owning a listed building. Even though it isn’t her fault, and even though animals are being hurt, she’s the one who risks losing her licence. Too much scandal, and the council will struggle t’ get a new caretaker for it. If that happens, likely they’ll de-list the dairy. While that’d solve a lot o’ Jayne’s problems, she’d have t’ buy it, and from what you just said, she’s got no chance o’ that.”

My mood sours, and for want of something to do, I sip my too-hot tea. It burns the tip of my tongue, and I grimace.

“Theo, how many times do I have to tell you not to drink your tea straight from the kettle?” Jayne makes a beeline for me, placing her hand on my jaw to angle my face into the light so she can examine me. “Good. Healing nicely. How’re you feeling?”

“Yeah, alright. How’s things? Any more trouble since?”

She gently pats my cheek. “Not a peep, no need to worry. So, what brings you here today? Still not back at work after your incident?”

“Um, no.” I scratch the back of my neck with my free hand. The incident is Hollis.

Jayne smooths some flyaway strands of greying hair back and wraps them around her messy bun. “Well, today’s Friday, and they’ve had the week to sort themselves out. Surely that’s enough? Maybe they’ll call you today to set something up for next week.”

I avoid looking at Hollis’s phone. The idea that a week is enough to get over the death of a colleague. To get over him…

“Yeah, maybe. Actually, Jayne,” I start, desperate to get out of this suddenly very tiny kitchen. “Do you have any more resources on the Bowens, or the history o’ the farm? Anything that’s not already on the board?” I thumb over my shoulder.

“Hmmm, there are some bits and bobs in the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet under my desk. I’ve never bothered with any of it, so I couldn’t tell you what’s there. What’re you looking for?”

“Nothing really, just curious. That job I got sent me up the road from ’ere t’ a building site, but the land is former Bowen’s land.”

Jayne arches an eyebrow in surprise. “Well, I’ll be…” Sweeping her arm out wide, she motions through to the visitor’s centre. “By all means, make yourself at home. I don’t need my desk until the hoof trimmer gets here at ten.” She opens the freezer and takes out the bag of peas. “I’ll be out back if you need me.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Taking a seat at her desk, I open the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet as instructed. Luckily, everything is in labelled folders, and I select the first relevant-sounding file, open it up, and spread the pages over the desk.

Angling the camera close to my chin, I ask Hollis, “Can you see any o’ this? Or do you need me t’ take pictures?”

I can see. I’m using electromagnetic radiation from the mains supply to build a three-dimensional image.

What? I think about that for a minute, the bridge of my nose wrinkling. He no longer needs the cameras to see?

It’s only been a week since Hollis… since he changed. I remember that first night I found him and brought him home, he couldn’t even type straight. Now, he’s manifesting so hard he can get me off. And see through whatever appliances are around, apparently.

In everything I’ve read on ghosts so far, I haven’t come across anything that says how long it usually takes them to develop the skill level Hollis has now, but I’d imagine it would be a long time. So, a week seems… impressive.