Page 34

I look back at the café. The woman is staring after us, her face white and set. “I don’t know,” I say softly. “I don’t think she does either.”

Levi

The house towers over us as we pull up. Without the sunshine, it looks gloomy and leached of colour.

I turn around as Blue climbs out of the car with Frank on the end of his lead. “What now?” he asks.

I shrug. “I suppose you do your thing.”

“I’m not opening the cash boxes on Deal or No Deal,” he says snippily. “I probably need a bit of time.” He looks around as we head toward the house’s front door. “God, it’s dismal up here today.”

I nod in agreement. The wind is howling through the trees, and thick, dark clouds are scudding over the sky, casting the old building in shadows that make it look almost sinister—like a face staring down at us.

I shiver and reach out to bang the door knocker.

It makes the same loud sound as before but this time no child appears. The trees rustle nearby and rain begins to patter on the leaves. Frank makes a whining noise.

“I agree,” I tell him and he gazes up at me with soft brown eyes. “Don’t blame me. You chose to venture out in search of cake.”

“Would you like a dog?” Blue asks, leaning against the wall, his eyes full of curiosity and a soft fondness that’s always there when he looks at me. I never see it when he looks at anyone else.

I consider that. “Yeah, I really would. My grandad had one. Arthur, a little Dachshund. He was grumpy as fuck, but I loved him.”

“That sounds like me talking about Tom. Only his nose is rarely wet.”

“Well, hopefully Tom never bites you. I had to get a tetanus shot on my seventh birthday when Arthur decided he suddenly didn’t appreciate me anymore.”

“I hold out no hope on that one. Tom’s one step from feral most days.”

“Would you like a dog?”

He nods enthusiastically. “Yeah. I’d like one from the dog shelter, though. I don’t think we should have a puppy from a breeder, because they’re almost guaranteed to get chosen. I’d like one who needs a home and people to love him but doesn’t think he deserves that.”

Like you, I think affectionately.

“And he can stay home with you while you’re working,” he continues. “He’ll have a basket in your studio, and when you’re away, he can come to the shop with me and be so sweet that he’ll make up for Tom’s appalling customer relations skills.” He frowns. “He’s not going into Arcana Books though. I’ve seen some of Tarquin’s friends. They’d probably use him in a spell or something.”

“You seem to have given a lot of thought to this.”

He flushes. “Yes, well lately, I think a lot about things I never thought I would.”

Looking extremely discomfited which is his default position around emotion, he bangs the doorknocker again. We listen to the echo fade into silence.

“Fuck this,” he says after a few more moments of silent waiting. “This is my honeymoon. I am not spending it fully clothed on some toff’s doorstep.”

I bite my lip to hold in a smile. He seems to have very definite ideas on honeymoons for someone who never saw the point in marriage before he met me. It’s rather endearing. “Well, I suppose Lord St Claire will be glad about the dressed part anyway.”

He rolls his eyes. “Let’s go round the back. The sooner we look at the place and meet the spirits, the quicker we can be back in bed.”

“Being observed by a pervert ghost,” I say tartly. “I’m trying to push the concept away, but I keep getting stuck on the fact that a spirit has seen my bare arse.”

“Ignore it,” he says with the blithe casualness he has about the paranormal.

We set off walking, the gravel crunching under our feet. The rain patters down and I squirm as droplets make their way under my collar. “Sure you don’t fancy the South of France?”

“Nope. With my luck the ghosts there would only speak French and then we’d have to find a translator. Do you think anyone is in?”

I stop and look up at the back of the house. It’s partly obscured by a huge wisteria and straggly ivy. “How could we tell?”