Page 19 of Crazy Spooky Love
“You’ll be fine after a few more lessons.” Marina tucks her hair behind her ear and smiles at me, her eyes sparkling. “Come and see it, then, Boss Lady.”
We all troop out to the cobbled cartway at the side of the building to inspect Babs. I don’t know what I’m expecting, and it’s probably just as well that I didn’t have any firm ideas in mind for a logo, because Marina’s design is something that definitely couldn’t have come from my imagination. Or Artie’s, for that matter.
“It’s…it’s…” I’m struggling to articulate my thoughts. “Marina, it’s fabulous!”
She preens. “It wasn’t just me. Artie helped with the design.” I look at him standing beside her, a good few inches taller and a considerable amount more paint-splattered. Judging by the look of them, Marina had been the supervisor and Artie the lackey. “We started with this,” Marina points to the pink circle that forms the outside of the design, following the cross at the bottom with her finger, “because it means female, and we are.” She glances up at Artie. “Present company excepted.”
He nods, then points out a little sky-blue circle with an arrow, no bigger than my palm. “She let me add this in as long as it’s not noticeable. It means male, because I’m part of the agency too.” His brow furrows suddenly. “You didn’t notice it, did you?”
He holds his breath as his eyes dart toward Marina and then back tome.
I shake my head. “I’d never have noticed it was there if you hadn’t mentioned it.”
I’m not even lying. The small motif is hidden inside Marina’s design. She’s managed to make it so that the agency name winds in and out of the female sign, bold and feminine, set against two women silhouetted back-to-back in profile holding a retro pose, old school homage toCharlie’s Angels.I look closer, and it’s not just any two women. Those silhouettes are us. Perfectly, intricately us. Not only that. I distinctly remember us striking that pose a couple of years ago for a picture after one or five too many cocktails at a party in Marina’s back garden.
“How did you do that?” I marvel, stepping close to studyit.
Marina shrugs. “Good memory.”
“She had acetate cutouts and everything.” Artie beams.
Marina flicks her eyes to the skies and huffs. “I might have spent a bit of spare time last night working on it.”
I know her better than to make too much fuss. “Well, it was time well spent. It’s perfect.”
Marina nods. “I know.”
Who knew Babs could look so splendid? They’ve touched up herrust spots and given her a polish, and even if I do say so myself, she’s looking as fresh as a lamb in springtime. It’s only cosmetic of course, she’ll always be held together by rust and little else underneath, but all the same I like that she’s been given a pretty new dress and a second life here with us at the agency.
As we file back inside, I glance into Babs and notice the multicolored Hawaiian garland hanging gaily from the rearview mirror. My eyes meet Marina’s.
“What?” She looks at me in mock challenge, as if she thinks I’m going to say it’s too much. “Every girl needs a good necklace.”
I shrug, and laugh, thankful for her being part of the agency and part of my life. “Thank you. That’s all.”
“She wanted to paint guns in your hands. I vetoed that because I don’t think you can stop a ghost with a bullet,” Artie says, matter of fact, behind us as we head back inside. I laugh under my breath; given Marina’s hot temper, I think he made a good call there.
Chapter
Six
“Shall we head over to Brimsdale Road for a recce?”
It’s just after 3:30p.m.and we’re all full of coffee, tea, and Nonna’s meltingly good zeppole. The run out will do us good, but more pressingly I need to see how Artie fares with the small matter of actual ghosts. Jeez, I hope he doesn’t freak out too much. Marina has been with me for long enough to know how this gig works; she’s borne witness to my extra-oddness ever since we were two dark-haired little girls huddled together in the playground. I used to make her laugh by relaying details of the hideous headmistress’s ghostly grandpa who insisted on trailing our very own Miss Trunchbull around in just his graying underpants, shouting obscenities with a cigar hanging from his lips. I can rely on Marina not to turn a hair, but I appreciate that Artie is wet behind the ears and highly likely to be weirded out.
He stills with our empty mugs in his hands, electrified. “We’re going ghost hunting?”
“Is that okay?”
I look at him steadily and cross my fingers under the desk that he won’t have a last-minute wobble about the whole ghost gig.
A wide smile cracks his face. “Okay? One hundred percent yes!”
“You know you won’t see them just because she does, right?” Marina shoots him a “been there, done that” look.
“I might though, you never know. Melody’s magic might rub off on me.”
“I promise you it won’t.”
