Page 9 of Crazy Spooky Love
He shakes his head, and I remember his father’s words about Arthur bunking off.
“You know, I can’t remember,” I say, waving my hand vaguely in the air. “Let’s talk about the job and it’ll probably come back to me.”
He looks at me warily, still unconvinced.
“It’s not much,” I say, because I haven’t actually thought about what the job will be. “Helping out around here, learning the ropes, and coming with us on assignments out in the, er, field.”
He glances at his super-shiny black lace-ups. “Will I need to buy some Wellingtons?”
I frown at him.
“For the fields,” he explains.
“Oh! No…” I smile. “Sorry, Arthur. No, I meant out in the field, as in when I go out to visit clients in their homes, or buildings, or, er, wherever their problem is.”
“But not in fields?”
I shake my head. “No fields.”
He runs a finger around the inside of his shirt collar and gratefully accepts the glass of water that Marina has returned with. He knocks the whole thing back in one gulp and hands her the empty glass.
“Thank you,” he says.
“And you won’t need to wear a suit.” I smile. “We like to keep things casual around here.” I realize I sound like I’m quoting from a ’90s handbook of how to be a hipster boss for buttoned-up people who don’t have a clue.
Marina nods. “Yeah, casual. Dress-down Fridays. Wear-pink Wednesdays. Naked Tuesdays!” She throws in jazz hands for good measure, because she clearly doesn’t feel that she’s terrified Arthur enough. His sudden coughing fit suggests otherwise.
“She’s just kidding,” I say quickly. “She’s like this all the time, you’ll get used to her. I have.”
“The letter…it said ‘trainee ghost hunter,’ ” Arthur says, finding his voice at last.
“That’s right,” I say. “The agency is very new, but it’s our aim to help people who feel that their property is, for want of a better phrase, haunted.”
“And we do…what?”
“Well…” My eyes dart a silent warning at Marina to let me do the talking. “We go in, see if there are any ghosts in the place, and if there are, we figure out what they want and hopefully resolve their issue so they can move on.”
Arthur’s gaze never leaves my face as I speak. “How will we know if there are ghosts or not?”
I clear my throat. “Okay. So, don’t freak out, but I can see them.”
He jumps inside his too-big jacket and looks at me as if I’ve grown an extra head.
“With special ghost-hunting goggles?”
I shake my head. “No, Arthur. I see them with my eyes, and I hear them with my ears. I’m a normal person, just like you, except that I can see and talk to dead people.”
I speak in a low, measured voice and he takes it allin.
“And you too?” His gaze slides to Marina, who barks with laughter at the suggestion.
“No way, José. She’s well and truly on her own with that one. Besides her mother. And her gran. You’ll meet them both, brace yourself.”
He looks back at me, and the flare of hope in his eyes is unmissable.
“And you can teach me to see dead people too?”
“I’m afraid that isn’t something you can be taught,” I saytactfully. “You either do or you don’t. I don’t choose to be able to do it. I just can. All of my family can.”
