Page 10 of Curse of the Stag's Eye
He got stuck into his boring chicken sandwich instead. “I can’t believe we have free run of this place.”
“I had to jump through a few hoops.” I took a bite of my egg. “I had to have a meeting with a man from the Trust yesterday. Nice fella. A bit up himself, maybe. He gave me a set of keys and ran me through the ‘do’s and don’ts’. He ended up buying me dinner actually. He insisted on picking the wine and talked a lot about it. I meana lotabout it. How it paired with the duck and how it brought out the thingies and the whatsits in the meat.”
“Are those technical terms?”
“I can’t remember exactly what he said. If he wasn’t talking about the wine, he was talking about his vinyl collection. Huge, it is. He’s been collecting for years, apparently. He asked me back to his place afterwards.”
“I bet he did.” Gaz chomped on the crust of his sandwich.
“It wasn’t anything like that, you dirty bugger. He wanted to show me his first pressing ofWhipped Cream & Other Delights. Dead proud of it, he was.”
Gaz grimaced. “I have no idea what that is.”
I shrugged. “Nor did I, to be honest. I declined, in any case. I wanted to be fresh and ready for this evening.”
He picked a bit of soggy lettuce from his bread. “Look, I’m sorry I… for how I talked to you.”
“That’s alright, mun. It’s a big shock, I know. People react funny when they’re shocked.”
Gaz couldn’t quite accept what we’d heard and tried desperately to come up with another explanation. We had all been in the keeper’s room together. There are no fridges to make odd noises, no appliances running, no animals, and certainly no neighbours. There aren’t any pipes in the staircase. Could it have been the lamp turning, or the lighthouse settling? That’s what they say about old buildings, isn’t it? They settle, and that causes noises? It didn’t seem very likely to me but it was possible, I suppose. A fog had started to roll in from the sea but could it really cause something as solid as a lighthouse to shift and settle?
“Are they arguing?” Gaz pointed in the general direction of Dawn and Nikesh.
I strained to listen to the harsh but muffled voices and made a face. “Oh, dear. I hope they’re not going to be like that all night. What do you do? For a living, like? Are you a roofer, or a plumber, maybe? A bouncer?”
He took another bite of his sandwich. “Close. I’m head of fundraising for an LGBTQ plus homeless youth charity in Sheffield.”
“Wow.” That didn’t half knock me for a loop. “That’s great. Well done, you.”
He crumpled up the sandwich packaging and squeezed it into a ball in his meaty hands. “Is this your full-time job? Hunting for ghosts?”
“Don’t I wish. No, I work in IT for a small business firm. Business refinancing. Or corporate financial advice, maybe? Fiscal enterprise management? Is that a thing? I’ll be honest, I’m not a hundred per cent on what we do. I’ve only been there for a few months and they’ve told me again and again but it just washes over my head. I keep their email going and their website up and running, and that’s all I need to know.”
I must have sounded so stupid to him but honestly, I just haven’t got a head for business. I work from home and I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve spoken directly to a colleague over the phone or in person. It’s not what I want to spend my precious time on this earth doing but I have bills to pay, same as anyone. “Here, you didn’t half quiver when you heard those footsteps.”
“Shut up, I did not.” Gaz couldn’t help but laugh a little.
“You did too, butt! Your bottom lip went like this.” I stuck my lip out and wobbled it.
“Shut up, ye wassock.” He shoved his shoulder with mine.
“It was quite adorable actually.”
He looked away from me.
“Sorry, that was a bit much.” I slid farther away on the bench, my ears burning.
He smiled over at me. “It’s fine. It’s not a crime to flirt.” He had a lovely, soft Yorkshire accent. Very earthy and no-nonsense. It suited him, if that’s not a stupid thing to say.
I tried to ignore my racing pulse and took a drink of water.
“Have you always been into this stuff?” he asked. “Ghosts and that?”
“Since I was a boy.” I stoppered my bottle and tucked it into my rucksack.
Gaz gave me another funny look.
“You’ll think I’m making it up,” I said.
