That’s rich, coming from her, Danny had thought, but said nothing. Lawrie had already moved on and was now discussing things with Aubrey, Isaac and Peter.
‘I don’t believe there are any empty cottages at present,’ he’d mused. ‘Perhaps someone would agree to share. Unless,’ he’d added, looking thoughtfully at a bewildered Danny and Brooke, ‘you’d prefer your own space.’
Brooke had said nothing. She’d looked exhausted, shaken and close to tears. Could ghosts cry, Danny wondered? It certainly looked as if she was about to, and he couldn’t blame her. He knew exactly how she felt and, without thinking, he’d put his arm around her to comfort her.
Lawrie seemed to recognise their distress as he got to his feet. ‘I’m so sorry. All this can wait for another time. Agnes, perhaps you’d be so kind as to show our guests to their rooms for the night?’
‘Room,’ Brooke had said quickly. ‘I don’t want to be parted from Danny!’
‘That’s out of the question,’ Agnes had informed her. ‘Think of your reputation, girl!’
‘Stuff my reputation,’ Brooke had snapped. ‘I’m scared and I want Danny!’
‘It’s okay,’ Danny had said, sensing how close to the edge Brooke was. ‘She can share a room with me. We’ve been through a lot tonight and we need to talk things over. Please.’
Agnes had looked aghast, but Aubrey had said, ‘I think an exception can be made just this once, don’t you, my dear?’
Agnes had sighed. ‘Very well. If you think that’s for the best, Mr Wyndham. But I will take them to the third best guest room, that being the case. Twin beds,’ she’d added pointedly.
So Danny and Brooke had spent their first night as ghosts lying close beside each other on one single bed, hoping that Agnes wouldn’t sneak in to check up on them. Nothing improper had happened of course. Even if either of them would want it to (and why on earth would they?) or if it was physically possible (and howcouldit be if they were no longer alive?) they’d just been killed in a horrible accident and were trying to come to terms with the fact that they were now ghosts. They were far too shocked and upset to even think about that sort of thing, and Danny couldn’t imagine why Agnes would think it even a remote possibility.
It had been a strange experience all round. On top of everything they’d just been through, it was odd spending the night sleeping with his arms around Brooke, but she’d been so upset that he’d felt she needed the comfort and protection of his close presence. To be absolutely honest, he’d needed to feel comforted and protected, too. As wrong as it sounded, he was glad to have her with him.
Not that they ever repeated the experience, of course. Once they moved into the flat there was no question of them sharing a bed ever again.
‘Two bedrooms,’ Lawrie had said cheerfully as he showed them round. ‘Now, one of the girls downstairs will come up every day to put the heating on, so I’ll ask them to switch a light on and we’ll get you a television set. They will also dust and hoover the place every weekend for you. They’ll understand the situation and they’ll be happy to help.’
‘Girls downstairs?’ Danny had asked blankly.
‘The hairdressers. Don’t worry. Everyone in Rowan Vale knows about the ghosts, and they know that everyone who can is expected to help out in any way possible. Several of the shops have ghosts living in the flats above. It’s perfectly normal round here.’
Brooke and Danny had quickly realised that ‘normal’ had a very different meaning in Rowan Vale.
Within a few days they’d met several other ghosts, who couldn’t have been more friendly and welcoming. Polly Herron, who lived above the teashop she’d once managed, had hugged them as if they were her own family, and had told them that if there was anything they needed, they only had to ask.
Millie, a Beatles fanatic who’d died when she was only seventeen in 1964, had flopped onto the sofa next to Brooke, and they’d spent an excruciatingly dull two hours listening to her bang on about Paul McCartney, and telling the two of them which Beatles’ songs she’d put in her top twenty and why.
Walter Tasker had introduced himself as the former teacher of the great William Shakespeare himself, and had quoted vast tracts of poetry to them to illustrate every point he made about life, love, death and the great beyond.
It had been horrible at first. Danny had been desolate and Brooke had fretted endlessly about her family, worrying about them and how they were coping. Gradually, though, afterlife had taken on a new normality, and Brooke had made every effort to socialise more with the ghosts. She had, she said, realised that they were going to be here a long, long time. Possibly forever. The more friends they had the better. It would be a very dull afterlife without company and entertainment.
Danny, though, never quite felt like his old self again. Brooke had seemed worried about him at first, but after a while she seemed to accept that was just the way he was now and stopped trying so hard to jolly him along.
He’d done his best to hide from her that he felt resentful towards her. Whenever she complained about Lee he kept quiet, not wanting to say what was on his mind: that if she’d only stayed at the party instead of throwing a massive strop for no good reason, they’d still be alive right now.
Brooke didn’t see how it was fair that Lee had been the driver of the car, but he’d apparently gone on to wherever it was ghosts went. Surely, she’d said bitterly, if anyone should have found themselves Earthbound it was him? Evidently, there was no more justice in the afterlife than there had been in actual life. Typical.
But while Brooke focused her anger on Lee, and ranted whenever the mood took her, Danny internalised his own anger towards her. It was quite possible that they’d be together in Rowan Vale for the rest of eternity. He couldn’t start a feud with her now.
So instead, he concentrated on getting through each day, making an effort to be as polite and kind to her as he possibly could, though not always succeeding.
And bit by bit, Brooke eventually grew on him. She was a funny little thing, and he had to admit there were times when she did make him laugh. And despite the terrible hair and eccentric outfit, she was pretty and sweet, with beautiful eyes.
Yes, when all was said and done, he rather liked Brooke.
She was a lovely person. Totally oblivious to what she’d done, of course, but lovely.
She just wasn’t Kirsty.
