Page 125 of A Ghost’s Guide to Haunting a Witch

“Oh, Roy.”

“I thought of you when I played it,” Roy confessed. “It was called you seem pretty sad for a girl so in love.”

“Olivia Rodrigo.” Augustine nodded. “I’ll have to take a listen.” She paused. “Steven loved you. He still loves you.”

“I know. We bought this place together,” Roy said, his gaze travelling over the furniture, the walls. Every inch of it that he could see. “It was our home.”

“I know that, too.” She took a deep breath. “I also know that Steven lives over in Crystal Palace now. With his . . . husband.”

Roy sat up. “He got married?”

“Yes. He’s really happy.”

Augustine felt a tight, aching knot in her stomach that had nothing to do with Theo or her own grief. No, this pain was for Roy, and what he must be going through. Because this, Augustine knew, was the part that hurt. Not the not knowing. Not the jokes, or the deflection, or the half-life he’d been living in this flat for decades. It was the knowing.

Still, she held her ground, because he needed it. “Steven waited. For a long time. It was like he was on pause,” she added gently, trying to find a way to help him understand.

“What are you talking about? He didn’t wait. He left almost as soon as I died,” Roy said bitterly.

“He was heartbroken. He went home to his family. Moved in with his mum for a time.”

“His mum?” Roy winced. “Really? I mean Pamela was lovely and all, but she was a lot.”

"He needed it at the time. But, Roy, being on pause . . . it isn’t living. It isn’t peace.”

Roy didn’t look away this time.

“So, he built something else,” she said. “A life. Not instead of you. Just . . . after you.”

Roy swallowed. “And I didn’t,” he stated.

Augustine shook her head, just slightly. “No,” she said. “You stayed. You were on pause too, I think. You could’ve followed him, stayed with him, but you didn’t. You just haunted here.”

“I thought—” Roy started, then stopped. “I thought if I stayed here, then . . . I don’t know.” He gave a weak, almost self-conscious laugh. “He’d come back one day. Or I’d remember properly. Or something would . . . fix. Mostly, I think I was scared to leave,” he admitted. “Scared of what I’d find. What I’d see.”

Augustine didn’t interrupt.

“But he didn’t come back,” Roy said, voice thinning. “And it didn’t fix anything. It was just tenant after tenant, year after year. And all the time, I was still dead.” He gazed at her. “When did you figure it out?”

“Embarrassingly late,” Augustine replied. “When I first moved in, my mind was so muddled—”

“Because of the spell?”

“Yeah. Because of the spell. Anyway, you were here, and I just . . . just figured you were a flatmate. I mean, you had a favourite chair and a room of your own and you fed the cat. Like I said, embarrassing.”

“That’s not embarrassing,” Roy replied. “Embarrassing is spending months of your afterlife opening tins of salmon mousse for a cat because it never once occurred to you that dead people probably didn’t have to do that.”

Augustine laughed. “When Theo first came back, I started to wonder if he really was the first ghost I’d seen. And then I realized he couldn’t have been. There was my grandmother,” she swallowed, the memory of cool hands guiding hers over cards hitting her hard. “And then my mind kept going back to you.” She took a small step closer to him. “Roy, you don’t need to be here anymore. Steven’s happy. He’s well. He moved on. You can go. I know you love him, but you can go. Press play again. See what happens next.”

“You mean move on,” he corrected her quietly. He looked around the flat again, slower this time. She watched his eyes take in the worn sofa. The dated wallpaper. The space that had held him in place for over thirty years. “Our home,” he murmured.

Augustine nodded. “It was,” she said, hearing how it seemed to matter. The past tense.

Roy exhaled, long and unsteady. “He’s definitely happy?” He almost sounded like he was afraid of the answer.

Augustine smiled, soft and certain. “Yeah,” she said. “He is. They have a dog.”

“I hate dogs,” Roy said, before he gave a self-aware shrug. “But hey, at least they’re better than cats.”