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I wouldn’t exactly call it getting along with Walker. We’re not engaged in all-out guerilla warfare anymore. I doubt he’d appreciate being a third wheel again in the house. That seems to be the line he’s drawn in the metaphoric sand.

‘Who would I even ask?’ Stars, Lavender’s even worse than the mouldies. A hopeless romantic if ever there was one.

‘I saw her waving at some goon, on the way here.’

Traitor!

To be honest I should’ve seen this one coming.

‘Ooooh!’ Lavender claps her branches and leaves rain down around me. I flick them out of my hair and glare at Delilah, who’s finally decided to contribute to the conversation and to my detriment. ‘Who?’

‘You bitch.’ I crack the back of a frame open and imagine it’s her head.

Delilah grins. ‘I didn’t see who, but they were near the corner store,’ she supplies with flourish. Ah, so we’ve finally made the acquaintance of Delighted Delilah. Gotta say I preferred her misery.

‘Oh! Hot Face!’ Lavender points, shaking her twiggy finger.

‘What?’ Delilah looks puzzled.

‘That’s Hot Face! I knew there was something there.’

‘Oh, really,’ I deadpan. ‘Your oracle skills tell you that?’

‘Maybe.’ She sniffs haughtily. Lavender isn’t exactly what you’d call the clearest crystal ball in the witch’s pantry. It was a cheap shot. She doesn’t care. The trees got a one-track mind. ‘You’ll have to ask him tonight!’

‘There is no way in the infinite universe I am asking Hot Face to the showcase.’

‘Boo!’ It’s now I realise Lavender has finished her sixth mug of spiked hot chocolate in an hour and is, for all intents and purposes, sloshed. To drive her drunkenness home, she starts chanting, ‘Hot Face. Showcase. Hot Face. Showcase.’

Delilah hasn’t joined in, but I can tell she wants to. I don’t even think she’s realised she’s moving her shoulders up and down in time. Fuck me. I should never have let them cross paths. The two of them together is going to be a fucking nightmare.

I grab another poem and look for a frame to put it in when I realise, ‘Shit, we’re out.’ We’ve done the heavy lifting but there’s still at least a dozen works that need framing. I run a flat palm over my face.

‘Why don’t you just—’ Lavender hiccups. ‘Use Walker’s?’

I look behind me, back at the house as if I’ll see him standing there staring out the window. ‘Walker’s what?’

‘His frames.’

What does a ghost have to do with frames?

‘They’re in his room.’

Hold up. My head reels at the sheer amount of startling information I’m taking in right now. ‘I didn’t even know Walker had a room. I thought he was just… ghosting around.’

Lavender laughs and bumps her stump flirtily with a very disconcerted looking Delilah. ‘Of course he does! His room is up in the attic, he’s quite the hoarder actually – good luck finding anything in that mess.’

How does she know all this? I’m about to ask as much but she interrupts my line of thinking again.

‘Go get more booze before you tempt the bat cave, we’re all out!’

‘You mean you’re all out, you little pisshead. Stars, Lavender, do we need to stage an intervention?’ My arse has gone numb from sitting too long. I groan when I get to my feet.

‘If you do, can you invite Jake? I’d like him to know that he’s to blame for my alcoholism.’

‘What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t?’

She smiles at me, the way only the drunk and small children are capable of. Unchained admiration swimming in her glassy eyes.