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.Anyway, I don’t want to.’‘Don’t want to …’ Bella mocked.‘Shan’t! You can’t make me! Listen to yourself.You’re nearly five centuries old.Stop behaving like a brat.’‘So, what do you suggest?’ Tyrone shrugged.‘That I should wear myself to a frazzle just to put an end to the rumours? I don’t think so.’‘You’ll just have to put up with the speculation then, won’t you?’ Bella fished into the depths of her handbag, took out her cigarettes and lighter, and settled back into the sofa, exhaling smoke.‘And suffer the consequences for eternity.’As the smoke drifted across the room, Tyrone inhaled greedily.It was one of the drawbacks to being a ghost – nicotine played havoc with the ectoplasm – but he’d do anything, anything, for just one puff.‘Of course, I could exorcize you, you know that,’ Bella said throatily.‘I’ve got the gift.’Tyrone nodded.He knew.And exorcism was no joke.It hurt.But maybe, just maybe, there was room for negotiation here …‘If I materialised – and it’s a big if – would there be any chance of a cigarette?’Bella giggled.Got him!‘Every chance, love.I’ll give you a whole packet.Deal?’Tyrone hesitated for a moment.Then: ‘Deal.’This was going to render him useless for days, he knew that, and there was always the risk he might actually look awful – like the late Mr Pooh – all bald and plump and given to beige slip-overs and ginger cords … but it was a risk he was prepared to take …He sighed, then drew a deep breath, and stepped off the sofa.Bella watched fascinated as strong brown feet appeared on the shag-pile, followed by a pair of slim but masculine ankles.Shapely calves, joined to long muscular thighs followed rapidly.Bella swallowed and stubbed out her cigarette with a trembling hand.Snake hips, taut waist, hard-muscled chest …Bella gulped and wiped sweaty palms on her jeans.Neck, face … Bella’s jaw dropped.Sleek hair, dark as a midnight sea, huge brown eyes …‘Stone me,’ Bella whispered.‘You’re a bleedin’ Dream Boy …’It was two hours later that Bella staggered into the kitchen.The witching hour had long since been and gone.‘Oh, you poor thing!’ Mrs Pooh was all contrition.‘I should never have asked you! Look at the state of you!’‘Hard going, was it?’ Donna poured a restorative glass of Mrs Pooh’s best Christmas turnip and elderflower wine.‘Very hard …’ Bella whispered faintly.‘And?’ Mrs Pooh could contain herself no longer.‘What did he look like?’Shakily, Bella sank onto the kitchen chair and took a grateful swig of wine.Donna shook her head.The camisole was inside out.The red bra was missing …‘Yes,’ she raised a quizzical eyebrow.‘Just what exactly did he look like?’Bella waved a limp hand round the kitchen and smiled a satisfied smile.She alone in Ferny Fronds knew the truth about Tyrone – and she certainly wouldn’t be telling …Your Number’s UpCara CooperNasreen could have set her watch by the pale man, he was so regular in his hours.Regular in everything in fact, she thought as he came through the door in the same grey suit he always wore.She peered up at him through her veil of wavy black curls.She’d brushed a lick of mascara over her lashes today, bravely risking her father’s anger if he noticed.She reckoned the pale man had noticed.When he gave her the coins for his Euromillions ticket and his newspaper his fingers had rested in her palm just a fraction longer than normal.‘Morning,’ that’s all he’d ever said to her before, but this time, he hesitated and added, ‘turned out nice, hasn’t it?’‘Mmm.’ She replied and instantly looked down, letting her hair fall back to hide her lip.Her father wouldn’t be happy if he thought she was flirting.But for once her father wasn’t standing next to her was he? Nasreen watched the pale man walk out of her parents’ shop and wondered, for one glorious fantasising moment, whether he could be the one who’d set her free.For years she’d dreamed of some man who might take an interest in her.You never knew when you met someone if they were going to be significant, did you? It wasn’t always love at first sight.Sometimes it could be a slow burn.She’d never seen the pale man with a woman or anyone else come to that, and there was no wedding ring on his finger.He wouldn’t be the greatest of catches, looks wise.Thin, with skin the colour of porridge.But young, like her, and he had a steady job.He must do, he took the same train every morning.Surely a man like that must be lonely.He must be looking for someone to cook his breakfast for him, to hand him his umbrella on rainy days, to kiss him on the lips when he went off to his office job.She blushed to think of such things, her cappuccino-coloured skin darkening.No man had ever kissed her.A tiny seed of hope had been planted in Nasreen’s breast that morning despite her father telling her a thousand times, ‘Nasreen, you must accept no man will want to marry you.Not looking like that.’ She touched her hand to her misshapen lip and a sudden anger burned inside at her father’s insensitivity.‘No, your place is with me in this fine shop.You will inherit it one day.And your sister’s family will come and live here and her children will help you run the shop when I’m gone.’ So, she was to be nothing more than an add-on, as she had always been to her beautiful sister.No husband and no fine home was planned for Nasreen.She was to be an unpaid servant, yet again.Suddenly she was pulled out of her reverie.‘Nasreen,’ her father yelled from the back room.‘I am feeling a little better now, come and help me up.’ A stab of resentment clutched her throat like strangling hands.But, dutiful daughter she was, she went off to help him.Even though inside she was screaming for someone like the pale man to come and set her free.Kevin Bateman sat in the train heading for home.In the seats next to him was a gaggle of pretty young women, suitcases at their side.Laughing, they looked at photos on their phones and compared notes about boyfriends.‘He’s fit, and I know he likes you.’ Such high jinks were games Kevin had never got the hang of.He was uneasy around women, yet he desired them.They scared and entranced him.Especially ones like these, confident and glowing and more than a little scary.They were out of his league.They knew it and so did he.They didn’t give him a second look.Unconsciously, he rested his hand on his breast pocket.Inside it the Euromillions ticket he had bought this morning lay neatly tucked and waiting for Friday’s draw.Twenty-seven million pounds it had been last time and nobody’d won.It would rollover this week to something even more ridiculous.Now if he won that much money these girls would look at him.They’d be all over him.He’d be able to pick and choose.He chanced a look at the blonde but when she caught him, he was sure he saw a sneer on her face, like she’d seen something dirty on her shoe.He looked away.Walking back from the station, his thoughts turned to the girl in the newsagent’s.The fat old guy’s daughter [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]