‘Dunno about that,’ I said. ‘Forget Goodman and his wicked ways if you can. The House is a mausoleum, a monument to our friend.’
Dougie shrugged and nodded. ‘Gone, but not forgotten.’
‘Never forgotten,’ I added.
‘I thought you were gonna go that night you know,’ he said. ‘When that door lit up and Phyllis went on her way, I was sure you’d be with her.’
‘And leave you behind?’
‘Well I wasn’t going to go with you.’
‘Yeah, but you’re my mate. I didn’t want to leave you. And besides, I’d probably have never got through anyway. I bet there was some angel or security guard checking papers at the gate. Phyllis earned her chance to move on. We helped her solve the riddle of her death: she righted that wrong and saw justice done.’
‘So, what? You’re saying you’ve still got to tick that box before you can skedaddle?’
‘Something like that,’ I said. ‘I’m not entirely sure, but I can only imagine that I’m stuck here until I discover who was driving that car.’
‘But it could’ve been anyone,’ Dougie exclaimed, scratching his head. ‘It was a hit-and-run!’
‘That isn’t lost on me, and thanks for reminding me of what it was.’
‘You might never find out who did it, Will.’
I nodded forlornly. Dougie was silent for a moment, chewing the thought over in his head.
‘Hang about. If you never move on, does that mean you’re hanging around me for ever or what?’
‘Let’s think about it for a moment,’ I replied. ‘Phyllis was tied to the House, unable to leave it. Ever. Why was that?’
‘It’s where she was murdered.’
‘Spot on. So she was inextricably tied to that place, unable to leave it. The question is: why am I tied to you?’
‘I ask myself that same question every day, usually a second or two after I wake up and find you staring down at me like some pug-ugly gargoyle at the foot of my bed.’
‘Believe me, if I could be somewhere else, I probably would. Sitting in your room all night with only your snores for company isn’t the greatest way to spend each night.’
‘At least I leave the telly on for you.’
‘Yeah, the Psychic Channel if I’m lucky!’
‘I thought it’d be research for you? Y’know, swotting up on speaking with the dead and all that.’
‘The people on the telly at three in the morning are no more psychic than Bloody Mary, I guarantee it.’
We both laughed, Dougie receiving an odd look from an old lady who was trundling by laden down with shopping bags. He was admittedly, to her eyes, talking and laughing to himself.
‘You should be in school,’ she grumbled. ‘Blooming loony!’
‘Ah the joys of being considered mad,’ he sighed to me, his voice quieter now. ‘You’ve a lot to answer for, Underwood.’
‘Which brings me back to my point. I could’ve stayed at my folks’ house after the funeral. When all this first happened,’ I said, waving my hands up and down myself, aware that I was a ghostly apparition before his eyes. ‘But I made straight for you. Why was that?’
‘Ready access to the Psychic Channel,’ answered Dougie with a grin.
‘Seriously, though,’ I went on. ‘Of all the places I could’ve gone to, it was you I chose. I think I know why.’
‘Go on,’ he said.
‘I spent so long thinking that my unfinished business was with Lucy Carpenter, chasing her around, trying to tell her my feelings through you. I was chasing a lost cause. It wasn’t my feelings for Lucy that kept me tied to the world of the living. It was you, Dougie.’
‘Sorry?’ he said, a touch confused.
‘Don’t apologise, mate. I’ve stayed close to you, forgoing my family, because it’s from you I get my strength. I can see it now.’
Dougie was quiet for a moment. I could see the hint of a smile and the colour in his cheeks as he soaked in what I was saying. His eyebrow arched suddenly, the teenage boy getting the better of him as he went to shove me away.
‘You big bloody Jessie! So what do you do now, then?’ he said, kicking snow at me and taking great pleasure in seeing it pass unhindered through my nether regions.
‘Dunno. Solve ghostly mysteries, I reckon.’
‘Like in Scooby-Doo?’
‘You’d have to be Scrappy Doo of course,’ I said, wagging my finger.
‘Naturally,’ he agreed. ‘But what does this mean for you?’
‘I guess I hang around, ad infinitum.’
‘Ad infinitum?’
‘It’s Latin,’ I replied.
‘I know what it means! You’re planning on being a pain in the arse to infinity and beyond?’
‘Like a ghostly Buzz Lightyear, mate,’ I said. ‘You got a friend in me!’
‘You’ll get hacked off with it,’ he said, wandering away, drawing me along after him via that invisible umbilical cord of friendship. ‘I’m really not that interesting. Mark my words, you’ll go out of your tiny mind with boredom.’
‘Don’t worry, Dougie, I’ll be busy.’
‘Busy doing what?’ he said.
‘Haunting you, buddy,’ I said with a wink. ‘Haunting you.’
Haunt Page 17
