Tamsyn Murray-My So-Called Haunting

by Tamsyn Murray

  I thought about that as I climbed into the car. My life had become bumpier than the fairground dodgems since I’d moved in with Celestine. I’d learned a lot in that short time – who I was, who I could trust and what a broken heart felt like. I could have done without that last one, to be honest, and wondered if Nico had any idea how much he’d hurt me. Megan didn’t pretend to understand what had gone wrong between us but, like a true friend, she respected my right to privacy. Which reminded me, I’d never got the chance to text her after I’d left the school. She’d probably wasted all her credit texting me – I resolved to call her as soon as I got home.

  I gazed from the back of my aunt’s head to Jeremy’s, thinking how great they’d been, especially in agreeing not to mention anything to my mum. They’d gone out of their way to help me settle into life without her. The least I could do was return the favour by getting Isobel over her crush on Jeremy. Actually, I quite fancied myself as a celestial matchmaker; maybe her Mr Right was out there in the spirit world, waiting to be found. He might even be a member of the Dearly D.

  ‘A psychic apprenticeship?’ I mused, settling back into the seat with a satisfied grin. ‘I like the sound of that. Do you think we can stop at Hornsey Lane Bridge on the way home?’ Jeremy’s panic-filled eyes locked on me in the rear-view mirror. My grin widened. ‘Relax, Romeo, you can drop me off round the corner. It’s time someone told Isobel that today is the first day of the rest of her afterlife.’

  Writing a book might seem like a one person job but in my case that isn't true. These are the people I owe big time:

  Lee, for encouraging me, feeding me and putting up with my diva tendencies. You are still my favourite husband.

  Tania, for being amazing and inspiring and sarcastic (if occasionally grumpy) and for reminding me what it's like to be a teenager. Thanks for being you.

  My dad, Phil, who encouraged the teenage me to read. Thank you.

  My in-laws, Richard and Janice, for always being so supportive and persuading everyone you know to buy my books.

  Clare and Mike Watson, for lending me the northern Watson Writer's Retreat. The Wo o-woos are on me.

  Jo Williamson at Antony Harwood Ltd, agent extraordinaire and roller-coaster buddy – thanks for all the thrills so far, here's hoping the ride never ends.

  Brenda, Ruth, Melissa, Vivien and the whole team at Piccadilly Press, who spotted the promise of Skye and encourage me to get to know her. Thanks for being brilliant.

  And lastly, thank you to anyone who read My So-Called Afterlife and took the time to tell me so. Keep those comments coming!