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his father in front of the sink. Was
he crying? I was useless at times like this, unsure of how to react and comfort somebody. It was especially difficult when you were a ghost.
    ‘Don’t worry,’ I said, my words unheard. ‘He’ll come round. You will too. You have to get out of this funk, for your and Dougie’s sake. Have a shower, a
shave, put on a clean shirt and a smile. Call Mr Bradbury and ask for your old job back.’
    He looked up. Did he hear me? I waved my hands to no reaction. Stupid to think he could.
    He sniffed back the tears and reached across the counter, picking up the telephone. He paused, clearly considering what he was about to do. Then his finger was punching a number into the
handset. He glanced at the lounge door; still shut. Taking a deep breath he lifted the phone to his ear. I could hear it ringing a few times before it was answered.
    ‘Mr Bradbury?’
    Had
he heard me? He’d only gone and rung the bloke, hadn’t he? Was he asking for his old job back? As it happened, the conversation took a very different turn.
    ‘You don’t speak to him again,’ whispered Mr Hancock. His eyes were wet as he stared at the lounge door. ‘Leave my boy alone, you hear?’
    He didn’t sound confident, his voice lacking conviction. If he was trying to sound threatening, it wasn’t working. I had to get closer, hear what was being said on the other end of
the line. I knew eavesdropping was an awful thing, but it came with the territory when you were invisible. I drifted right up to Mr Hancock, picking up the thick accent that crackled through the
earpiece.
    ‘He’s your double, you know? You must be proud.’ No answer from Mr Hancock. He gulped as the voice continued. ‘Listen, we haven’t seen you for a while, which is a
real shame. It’d be good to catch up, find out what you’ve been up to.’
    ‘We don’t need to do that.’
    ‘Don’t be like that!’ Bradbury sounded hurt, or was at least pretending to. ‘We could get together, have a coffee morning.’
    ‘That won’t be happening.’
    ‘Come on, George. It’d be good to get out of the house, wouldn’t it? Can’t be healthy, stuck indoors like a hermit, old before your years? Bit of fresh air would do you
good.’
    ‘Thanks, but I’m fine,’ said Mr Hancock. ‘Don’t bother trying to get in touch with me again. I don’t work for you any more, Mr Bradbury.’
    ‘Now hang on. You forget. You and I
know
things. We’ve been through and seen some stuff, haven’t we, George?’
    Dougie’s dad remained silent, refusing to acknowledge Bradbury.
    ‘Way I see it, you can help me out. I’ve got a job coming up, and you’re the perfect fit.’
    ‘No thanks.’
    ‘I’m not asking. I’m telling.’ Mr Hancock drained of colour as Bradbury continued. ‘Remember, I know your little secret. You kept it. I know you didn’t get
rid. So you’ll do as I say,
capiche
?’ No reply. ‘I’ll be in touch soon, George. Stay by the phone.’
    ‘I do this one job, Mr Bradbury, and then we’re done. For good. No more. And you keep my boy out of this. There’s no reason for him to know anything.’
    ‘Sure,’ chuckled the man on the end of the line. ‘Whatever.’
    The phone went dead. Mr Hancock placed it back into its docking, hand trembling all the while.
    What was
that
all about? What had I just witnessed? What was Dougie’s dad involved in? The kettle whistled on the stove, screeching angrily, as Mr Hancock whispered four sorry
words.
    ‘Please forgive me, Douglas.’

SIX
Dances and Dogfights
    As double dates went, this one was weird. Dougie and Lucy had accompanied Stu and Mary to the hospital, our friend returning to the General Hospital for one of his once-a-month
check-ups. These were visits to a spinal unit specialist regarding the variety of metal plates they’d put in Stu after his fall from the school roof. He was more machine than man, now. At
least that’s what he told everybody. He’d spent the first