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the house a clean bill of health. As far as she can tell, there’s no sign of any ghosts.”
    “Well, that’s something,” he replies. “I hope it puts your mind at rest.”
    He smiles politely, but as he heads back into his house I can tell that he’s uneasy with the idea that I had someone come to check the place out. I know it’s not really his business, and I can do anything I like in my own home, but at the same time I feel almost guilty, as if I went behind his back. John’s been so good to me over the years, I should have accepted his advice and never bothered getting someone like Louise to check the house out. As Jacqui leads me inside, muttering about psychics and exorcisms, I suddenly realize that something has changed. If the house is truly empty, if there’s absolutely no ghost activity at all, then I really am alone here every night.
    Maybe a ghost family would be better than no family at all.

Four
     
    “He’s brilliant, isn’t he?” says a voice nearby. “One of the best horror writers I’ve ever read.”
    Looking up from the back cover of the novel I’m holding, I find to my surprise that a man has come over to me in this hidden-away corner of the bookshop. With a faint smile and a cautious expression, he seems almost nervous.
    “Totally,” I mutter, worrying that I might be blushing as I set the book down. “He’s one of a kind.”
    Turning to look back across the store, I see that the staff are still setting up the small stage where John is due to give a reading in a few minutes’ time. He hates any kind of publicity, and he only makes these semi-annual appearances at the local bookshop because of some ancient contractual obligation that he’s been unable to shake. Already, I can see him pacing anxiously by the side of the stage, muttering sharp, one-word answers to anyone who dares approach.
    “Doctor Jason Hodges,” the man says, holding out a hand. “Or… I’m sorry, maybe I shouldn’t disturb you.” He takes a step back. “Forget I came over. I just saw a fellow fan and thought I’d say hello.”
    “It’s fine,” I say with a faint smile. “I hope you enjoy the reading.”
    Once he’s wandered over to a different part of the store, I take a deep breath and pick up another of John’s books, mainly just to use as a prop so that – hopefully – no-one else will disturb me. Jacqui would go ballistic if she could see me right now, but the truth is, I’ve got no desire to get into a casual conversation with anyone, not even some handsome doctor who seems to share my interest in John’s work.
    ***
    “God, that was awful,” John mutters as he takes a sip of tea. “I’m a writer, not a performer. Why the hell do people want to see me go through that torture? If they actually gave a damn, they’d stop showing up to these readings. At least that way, I might be able to stay happily under my dark little rock and just work on the damn books!”
    “You were great,” I tell him, forcing a smile even though I’m uncomfortably aware that Jason is loitering nearby. “Anyway, it’s over for another year, so that’s a positive, right?”
    “Fans,” John says darkly. “I hate them. Readers are wonderful, but fans? I don’t understand the mentality at all.”
    “They just want to see what you’re like,” I point out, as Jason edges closer, clearly determined to introduce himself. “They want to know the man behind the books.”
    “That’s none of their business,” he replies. “Everything I want to say about the world, I say through my writing. If I could just say it all on a stage, out loud, I wouldn’t bother writing the damn things in the first place, would I?”
    “Excuse me,” Jason says, interrupting. “I just wanted to congratulate you on a great performance.”
    I flinch, waiting for John to blow up at this sudden intrusion.
    “I’m glad someone liked it,” he replies, surprising me by turning and shaking Jason’s hand. “What are you doing here,