Jason Danes stood in the kitchen, staring down at the command device. He was aware he had drunk far more than normal – was that it? Was he off his face? He had switched the thing off, but it was very definitely back on. This time he pulled the power cable out, placed it on the table and weighted it down with a cook book.
As he walked back out, he bumped into the island unit, then almost knocked over a chair.
Shit. I’m pissed.
He collided with the door frame as he re-entered the living room. Emily was carefully wiping their precious wedding album.
‘God, what dreadful people, putting their sticky paws all over this. Did you notice they totally ignored the napkins you gave them?’
‘It made me angry – but I couldn’t say anything. Did I drink a lot tonight?’
She stared at him. ‘Like, yes! You were knocking it back. We all were.’
‘I feel a bit smashed.’
‘You look it; you’re stumbling.’
He glanced at his watch. ‘Nine o’clock. We’ve done over three bottles of champagne and all I’ve eaten is a couple of peanuts.’
‘We’ve got one of those pies we bought at the garden centre. Fancy that with some baked beans?’
‘I fancy you.’
‘Ha ha,’ she replied, but a little flatly. ‘So, what’s going on with our wonderfully teched-up home?’
He shrugged. ‘Do you want a top-up?’
‘No!’
‘Probably a good idea. I don’t know – I thought I’d switched that command thing off. I know I did. How did it switch itself back on?’
She was looking at him strangely.
‘What?’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t know. Something doesn’t feel right.’
‘In what way?’
She stared down at the table, looking pensive. ‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘What, darling? In what way?’ He went over to her, stood behind her and nuzzled her neck. ‘Tell me? What doesn’t feel right?’
She shrugged. ‘I’m probably just being hypersensitive. They say moving is very stressful – that’s probably all it is.’
‘I’m sure you’re right.’ He removed his arms and picked up a glass that still had some champagne in it and drained it.
‘Let me ask you something – do you think ghosts exist?’ she asked.
‘Ghosts?’
‘You said something about them, earlier.’
‘I was joking.’
‘But do you? Do you think they exist?’
‘Why are you asking?’
She shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I just . . .’ She fell silent.
‘Just what?’ he prodded.
‘You’re an artist, you’re a very sensitive person, and you are open-minded.’
‘You think we have a ghost here? One that switches back on that box and slams doors?’
‘My pissed husband might have thought he’d switched it off and hadn’t. But he was downstairs, here with me, when that door slammed.’
‘Darling, ghosts inhabit ancient houses. This is a new-build, brand-new. No one’s lived here before.’
‘It’s on an historic site. We don’t know what went on before, in the old mansion that was here.’
‘Hey, we heard a sound like a door slamming upstairs – but all the doors are open. As I said, it’s probably the wood moving, that’s all.’
‘It’s not all.’
He looked hard at her. ‘What do you mean?’
She shook her head.
‘Tell me – what do you mean, it’s not all?
She shook her head again. ‘Nothing.’
He continued looking at her. Her face was pale, or was he imagining it? ‘What do you mean, nothing?’
‘Forget I said it.’
‘Something’s bothering you. Come on, share it with me.’
‘I’ll go and sort the food out,’ she said. ‘What time did we book the pub for tomorrow in the end?’
‘One thirty, and they said they need it back at three, because they’re so busy in the run-up to Christmas.’
‘That’s fine, great.’
She headed through to the kitchen. He followed her, relieved to see the home command box was still unplugged, as he had left it. ‘Come on, we always promised each other no secrets. What is it?’
‘Honestly, nothing. Forget I ever said it.’ She smiled. ‘OK?’
‘OK,’ he said hesitantly.
They kissed.
‘I was planning to work tonight but I don’t think I can,’ he said.
‘I was going to get on with unpacking and I don’t think I can, either.’
‘Let’s have supper in front of the telly. There’s a couple of Netflix things I really want to see.’
‘Good plan,’ she said. ‘If I can stay awake.’
‘Everything’s going to be fine. I love this house. I can work here, I know I can.’
She smiled. ‘I love it too. It is – it’s going to be great for us both.’
‘What was it Penis-Weewee said tonight? Happy wife, happy life?’
Emily laughed. ‘Don’t you ever dare say that to me!’
He raised his arms. ‘Would I ever need to?’
Playfully, she raised her right hand, curled her fingers and gave him the bird.