by Gil Brailey
Considering she had never taken on DIY on this scale before, Faith took all the works in her stride. She didn’t rush it, as she had no plans of finding lodgers she decided. Money sure was tight, but as if aware of this, Phil had offered her an immediate rise, and encouraged her to stay as his PA, promising more responsibilities, more prospects. Faith realised one day as she put her key into the lock at Renfield Road that she had never been happier. She ran along the hall to the kitchen, and opening the back door, there he was, just as she had seen him the first time round, smoking again, turning over his shoulder to throw her that blinding smile.
Scared that he might just disappear like last time, Faith did not take her eyes off him, running down the steps to join him.
“I’ve missed you,” said Faith. “It’s been so long.”
“Has it?”
“Don’t leave it so long next time…”
“Let’s go inside,” he said.
They trailed back into the house and climbed the stairs to the attic where Faith found herself flinging herself at him, desperate for his touch, desperate to take possession of him again.
“You should find yourself a proper boyfriend, Mrs Harris.”
“Why would I want another boyfriend when I’ve got you?”
Nick smiled but the smile was full of regret; a sadness settled over them. “You were born about thirty years too late, or I was born thirty years too early. Take your pick.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me,” he said.
“I met your father, and your grandfather too, come to that.”
“Poor thing... did you?”
“You didn’t know? But I thought you knew everything, that’s what you told me.”
“Not quite everything,” he said, “obviously.”
“I love it here Nick, I really love it,” she said.
“I knew you would.”
“Just thinking, though, I’ve never been involved with a ghost before.”
“Not a bundle of laughs, eh?”
“Kiss me.”
Nothing else mattered, Faith decided, as they climbed up onto the bed and attacked each other with a desperation she had never felt before. She just wanted Nick, and this house, and her life would be complete. In fact it was complete. He was here with her again, and she would do her level best not to let him leave her this time. But when she woke up an hour later, she knew he had gone, she didn’t even call out his name. She wanted to cry but she didn’t, he might be looking down at her from somewhere and she didn’t want him to think she was desperate, or dependent or any of those things. She wanted him to come again of his own free will, not just to cheer her up.
And so it went on. Nick would come to her on average two to three times a month, they would chat, make love, and then he would go. It wasn’t much of a relationship really, but she decided that a few days here and there with Nick was much better than week on week of some other guy, and when he wasn’t there, Faith didn’t feel alone, rattling around in those massive rooms, she felt looked after, even though it was from afar. Only once did Faith try and find out what it was like to be dead, but Nick said there were no words to describe it, and anyway, he couldn’t tell her because it wasn’t the thing to do.