Page 89 of Unalive On Air

“I never expected him to be this hot,” I say to Jeanie in a whisper. We’re in a funeral home. It feels natural to keep our voices low. “He’s so . . . refined.”

Jeanie smiles, then presses her finger to her lips.

“Certainly, Jock . . . No, totally understandable . . . We’ll sort this right away,” Angel says in his deep Cornish accent. He hangs up the phone and pushes up from his desk. Slowly, he walks around to the front of the shop and shuts the door the postman failed to close on his way out.

Angel breathes out a long sigh, then moves over to a small mirror hanging on the wall beside the window and fixes his hair. He smiles to himself, like deep down he knows he’s been genetically blessed, and then he turns to Jeanie and me.

“Imogen, I was hoping I’d see you soon. And Gary Runcorn, why, thank you. You’re not so bad looking yourself.”

I’m pretty sure I pass out.

twenty-two

Fatal Attraction

“You can see me?” I say. I can’t touch or interact with objects in any way, and yet, I still manage to trip over something. “You can see us and you know who I am?”

Angel grins. “That’s the main reason your ghost is able to be here. From what I understand about spirits, your ‘boundary’ extends to wherever your body is.”

“My body’s here?” I’m not sure why, but I look at Jeanie.

“For now. It’s getting moved soon,” Angel says. He must notice the confusion on my face because he adds, “To the morgue in Truro for forensic examination.”

“Oh.” I’m not sure what I’m more impressed by, Angel’s calmness, his matter-of-fact discussion of my corpse, or that he can fucking see ghosts. “How?”

“Probably in a van,” Jeanie says.

“No.” Shit, not what I meant. “Not how will they transport my body, how is it possible that you can see ghosts?” I ask Angel.

“Ahh, right. Yeah, no idea, son. Been able to since I was a kid,” he replies.

I look at Jeanie, hoping for some embellishment, but she simply smiles and shrugs a single shoulder.

I try a different approach. “So, you’ve been minding my remains?”

“You could say that,” he says.

I want to ask Angel if anyone had been in contact with him about me. My parents specifically. But I already know the answer to that, so I keep my mouth shut and swallow the dullness.

“Jeanie, you knew he could see ghosts.” It’s not a question, but regardless, she doesn’t bite. “Why haven’t you told me?”

“It’s need to know information,” she says. “Most spirits’ boundaries don’t extend this far.”

“Except Peter’s. Is that why you didn’t want him coming today? Does he know Angel—wait, should I call you Angel or Kelsey?” I ask.

“Mr Cobbledick if you please,” Angel says.

“Yes, sorry. Does Peter know Mr Cobbledick can see and speak to ghosts?”

Instead of answering my question, they both burst out laughing.

“Angel’s fine,” Angel says. “Or Kel. You don’t have to call me Mr Cobbledick. Bit of a silly name, innum?”

I’m still unsure if he’s taking the piss, but I reluctantly agree with him. “Well, I guess it is rather unusual.” And I wait for the incoming punchline. It never arrives.

Jeanie speaks instead. “Gary here thinks you murdered all the Paragon ghosts because their deaths bear a striking resemblance to the ones in Peggy in the Middle.”

My jaw’s on the floor. I’m staring at Jeanie, telepathically transplanting my thoughts into her head. You’re not supposed to fucking say that out loud.