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‘…The old theatre is home to many ghosts: most famous of all is the former actor Charlie Simion. It was 1913, and the touring Southern Shakespeare Company were passing through. It was a foggy winter night, and folks had come from far and wide to see the much-lauded rendition of the Scottish Play. It’s a well-known tale amongst theatre folk that’ – he hesitated and visibly shivered – ‘Macbeth is a cursed play. The curse dates back to a 1606 performance in which the actor playing Lady Macbeth died in an unexpected tragedy, forcing the great Bard himself to present the role – those being the days in which a female actor was akin to witchcraft.’

‘Superstitious idiots,’ Katie grumbled. ‘As if dressing up and prancing about on a stage has anything to do with wicca.’

‘Shhh!’

‘Charlie Simion, a great and widely praised actor of his time, fell victim to the savage and vicious curse – slipping from the stage midway through his great stage battle with Macduff.’ His eyes glazed over as he spoke. ‘He was cruelly impaled on his own sword, dying at the height of his great and promising career. It was, as it is today, a foggy night, the exact kind on which the apparition is most likely to be seen, still treading the boards, and the clash of metal swords can still be heard.’

‘Oooh, creepy.’ Katie giggled.

‘And now,’ the guide intoned, ‘onto the old hospital.’

The guide jogged down the steps of the theatre as a flash of movement caught Mia’s eye. A breeze so cold it was painful caught her left side, leaving her arm numb and her breath catching. The guide caught her arm, steadying her. ‘Sorry about that. Are you OK?’ His grey eyes were intense.

‘Yes.’ Mia rubbed her arm, chafing warmth back into it, not entirely sure what had happened or what the man was apologising for.

‘Oooh, it’s suddenly gone cold.’ Katie laughed. ‘Maybe the ghost wants to join the tour?’

‘Yeah.’ The guide pulled a face. ‘They often do. Especially Charlie. Right, who’s for the old hospital?’

‘Shall we?’ Katie asked.

‘Um…’ Mia checked her watch, which seemed to have stopped ticking. ‘Yeah, sure.’

‘Do you have somewhere else to be?’

‘No. Sorry.’

Even in the fading light, she could see the weird look Katie gave her, but chose to ignore it.

‘Hmm.’ Mia sighed happily, warm and drowsy and feeling incredibly relaxed. She squirmed slightly as Aiden’s fingers wandered over her back and down her side. ‘You’re not actually trying to count my freckles, are you?’

‘No.’ He carried on stroking, his fingers wandering in lazy patterns over her skin. ‘I lost count ages ago. Now I’m playing dot to dot.’

‘OK.’ She snuggled closer, and he wrapped his arm around her while she traced over the bluey-green ink that swirled over his chest and arms. ‘This darker one is new.’

‘A work in progress.’ He pressed his lips together, not liking lying to her, but knowing the magic gave him no choice.

‘What’s it going to be?’

He wished he knew the answer. ‘What do you think?’

‘It’s really stylised, and hard to see all of it, but if I followed this line here’ – her fingers traced over his skin and the ever-present itching blissfully stopped beneath her touch – ‘then it could be the start of a heart.’

‘Could be.’ He pondered on her answer.

‘Fine. Don’t tell me then.’ She snuggled back against him.

‘Don’t get too comfortable, Princess, I should probably go soon.’

‘It was late when you got here, Aiden. And after the last few hours you must be tired. You’re welcome to stay, if you’d like.’

‘Which would you prefer?’

‘I’m happy either way. It’s up to you.’

Even if she’d been wearing her glasses or lenses, she couldn’t have deciphered the look he gave her.

‘I’m not sure.’