Nicky leaned over the kitchen worktop, preparing her lunch for work on a chopping board. Richard was standing in the doorway—reluctant to sit at the table.
“So what are you gonna do today then?” she asked, not looking at Richard. “Anything nice?”
“Don’t know yet,” he replied, shrugging at the same time.
Turning away from the chopping board to look at him, she grimaced. “You’re not still in a mood with me are you?”
He shook his head, indicating that he was.
Rolling her eyes, she turned back to her food. “Grow up, Rich. Just because I don’t believe something doesn’t give you the right to be pissed off with me. For God’s sake.”
“I’m not pissed off with you—I’m just tired. I didn’t sleep too well last night.”
She paused for a moment. “Oh, right. Why’s that?”
He shrugged again. “I don’t know. Still not used to being off work or something.”
“Well, you’ve got a few more days left—enjoy them while you can.” She put the food into a small plastic container and walked over to her handbag, which was hanging on the back of a chair. She slipped her lunch in and moved toward Richard. “Right—I’m off. Have a good day doing whatever it is you do all day, and I’ll see you later. All right?”
Forcing a smile, he leaned forward and kissed her lips. “Yeah, have a good one. See you later.”
She left the kitchen and made her way to the front door. “Try and get some sleep if you’re tired.” She gave a backhanded wave goodbye, and then slammed the door shut.
Taking his eyes from the front door, he turned back into the kitchen. He shuddered, realizing that he was alone in the kitchen, standing right next to the dreaded chair. He vacated the room and headed for the living room.
Sitting on the couch, he searched Nicky’s address book for Karen Leigh’s number. On finding it, he entered the number into his cell phone and held it to his ear. He waited as the call went through. Just as he was about to hang up, a voice sounded on the other end. “Hi, is this Karen?” he asked.
Karen Leigh was standing in the rain when Richard opened the front door. Her hair was wet, stuck to the sides of her face, and her drenched blue coat was long and puffy. Why doesn’t she have an umbrella? he thought, as he ushered her inside.
“Let me take your coat,” he said, as she stood in the hallway. “You’re soaking. I feel so guilty asking you over now.”
Pulling off her coat, she handed it over to him. “Don’t worry about it. It’s probably best if we speak at the house and not over the phone.” She glanced upstairs. “Is she here?”
He hesitated. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen her since yesterday. And I’ve heard nothing this morning.”
She looked confused, and then grinned. “I meant Nicky—your wife.”
“Oh, right—Nicky. I thought you meant the dead woman.” He shook his head with embarrassment. “No, she’s at work. Won’t be home ’til about five.”
“Okay. Probably best—she’ll only make fun of us.”
Nodding, he replied, “I know. Tell me about it. Every time I mention ghosts she laughs at me.”
“Shall we sit somewhere and talk?” she suggested, gesturing with her head to move into the living room.
“Yeah. Sorry. Let’s sit on the couch. Do you want something to drink? Tea? Coffee? Something cold?”
“No thanks, I’m fine,” she replied, waving her hand in refusal. “I haven’t got long.”
They entered the living room. He grabbed the remote control and turned off the TV.
Feeling awkward, he sat on the single sofa seat, whereas Karen sat on the couch. To see her sitting in his living room, willing to talk to him about such a strange and unbelievable problem, filled him with a quiet relief. To have someone he could vent his issues with was exactly what he needed. Until now, he thought that therapy was just a waste of money, just a way to pick the pockets of the weak and suggestible. But Karen, staring at him with excitement and eagerness in her eyes, was therapy he would happily pay for.