Page 68 of On Circus Lane

“Hang on. Who said anything about keeping?” They both direct matching stares at me, and I groan. “I don’t know what it is about him, but there’s something there. Something I’ve never felt before. He’s fascinating.”

My sister shakes her head in wonder. “You’re Dad.”

“Have you been huffing glue or something?”

She pinches me, then ignores my sound of pain and stares thoughtfully into the distance. “You know Mum and Dad’s story. He says he met her and never looked at another woman.”

I nod. “He said he knew immediately that she was different.”

“Well, then.”

“Well, what? Could you be any more cryptic?”

“I don’t think she’s actually being cryptic at all,” Jack says. “And neither do you, Tom.”

Silence falls. “I know,” I say after a moment. “Somehow, he’s different than everyone else.” My thoughts swirl.

Jack hums thoughtfully. “You’re a romantic.”

“I amnot,” I say, disgusted.

He nods. “You are, and how could you be otherwise with your parents? I’ve always loved that about them. It’s so inspiring to see two people who love each other so much. My parents feel more for the conservative party than they do each other.”

“They’re less inspiring when they snog at the Sunday dinner table,” my sister says, and I nod in agreement.

We find Theo and Georgina waiting, swaddled in coats, when we arrive at the graveyard. “This is a creepy place,” Georgina says, passing out hugs.

Freddy reaches into his pocket and produces some Santa hats. “One each.”

“On aghostwalk?” Jack says, amusement tugging at his mouth.

“No arguing.”

My eyes automatically gravitate towards Bee. He’s not the loudest or the most opinionated in the group, but for me, he shines brightest. He puts on the red velvet hat and has a rather judicious expression that makes my mouth twitch. He looks over as if sensing my gaze, and the wide smile he immediately gives me makes my heart beat faster.

I smile back helplessly and then look over at Jack, whose eyes are twinkling. “Shut up.”

He makes a zipping motion over his mouth, and I roll my eyes.

I don my hat as our guide approaches. He’s a thin, serious-looking man wearing what looks to be a highwayman’s costume, but he accepts the hat Freddy offers him with a smile.

“Good evening. Are you the Wright party?” Sal nods, offering him the receipt of our payment. “That’s great. We’re just waiting for another group to join us, and then we’ll begin.”

As if on cue, a group of blokes come around the corner talking loudly. They pass next to us, and the smell of booze almost makes my eyes water.

The tour guide gives them a sideways glance but carries on gamely. “So, tonight, we are entering one of the most haunted cemeteries in the world.”

Bee edges next to me, and I grin at him. “How do they know that?” he whispers.

“Know what?”

“That it’s the most haunted cemetery in the world. Ghosts are unquantifiable objects, so it’s impossible to gain a correct measurement of these things.”

I push his glasses up onto his cute, beaky nose. “You tell him, tiger.”

He flushes and shoves me, his eyes sparking with laughter. “You’re such a prat.”

“It has been said.”

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