Love, Like Ghosts: A Bay City Paranormal Investigations Story

draught.”
Orlando shut the door carefully behind him then wandered across to the huge brass bed, where Jonty
lay looking like a schoolboy in his striped pyjamas and with his hair all fluffed up from being washed. It
was a sight which filled him with thoughts even more tender than those he’d entered the room with.
Orlando ruffled his locks. “Feeling better?”
“Much, thank you. Have you been chin-wagging with Mama?”
Orlando nodded. “A pleasant way to pass the time.” He sought refuge in bland words, hoping his
friend wouldn’t come up with any probing questions just yet.
“And would it be pleasant to pass some time in my bed?” Jonty reached out his hand to finger
Orlando’s tie. “I have a hankering to lie with my lover which won’t be easily gainsaid.” “I think I would like that above all things.” Orlando started undressing, as brazen as he’d been the
afternoon when he’d got drunk and insisted on using Jonty’s bath. That now seemed long ago, an age of great innocence when they knew very little about each other. They knew much more now—hardly anything
was kept secret and that only because it didn’t really matter in the greater scheme of their lives. The innocence had now long gone—Orlando couldn’t believe what he’d been just a year or so ago.
Twenty-seven and a virgin. Twenty-seven and never been kissed. Twenty-seven and likely to remain
untouched until he died a dried-up death in a chair in St. Bride’s Senior Common Room. Then Jonty
Stewart came on the scene and all that had changed. Thank heaven he had.
Orlando wandered through the bathroom which connected their two bedrooms, found his pyjamas,
slipped them on, then returned to find Jonty snuggled down, book and reading glasses discarded. Orlando
slid between the soft linen sheets, drawing Jonty to him. “I’d hoped it was all over, you know.” “Hmm?”
“This business with the thunder. I always hoped that somehow I could overcome it with my affection
for you. ‘Perfect love casteth out fear’ and all that.”
“Well it should do, Orlando, but somehow it’s not as easy as it seems. We do have perfect love for
each other and I’d regard myself as blessed above all men ‘were it not that I have bad dreams’.” Jonty
shuddered, as if he were shaking off memories as easily as he could shake off his jacket. “Do you? Nightmares?”
“No, clown.” Jonty pinched his lover’s backside. “I was quoting your pal Hamlet. It isn’t the land of
nod, wherever I go when the storms come. I don’t feel distressed or see visions, I just visit somewhere else.
Very odd.”
“I think you go there to protect yourself, in case you remember anything.” Orlando smoothed his
lover’s hair, admiring the golden tones, the hints of auburn the firelight threw up.
“You could well be right. I don’t want to remember the gruesome details, thank you.” Jonty snuggled
onto his lover’s chest. “Want to make new memories with you. I think we should somehow wangle it one
night, you know, make love while a storm is at its height. That might just get rid of all the trouble. If I
could keep here for long enough to take an active part.”
Orlando held him tighter, kissed his brow. “I suppose I could pinch you or something. Shame there’s
not been a storm since we got the house—being there would make it easier.”
“There’ll be plenty in the spring. We just need to plan things. You’ll like that, working out your
military strategy.” Jonty giggled and launched an assault on his lover’s collarbone.
“Seems you’ve got a strategy worked out.” Orlando responded by caressing Stewart’s back, little,
tender movements which always brought contentment to them both.
“Sort of. It’s been a long time since we shared the last favours, my love. I’ve been skittish for too
long.”
The business with Jardine had become an ever-present menace, as if those who’d committed such
outrages on Jonty had somehow found access to his bedroom and were standing gloating, spoiling even the
most innocent of pleasures.
Orlando had been frustrated yet endeavoured to understand—he had to be patient, the worst thing to
do would be rushing or forcing things. None of this logical reasoning had helped. Now the lowering clouds
of unease seemed to have lifted and the sunshine of affection warmed him beyond measure. “If you’re sure,
I’m ready.”
“You always are, Dr. Coppersmith. Since you discovered the delights of the flesh you’ve