Walking with Ghosts

at his watch. ‘Time to go.’
    ‘I’m ready,’ Janet said. She followed him outside, grabbing a coat from a hook and putting it on while she waited for Geordie to lock the door. Barney looked up at her, his head cocked to one side. Banks of dark cloud had stacked themselves up over the playing field — shadowy, heavy. But to the south the clouds were grey, blue, fluffy. Over the ditch at the bottom of the garden there was a huge tree. Geordie didn’t know what kind of tree it was. He made another mental note to look it up in a book.
    When Geordie looked back a couple of years, to the time Sam had picked him out of the gutter, he sometimes thought it was a dream. But it wasn’t. He had been a homeless down-and-out, and for some reason Sam Turner had pulled him out of it. Geordie would never understand why. And he’d never stop being grateful.
    Look at him now - not only Janet, and a house with real radiators for the winter, but all this nature as well: trees, and birds, horses in fields.
    They hadn’t switched on the heating yet, because it would cost money and it wasn’t really cold enough. But when they’d moved in during the summer they’d run it one day, just to make sure it worked. The whole house had been unbearably hot. They’d had to open all the windows and take off their clothes.
    At the end of the track they waited a couple of minutes for the bus, and sat together on the back seat, looking out at the other commuters making their way into York.
    In the city, Geordie left Janet outside the remainder bookshop where she worked, and walked on to the office.
     
    J.D. and Marie were already there, standing close to each other by the window. They turned towards him as he came in, both of them with a sheepish smile. Marie looked like Janet sometimes looked on a Sunday morning after a late Saturday night and a bit of a sleep in. J.D. just looked rough. His beard was pointing in a dozen different directions. But he jerked into life when he saw Geordie.
    ’Ready when you are, partner,’ he said. ‘I just have to shake the dew from my lily.’ He made his way to the door, and along the corridor to the lavatory.
    Geordie looked at Marie, and she hit him with a quick smile and a shrug of the shoulders. ‘Yeah, he’s a bit naff,’ she said. ‘But he knows how to treat a girl.’
    ’I like him,’ Geordie told her. ‘And I’m glad for you.’
    ’Yeah, yeah,’ said Marie, embarrassed. ‘I’ve shelved all plans to join a convent for the time being. Jesus’s got enough brides to be going on with. I don’t think he’ll miss this one.’
    ‘I could do without him for today. J.D., I mean. If you’d rather he went with you?’
    ‘No, Geordie. You take him. I want space. I mean, I really like him, but I need to breathe as well.’
    J.D. returned and went to Marie. He put his arm around her waist and looked at Geordie. ‘Son,’ he said, ‘I’ve been stabbed with a white wench’s black eye, and shot through the ear with a love song.’
    Marie pushed him away, clasped her hand to her breast. ‘Be still, my beating heart.’ She turned to Geordie. ‘Mercy,’ she said. ‘Get him out of here.’
     
    ‘Where we goin’?’ J.D. asked.
    Geordie waited for the car in front to peel off into Lord Mayor’s Walk, then accelerated along Clarence Street. ‘Wiggington,’ he said.
    ‘It’s not going to be dangerous, is it? I’m not a coward, but dead men sell no tales.’
    It took a while for Geordie to get the joke. And when he got it he didn’t think it was funny. Still laughed though, to be polite.
    J.D. turned his head towards Geordie, as if expecting more. But Geordie concentrated on the driving. It was true what he’d told Marie, he did like J.D. Or at least he had liked him when they first met. But now that the guy was having a steamy affair with Marie, Geordie was having to reorganize all his preconceptions. And that took time.
    Geordie didn’t have any claims on Marie. He didn’t like her like that, anyway. She was thirteen years older than him, and even if they’d been the same age it wouldn’t have made any difference. She wasn’t his type, and he was sure that he wasn’t her type either. They were friends. And that was the problem.
    Marie lived alone, and had done since her husband, Gus, had been blown away by a particularly nasty psychopath. After that episode Geordie didn’t think she’d ever have anything to do with another man. But over the past months he’d had a couple