Walking with Ghosts

of dates. Nothing serious. The odd night 0n the town. She might’ve gone to bed with one of the guys. The soft one, whatever he was called. Stuart? Yeah, Stuart.
    All of that Geordie had taken in his stride. Marie deserved a few breaks. A woman living alone, not out of choice, but because she’d been made a widow far too early. That was not something you’d wish on anyone.
    ‘I like her,’ J.D. said, as if he’d been reading Geordie’s thoughts. ‘I like her, and she likes me. Neither of us have got anybody else. We both want this, for Christ’s sake. What’s wrong with that?’
    ‘Nothing,’ said Geordie. ‘It’s great.’
    ‘So what’s with all the downcast looks and the long silences? Shit, as soon as you saw us together you brought out the morgue atmosphere. I’m telling you, friend, something’s bothering you, and if it isn’t me and Marie, what is it?’
    ‘Yeah, OK,’ Geordie admitted. ‘I don’t know how to explain it, though. It’s like Marie’s been a friend of mine for ages. And I knew Gus as well, her husband. She tell you about that?’
    ‘How he bought it? Yes.’
    ‘Well, what it is, I don’t want her to get hurt.’
    ‘Why should I hurt her?’
    ‘I don’t know.’
    ‘D’you think everybody’s gonna hurt her? I mean guys. You think her other boyfriends are gonna hurt her?’
    No.’ Geordie took his eyes off the road and looked over at J.D. ‘I’m sorry. I can’t explain it.’
    OK, I’ll tell you, Geordie. What you saw between us this morning was passion. And it’s passion that you’re afraid of. Passion that you think might hurt her.’
    ’You think so? I didn’t think that.’
    ‘OK, maybe you weren’t aware of it, but that’s what sent you looking for a nervous breakdown. And you might be right. Passion is a powerful force. Marie might get mauled by it. And me. All of us. But if that happens, you won’t be able to stop it. Marie and me are thinking about each other all the time. We’ve been waiting years for this, and now it’s come. It’s like toothache. You can’t get away from it.’ Geordie was quiet for several minutes. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said eventually. ‘It was a gut reaction. I’m glad for her. Glad for both of you. Me and Janet was like that at first.’ He laughed, ‘We still are sometimes.’
     
    They entered a large estate in which the houses were of different sizes, but looked alike. The roads were designed with a gentle curve to them. Geordie stopped at the edge of a perfectly trimmed lawn, and he and J.D. walked along the path to the house.
    The woman who opened the door was under forty. She had blond hair cut short, and wore a lumberjack checked shirt and baggy jeans. She smiled and raised her eyebrows in the most wholesome way imaginable.
    ‘I’m Geordie Black, and this is my associate, J.D. Pears. We have an appointment to see Ms Marsh.’
    ‘I’m Polly Marsh,’ she said. ‘Sorry, I think I was expecting someone a little older.’
    ‘I get a little older every day,’ Geordie told her. He was pleased with that. It came to him naturally, out of the air. And it was the kind of thing Sam would’ve said. A bit of spontaneous funny to put everyone at their ease.
    They followed her through a small reception area into a long living room. She turned to face them, and waved in the direction of a plush-looking sofa. ‘Just one thing,’ she said. ‘It’s Miss, not Ms. I’m still in the market for a husband, and they tend to get scared off easily when there’s an element of confusion.’ The bright wholesome smile again. ‘Now, tea or coffee?’
    She got them settled, brought up a long, low coffee table with a glass top. Served tea and coffee and biscuits, and hose long Italian breadsticks in a flower vase. On a separate plate lay a broken-open chocolate orange, with some of the sections stuck together.
    Geordie felt it would be wrong to dive in with questions right away in front of such a spread. It would be more natural to sip the coffee and make small talk for a while, nibble a biscuit, wait at least until J.D. had finished up the chocolate orange. But Polly Marsh didn’t want to wait. ‘You’re private detectives?’ she said.
    Geordie didn’t want to explain who J.D. was, so he nodded and let her assume whatever she wanted.
    ‘I did have a visit from the police,’ she said, ‘when Mr Blake was “helping them with their inquiries”, and they said they’d be back. But I never heard from them again. I