Read Online Tamsyn Murray-Afterlife 01 My So-Called Afterlife by Tamsyn Murray - Free Book Online Page B

fear again. ‘I could see someone watching me all the way along Carnaby Street. When I reached the loos he called out to me. He said he’d heard an animal crying in the toilet and thought some boys had been tormenting a puppy down there. He asked if I’d go down and check on it while he called the RSPCA.’ Even in the depths of my worst nightmare, I managed a half-hearted snort. ‘Like anyone would be dumb enough to fall for that. Anyway, he must have seen me turning away, because the next thing I knew, he’d hooked an arm around my throat and whispered that he had a knife. Once he’d dragged me down the stairs there was nothing I could do.’ I lowered my head into my hands, misery pooling in my stomach. ‘I couldn’t get away, and it hurt so much.’
    Jeremy’s expression was wretched as he watched mestruggle not to cry. ‘It’s OK. That’s enough for now.’ He fiddled with his jacket while I composed myself. ‘I’m going to keep digging, see what I can find out.’ He stared at me, serious and worried-looking. ‘We could be dealing with a serial killer. If I’m right, this man probably plans to kill again.’
    The words dragged me down after he’d gone. Apart from the details I’d shared, I’d purposefully blocked out most of what happened the night I died. There’d been no point in going over it again and again on my own. But if my killer was out there deciding on his next victim, could I really sit back and let it happen? Didn’t I have a duty to put a stop to his murderous ways? I forced the thought to the back of my mind. Finding him could cost me my newfound happiness. It wasn’t a chance I wanted to take.
    ‘Hep, can I ask you something?’
    We were sitting on her old bedroom floor, practising flicking the Blu-tack from her posters at the wastepaper bin. So far, she was winning, but my aim was improving.
    ‘Depends on the question.’
    I tossed my gaze skywards. She could be so moody sometimes. ‘Have you ever kissed another ghost?’
    Her shot pinged off the window. She turned to stare at me. ‘No. Don’t you think I’ve got enough issues without adding romantic angst into the mix?’
    She had a point. ‘Suppose so. If you were going to, though, how would you do it?’
    ‘Let me guess. We’re talking about Ryan the Love God here, right?’
    Move over Einstein, there’s a new genius in town. ‘I wasn’t thinking of Gawjus George,’ I said, referring to the dribbling old ghost who had taken a bit of a shine to me over at the Dearly D.
    She shrugged and resumed her flicking. ‘I suppose it’s possible. It’s only physical objects we have trouble touching, not ghostly ones. I’m not sure how satisfying a snog-fest would be, though. It can’t be the same can it, without real lips?’
    It had me worried too. After my trip to the cinema with Ryan, I’d had the distinct impression that we both wanted to take things a step further, but neither of us knew how. It was hard enough working out the right time to kiss someone for the first time without all the added complications of being dead. In the end, we’d settled for some deeply unsatisfactory arm touching and smiling at each other wistfully. Then he’d watched as I’d made my solitary way down the steps to my loo. It had to be up there as one of the most disappointing ends to a date in the history of the universe.
    We played in silence for a minute. I was catching up. ‘Won’t your parents wonder where all the mess came from?’
    ‘Nah. They’re used to much worse things.’ A sad smile crept over her face. ‘Not long after I died, I emptied every box of cereal over the living-room carpet. Have you ever tried to get Sugar Puffs out of a faux-fur rug?’
    Sometimes I didn’t understand her. ‘Why would you do that?’
    She shrugged. ‘I was angry and wanted them to know about it. They never understood why I committed suicide.’
    I couldn’t help feeling confused. ‘And you thought you could communicate that best using