Read Online The Ghost - Free Book Online Page A

her if she gave up, but I’m not sure how much longer that can go on for.”
    â€œFunny,” said Stone, sloshing his beer around, “I always had you pair down as happily-ever-after types.”
    Cook snorted. “You can never really judge someone else’s relationship from the outside.”
    This prompted a synchronised swig, noticed by both. Stone laughed, loud enough to turn a couple of heads.
    â€œHow’s Lydia doing at school?”
    Stone’s daughter was fourteen going on eighteen, with a swelling sexuality that Cook regarded with both alarm and allure.
    â€œI barely see her these days. She communicates more with her bloody gadgets than she does with her voice. I suppose Alfie is too young for all that?”
    Cook winced. “He’s well aware of it – more than I am, anyway. I hate the idea of ‘social media’ – this culture of virtual vanity.”
    â€œIt’s an American thing,” Stone confirmed. “They love bragging about their friends, talking about how successful everyone is. Brits used to find that a bit embarrassing but we’ve definitely got over it now.”
    Refreshment levels steadily increased and the conversation flowed into darker channels. Cook raised the topic of Stone’s troubles at work – he had recently been assaulted during the policing of a street protest and, unwisely, had retaliated, socking his (female) assailant on the chin with his sizeable fist, and laying her out cold. His promotion prospects had been frozen and he would soon face a disciplinary hearing.
    â€œListen, Dor…”
    Cook braced. Stone’s tone and posture was now familiar – maudlin, head hung low and heavy, weighted with booze. He was breathing like a bulldog.
    â€œCan you do me 2K? 3K at the end of the month.”
    It was a long-running arrangement. He would hand over £2000 in cash and, at the end of the month, always on time, Stone would deposit £3000 back into his account. Cook suspected a gambling debt, but couldn’t make sense of the economics. He emptied his glass and, unkindly, left the question unanswered for a few seconds.
    â€œOf course, mate.”
    *
    Later, hot-faced and ravenous, Cook bought a steak pasty and settled into the corner of a quiet carriage on the last Tube train home.
    He took out his phone and opened an email which notified him of a new message on
PastLives.com
. He laid the paper pasty bag down on the seat beside him, logged in and opened his profile inbox.
    Dor! I hope I don’t sound too pushy – and I hope you’re getting my messages. It’d be great if you could just give me a quick call mate! It’s really important. Think I might have got in touch with Dave but he hasn’t got back to me either!! Please mate. Just two minutes then I promise to leave you alone. Hope you’re really well!! Den
    The train jerked away from the station. Cook deleted the message, pocketed his phone and slumped forward, elbows on knees, head resting on clasped hands. The journey was around twenty minutes and he stayed in this position all the way, uneaten pasty by his side.

10. Foreshadows

    April, 1974
    â€œCity or United?”
    Uncle Russell raised Cook onto his shoulders, crouching slightly. As he gradually unbent his knees, Cook felt the peaks in the ceiling’s artex complexion brush against his hair.
    â€œUnited!”
    Russell drew himself almost upright, lifting Cook’s head closer to the plaster spikes. Both were laughing.
    â€œCity
or United?”
    â€œCity!
City!”
    Russell squatted down and Cook scrambled off his shoulders, brushing off-white flakes out of his hair. His uncle closed in for a follow-up armpit-tickle, but Cook saw it coming and was quickly up and running for the bottom of the stairs.
    â€œNana! Tell him!”
    A knock at the front door, rather than Cook’s plea, brought Esther thudding down the stairs.
    â€œLeave him alone,