266. Ghost story (1)

My husband is just home from work and he looks tired. Work has been hectic for him lately with lots of problems and lots of last minute changes. 

'Trip to Orléans cancelled. Boss can't make it, he's crashed his car.'

'What?' I say, stifling a laugh. 'With the Maserati?'

This is mean, I  know. But when I found out this man had bought a Maserati I thought the two of them were not suited. And hearing of a crash I have vision of this large chubby man with languid manners trying to handle a tight corner at great speed. 

'Is he hurt?' I ask.

'No, but the car is a write-off.'

This time I laugh. 

'Oh and ... Trip to London cancelled. Train strike.'

I don't even have time to comment on this that Baby jumps into the conversation.

'I'm going out!' She says. 'Can I stay to 1 AM? OK-Thanks-Bye.' And she heads towards the front door.

'Have fun!' My husband shouts to her. 

'HEY!' Both Muddy Boots and I scream out loud.

'HEY! 1 IN THE MORNING? SHE IS 15!!!'

My husband looks at us, wondering what the fuss is all about and turns to Baby who is very very close to the front door.

'When I was her age, I had to be home for 11!' Muddy-Boots is horrified at such an injustice.

Follows an exchange of views on the topic and finally Baby is out with an 11PM curfew.

And then it's just the two of us. 

'Is is just the two of us?' my husband looks as if he can hardly believe his luck.

I have cooked a curry and remembered to put beer in the fridge. We sit down to eat. The house is quiet, even the dog is asleep. Suddenly a creaking sound ... is it Baby coming back to argue her case? But there is no-one behind the door. 

I turn my head towards the glass door that separates the dining room where we are sitting from the lounge and notice that the right-hand door is moving very slowly as if an invisible mischievous hand was pushing it open to intrude on our peaceful tête-à-tête. Then it stops and all is quiet again. 

'It's that ghost again.' My husband says in the most natural way as if he'd told me he'd left the outside door opened.

I turn my gaze to him and try to study his expression. Is he being serious? Is work really getting to him ... or does he really believe there is a ghost in the house. He looks as if he has more to say on the matter.