As to how it (he!) knew these matters he so fluently related, or why he related them – who is to say what knowledge such a creature should or shouldn’t have and tell? But one thing Kyle knew for certain was this: that the information to which he now found himself privy was vastly important, and that he must also consider himself privileged to be the medium through which it was imparted.
As a pain suddenly shot up his forearm from his wrist, causing him to drop his pencil and clutch at his hand as it went into a brief spasm, so his unearthly visitor paused. It was as good a juncture as any, Kyle thought, and he was grateful. He massaged his hand and wrist for a
minute, then took up a sharpener and renewed the
pencil’s point for what must be the ninth or tenth time at least.
‘Why not use a pen?’ the ghost asked, in such a perfectly natural and inquiring tone that Kyle found himself answering without even considering that he talked to something far less substantial than smoke.
‘I prefer pencils. Always have. Just a quirk, I suppose. Anyway, they don’t run out of ink! I’m sorry I stopped just then, but my wrist feels mangled!’
‘We’ve a way to go yet.’
‘I’ll manage some how.’
‘Look, go and get yourself another coffee. Have a cigarette. I realise how strange all this must be for you. It’s strange for me, too – but if I were you my nerves would be leaping! I think you’re doing remarkably well. And we’re getting on fine. I was fully prepared, before I came here, to allow several visits just to let you adjust to me. So as you can see, we’re well ahead.’
‘Yes, well it’s time that’s worrying me,’ Kyle answered, lighting up and drawing luxuriously on the smoke, saturating his lungs with it. ‘You see, I’ve a meeting to attend at 4:00 p.m. It’s then that I’m to try to convince some rather important people that they keep the branch open and allow me to take over from Sir Keenan and run it. So you see, I’d like to be finished before then.’
‘Don’t let it concern you,’ the other smiled his wan smile. ‘Consider them convinced.’
‘Oh?’ Kyle got up and went through into the main office, put money into the coffee machine. This time the ghost followed him, stood behind him. When he turned from the machine it was there, office furniture visible right through it. It was less than a holograph, less than a bubble, ectoplasm. Kyle started and slopped a little coffee, edged around the other and went back into Gormley’s office.
‘Yes,’ the ghost continued, back where it had been, ‘I believe we’ll be able to “sway” your superiors in your favour.’
‘We?’ said Kyle.
The other merely shrugged. ‘We’ll see. Anyway, I want to tell you a little more about Harry Keogh now, before returning to Dragosani. Sorry to jump about like this, but it’s better if you see a complete picture.’
‘Anything you say.’
‘Are you ready?’
‘Yes,’ Kyle took up his pencil. ‘Except. . .’
‘Well?’
‘It’s just that I was wondering where you fit into all of this?’
‘Me?’ the ghost raised its eyebrows. ‘I suppose I’d have been disappointed if you hadn’t asked. Since you have: if things work out the way I hope, I’ll be your future boss!’
Kyle’s face twitched and he grinned lopsidedly. ‘A … ghost? My future boss?’
‘I thought we’d been through that once,’ said the other. ‘I’m not a ghost and never have been. Though I’ll admit I came pretty close. But we’ll get to that, you’ll see.’
Kyle nodded.
‘Can we get on now?’
And Kyle nodded again.
Chapter Seven
Harry Keogh was miles away, his thoughts lost in the clouds that drifted like puffs of cotton wool on the blue ocean of a summer sky. Hands behind his head, a blade of sweet grass standing straight up like a tiny mast, its white tip trapped in his teeth, he hadn’t said a word since they’d made love. Seagulls cried where they made white splashes in the shallows, diving for fish, and their somehow plaintive songs came up off the sea on a breeze that moved the grass on the dunes like a caress.