And while I’ve never actually been convicted of anything, I’ve spent any number of hours in my mother’s therapist’s office, being assured that this tendency I have to talk to myself is perfectly normal, but that my propensity to talk to people who aren’t there probably isn’t.

Ditto my dislike of any building not constructed in the past five years.

Ditto the amount of time I spend in grave-yards, churches, temples, mosques, other people’s (locked) apartments or houses, and school grounds after hours.

I suppose Andy’s boys must have overheard something about this, and that’s where the whole gang thing came from. But like I said, I’ve never actually served time for anything I’ve done.

And that two-week suspension in the eighth grade isn’t even reflected on my permanent record.

So maybe it wasn’t so unusual for my mother to be sitting there on my bed, talking about ‘fresh starts’ and all of that. It was kind of weird that she was doing it while this ghost was sitting a few feet away, watching us. But whatever. She seemed to have a need to talk about how things were going to be much better for me out here on the West Coast.

And if that’s what she wanted, I was going to do my best to make sure she got it. I had already resolved not to do anything out here that was going to end up getting me arrested, so that was a start anyway.

‘Well,’ my mom said, running out of steam after her you-won’t-make-friends-unless-you-project-a-friendly-demeanour speech. ‘I guess if you don’t want help unpacking, I’ll go see how Andy is doing with dinner.’

Andy, in addition to being able to build just about anything, was also an excellent cook, something my mother most definitely was not.

I said, ‘Yeah, Mom, you go do that. I’ll just get settled in here, and I’ll be down in a minute.’

My mom nodded and got up – but she wasn’t about to let me escape that easily. Just as she was about to go out the door, she turned around and said, her blue eyes all filled with tears, ‘I just want you to be happy, Suzie. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. Do you think you can be happy here?’

I gave her a hug. I’m as tall as she is, in my ankle boots. ‘Sure, Mom,’ I said. ‘Sure, I’ll be happy here. I feel at home already.’

‘Really?’ My mom was sniffling. ‘You swear?’

‘I do.’ And I wasn’t lying, either. I mean, there’d been ghosts in my bedroom back in Brooklyn all the time, too.

She went away, and I shut the door quietly behind her. I waited until I couldn’t hear her heels on the stairs any more, and then I turned around.

‘All right,’ I said, to the presence on the window seat. ‘Who the hell are you?’

Three

To say that the guy looked surprised to be addressed in this manner would have been a massive understatement. He didn’t just look surprised. He actually looked over his shoulder, to see if it was really him I was talking to.