‘Just fucking talk,’ implored Belinda.

‘Now, let the games begin, may the odds be ever in your favour, and to those about to die, we salute you!’

And then she picked up a bell and rang it so loudly into the microphone that Nelson thought blood might pour from his ears.

‘Well, go on then, Inspector Gadget,’ said Belinda, detaching herself from his body. ‘Give it your best shot. I’ll be watching.’

SUGAR BABIES

Achilles had put a lot of time into his outfit this morning and was wearing his favourite Calvin Klein jeans, a snow-white V-necked tee that sunk low enough to reveal the tight pads of his pectoral muscles, a blue short-sleeved shirt that he left completely unbuttoned and the replacement trainers he’d bought online, adding a touch of Paco Rabanne fragrance to his neck, wrists and crotch. As he came downstairs, he caught a whiff of something ghastly and gave his armpits a quick sniff to make sure that it wasn’t him, but a moment later Elizabeth and her boyfriend emerged from the living room.

‘Forgot to put your deodorant on today, Catweazle?’ he asked, maintaining a safe distance in order to avoid being infected by any vengeful aromas that might attach themselves to him.

‘Shut up, Achilles,’ snapped Elizabeth.

‘You shut up,’ replied Achilles, ever the wit, as he left the house.

Boarding the District Line Tube in the direction of Whitechapel, he appreciated the admiring glances he was receiving from men, women, boys and girls alike but pretended to be completely oblivious to them. Usually, he kept his eyes on his phone, ignoring the attention, but he sensed someone standing up further down the carriage and making their way in his direction, before sitting down on the empty seat next to him.

‘Ghost!’ he said, turning to look at her and breaking into a wide grin. ‘You don’t mind if I call you that, do you?’

‘I’d prefer if you didn’t,’ she said. ‘I’m more than just a job title, you know.’

‘All right. But I don’t think I’ve gone so far as to learn your name yet.’

‘You’ve been told it.’

‘Have I?’

‘Several times. But perhaps you didn’t feel it was worth remembering.’

He thought about this before shrugging his shoulders. ‘That does sound like me,’ he admitted. ‘You’re all dressed up,’ he added, looking her up and down. ‘Going somewhere special?’

‘I’m meeting a friend later,’ she said.

‘A male friend.’

‘Yes. And you?’

‘The same. I bet you’re going on one of those Guardian blind-date things that they publish on Saturdays, aren’t you?’

‘I’m not, actually,’ she said. ‘And that’s a pretty random assumption to make, don’t you think?’

‘I didn’t mean it to sound rude,’ he replied.

‘I don’t think you’re rude so much as lost,’ continued the ghost. ‘Were you always like this or is it something that’s grown progressively worse as you’ve got older?’

Achilles was not someone who typically found himself stuck for words, but he did now.