‘You couldn’t be any further off the mark,’ he said, hating how plaintive the words sounded as they left his mouth. ‘I’m neither of those things.’

‘Perhaps I’m wrong,’ she replied. ‘But you give off this sense of constant amusement at the world, as if it exists purely for your pleasure while you hover above it, rolling your eyes. Beneath all that charming disdain, though, I feel like you’re bristling with rage. Those snarky comments of yours, that sense of superiority. They’re not attractive traits.’

Achilles looked straight ahead of him at a woman seated on the opposite side of the carriage who was nodding her head in time with the music playing through her earphones, although something in her expression and movements made him think that she’d put it on mute and was listening in to their conversation.

‘You don’t know me,’ he said quietly, his tone laced with petulance as his earlier confidence began to slip away.

‘I know your type,’ she said. ‘The truth is, boys like you are two a penny. Popular teenagers who lose just a little of their status when they go to university and realize that others aren’t so impressed by them any more. And then, when that comes to an end and everyone is struggling for work and trying to make ends meet and you’re not quite as young as you used to be?’ She shook her head. ‘Believe me, things can change very quickly. I wonder is there a decent little boy in there somewhere, behind all your bluster?’

‘Stop calling me a little boy,’ he said. ‘I might be short for my age but—’

‘Oh Christ, if you say that you make up for it in other departments, I’ll be so disappointed in you. Nothing you’ve said since I’ve met you has been a cliché. It’s been smug and obnoxious but never a cliché. So please don’t fall into that trap now.’

‘I wasn’t going to say that,’ he replied, even though that’s exactly what he had been about to say. ‘And I’m not so insecure that anything you say can affect me in the slightest.’

‘But you are,’ she said with a smile. ‘You’re exactly that insecure.’

He swallowed and looked away. The train passed through Westminster and then Embankment before he spoke again.

‘Fine,’ he said. ‘I’ll stop behaving like a douche around you if you stop saying mean things to me. I’m not made of stone, you know.’

‘That would be lovely, thanks.’

‘No problem. I hope you’ve got all that out of your system anyway. Otherwise, your date’s in for a rough time of it. So how are you enjoying the new job? Getting on okay with my mother?’

‘It’s more complicated than I expected,’ said the ghost. ‘She doesn’t give a lot of direction.’

‘No? Does that help or hinder your creativity?’

The ghost considered this. ‘I suppose it helps,’ she replied. ‘But I don’t know if Beverley will be happy with what I’m writing. Assuming she even reads it, that is.’