‘Well, we do share a sort of bond, don’t we?’ asked the ghost. ‘Given that we’re both writers.’

‘Only one of us is a writer, dear,’ said Beverley, with a patronizing smile.

‘True. But your name is on the covers of your books so people think of you as one.’

Beverley gritted her teeth, feeling an urge to throw the coffee in the ghost’s face, an urge she resisted for now.

‘It hasn’t been the best week for George, has it?’ asked the ghost.

‘Mr Cleverley has been going through a difficult time,’ said Beverley. ‘Which is not uncommon among men of a certain age. I’d prefer not to discuss it, if you don’t mind. It’s a private family matter.’

‘Of course. But if you want to talk—’

‘I don’t.’

‘But if you do—’

‘I don’t.’

‘Then I hope you know that I’m—’

‘But I don’t.’

‘All right.’

‘So,’ said Beverley, not wishing to continue this part of the conversation any further and placing her hands on the manuscript before her. ‘I’ve read the chapters you submitted.’

‘Oh good!’

‘And I have to say that I’m very disappointed.’

The ghost raised an eyebrow. ‘Really?’ she said. ‘I thought they were some of your best work.’

‘It’s as if you’ve entirely ignored all the parameters I set out for you. Carolyn, our heroine, is supposed to fall deeply in love with Marcel, the ski instructor, while only pretending to despise him. Instead, you have her actually despising him.’

‘Yes, but I thought your idea was a bit Jane Austen so—’

‘And what’s wrong with Jane Austen, might I ask? Her books have lasted for, what, four, five hundred years?’

‘There’s nothing at all wrong with Jane Austen, if you are Jane Austen. But if you’re not, then perhaps it can seem a bit silly to recycle one of her standard plot devices. Can’t we leave that sort of thing to Hollywood?’

‘But the way you write him goes against the whole spirit of the novel. Marcel is, for want of a better word, a complete dick.’

‘He is, isn’t he?’ said the ghost, looking delighted by this description.

‘But that’s not a good thing! He’s supposed to be gruff and unapproachable, wounded by a terrible secret from his past, but underneath … underneath, there is a kind, sexy billionaire – possibly with a neglected child in boarding school who only wants him to notice her – just waiting to get out. What he needs is the love of a good woman to strip away the dark exterior.’

‘Yes,’ said the ghost, taking a sip of her coffee. ‘But don’t you think that’s been done to death?’

‘Everything’s been done to death, my dear,’ said Beverley. ‘Life has been done to death. But we keep on breathing, don’t we?’

‘It’s just … and I don’t mean any offence here—’

‘I hate it when anyone starts a sentence in that way,’ said Beverley, finishing her Bellini and ordering another with a quick point to the waitress. ‘You can always guarantee that they’re about to offend you.’