‘Selfridges?’ asked the ghost, uncertain why they would be going shopping, but before she could ask any further questions, the door was closed in her face.

Returning to the drawing room, Beverley was confronted by a frowning George.

‘There’s a tortoise in a box,’ he said, nodding towards the corner of the room. ‘Just over there. A tortoise. Where no tortoise should be.’

‘I know,’ she replied. ‘He’s come to stay for a little while. You don’t mind, do you?’

LOVE WHISTLE

Dr Twyla Oristo, tall, slim, the recipient of three separate PhDs, sat down opposite Nelson in her office, a pad and paper resting by her side, wearing the inscrutable smile she’d been perfecting since her earliest days as a therapist. Originally from Jamaica, she had come to England in 1979, on the same morning that Mrs Thatcher was first elected to high office. Although Nelson had been her patient for only eighteen months, she considered him the most likely to be upset by what she had to tell him today. For this reason, she had decided to hold off breaking her news until the end of their session.

‘So tell me about your week,’ she began.

‘It was terrible,’ he said. ‘I joined a gym.’

‘But that’s wonderful,’ she replied, brightening up. ‘I’m sure you’re familiar with the phrase mens sana in corpore sano?’

‘Healthy men make healthy soldiers?’

‘Well, not quite. But are you enjoying it?’

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘I’m afraid I’ve already been banned.’

‘Oh.’ She paused and tapped the end of her pen against her knee. ‘Are you going to tell me why?’

‘Why I joined or why I was banned?’

‘Either. Both.’

Nelson shrugged his shoulders and looked around the room, as if he might find the answer in one of the paintings on the wall. ‘The thing is, I’ve seen men and women go to gyms in movies,’ he said. ‘They always have flirtatious and amusing conversations that lead to dinner dates and sex, so I thought I might give it a try.’

‘Remember how we talked about not confusing real life and movies?’ said Dr Oristo.

‘Yes, but I thought this might be one of the occasions where films were based on true events. Like Titanic or Gandhi or Avengers: Endgame. So, I decided to give it a go. I even went out and spent a lot of money on the … what do you call it? The workout clothes.’

‘What did you buy?’

‘Green Lycra shorts and a matching tank-top.’

‘Lycra isn’t always the best idea for a man. And a tank-top often looks better on someone with more definition in their upper arms.’

‘I thought I looked rather good in it,’ replied Nelson, slightly offended. ‘Although there was a clear outline of my … you know. In my shorts.’

‘Nelson,’ said Dr Oristo, smiling benevolently at him. ‘You know we don’t use by-names in therapy. We call things what they are. We’re both adults, after all.’

‘Still, I’d rather not,’ he said.