Three days after returning from our surprise mini-break to Split, V is still suspiciously merry. I observe from a safe distance as she skips around the flat, humming Kung Fu Fighting, cleaning and tidying without so much as an expertly delivered tactical verbal assault on my own household skills.
Admittedly, at one point she does break off to slap my chops, playfully. But on the whole, she appears to be on top of the world.
I don't know why this should be so, especially as it appears we have a poltergeist residing with us. Just this morning, I stepped out of the shower and was surprised to find a magazine resting on top of my pyjamas. It definitely wasn't there when I got in.
Yesterday I was cooking dinner. I opened the kitchen window and leant out to cut some herbs from our windowbox. When I turned round there was the same magazine, sitting on the chopping board. I expect that if I break off from writing this, say to go to the toilet, the magazine will be propped up on my laptop when I return. It's all very odd.
Even stranger is the fact that the magazine is always open at the same place - a feature about how scientists now say that men, as well as women, have biological clocks. The jist of the piece is that men over the age of 45 are, in terms of reproduction, a spent force - a bit like the current Leeds United squad. I wouldn't mind, but the article is plainly nonsense.
V is in the kitchen whistling showtunes and rummaging around in the food cupboard. She occasionally tuts (cheerily, of course) and pulls out a jar or packet, before returning to the darkest recesses of the larder and hauling out yet more stuff. I broach the subject of the mysterious goings-on.
"It seems we have a ghost in the house," I say.
"Really? What larks."
"Yes, a ghost who keeps moving the latest issue of Cosmopolitan magazine around."
"How curious!"
"Mmm. It's like it's trying to draw my attention to something. Quite annoying."
"I think she sounds quite fun."
"How do you know it's a she?"
"A male poltergeist wouldn't read Cosmopolitan."
"Right. Well I think we need to drive her from this place. Have an exorcism."
V breathes in sharply and shakes her head.
"Dunno about that," she says. "She sounds wise. Maybe you should listen to her."
"Maybe it would be easier to listen to her if she just spoke to me rather than leaving cryptic messages."
"You might not want like what she has to say. It could be a bit scary for you."
"What are you doing in there anyway?" I ask, changing the subject.
"Throwing stuff out."
"You're not getting rid of everything are you?"
"No," she says, emerging from the cupboard to give me a pointed look. "Just the stuff that's past its sell-by date."
I leave the kitchen, the look of a haunted man about me.
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