The Secrets of Ghosts by Sarah Painter

about.’
    ‘I hate it when people say things like that,’ Max said. ‘They’re usually lying. And I don’t see why you think we have heatstroke. We’ve been indoors. I feel fine.’
    ‘You just need to eat this. Ideally, let it dissolve under your tongue.’
    ‘It’s just dried, salted lemon. They use it as a salad ingredient in Greece, you know.’
    ‘Salt’s very bad for you,’ Max said. His voice neutral.
    ‘Drink plenty of water afterwards to counteract dehydration,’ Gwen continued as if he hadn’t spoken.
    ‘I really don’t think I’ve got—’
    ‘Please,’ Katie said. ‘I know it’s a lot to ask—’
    ‘Fine,’ Max said. He took the lemon from Gwen and put it in his mouth. ‘This is fucking disgusting,’ he said, pulling a terrible face. His jaw worked and his expression got worse.
    ‘Try to let it dissolve. Leave it in your mouth as long as you can.’
    ‘God,’ Max said. ‘It’s horrible.’
    ‘Think of it as one of your trials,’ Gwen said, ‘to win the hand of the fair maiden.’
    ‘Hey,’ Katie said. ‘My hands aren’t for sale, thank you very much.’
    ‘Sorry.’ Gwen nodded at Katie. ‘My mistake.’
    ‘Gah,’ Max said. ‘This is really grim.’
    ‘At least it isn’t pennywort. That makes you hurl. Gets the, um, heatstroke, out but purges everything else at the same time.’
    ‘Mmm,’ Max said, still chewing. He swallowed with a visible effort. ‘Purging is still a distinct possibility.’
    ‘Water,’ Gwen said, thrusting a glass at him.
    Half an hour later, they were back outside in the sunny garden. Max was lying on the grass, his hands behind his head watching the sky, and Katie was pretending that she wasn’t watching him. Gwen wasn’t pretending at all and had been staring at Katie with intensity for about ten minutes. Finally, Katie turned to her. ‘What?’
    Gwen didn’t look away. ‘Max. Would you do me a favour and go and refill my glass? Lemonade. Two ice cubes.’
    Once he’d got to his feet and headed into the house, Gwen said, ‘Tell me what happened again.’
    Katie did.
    Gwen leaned in. ‘You know how Lily died?’
    Lily Thomas, Gwen’s ex-neighbour and genuine psychotic. ‘The ceiling collapsed on her,’ Katie said, reaching for the comforting shape of her revolver necklace. ‘In the dining room.’
    ‘It didn’t just collapse. I think Iris did it.’
    ‘Iris. As in dead Iris.’
    ‘Yes,’ Gwen said. ‘I felt like she was still here. When I first arrived. The house had a specific feel and I know I was reading her journals all the time and there were notes from her to me, like she was talking to me from beyond the grave, but it was more than that. A feeling.’
    ‘Fair enough. So Iris was haunting you and she dropped the ceiling on Lily. Go Iris. Hope you remembered to thank her.’ A thought occurred to Katie. ‘Is she still here? Have you seen her or anything?’
    Gwen shook her head. ‘I felt her leave. After Lily. Something changed in the house, suddenly, it was truly my house and Iris had gone.’
    Katie nodded. It made sense. One witch in a house at any time. Any more than that and there was trouble. Just look at Gwen and Gloria.
    ‘The man who died—’ Gwen began.
    ‘Mr Cole,’ Katie said. ‘You think this is something to do with him?’
    ‘I don’t know, but it’s possible.’
    ‘You mean the magpie thing might not be a curse? It might be a restless spirit, asking me for help?’ Katie leant forward.
    Gwen sat back. ‘I have no idea.’
    ‘So what should I do? Do I have to help him into the light or something? Is he throwing vases at me because he thinks I’m not paying him enough attention?’
    ‘It’s really not my area. Iris left of her own accord. I didn’t make her go.’
    ‘Is there anything else in the journals from ghost-whisperer granny? The
CSI
one?’
    ‘No. Sorry. Iris doesn’t write about it much. She’s very damning about communicating with the dead,’ Gwen said. ‘She says that