‘All right. But I don’t think I’ve gone so far as to learn your name yet.’
‘You’ve been told it.’
‘Have I?’
‘Several times. But perhaps you didn’t feel it was worth remembering.’
He thought about this before shrugging his shoulders. ‘That does sound like me,’ he admitted. ‘You’re all dressed up,’ he added, looking her up and down. ‘Going somewhere special?’
‘I’m meeting a friend later,’ she said.
‘A male friend.’
‘Yes. And you?’
‘The same. I bet you’re going on one of those Guardian blind-date things that they publish on Saturdays, aren’t you?’
‘I’m not, actually,’ she said. ‘And that’s a pretty random assumption to make, don’t you think?’
‘I didn’t mean it to sound rude,’ he replied.
‘I don’t think you’re rude so much as lost,’ continued the ghost. ‘Were you always like this or is it something that’s grown progressively worse as you’ve got older?’
Achilles was not someone who typically found himself stuck for words, but he did now.
‘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.’
‘Of course she’ll read it,’ said Achilles defensively. ‘Why wouldn’t she?’
‘It’s just that I’ve been around your family for a couple of days now and the only thing any of you seem to read is the screens of your phones. Well, not you, to be fair. But the others. Were you always like this?’
‘I don’t think so,’ he replied. ‘But … yes, they do seem to have an unhealthy regard for the opinions of complete strangers. Although they’re in the public eye, so perhaps it’s only natural.’
‘Your sister isn’t. And she’s surgically attached to her phone. Social media is not reality, you know. It’s a mirage.’
Achilles frowned. He didn’t like the direction the conversation was taking. Anything that upset his perfect view of the Cleverleys upset him.
‘Who is he anyway?’ he asked.
‘Who is who?’
‘This chap you’re meeting.’
‘It doesn’t matter who he is. You wouldn’t know him.’
‘Well, no, of course not. It’s not like we move in the same circles.’
‘You’re doing it again.’
‘I’m not!’ he protested, laughing a little. ‘But we don’t, do we? I’m seventeen and you’re an adult. It’s not like we have a connected group of friends.’
‘Fine,’ she said, rolling her eyes.
‘So, tell me about him. Is it a first date?’
‘Yes. It’s all happened rather unexpectedly.’
‘Do you think you’ll have sex with him?’
‘I have no intention of telling you anything about my sex life.’
‘Where’s he from, then?’
‘Ukraine.’
He frowned. ‘So, do you and this guy just sit around and talk Ukrainian politics together?’
‘Of course,’ she replied. ‘What else could we possibly discuss but that?’
‘I suppose you look into each other’s eyes and talk about great Ukrainian folk heroes and sing ballads of war-torn Odessa.’
‘Look at you, knowing where Odessa is,’ she said.
‘Lucky guess. You know when people say that they’re not just a pretty face? My problem is, that’s exactly what I am. I just want to live each day the way I want to live it, answering to no one. Getting up when I want, seeing who I want, coming home when I want.’
‘You need money to do that.’
‘I’m working on that. So, tell me about him. This boyfriend of yours. What’s he like?’
‘He’s not my boyfriend,’ she said. ‘I told you, it’s a first date.’
‘Did someone set you up with him?’
‘No, I answered a phone,’ she said. ‘And he was on the other end of it.’
‘Just a random phone?’
‘Something like that.’
‘Okay.’
‘As we spoke, I heard his accent and I told him that I was Ukrainian too, or at least my grandparents were. And we kept talking. Then, when I got home, we talked again. For hours. One thing led to another and he booked a flight to London for today. He should have landed about thirty minutes ago.’