Free Melody Bittersweet and The Girls' Ghostbusting Agency: A laugh out loud romantic comedy of Love, Life and ... Ghosts? by Kitty French Page A

the latch a second, harder rattle and then stands back with her hands on her hips.
    ‘Gate’s locked.’
    Artie nods. ‘I just said that.’
    ‘Should I try it too just to be certain?’ I scan the side of the house in the vain hope that one of the tall windows will be cracked open. As expected, they’re all closed tight. I wish I’d had the forethought to get Donovan Scarborough’s number, and there’s little point in knocking on the front door of a house that’s been uninhabited since Scarborough’s recently deceased father went into care several years back. It’s not as if a ghost’s going to handily open it for us, is it? Right then. There’s nothing else for it.
    ‘Give us a leg up, Artie.’
    He turns to me, wide eyed. ‘You’re going over the top? You don’t know what’s on the other side!’
    ‘Well, there’s hardly likely to be a dog or a twenty-foot drop, is there? The place is empty and we need to get in, so unless you’ve got any other bright ideas, boost me over.’
    He studies me, uncertain, and then a slow grin spreads across his face. ‘This is even more exciting than I thought it’d be. Don’t tell my mum I helped you break in, okay?’
    ‘Technically, we’re not breaking in,’ Marina reasons, opening a fresh stick of Juicy Fruit as she watches us position ourselves. ‘We’ve got a key, remember?’
    ‘Ready, Artie,’ I say, securing my foot in his big, cupped hands, and a second later he launches me fast and so high into the air that I am practically standing on top of the gate.
    ‘Jesus, Artie, lower her down a bit! You’re not tossing a fucking caber!’ Marina shouts from behind me, clearly panicked.
    I feel him start to wobble and doubt himself. My body starts to sway because I’ve lost confidence in him as a result. Shit! I’m going to die! I’m going to die a horrible death having been hurled into the air like a human rag doll.
    ‘Down!’ I command throatily, as if he really is that Great Dane puppy. Thankfully he does as instructed and I manage to catch hold of the top of the fence and scramble down onto the safety of a wheelie bin over the other side. I dust myself off, check for broken bones and a heartbeat, then throw back the rusty bolts and creak the gate open to let them through.
    Artie is clearly mortified; his wide mouth is downturned and his expression mournful. ‘Sorry.’
    ‘Hey, it’s fine.’ I pat him on the arm as he walks past me. ‘For a second there I thought I might actually die, but I didn’t, so we’re cool, okay?’
    ‘You were like a twelve-foot-tall ballerina waving around in the breeze up there,’ Marina says darkly as she files by.
    ‘I’m really sorry, Melody,’ Artie says, thoroughly miserable. ‘I’ve never boosted anyone before, and you don’t weigh very much. I thought you’d be heavier.’
    I laugh. ‘Free dating advice for the future, Artie. Don’t tell a girl that she looks heavier than she is.’
    We round the corner of the house and find ourselves on a wide, paved, sun terrace overlooking the gardens.
    ‘Wow,’ Marina murmurs beside me. I feel the same way; there is a faded grandeur to the place, a sense that beneath the neglect lies the bones of beauty. The garden is a wilderness, a profusion of gnarled old trees, rambling flowerbeds and overgrown lawns, but it’s huge and must have been spectacular in its heyday. I can easily imagine it looking glorious in decades gone by, finely dressed ladies milling around on the manicured lawns whilst gentlemen play croquet. Did gentlemen play croquet? I have no idea really. I’m making it up in my own head, but the point is that this place must have been something special in its halcyon days.
    ‘This suddenly feels like one of those movies where the family discover the house they just inherited is haunted,’ Artie whispers, awed as he turns and stares up at the building.
    ‘Isn’t that pretty much exactly why we’re here?’ Marina says, peering up at the