Free Ghostwriting by Traci Harding Page B

there.
    â€˜Sorry, no,’ Billie teased. ‘ That’s the heated pool,’ she screeched with great excitement.
    â€˜You’re shitting me?’ Shannon squealed when Billie nodded, and then held her head as it recovered from the pain of her sudden outburst.
    â€˜Shall we investigate?’ Billie backed off in the direction of the glasshouse, jangling the keys.
    â€˜Sure,’ replied Shannon, in a more staid manner.
    Billie bounded down the garden path and Shannon could only envy her friend’s powers of recuperation. Billie drank far more than she had last night and had secured less sleep. Shannon had to figure that Billie’s body was just more adjusted to the abuse.
    â€˜Well, holy shit, will you look at this!’ Billie exclaimed upon opening the French doors and viewing the huge swimming pool, which was a good length for swimming laps. ‘I’m going to feel like fucking Cleopatra swimming in that!’
    Poolside was a quaint coffeehouse-style table with two chairs. On the table was an ice bucket containing a bottle of bubbly, and two champagne glasses were alongside.
    Billie wandered over and read the note that was propped up in front of the ice bucket.
    Take good care of my haven. And have a binge on me,
    Love Simon.
    PS — Try not to make too much noise, Billie, or you might disturb the ghosts. Booooo!
    â€˜He’s so full of it.’ Billie had a quiet chuckle and handed the note to Shannon, who was still gaping, speechless, at the pool and gymnasium. Billie whipped the bottle from the ice bucket and discovering it was a vintage bottle of Moet, shechanged her tune about their absent host. ‘I take it all back, Simon. You’re a total babe.’ She kissed the bottle and began unwrapping it.
    â€˜What does he mean, ghosts?’ Shannon queried, rather disturbed by the message.
    â€˜It’s a joke, darl … he’s having a go at the volume of my personality.’
    â€˜Hey,’ Shannon frowned, as she noticed Billie was about to pop the cork on the bottle of booze. ‘We’re in detox, remember? We’ve definitely arrived now.’
    Billie raised the bottle so that Shannon could view the label more clearly and when her friend smiled, tempted by the rare treat, Billie wrinkled her brow to plead, ‘We haven’t actually entered the house yet.’
    â€˜Just one glass,’ Shannon proffered, removing Billie’s fingers from the bottle and taking it from her. ‘After we have something to eat.’
    Billie followed Shannon and the bottle out of the pool-house. ‘But we can’t just let the rest of the bottle go to waste.’
    â€˜Well, you’ll be on your own,’ Shannon turned back to inform her, hoping to guilt-trip Billie into behaving herself, but instead she caught her revelling.
    Billie contained herself. ‘Damn shame.’
    Â 
    After lunch Billie took Shannon and the bottle of bubbly on an exploration of the house. It hadseventeen rooms in all: a kitchen, a laundry, a pantry, a wine cellar, a dining room, a sitting room, a games/bar room, a sunroom, a study cum library, four bedrooms, three bathrooms and one dressing room. In addition there was the entrance foyer and hallways.
    â€˜What does one guy do with all this room?’ Shannon shook her head, amazed. ‘I mean, he’s gay … it’s not like he’s planning to have a large family.’
    â€˜Simon opens the place for bed and breakfast when it suits him, and the rest of the time, he throws parties.’ Billie topped up her champagne flute. ‘Are you happy with the Elizabethan bedroom?’
    â€˜Oh quite.’ Shannon bunged on a posh accent. ‘And are you finding the playboy suite to your liking?’
    â€˜Are you kidding?’ Billie bounced off the walls in an attempt to walk straight, as they headed down the hall toward the stairs. ‘I’ve got a fu-ah-cking hot tub at the end of my