"Wear the hat that matches the dress," she said as I left. "But don't take a parasol. We don't have one in the right shade of green."
Five minutes later, I walked out the door feeling like a perfectly matching green peacock. A few pairs of eyes followed me down Druids Way and I can't deny that it felt good to be noticed for all the right reasons. It made a pleasant change to the suspicious glances usually cast my way by those neighbors and shopkeepers who knew I could speak to ghosts. The stares were something I'd not yet grown used to, even though we'd been in business for over a year. I wondered if there ever would be a day when I'd enjoy the attention.
Oh dear. It sounded like I resented being a medium and wished I didn't have the gift. Sometimes I did, true, but on the other hand I liked being able to reconnect people with their deceased loved ones. I just wished those same people wouldn't treat me with such wariness.
I had to hold onto my hat until I turned off Druids Way and the strong wind eased to a gentle breeze. The sun came out from behind the clouds, briefly, but did little to brighten the day, covered as it was by London's smoky haze. I knew how to get to Wilton Crescent so my thoughts were left to wander. And they didn't wander to the demon or the dangers it posed but to Jacob. The way he'd noticed me in the dress, and how he watched me with such intensity when he thought I wasn't looking.
But there was something troubling him too, something that had nothing to do with the demon. Despite telling me he didn't care what people thought of him, he seemed to bristle at Celia's assessment of his ungentlemanly conduct. And he avoided all questions about his life and what it had been like.
Was he ashamed of it? Or was there something else, something he was hiding?
Whatever it was, his behavior was very confusing, but then he was a ghost so I suppose he could do what he wanted.
I wished he'd accompanied me on the walk. The twenty minutes it took to reach Wilton Crescent would have given me ample opportunity to find out more about him. But then I would have drawn many unwanted stares by seemingly conversing with myself. The mere thought made me cringe and I lowered my head, not wishing to encounter any ghosts that happened to haunt the streets. I'd seen only two over the years who'd met with a road accident and had not progressed to the Waiting Area, having chosen to maintain the negative emotion tying them to this world. I never understood why anyone would choose to linger where they couldn't be seen or heard. Perhaps I would think differently if I were dead.