Haunted Ever After: A completely charming romantic comedy

Chapter 1

‘H ello, is anybody there?’ My voice quivered as I pulled open the bedroom door and stepped into the dark embrace of the hallway. God, I sounded like one of those stupid people in horror movies who never turn on the lights and walk directly into the path of a three-eyed monster or serial killer.

I crept along the hallway, wincing as I stepped on the dreaded creaky floorboard then shook my head at the silliness of it. I’d called out to the possible intruder and I was worried about a creaking floorboard? I reached the entry to the kitchen and felt around the corner of the wall for the light switch, then hesitated. What if someone was waiting for me, ready to pounce when I switched on the light? No, the sound was coming from beyond the kitchen, possibly the laundry. A dull thumping, whirring, and an occasional shrill like a bird on helium. I’d put the dishwasher on the heavy-duty clean cycle before bed, but it couldn’t be that. It sounded like my clothes dryer was on.

I don’t remember turning it on.

Who put it on?

Did Greg’s flight arrive early and he decided to do laundry the moment he got home?

I scrunched my face in confusion. Greg never did laundry and flights were more likely to be late than early.

I drew in a deep breath and flicked the switch. The granite benchtops glistened and the white floor tiles glowed under the light. I squeezed my eyes shut at the sudden intrusion on my retinas then snapped them open and scanned my surroundings. No serial killer visible in the kitchen, and the dining and living areas were as I’d left them — perfectly clean and tidy.

Maybe it wasn’t the dryer making that noise. It was windy, it could be that tree outside the laundry flapping against the wall. That would explain the thumping. And the whirring… well, wind whirred, didn’t it? And the shrilling could be a bird, not on helium, obviously, but simply upset by all the wind.

I tiptoed through the kitchen, angling my ear towards the sound. Whirr, thump, shrill, whirr, thump, shrill. Definitely my dryer. Although I hadn’t heard the high-pitched squealing before, maybe there was a problem with the spinning mechanism or something.

My mind tried to rationalise but my body knew the truth. Heart pounding at twice its normal speed, nerves shaking like my electric toothbrush, and despite being winter, sweat glued my pyjamas to my back.

Something was wrong. Very wrong. And not just the idea that an intruder might be inclined to do a spot of laundry whilst awaiting his prey.

Damn, where’s a convenient baseball bat when you need one? The victims in horror movies always had one at the ready. My eyes darted around for the nearest object with weapon potential and I silently cursed the fact that all my sharp knives were in the dishwasher. Always the way. Could have done with the bonus set of steak knives from that Kitchen Whiz infomercial I saw last night.

I plucked a wooden spoon from the utensil holder, then cringed. What was I supposed to do with this — stir the intruder to death? Smack his bottom like a naughty child? I grabbed an egg whisk for good measure and crept towards the laundry. Maybe I could poke him in the eye. Light from the kitchen shone through, enough to see if anyone was in the room. I clutched a utensil in each hand, as though about to play drums with a set of pots and pans, and arched my body to the side, peering into the laundry.

Something was spinning inside the dryer, as suspected. I crouched slightly and crept towards it. As I squinted, the sight before me came into focus, and I flinched, realising what was inside.

My pounding heart practically cannonballed out of my chest and I jumped backwards, the ironing board falling from its wall hook onto me, followed by the broom and mop. ‘Argh!’ I screamed, fumbling around on my butt and trying to stand among all the household equipment toppling around me. ‘Argh!’

I grabbed the fallen broom and jabbed it at the power point to turn off the dryer. The machine continued working. ‘How on earth?’ My eyes wide open, I gripped the broomstick with shaky hands as heat pounded through my bloodstream. Tentatively I reached towards the circular door, and was about to yank it open when it burst open by itself. I gasped and fell back against the equipment.

My breath froze high in my throat as my mind tried to comprehend the sight in front of me.

A woman.

A pale, semi-translucent woman in purple polka dot pyjamas flew out of the dryer and sat herself on the edge of the machine. ‘That was the most fun I’ve ever had in my entire life! Oops, I mean death!’ She tidied her messy mop of curly hair and tucked red strands behind her ears. Her eyes looked straight into mine and I shook. ‘I was wondering when you’d come and say hello.’

‘Who… what…’ Words snap-froze on leaving my voice box and icicles of fear took their place.

She jumped off the machine and stood in front of me. I scrambled to my feet, mumbling, ‘No, no, no… this isn’t happening!’ I waved the spoon and whisk frantically like I was trapped in a spider web. ‘Go away, go away! It’s only a dream. Wake up, Sally, wake up!’ I lurched through the doorway and dashed around the corner to the kitchen, running through to the living room, squealing like a little girl and waving the utensils. I shoved the egg whisk into my pyjama pants pocket, then the wooden spoon but it fell out, and dug the key in the lock of the front door.

‘Hey! Don’t leave me here all alone!’ the woman shouted. Then laughed. ‘Well, if you really want to, go right ahead.’

I flipped my head sideways. She sat on the dining table with her arms crossed. I turned the key and pulled at the door handle, but it wouldn’t budge. I tried locking and unlocking it again. ‘Open, damn it!’

‘You might as well give up. It’s not going to open,’ she said.

Panting, I turned around and my eyes homed in on another possible route of escape — the sliding door to the patio. Except I’d have to get past Psycho Ghost Woman to get to it. The door that opened to the outside from the laundry was the only other option, but I didn’t know if I could ever go into that room again. I pulled at the door one last time. It remained shut.

‘I told you, it won’t open. Didn’t you believe me?’ She pouted as though I’d hurt her feelings.

My mind visualised the route back to the dreaded laundry. I should be able to make it around the corner without being caught.

Just.

I sucked in a few sharp breaths and ran, through the living room and around the corner into the kitchen, the egg whisk falling from my pocket on the way.

‘Argh!’ I skidded and stumbled backwards. The woman was at the open doorway that led to the laundry, hands on hips, obstructing my escape route.

‘You can’t get out this way either.’ She shook her head.

I turned and ran towards the patio door, but as I reached for the handle she appeared there too.

There was no running from this crazy bitch. I was trapped.

A glimmer of hope overshadowed the fear as I eyed the phone on the kitchen counter and lunged for it. It flew from the charger and onto the floor. I dove to pick it up but it shot from my grasp and into the living room, like one of those plastic frogs that you press and they spring up and land a metre away.

My iPhone! In my room. Why didn’t I grab that as soon as the bloody thumping/whirring/shrilling woke me up? I knew the woman might just teleport or disapparate or whatever again, but what could I do? I had to try. I dashed into the hallway and into my bedroom, slamming the door behind me. Ha! I’d beat her. I tugged the charging cord from the iPhone and pressed Greg’s number.

‘Hi, you’ve reached Greg Simons. I’m either in a meeting, on a plane, or playing a very important game of golf, which I’m most likely winning. Leave a message and I’ll call you back as soon as possible.’

Damn it, Greg! I ended the call and tried again, then checked the time — 12:17am. As long as his flight had been on time, he’d be due back pretty soon.

‘Hi, you’ve reached⁠—’

Double damn! He should be in a cab by now, why wouldn’t he pick up?

‘You’ve got to be kidding. Don’t you have anything decent in here?’ a voice said.

I spun around. The woman rifled through the clothes in my wardrobe, her face scrunched up in disgust. ‘Not one dress, I can’t believe it! Seriously, what do you wear when you go out? Do you ever go out?’

How dare she! Breaking and entering, and now, ridiculing my practical dress sense!

Anger boiled over my fear and my nostrils flared. ‘Leave me alone!’ I picked up a terracotta vase and threw it at the woman. It went straight through her and hit the wardrobe door, falling onto the carpet without breaking. Damn. Could have been a good way to get rid of the revolting gift Greg’s mother had given us for our engagement.

She laughed. ‘Nothing can hurt me, you know. Not even a kitchen utensil or ugly vase — although the sight of it has upset my sensory harmony somewhat.’ She laughed again, her high-pitched, piercing tone stinging my eardrums.

I covered my ears and stormed out, retreating to my favourite spot in the corner of the living room couch. I huddled under a blanket and hugged a cushion tightly to my chest, hoping to muffle the sensation of my heart pounding.

‘Wheee!’ The woman burst forth from the hallway and cartwheeled across the living room floor.

She cartwheeled again, and as confusion and disbelief overtook my mind, I shook. Who was she? What was she? Was I going mad?

‘I can’t believe how different I feel; the pain, the suffering — it’s all gone. I feel so light and free.’ She looked at me and smiled. ‘You and I are going to have so much fun!’ My body shook even more and the woman’s smile turned into a curious stare. ‘Why are you so scared? I’m not going to hurt you.’

Her words seemed genuine but still I trembled, unable to comprehend what was happening.

She perched herself on the dining table and crossed her legs.

‘Who…’ my voice joined in the shaking, ‘who are you?’

She flicked her hand as if the answer was nothing important. ‘Oh, I’m just a boring housewife.’ She chuckled.

‘And… you’re a… ghost or something?’

But I don’t believe in ghosts.

The woman scanned her body like she was looking for a stain. ‘Ha! I didn’t even notice how see-through I am.’ She looked up and nodded. ‘I guess so, I never really thought of myself as a…’ she curved her fingers like quotation marks, ‘… ghost. Until now, I just thought of myself the way I’ve always been — only lighter in body and clearer in mind.’

Oh boy. As long as I wasn’t hallucinating, this was real.

A real live ghost was in my house!

I mean… not live… but, you know. ‘So, um… you were like, a real person, and then you, um…’

‘Died, yes,’ she said, with such acceptance.

‘Why are you here? Why me? I don’t recognise you at all. Shouldn’t you be haunting people you knew in real life?’

‘I tried, but couldn’t. And it’s too…’

‘Too what?’

Her eyes glazed over for a moment and she flicked her pale hand. ‘Nothing. Anyway, I ended up here.’

‘So it’s random? You stuck your hand in a hat with names of potential scaredy-cats to haunt and plucked me out?’

She uncrossed her legs and crossed them again. ‘Not exactly. We are connected. The thing is, I used to date someone you know.’

Whoa. ‘Who?’

Her slender hand rose and a long finger pointed in the direction of the bookcase behind me that displayed an array of happy snaps. Unless she was gay (and one of my friends had kept their preference for women hidden from me), there were only three possible options:

1. My brother, Rick.

2. My friend and colleague, Dale.

Or…

The front door opened. ‘Sally, honey, what are you doing up?’

3. Or Greg. The man I’d be marrying in two weeks.

Chapter 2

My eyes darted towards the dining table, then back to Greg. The woman had disappeared. ‘Oh, thank God you’re here!’ I flung myself at him.

‘What’s wrong?’ He pulled away and studied me, concerned creases lining his forehead, his hands grasping my shoulders. ‘You’re shaking.’

I opened my mouth to explain the trauma that had unfolded but no words came out. Nothing would sound remotely sane.

There was a woman spinning in our clothes dryer.

A ghost did cartwheels across our living room floor.

I see dead housewives.

See? Crazy.

‘Sally?’

‘The wind. It was quite strong and I was worried the tree outside the bedroom might fall on the house.’ Well, it was kind of true. I had worried about that for all of two minutes before I heard the noises coming from the clothes dryer.

Greg pulled me close in an embrace. ‘Oh, honey, is that all? That tree is solid and sturdy and the wind isn’t as strong as it’s been in the past. It won’t fall.’

‘I guess I overreacted a little, with you not here. I’m not used to having you away overnight so often after your promotion at work.’ I gulped. I’d never lied to him before. It felt weird and wrong and, okay, a little thrilling, but I was only doing it because I had to. I couldn’t tell him our house was haunted, he wouldn’t believe me. Heck, I didn’t know if I believed me.

‘Don’t worry, honey, I’m here now. Let’s get to bed, hey?’ He kept one arm around me and we walked towards the bedroom, his other hand rolling his suitcase across the floor. ‘Oh, would you mind popping this in the dryer for me? It was pouring rain when I got into the taxi.’ He lifted his jacket that had been draped over the top of his suitcase and handed it to me.

I froze. ‘The dryer?’

‘Yeah, it’s still soaked as you can see.’

And as he couldn’t see, there’d been a ghost in our dryer only moments ago and no way in hell was I going near that appliance again. I never thought a clothes dryer could give me Post Traumatic Stress Disorder but I was sure I’d collapse in a fit of panic if I had to open that circular door.

‘Um, I’ll just…’ I walked to the dining table, which also had PTSD potential thanks to the memory of Ghost Woman perched on it. ‘… hang it on this chair overnight. No need to waste electricity when good old air can do the trick.’ I forced a smile as I positioned the jacket on the back of the chair, and from behind it looked like the ghost of a headless man sitting at the table waiting for his dinner. Not that he’d be able to eat it on account of the missing head, but still. Freaky.

‘As long as it doesn’t get that rain smell. Maybe it should be washed instead, whack it in the washing machine overnight?’

‘No. Let it dry first. It’ll be fine.’ I ushered him to the bedroom before he decided to unpack his suitcase and instigate a washing and drying spree.

Greg kicked off his shoes and yawned. ‘I need a quick shower, back in a sec.’

I huddled under the covers as still as a rock until he returned, thankful that a certain woman didn’t return. Maybe Greg had scared her off. Maybe she’d had her fun and was making her way down the street, visiting every house to see what other terror she could evoke. But the woman had said she’d dated someone I knew, so it mustn’t have been a random visit. Did she mean Greg? Greg had never mentioned anyone he knew dying. Maybe it was Rick. My brother was never that talkative about his love-life, or apparent lack of one. Or it could be Dale. But why would she haunt me, why not Dale’s sister or someone else closer to him?

Greg’s warm, fresh-smelling body sidled up close to me and I sighed with relief. It was all okay now. I was safe. I strung my arm across his chest and nestled in.

‘Mmm,’ he whispered. ‘I’ve missed you.’

‘I’ve missed you too.’ I smiled and kissed his forehead, then his nose, then his mouth, and he moaned in that way that told me he wasn’t quite ready to fall asleep. He rolled on top of me and caressed my face, sprinkling me with warm, soft kisses, his lips still wet from the shower. I wrapped my arms around him and savoured his affection. It had been two weeks since we’d had any. As his kisses trailed down my neck I ran my fingers through his damp hair, watching the shadows from the windswept tree dance across the ceiling.

‘Sure, go right ahead. Forget I’m even here!’ Ghost Woman appeared above us, her arms crossed and face creased in annoyance.

‘Argh!’ I pushed Greg off and scrambled to my feet, yanking the blanket off the bed and wrapping it around me. My heart pounded and my nerves sharpened at the ready like soldiers awaiting attack.

Ghost Woman laughed her ear-splitting laugh.

‘Sal, what on earth is wrong?’ Greg’s dumbfounded expression replaced his desire-filled one from before, as he lay semi-reclined on his back, propped up by his elbows.

There’s a ghost watching us make out.

I drew a deep breath and clenched the blanket to my chest. ‘Um… it was just…’ I glanced at the ghost who was circling her hand as though waiting for me to spill the beans. ‘There was a spider. On the roof.’ I pointed.

‘Where?’ Greg stood and turned on the bedside lamp, peering at the roof. ‘I don’t see it.’

‘You don’t see anything?’ The woman was still there, floating near the ceiling.

‘Only the peeling paint in the corners. We really must get this place repainted.’

Oh great. I was dealing with an annoying, perverted ghost and all he could think about was home renovations?

‘Are you sure it wasn’t just a shadow?’ he asked, glancing around the room, lifting pillows and peering behind furniture.

‘Oh. Maybe it was. It looked like a spider, but I’m probably still on edge from before.’

‘Well, I can’t see anything. Let’s forget about it and continue where we left off, yeah?’ He flashed a grin and the room darkened as he flicked the switch.

My body was tense and the moment was gone. I couldn’t exactly get in the mood with some otherworldly being floating above us, could I? ‘Actually, I think I’ll go get a drink. I need to calm my mind.’ Even though I knew the woman might follow me out there, I had to get out of the bedroom. Sure, I was scared, but I wanted to tell her off. How dare she interrupt our… our… our romantic endeavours. What a cow.

I hesitated near the door and turned back to my fiancé. ‘Ah, Greg? I was just thinking… we’ve never really talked much about our past relationships. Who were you with before me again?’ I leaned against the doorframe like it was the most casual thing to chat about at this moment in time.

‘Huh? Why are you asking this now?’

‘Curious, that’s all.’

‘Becky. Remember? She was the one before you. Ran off overseas with that Italian guy?’

‘Oh yeah. And before her?’

‘Sal, do we really have to get into this now? C’mon!’

‘Did you ever date anyone who, I dunno, later… died, or anything?’

‘What? Why would you ask that? Sal, I think you should have some of that chamomile tea or whatever it is and chill out.’

‘I’m just interested. Did you?’

‘No. I mean, I don’t know. I haven’t exactly kept in touch with all my exes, so how would I know? But I’m sure they’re all alive and well.’

‘What about a redhead? Did you ever date a woman with red hair?’

He shuffled awkwardly on the bed and sat with his hands clasped around his bent knees. ‘Um, I might have, a couple of them had red hair, I think.’

‘You think? Have there been that many women that you can’t remember?’ Whatever ‘mood’ I’d had before was long gone now.

‘Oh, Sal, give me a break. It’s late and I’m tired.