Ghosts, Gary reflected, were like cats. They had their favourite spots, they liked their space, and they didn’t like things to be moved about too much.

Ghosts flocked to Gary like moths to light. It part of his family weirdness; his aunt hovered six inches off the ground, and he had a cousin who made flames dance in her hands.

Gary had made peace with the dead. Their wails still woke him occasionally, and he wished they wouldn’t loom over his bed at night, but they would also scare off bad neighbours, so he felt it was a fair trade.