From the author: The first chapter of my yet-to-be-published novel Sanctuary.
The ghost of Henrietta Casswell (died in childbirth, 1781, within these very walls) floats by as I'm setting the table for dinner.
My mouth feels dry and I swallow before I speak. I can speak much more easily when there are only ghosts around than I can to living people, but it's still not easy.
“Good morning Henrietta,” I say, trying to remember which spoon goes closest to the plate. “Do you want to join us for dinner?”
By the time I've got the words out, she's already halfway...