SIXTY-THREE | SHADOWS

“She was dead.” My Dad’s voice was firm, the hazy edge of the rum gone in an instant. “We all saw her body.”

“It’s impossible,” Paps said, scrubbing a hand across his short hair.

“Improbable,” Dad corrected.

“Bethan looked dead, too,” I said slowly, thinking of her blue lips, her waxy skin. “I don’t think we should rule it out. I mean – maybe I was imagining it. I don’t know. But those eyes looked real, and that prickling feeling that someone was there, watching me, stayed with me the whole way home.”

“Why would she be watching you, though?” Paps clucked his tongue. “No offence, Cals, I’m sure you’re very interesting. But you weren’t close, not really, were you?”

“We always got on,” I said, considering it. “But most of t