So she kept practising. If I’d worked out this hard when I was alive I could have lifted a MINI Cooper. The results were gradual, but definite. The most effective thing Elspeth did was simply to stare at Valentina.

Valentina didn’t like it. She seemed to pick up on Elspeth’s emotional states. But even when Elspeth tried to project brightness and smiles, Valentina was uneasy. She would look around, get up and move, abandoning her book, taking her cup of tea to some other room. Sometimes Elspeth followed her and sometimes she let her escape. Elspeth tried staring at Julia, just to be fair, but Julia was impervious.

One morning Elspeth came upon them at breakfast in the dining room. As she entered the room Valentina was speaking. “-I don’t know, it’s like, a ghost, just, you know, a presence. Like someone’s there.” Valentina looked around the room, which was bright with morning sun. “It’s here now. It wasn’t a minute ago.”

Julia obediently cocked her head and sat still, trying to feel the ghost. Then she shook her head and said, “Nope.”

Do something, Elspeth thought. She was excited because Valentina had actually used the word ghost. Elspeth walked behind Julia’s chair and bent over her, wrapped her arms around Julia’s shoulders and placed her hands over Julia’s heart. Julia let out a little shriek and exclaimed, “Yowza!” Elspeth let go of her and Julia huddled in her chair, shivering.

“What?” said Valentina, alarmed.

“It just got super cold in here. Didn’t you feel it?”

Valentina shook her head and said, “It’s the ghost.” Elspeth ran her fingers up Valentina’s arm. She was afraid to embrace Valentina the way she had just done to Julia; she wasn’t sure Valentina’s heart would stand it. Valentina rubbed her arm and said, “It is kind of draughty in here.” Both of them sat concentrating, waiting. Now, it’s now or never. Elspeth scanned the room for anything delicate enough for her to move. She managed a slight quivering of Valentina’s spoon against her teacup. The twins sat watching it, looking at each other, then back to the spoon. Elspeth illuminated the lightbulbs in the wall sconces. The room was bright and the twins didn’t see her do it so she went back to rattling the spoon.

“Well?” said Valentina.

Julia said, “I don’t know. What do you think?” Humour her.

“Something’s going on.”

“Ghosts?”

Valentina shrugged. Elspeth felt a surge of delight: We’re on the verge. Valentina said, “It’s happy.”

“How do you know?” Julia asked.

“Because I suddenly felt happy, except I’m not happy. It was like it came from outside me.”

“At least it’s not a mean ghost. You know, like in Poltergeist, where they put the house on top of the cemetery,” Julia said. She looked at Valentina doubtfully.

“You think it’s something from the cemetery?” Valentina imagined a vaporous slimy dead thing climbing over the cemetery wall, up the side of the house and into their flat. “Ugh.” She stood up, ready to flee.

“This is getting weird,” Julia said. “Let’s go out.” Julia could see that the Mouse was freaking; it would be better to get moving, to go outside.

Valentina said, “We’re going out, ghost. Please don’t follow us, I hate it when you do that.”

What are you talking about? I never leave the flat. Elspeth watched the twins as they dressed and then followed them to the front door. Valentina said, “Bye, ghost,” in a voice tinged with hostility, and let the door slam in Elspeth’s face. She tried not to take it personally.

The Little Kitten of Death

THE FOLLOWING night it snowed. Valentina and Julia walked carefully down the icy path that led from South Grove to Vautravers. There was only half an inch of snow, but they were wearing smooth-soled leather shoes, and the path descended at an angle that made walking without traction an adventure. They were discussing whether clearing the path was their problem or their neighbours’. St. Michael’s wall threw the path into shadow. Above them the night sky was bright; the full moon and the snow had turned Highgate Village into a glittering fairyland. Julia was smoking a cigarette. Its orange tip floated a few inches from her shadowed face, bobbing along as they walked, then arcing down as Julia took it from her lips and blew the invisible smoke above her head. Valentina was annoyed; Julia would smell like smoke in bed, and her breath would reek in the morning. But she didn’t say anything. Valentina figured if she kept quiet about it, Julia wouldn’t start smoking all the time just to bug her. Just then Julia inhaled too deeply and had to stop and cough for a minute. Valentina stood staring past Julia’s hacking frame and it was then that she saw a small white thing scurrying through the ivy, straight up the church’s wall. It was about the size of a squirrel, and Valentina wondered if they had white squirrels here in London. Then she thought of the ghost, and her throat contracted. The thing darted towards the top of the wall and then seemed to hang there, as though it knew it was being watched. Julia stopped coughing and straightened up.

“Look,” Valentina whispered, pointing. The white thing heaved itself toward the top of the wall, and as it stood up silhouetted the twins saw that it was a cat, a little cat: a kitten. It stretched itself and sat down on the wall. It looked down at them, scorning their inferior position. The wall was fifteen feet high, so the kitten appeared both small and incongruous.

“Whoa,” said Julia. “Can cats do that? It’s like a monkey.”

Valentina thought about a white tiger they had seen once in a circus. It had placed its paw on the shoulder of its keeper so gently, as though it meant to dance with him. The tiger had walked on a tightrope ten feet off the ground.

“It’s the Death-Defying Kitten,” Valentina said. “Do you think it lives in the cemetery?”

“It’s the Little Kitten of Death,” said Julia. “Hi, Little Kitten of Death!” She made what were meant to be cat-calling noises, sk-sk-sk, but the kitten shrugged itself and disappeared over the wall. They could hear it thrashing through the ivy on the other side.

When they got home, Valentina put out an old chipped teacup full of milk and a saucer of tuna fish on the dining-room balcony. Julia noticed it the next morning at breakfast.

“What’s that for?”

“The Little Kitten of Death. I want it to come up to us.”

Julia rolled her eyes. “More likely you’ll just get raccoons. Or those foxes.”

“I don’t think they climb like that.”

“Raccoons climb anywhere they please,” Julia said, munching her buttered toast.

The tuna and milk sat there all day, attracting a few curious birds. Valentina snuck into the dining room a few times to see if anything had visited, but the cup and saucer sat untouched until dinner.

“That’s gonna attract ants if you leave it there long enough,” said Julia.

“It’s winter. All the ants are hibernating,” said Valentina. Later she dumped the milk down the sink, washed the cup and refilled it with fresh milk; likewise the tuna. She put the cup and saucer back in their positions on the balcony and went to bed.

The following morning Valentina opened the French windows to the balcony and inspected the cup and saucer. She was pleased to see that something had been at them: the tuna was gone and the milk was only about half as full as it had been the night before. She removed the dishes before Julia came in. That night she filled them and put them on the balcony, turned out the lights and sat on the floor of the dining room, waiting.