Archive of Our Own

You know the mood at Button House is a little off when Thomas heaves a long, theatrical sigh and the other ghosts, instead of mocking him, reply with a smaller version of the same sigh. Like a particularly gloomy call and response song.

‘Sorry,’ Pat said as he squinted and held up a finger after a 5-minute silence. ‘Are we still playing Food Club?’ The Captain looked up at him from the sofa while the others kept on staring at the ballroom floor blankly and fiddling with their hands. ‘Maybe I can entertain you all by telling–’

‘Good heavens, Patrick,’ Thomas cried, his arms flailing irately. ‘What good is Food Club when all I can think about is what I am doing with my afterlife?’

The Captain widened his eyes disapprovingly for a second but then hummed in agreement. Uncharacteristically, Thomas had a point. Things had been different at Button House for the past few days indeed. No one could just close their eyes to it. With his flair for the dramatic, Thomas simply expressed what everyone else was already thinking. His outburst, rather helpfully, punctured a hole in the swelling bubble of silence that they were trying to keep intact. Now, a hint of relief poured into their faces – the loud and loaded question became a permission to share their own worries.

‘Hate to agree with Mopey here,’ Julian said, ‘but he’s right. Forgot how much having a baby changes things. Well, not for me, back in the day, ha-ha. But, you know…’ Julian forced a few thin chuckles. He quietened fast and lowered his head, his lips pursed and stretched guiltily.

‘It’s not always going to be this way, is it?’ Kitty asked hopefully. ‘Once they get used to it a little more, everything’s going to go back to the way it was.’

Thomas stared at her crossly, his arms folded. ‘You’re being far too optimistic, Kitty. 'Tis the end of an era. The end of everything.’

‘But it’s only been a few days!’ Kitty objected reasonably. ‘How difficult can a baby be? You just feed it and play games with it. Soon Alison and I are going to spend all the time together again!’

The ghosts exchanged awkward glances. Somehow, Kitty being so naively hopeful made the feeling of a cataclysmic shift worse. Even worse than Thomas’s inflated, uncalled-for eulogies.

‘Uh… I’m not sure about that,’ Pat said carefully. ‘Some – well, most – things change forever after you have a baby. But who knows, maybe Alison will have more time for us when the little lass is a bit older? Come on, guys, we’ve got this! We just have to be patient – and in the meantime, we have lots of clubs to do!’

‘But it’s not simply about that,’ Fanny pointed out grouchily. ‘Watching someone you know go through such an enormous change makes you reflect on your own life – well, in our case, death. And the unfortunate fact that we cannot change, however many things we would prefer to alter!’

‘Yeah, what she said,’ Julian said, gesturing to Fanny’s side with a thumb.

‘You spend an eternity thinking about how you can’t change the past,’ Humphrey added, his head resting on the windowsill behind Pat, ‘and then it properly hits you that you can’t change the future too. That’s heavy!’

The ghosts murmured in agreement.

As Pat listened, an expression of surprise grew on his face. ‘Do all of you feel this way?’ he asked, his bemused look gliding across the long faces.

Everyone gave their melancholic nods. Robin just shrugged. When he noticed that he was the odd one out, his shrug turned into a hasty, lukewarm nod halfway through. Pat’s examining look lingered on the Captain, making him fidget in his seat uncomfortably, his fingers tightening and loosening on the swagger stick again and again. Lately, it was all it took to throw him off balance. And Pat, to the Captain’s hand-twitching, word-jumbling alarm, used this weapon a bit too liberally.

‘What?’ he grumbled.

‘Even you want change, Captain?’ Pat asked, his brow furrowed. ‘You were so miffed you gave me a whole speech when I only tried to reschedule our morning walk!’

The Captain rolled his eyes. ‘Of course, I did! One must observe the regime.’

‘But it’s December. It’s bloody dark outside!’

‘I– Well, ha-ha, surely nighttime is not a valid excuse to postpone a mission in the forces. Honestly, where would we all be if–’

‘Okay, let’s not do this again,’ Pat suggested as he gave the other ghosts a quick sidelong glance. ‘I mean, no offence, Cap, but do you think you can handle change?’

The Captain cleared his throat. ‘Well, it would certainly be nice to have the option.’

‘Okay.’ Pat thought for a while, his arms swinging back and forth slightly. ‘You’ve all got a point, I suppose. I’m a creature of habit, me. I’m not usually the one to want to shake things up. But now that you’ve said it, what with everything going on… I’ve been thinking about that too. And it would be nice to, you know… take a leap and finally change a few things.’ Pat gave the Captain an eloquent look, which the latter interpreted as Pat agreeing they were both men of finely honed routines and bulletproof systems for whom change was more of an annoying bump in the road. ‘I know we can’t do much, what with the whole death thing. Like, travel somewhere we’ve never been, try a different haircut, get a better job or something. But I think we can still find little things we can change. Better late than never, eh?’

‘Little things aren’t exactly as big as having a baby, are they?’ Julian pointed out.

‘We can make them count!’ Pat said, gesticulating more and more as he spoke. The sparkling flow of creative energy accelerated in his eyes, prompting a little smile from the Captain. ‘Try something we’ve been meaning to do for a while but it was too big or scary.’ Pat looked at the Captain again – a testament to the fact the Captain was far too stout-hearted to have such things on his waiting list, he reckoned. ‘Something that’s going to change our daily lives, something that’s going to help us become a different person. Or maybe just a happier person. Oh!’ His index finger swooshed up into the air as his whole face lit up with an idea. ‘Let’s make a club out of it! Everyone can choose a goal to work on all through December. We’ll meet to discuss our progress every week. So by the end of the year, everyone’s going to have something to be proud of! And then we can just keep working on it next year or choose a new bigger project.’

Glances of varying degrees of enthusiasm crawled through the group, most on the low side. Kitty clapped her hands while Thomas just sighed piteously again.

‘Well, it’s something to do, isn’t it?’ Julian said, expressing the wavering mood the room. A strange new club was always better than the usual daily boredom that was now peppered with the sense of immutability more than ever.

Pat threw his fists in the air triumphantly. ‘Right. Yes, yes! Change Club, here we go! Now, everyone, think hard about something you’d like to accomplish this month. Hm, what would I like to do? Something I’d like to do…’

Mumbling those words, Pat sat down casually on the armrest by the Captain’s side, his left leg on the floor, his right leg pressed against the sofa and carelessly invading, just a little bit, the territory above the Captain’s lap. Deep in thought, Pat slouched, narrowed his eyes and put a hand to his chin.

The Captain twitched backwards, moving further into the sofa. His eyes became two restless water droplets in a hot pan. What was he supposed to be pondering now, come again? The Captain’s look darted to the other ghosts. Everyone seemed to be focused on their own soul-searching. Thomas was gazing at the colourless sky through the windows, Robin was scratching his head, his fingers getting stuck in his tangled mane repeatedly. The Captain, meanwhile, struggled to scrape up enough brain energy to knock up a single goal, as most of it was already employed elsewhere, to the stage of its gears heating up, catching and redirecting his own glances that were frightfully determined to desert and run downwards and to the side.

Seemingly unaware of the exertion he was causing, Pat leaned his right hand on his right thigh. The skin dimpled softly under his spread fingers. The touch definitely had just a little bit of a squeeze to it. Enough to make thoughts wander. To be more exact, wander off entirely, one by one, and get lost in the dark, never to be seen again.

The Captain swallowed nervously. Those accidents kept happening with growing frequency. For him, each one was an intolerable test while Pat most probably didn’t even realise he was doing it. Making him less and less focused and organised, stealing his good sense and composure. Rearranging the huge, cumbersome, moss-covered rocks inside until a strange, helpless lightness gaped in the way.

And if a project for the new club could help deal with all that properly, then…

‘Got one,’ Humphrey spoke first. ‘Getting my arms and legs back would be huge for my daily life. I’ve been thinking, maybe my body can be trained like a dog? Or more of a… feral cat. Maybe if I do it daily, it’ll finally learn to listen to me. Or, well, whatever it does instead of listening.’

‘Great idea,’ Pat said. ‘I used to be good at training dogs. Maybe Alison can print out some sort of guide for you so you can do a few basic exercises every day.’

‘Speaking of learning,’ Fanny said, ‘I have always dreamt of higher education, which was, of course, absolutely out of the question, in my day. But Alison says you can learn anything on a computer nowadays. Well, I want to further my education and study maths.’

‘I want to write a romance novel,’ Kitty said. ‘If writing is as much fun as singing and dancing, I’m going to have just the best month! It’s going to be the best story ever, and it’s going to have all of my favourite things – love, rainbows, unicorns, pink clouds, ladybirds, neon signs, heart-shaped sweets… Oh, there are so many things I want to write about! Well, obviously, I’m not going to write, just compose the story in my mind, if that counts.’

‘Rainbows and unicorns – ha!’ Thomas scoffed loudly. ‘That is no good subject for a truly profound story. I would certainly set a better example, were I allowed to write a new epic for this challenge. Alas, I’m just too familiar with the art of… um, nice word thingies… to make it something new. I wonder what else I could choose. Hm…’

‘Oh, come on,’ Julian said. ‘What’s there to think about? We all know what your project should be.’

Thomas looked around, searching for disagreement or at least puzzlement in the faces, but only found resolute nods.

‘Yeah,’ Pat agreed. ‘After the trainer throwing incident… I think it’s time, mate.’

Thomas’s mouth dropped open in indignation. He choked on his words for a few seconds, seemingly about to protest, but then said, ‘Very well. I shall endeavour to get over her. Actually get over her, this time,’ he added forcefully before anyone could interrupt him. ‘The love of my afterlife. My trainer throwing angel. 'Twas not a trainer but the hundredth cupid’s arrow through my heart– Oh, damn it!’

Pat threw his hands up and shook his head in disapproval. ‘Okay. Any other projects for the month? What about you, Julian?’

‘Well, if Julian wants to be a different person,’ Thomas exclaimed revengefully, ‘he should be some… big philanthropist.’

‘Um, I’m not exactly swimming in money right now, am I?’ Julian said, gesturing around himself.

‘Well, you can’t donate money yourself. But maybe you can write speeches for existing charities or something?’ Pat suggested. ‘No offence, mate, but you promoted tonnes of terrible causes back in the day. Maybe now it’s time to attract people to the good ones?’

‘Pft. Easy as pie,’ Julian asserted with bravado. ‘I don’t really care what to write about, actually. It’s not even a challenge. All right, I’ll do it.’

Pat showed him a thumbs-up with a patient smile. ‘Robin?’

‘Me got no goal.’ Robin shrugged. ‘Anyone got idea?’

‘Perhaps,’ Fanny started didactically, ‘you should use this game as a long-overdue opportunity to learn how to speak English properly.’

Robin glared at her, but then sighed and nodded. ‘Okay. If everyone playing, me in too.’

‘Great!’ Pat said merrily. ‘It’s much easier if we all do it together. Now, Captain, what’s your goal? Cap? Captain, can you hear me?’

The Captain jerked awake and dragged his look away from Pat’s thigh. ‘Y-yes. Of course I can, Patrick, you’re right on– um, next to me.’

‘Well?’

As soon as the Captain met Pat’s eager gaze cautiously, the better part of him propelled itself into it headfirst, as if it was only an innocent summer swim. Floundering in the deep blue powerlessly and drowning, the Captain gripped the stick tightly. No, no, no. It couldn’t go on like this. He couldn’t keep losing touch with reality any more. He couldn’t keep slipping away from the system that had been working for both of them for years.

And there was, according to the Captain, just one thing for it.

‘I, erm… I’m going to stick to a nice and busy daily schedule.’

A confused silence. All the ghosts stared at him. Pat lowered his eyebrows and squinted.

‘Sorry, did I hear you right?’ Humphrey asked. ‘Was it supposed to be not going to stick to a daily schedule?’

‘No, no. I said what I said. I’ve been terribly distracted lately…’ The Captain emphasised the word ‘terribly’, his tone bordering on theatrical, as if that would convey the sheer scale of the issue and easily excuse the questionable plan. He cleared his throat. ‘One must be more organised than this.’

‘But that’s just cheating!’ Thomas cried. ‘It’s not something new or scary for you, that’s what you always do!’

‘Sorry, Cap, but he’s got a point,’ Pat said. ‘What’s so groundbreaking about that new schedule of yours?’

To the Captain, it seemed like Pat was leaning to the side on the armrest a little bit and cornering him from above. An interesting feeling, granted, but a terrifying one. Just a trick of the light, perhaps. And maybe it wasn’t even the external, actual light that provided the illusion.

A schedule, of course, wouldn’t fix everything. It was hardly on a par with any other project in the group. Even the Captain knew that, on some level. And yet it felt like the right thing to do. Drag himself back to what kept him safe. Weigh his thoughts down again before they would fly about too freely. Maybe it would at least curb the number of times when he felt… like that. Ashamed. Less than immaculate. Losing control. Last time that had happened… Well, breaking rules never ended well.

‘Ah, well… Obviously, it’s not just a regular schedule,’ the Captain said, dialling up the loudness in his voice, his tone biting and angular. ‘It’s going to be more packed and varied than anything I had even in life! No time for various, um…’ A lightning-fast glance down. ‘Well, silliness. Absolutely annihilated, all that sort of thing.’

The Captain scanned Pat’s face, aching for a nod or a word of encouragement. He just had to convince Pat. It was even more important than convincing himself.

Pat blinked, and when he opened his eyes, they became a shade dimmer. He looked down, thus finally terminating, to the Captain’s relief, his intense skeptical stare.

Julian held his arm out, about to protest the plan. ‘Come on, it’s not even–’

‘Okay, that’s enough,’ Pat interrupted him. ‘Let’s just each focus on our own goals, mm-kay?’ he said politely but firmly.

A relieved smile glinted on the Captain’s lips.

‘Well, as for me,’ Pat went on as he put a hand to his heart, ‘my goal is to do one new thing every day, for the rest of the month. Maybe that’ll finally make me into a braver person who takes some risks,’ Pat said, with a chuckle, and looked at the Captain. The latter straightened up proudly. How nice it was, he thought, that Pat considered him brave. ‘Right, looks like we’re all set then! Now we just start working on our little projects, and we’re going to meet in a week so we can discuss our progress. Good luck, everyone!’

Barely any of the ghosts looked nearly as excited about the project as Pat did. Maybe just Kitty, who was the only one to join in the good wishes, smiling broadly. The others got up from their seats, sighing, mumbling incoherently and looking utterly perplexed by their unexpected new commitments.

‘Let’s go find Alison,’ Julian said, waving his arm at the group in an inviting manner. ‘We’re going to need some tech support with this.’

Fanny and Robin followed him, and so did Thomas, automatically.

‘Hey, where are you going?’ Humphrey asked him, forgotten on the windowsill. ‘Question two – can anyone please make sure I’m going?’

‘Oh, right,’ Thomas muttered. He swivelled and followed Kitty in the opposite direction, and Robin took Humphrey away.

The Captain remained seated, like he usually did, lately. The second everyone was out of the room, he scooted to the right on the sofa to make room for Pat. Another relatively new routine gesture after a club. The ritual didn’t make much sense, given that the whole sofa was free by then. It was just that the Captain, deep inside, liked giving up his seat and, as if by accident, leaving the space between himself and the armrest just wide enough for Pat much more than letting him go all the way to the other end of the sofa. And, judging by the way Pat grinned unfalteringly as he installed himself beside the Captain, he wasn’t noticing his little trick at all.

They sat in silence for a while, smiling with nothing special to smile about. Even the Captain couldn’t resist giving a tiny lopsided smirk, even though his eyes were focused firmly on the stick on his lap. He did have an unpleasant tugging feeling of a fresh lie inside, but, being alone with Pat, he, yet again, practically forgot where the other end of the string was even coming from.

Pat pushed the Captain’s knee with his lightly. ‘Going to be lots of fun, isn’t it?’ he said excitedly. ‘Everyone working on their own projects, sharing all the little wins. Just imagine how happy everyone will be by Christmas!’

As always, it was so easy to believe Pat’s vision. The Captain knew his perfect Christmas wasn’t meant to be. That was one of the reasons he had concocted his whole schedule operation in the first place. But as long as Pat was near him, talking and smiling, a tiny twinkle of hope was impossible to force out – which, given the fact that Pat was around all the time, presented a bigger issue than it seemed.

‘Mm,’ the Captain commented helpfully.

Pat gave him a couple of thoughtful glances, his eyes skittering away fearfully and then coming back, stronger and more expressive. ‘Just wondering… The goal you described, is that really what you want to do?’

The Captain turned to him. Under the threat of being found out, he scrunched up his face and gave a snort-like sound to really bring home how obvious the answer was. ‘Oh, absolutely,’ he asserted, his brow furrowed. ‘I’ve got marvellous plans for this one.’

‘Really?’ A teasing note tinkled in Pat’s voice. ‘So what’s the schedule going to be like?’

The operation had to be protected at all costs. Surely, there was nothing to ridicule about setting a good example, like a leader should.

‘Well, the preliminary draft includes three main areas. Physical activities must be doubled – no, tripled. Then, there’s intellectual stimulation. Crosswords? Riddles? I don’t know yet, but the more, the better. And, of course, one has to do something useful for the unit. I’ve been thinking of monitoring the state of the plants – which leaves much to be desired lately, I must say – and let Alison know when it’s time to water them. Ahem. I shall give it some more thought.’

Pat nodded slowly. ‘Right. You’re a busy, busy bee, aren’t you? Is there, um… anything else in your schedule?’

The Captain looked at him in horror. ‘Is that not packed enough? I believe it’s already the most diversified plan of all!’

‘No, no, it is! More than enough. I mean… What was the second one, again?’

‘Intellectual stimulation. Are you paying attention, Patrick?’

‘I am! I just wanted to say…’ Pat cleared his throat and put on a peculiar grin. ‘No other kinds of stimulation on that list?’

The Captain stared at him blankly. ‘You mean, like auditory? Hm. I could deploy the wireless, I suppose. Organise regular listenings to stay alert. Yes, thank you.’

Pat took off his glasses, heaved a long-drawn-out sigh and put them back on. ‘You’re welcome,’ he grumbled.

‘Sorry, what was that?’ the Captain asked, worried.

‘Oh, never mind. But… I’m just saying, is there really anything scary and hard about that project?’

A scattering of odd crackly noises fell out of the Captain’s mouth. ‘Well, of course there jolly well is! Implementing an operation of such intricacy and magnitude requires a good deal of effort and resourcefulness. Especially when I haven’t been at my most, uh… focused lately.’

Pat lowered his eyes sadly. He fiddled with the tips of his scarf for a few seconds. ‘Right. Are you starting today?’

‘Affirmative.’

‘Is our daily afternoon walk cancelled then? And... everything else,’ he added as he turned to the Captain nervously.

Well, it had to be. It was the whole point of the extreme arrangement. Leaving no time to muck about, no time for the emotions to run unsupervised and do lord knows what.

But how could he possibly go through with it, when an almost begging sadness was glassing Pat’s eyes, wide, unblinking, waiting for his answer?

The Captain averted his gaze and clutched the swagger stick. ‘Mm… N-no. No. Of course not,’ he only mumbled faintly.

Pat beamed again. ‘Oh, great! A weight off my shoulders. For a second there, I thought you were trying to get out of it politely, you know.’

The Captain snorted. Shook his head vigorously. And then snorted again, just to stress the point.

‘Well, we can always move things around,’ Pat reminded, ‘if you don’t have enough time for your super busy schedule. I can help you if you like! I’m a real pro. I used to plan day trips for kids, you know.’ Pat grinned and adjusted his glasses. ‘After that absolute chaos, I think I can plan anything.’

The Captain’s lips betrayed a small smirk that he immediately stifled. ‘That’s not going to be necessary, thank you. Some tasks… I have to handle alone, you see. But, uh… if you need any help with your daily new things, I am here for you.’

‘Oh, I’d love your help, Cap! Many hands make light work, eh?’

‘Quite. Well, if you need my hands, let me know, and I shall apply myself to it.’

Pat gave a short laugh, prompting a bemused glance from the Captain. ‘Maybe later, yeah,’ he said. ‘For now, I’m just happy to be part of your new schedule.’ He patted the Captain’s shoulder and got up from the sofa. ‘Okay, time to go for a walk then! Coming, Cap?’

Almost without thinking, the Captain leapt to his feet and skittered after him obediently, practically hearing the crack of dotted rows and columns breaking into pieces and swapping their protective design for the glistening mist of sparse, innocuous snowflakes that welcomed them outside.

When the swarm of chittering ghosts broke the news of Change Club to an exhausted Alison, hunched over yet another shaky table that had to be secured, she didn’t ask a lot of questions. ‘Honestly, the less I have to deal with all of you right now, the better,’ she commented, yawning twice while she was saying that. Alison took care of all the necessary prearrangements willingly – she signed Fanny and Robin up for online courses, she explained to Julian how to use fundraising sites, and Humphrey received a poster-sized printout of a pet training guide.

And so began a very busy week at Button House. Routines were corrupted, old habits challenged, expectations smothered. As if the challenge itself wasn’t difficult enough, forced proximity made it worse. No one could hide their wobbly houses of cards in a quiet corner. Whether it was Robin jump-scaring Thomas when his route drifted away from an Alison-free trajectory and having a laughing fit or Fanny censoring Julian’s ideas for speeches that had nothing to do with charity – every failure immediately became public domain.

When the ghosts gathered for the first weekly check-in, the common room looked like a classroom full of children who came unprepared for a big test, green with nerves and throwing glances around, trying to calculate whether the others’ blunders were bad enough to make them look a little better. Only the Captain, strangely, arrived humming obliviously and wearing a dreamy grin. When he saw sulky pouts all around, he cleaned it off immediately, coughed and checked if Pat shared the prevailing attitude.

Pat, hands on hips, displaying his best teacherly expression, scanned the faces, looking for a willing speaker. Everyone hid their eyes and pretended not to know why they had found themselves in the common room in the first place. This went on for a whole 5 minutes.

Pat sighed and pushed his glasses up. ‘Okay, enough of this, let’s begin. If you lot are going to keep your mouths shut, I’ll have to choose the first one to speak myself. Robin, how’s your English course going?’

‘My English course go very good,’ Robin reported.

‘And it shows,’ Julian commented.

‘But it nice course! Me learn, uh… tense verbs and arty cools.’

Pat stood there motionless, with an unnatural smile. ‘Right. Good for you, Robin.’ The caveman grinned and nodded enthusiastically. ‘Okay, what about your studies, Fanny? Alison enrolled you in the same school or something, didn’t she? You’re basically classmates now! Isn’t that cool?’ Pat noted genially.

Fanny grimaced for a few seconds, looking like a balloon that was swelling up and threatening to explode. Everyone cowered in their seats – she obviously had something to say, and it wasn’t a message of joy and gratitude. Finally, she spat, ‘Modern education is simply ghastly. It’s all too relaxed and forgiving. And they let anyone in! Goodness knows who can just bring their unbecoming ways into what I thought to be proper education – and trick everyone into believing they are actually intelligent!’

‘She got less points on test than I did,’ Robin explained breezily. ‘Got real angry.’

‘Excuse me!’ Fanny said heatedly. ‘I find it impossible to believe that an uneducated half-human can surpass me without stooping to cheating.’

‘Well, as the person who kindly made your tests possible,’ Julian said, flexing his index finger, ‘I can attest to the fact that Robin didn’t cheat. I did suggest it – but he refused. Come on, Fanny, it was just one point!’

‘Patrick, do you see what you got me into?’ Fanny said. ‘This is chaos, not education! And I refuse to be called a classmate of neither of those two rapscallions.’

‘Hey, I’m not even studying with you! I’m just hanging around,’ Julian pointed out. He thought a little. ‘Actually, I think I’m doing exactly what I used to do. So factually, I might be your classmate.’

‘Okay, simmer down, everyone,’ Pat said. ‘You don’t have to compete with each other! You’re trying, and that’s what counts. You both have good heads on your shoulders. Oh, speaking of good heads, why is Humphrey not here? Does anyone know how he’s doing?’

‘Not great, obviously,’ said a surly voice. Everyone looked around, trying to locate Humphrey. Finally, they noticed him frowning on the white arch around the door to the library.

‘How did you even get there?’ Thomas asked in surprise.

‘I tried using positive reinforcement, and I thought, what could work? I’ve always loved singing, so I tried that. I don’t think it – he – can even hear me, but he threw me here when I started. Must’ve really hated it,’ Humphrey explained melancholically.

‘Sorry, mate,’ Pat said. ‘Kitty? Can you give us some good news?’

‘I was really enjoying myself, at first,’ Kitty started. ‘I had so many wonderful ideas! Until Thomas suggested listening to my story so he’d give me some valuable advice, and he said all of it was terrible!’

The ghosts groaned.

‘Well, it was!’ Thomas cried. ‘There was no tragedy, and the characters were those boring everyday types,’ he explained, his hand doing a derisive gesture. ‘Nothing interesting about their unexceptional lives and lowly joys. A good story is supposed to slice your chest open, is it not?’

Determined to defend Kitty’s literary efforts, the Captain asked angrily, ‘Why were you even there, Thorne? Don’t you have your own goal to work on?’

‘I do, I am working on it! I didn’t even follow Alison… on most days of the week. Well, half. Some of them. But I needed something to distract myself! Who even am I when I’m not doing what I always do?’ Thomas whined in distress.

The Captain gave an understanding hum and said nothing else.

Pat said, choosing the words carefully, ‘Okay, Thomas, it was… sort of nice of you to offer your help, I suppose. But it’s already hard enough as it is, and if we’re all going to criticise each other, we’re not going to go far, are we? If you really want to help, just sit and listen, don’t nitpick, okay?’

‘But my well-honed writing skills would certainly be–’

‘No!’ shouted everyone.

His face puckering miserably, Thomas crossed his arms and looked away.

‘Julian, did you do anything good with your writing skills this week?’ Pat asked.

‘Oh yeah!’ Julian replied willingly. ‘I wrote a long and moving piece on… Um. Children or illnesses or badgers or something. No idea, actually.’

‘How can you write a speech without even knowing anything about the subject?’ Fanny said.

Julian gestured around himself. ‘Not my first time, eh? Well, long story short, the speech is up and ready to raise money,’ he finished, with a courteous bow of the head.

Pat and Kitty almost started applauding. But then Robin said, ‘Hang on. I know you make lotta noises when you type for long time. Didn’t hear you make much noises.’

A deer-in-the-headlights look blocked Julian’s face for a second. He got it under control fast and raised a politician’s fist in the air. ‘Well, ha-ha, Robin, obviously I wasn’t writing the whole time. If you were more familiar with the complicated art of writing speeches, you’d know you have to do your research first. Which is exactly what I did. You need to familiarise yourself with the issue at hand and delve deeply into it so you–’

‘What was your speech about, again?’ Humphrey shouted from the arch.

Julian fell silent for a second. ‘Um… did I say dolphins?’ The ghosts groaned again as they realised what had really happened. ‘All right, all right… In fact, I actually started researching… whatever it was, but then I got distracted and just watched funny videos the whole time.’

‘Well, I think it’s fair to say this meeting has been a disgrace so far,’ Fanny summed up, shaking her head. ‘But if we can count on someone not to lie about their project and do exactly what was described, it’s the Captain.’

Pat livened up and turned to him. ‘Yeah, tell us, Cap!’

The Captain’s mouth opened slightly, and the lower lip twitched. Pat, of all people, asking him when he knew better than anyone how his week had gone? Was that a joke?

The bar was low. Six feet below the ground low. And yet an honest report would push it down even more. He just had to present a more exemplary picture, a picture that would paint him as perfectly cool-headed and disciplined. Especially now that Fanny had freshened up the expectations that weighed heavily on him all the time.

‘Well, I have engineered a packed schedule, rich with physical and intellectual activities alike,’ the Captain reported unsteadily. ‘Not a single minute goes to waste, every day. Unlike you irresponsible bunch, I’m very serious about this project, and–’

Thomas gave a disparaging laugh. ‘Oh please. Not a single minute? You spent hours on the roof with Patrick just yesterday!’

A few confused glances zoomed within the group.

The Captain’s left hand twitched, and he hurried to grip the stick with both hands and hide it behind his back. ‘Erm… I– I just–’

‘I can explain,’ Pat interrupted calmly. He walked closer to the Captain and touched his elbow. ‘The Captain was kind enough to offer his help with my “one new thing a day” project. One of my things was going up to the roof. I’m not crazy about heights, me, so he was there to help me. And then it was just nice there so I thought, why not stay a little longer?’

‘Yes. Exactly,’ the Captain said, his voice jumping. ‘Enjoy the marvellous view and so on,’ he added as he glanced at Pat, who now had an awkward smile on.

‘Doesn’t sound particularly productive to me,’ Julian said. ‘That just means Pat’s doing well – and you’re not.’

‘W-well,’ the Captain stammered, ‘Patrick has certainly topped me this week, but I–’

Julian raised his eyebrows. ‘He what now?’

Pat smacked his hand to his mouth.

‘I mean, he has accomplished slightly more missions than I have, but I– I–’

‘Come on, you’re failing, just like the rest of us!’

‘Or worse,’ Robin added, and Julian pointed at him in agreement. ‘Never even seen you run this week like you usually do.’

Stupefied under the fair bombardment, the Captain just kept opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water, no words coming out. The lie had been cracked too easily. Even worse, danger was blaring in the fact that he had nothing to say for himself.

Fortunately, after a concerned glance at him, Pat stepped in and shifted the attention of the group to the only ghosts who were willing to talk about their projects – Kitty, who had more scenes from her novel to share, and Robin, who was finding the rules of the English language hilariously absurd. The Captain spent the rest of the club pursing his lips expressively and furrowing his brow, his participation in the discussion limited to regular eye rolls.

‘Okay, let’s call our first Change Club… moderately successful,’ Pat concluded the meeting with unfaltering optimism. ‘And don’t forget, Christmas is coming in two weeks! If we all do our best, we’re going to give ourselves the best presents – some great results to celebrate!’

The ghosts murmured something incomprehensible in an annoyed key.

‘Well, it’s hard to remember Christmas is coming at all,’ Fanny said coldly, ‘when the house is still absolutely devoid of any decorations. And who do I complain to, when the only living person who can hear me is the one ignoring the calendar?’

‘I suppose they’ll just do it later this year,’ Pat said, with a shrug. ‘And probably on a smaller scale. They’re too busy and tired to decorate the whole big house, and I’ve heard money’s tight too.’

‘Yeah, for me, the later, the better,’ Julian said. ‘Never liked those frills. In fact, that’s where you can and should slash the budget and save some cash for a nice partay,’ he pointed out, making a funny face.

A fight over the importance of lush and timely Christmas decorations flared up, and the club fizzled out.

In the evening, the garden was not as dark and chilly as it had been before dawn. The homely amber light from the windows warmed the ambience up a little. The Captain’s face, however, had gone from an airy close-lipped smile to a concrete structure of gloom. As he and Pat strolled amidst the sleeping nature yet again, the Captain was quiet, and the wrinkles between his eyebrows never went away.

Pat gave him about a dozen worried looks before he finally asked, softly, ‘You all right, Cap?’

Of course, he wasn’t. The other ghosts’ unhelpful remarks had made what he already knew even worse. He was failing. His schedule was worse than it had ever been. Deviating further and further from what it had to be, inevitably leading to something terrible. And yet there he was again, sauntering around with the unaware reason, unable to let him go.

For heaven’s sake, he couldn’t even find the determination to accept the rescheduling of the morning walk. Pat kept bringing up the reasonable suggestion, and the Captain always refused with various excuses, his heart shrinking at the thought of losing that peaceful, secluded hour alone with him. The proverbial darkest hour wasn’t that bad at all – the lack of light, on the contrary, blinded the restraint inside and made him hope, foolishly, that dawn would come in the end.

The scariest change had already happened way before Change Club was born. Now, all he could do was try to hold it back and reverse it.

What good could possibly come out of this?

‘Mm-hm,’ the Captain replied curtly, keeping his vexed walk fast and resolute.

‘Are you upset about Change Club?’

A pause.

The Captain sighed vaguely. ‘Mm.’

‘Well, you know how they are. Don’t fret about it.’

‘Mm,’ the Captain repeated stubbornly.

Pat looked around, as if searching for better words. ‘It’s normal, you know. You’re doing just the same as everybody else.’

‘Oh, please,’ the Captain grumbled. ‘There’s a difference between a slow advance and launching a bally missile attack on your own ranks. You can very well see I have failed to organise a single properly planned day.’

‘I’m just saying, you don’t have to succeed at once.’

‘Well, that’s easy for you to say,’ the Captain objected in a prickly voice. ‘You are doing splendidly and carrying out exactly the operation you had described a week ago.’

‘I’m–’ Pat fell silent. He eyed the Captain in a wary way and looked down. ‘Yeah, I’m doing all right, I suppose. But not as well as you think. And I owe all my wins to you.’

The Captain grimaced in disbelief.

‘No, I mean it!’ Pat said earnestly. ‘I think you’ve earned me enough points to share with you,’ he added, with a chuckle.

‘It doesn’t work like that, I’m afraid,’ the Captain refused, his chin raised pridefully.

Pat’s moustache twitched, and he nodded. ‘Right. Well, I just wanted to thank you for helping me so much.’ He looked up, his eyebrows curved nervously. ‘Sorry I’m making a muck of your project. You don’t have to keep doing that.’

The Captain stared at Pat’s guilty face in the dark, his wired gait slowing down. His eyes softened. ‘No. No. It was my suggestion, every time. I’m fully responsible.’

Pat breathed out in relief and grinned. ‘Well, you did help me a lot. Thanks for catching me yesterday when I felt a bit dizzy on the roof, by the way. It’s like you’ve saved my life! Well, not literally because there’s nothing left to save now, but Fanny says falling from a height is not too pleasant anyway,’ Pat said jocularly.

The Captain smiled, the feeling of Pat in his arms still fresh, the memory of his relieved grin blooming in petrifying vicinity to his face too palpable. He had acted purely on instinct when Pat seemed to lean woozily to the side. In any other circumstances, he would never allow himself such drastic manoeuvres. There had been no time to think – and now, rather ironically, it was hard to think about anything else.

The image had persisted in his mind throughout the day. The sensation of Pat sheltered safely in his arms that somehow felt more like Pat surrounding him from all sides and leaving nowhere else to look, nowhere else to run. Pat’s panicked hands grabbing onto his back and forearm, the pressure of his fingers lingering past the point where the danger had expired. His gaze going up slowly, a flustered smile colouring his face pink. And then, stupidly, the Captain dropping his hands, stepping aside, clearing his throat and mumbling something about the dire need of a list of safety regulations for ghosts.

‘Ah, it was nothing, really,’ he said modestly.

‘Well, it was… something,’ Pat corrected him playfully, a shy smile taking over his face. ‘To me.’

It was just the same smile as the one back on the roof, when Pat had reinforced the Captain’s awkward hold with his own arms, and looked up into his eyes meekly, trustingly, sending him into a fall much worse than the one he had prevented – in fact, the Captain was having doubts as to whether Pat had been about to fall at all. The Captain, on the other hand, was falling, falling breathlessly, and all the while, a thought was swooshing alongside him and pulling ahead, a thought that maybe… maybe…

‘And it's not just that!’ Pat went on, slowly coming to a halt. ‘You were there by my side for all of it, and I know most of our ghost new things... aren’t that exciting.’

‘Quite the contrary. Watching you trying not to say anything to Alison while she was cooking those bizarre Yorkshire pudding wraps was most entertaining,’ the Captain reminisced, recalling pulling Pat away from the kitchen when, by the end of the culinary experiment, he was about to chew on his own scarf and blow up with rightful fury.

Pat chuckled. ‘Yeah.’ He put his hand on the Captain’s upper arm. ‘I just want to say…’ The Captain missed a breath. What had he just been so vexed about? Pat looked up at him softly. ‘You’re a good man, Cap. I think you can do anything you set your mind to. And your little project too.’ Pat quietened for a while. Then, gingerly, his other hand followed the example. ‘Or, you know… You can drop it any time and go for something else, if you like.’

And then Pat just paused whatever he was doing. He stood where he was, saying nothing more, his hands not moving an inch up or down – he only watched the Captain’s face closely, his look a barely concealed wait. The Captain held his gaze, the usual knottiness of his posture dissolving warmly. All the little moments of shared joy from the past week and the many, many weeks before swirled luminously around him, coalescing and floodlighting the obvious, its shine so striking that for a moment, it wasn’t just hope – it was almost belief. Belief that Pat would still be there, if the Captain would lean in and close his eyes, belief that the whole schedule project had been needless from the start. Even belief that, just as desperately as he was, Pat…

Hesitantly and barely consciously, the Captain lowered his head and…

But it had never been just about that single doubt, had it?

The Captain rushed back and straightened up hurriedly, looking to the side and clearing his throat, his mouth closed. Pat’s lips parted slightly in surprise, and his hands fell down at once.

‘Ah. Indeed. I can, yes. Thank you,’ the Captain agreed with the statement that had preceded the previous one and was barely relevant even for him by now. His voice ran across the frequencies in a frenzy, and the loudness was out of order. ‘Actually, I think I’ll have an early night so I can, um… kick-start this whole operation first thing tomorrow morning.’

Pat stared at the ground and shuffled his feet. ‘Yeah. All right. I might need to work a bit harder on mine too, now that you mention it.’

So began the next week of transformational efforts at Button House, a slightly more successful one. For most ghosts, that is. The Captain, after the hasty retreat in the garden, made an angry promise to himself: whatever had actually happened there, that nonsense had to stop before the tiny spark would gorge on such occasions enough to evolve into a flame and eat up their calm and safe status quo with one bite. That was, of course, easy enough to do – he only had to pretend nothing had – almost – happened and double down on the schedule strategy.

When the following morning, Pat suggested trying out a funny experiment of saying ‘yes’ to everything for a day, the Captain said just that as fast as if he was already conducting one himself – and’s the spirit in which the week carried on.

The second Change Club saw more happy updates. Kitty retold a romantic scene from her novel that Thomas had helped her compose, and Pat had to shush the other ghosts three times to keep their comments to themselves. Fanny reported proudly on managing to solve a complicated maths problem, which nobody understood a word of. Everyone had a small win to share – even when, in most cases, they were a bit smudged by immediate failures, the most telling example being Thomas spending a whole 3 days not pestering Alison and then talking her ear off about his heroic perseverance for hours on end.

The more the Captain listened, the lower his eyebrows dropped. He hadn’t expected everyone else to make headway so quickly. His finest achievement that week, in contrast, was limited to reestablishing a meagre handful activities he had already had – like regular runs and morning workouts. The rest of the time, he had spent lazing about with Pat and readily assisting his daily ventures – or, even more embarrassingly, dwelling on the lost moment in the garden. Even now, when everyone was there and it was a very bad time, he couldn’t turn his back on it.

For the hundredth time that week, the scene flooded his mind. The garden. The darkness. Pat, with his kind eyes and sweet words. And when Pat ran his hands down the Captain’s arms yet again, the image deviated from the source rather bravely. He swung his arms around Pat, just like he had on the roof but without needing an excuse to do so, and leaned him back confidently. Their lips met in a perfect, almost cinematic dip kiss, Pat holding him tight, his body soft with absolute trust, his hands nimble and–

‘Cap, are you still with us?’

The Captain heard the real Pat’s voice through the fog and shivered back into reality. Pat was looking at him intently, just like the other ghosts.

‘Ah, sorry,’ the Captain mumbled. ‘Is it my turn?’

Everyone nodded. The Captain bounced nervously, his mind flicking through non-existent options chaotically. He wanted a win too. He really did. All the ghosts had one. And he had to look just as good as everyone else. If not better. But he had no success with the daily schedule. The only thing on his mind, the only thing that, if he was being honest with himself, felt close to a win was…

It wasn’t a fact to share with the group, of course. However… There was one purely absurd way to put it.

‘I am pleased to report,’ the Captain started, with exaggerated enthusiasm, ‘that there has been some progress with the, um… physical aspect of the operation “Daily Schedule”. There’s this… workout Pat told me about…’

‘Oh yeah, Jane Fonda’s workout!’ Pat exclaimed, pointing his finger at the Captain. Julian nodded understandingly, a nostalgic grin on his face. ‘It’s the only fun workout on Earth! Bought myself some leg warmers because of that tape. And the music’s so cool.’

‘Right. Erm, that,’ the Captain mumbled. ‘Well, I take it it’s a rather challenging workout and it’s different from what I’m used to. Really rather new, at least from my point of view. Obviously, it’s going to disrupt things deeply – the workout system, I mean. But the benefits have become rather evident, so I… almost did it.’

The anticlimactic ending made the ghosts exchange puzzled glances.

Julian snorted. ‘I watched the tape dozens of times. There’s no way you can do that in your uniform. And are we counting almosts now?’

‘Why not?’ Kitty said. ‘I think we should! He did his best, and it sounds like fun.’

‘Oh, not a chance,’ Thomas objected fiercely. ‘It is all or nothing in this club, sir.’

‘Um, there’s no rule that says–’ Pat tried to interrupt in a high-pitched voice.

‘Why did you not do it, anyway?’ Humphrey asked. This time, he wasn’t on the arch – instead, he had been delivered to the meeting and placed on the sofa by his body, which then ran from under the head and left in an unknown direction. ‘Never seen you struggle with workouts that much. Is it really that hard?’

‘I certainly do not struggle with workouts,’ the Captain asserted touchily. He threw a glance at Pat, who was listening with a half-concerned, half-suspicious face, and his voice grew shaky. ‘Well, it’s not that it’s hard – it’s just– just– very new, and honestly, at my age, I’d make a fool of myself, I’m afraid. And I would hate to ruin what I have with – um, exercising. But if it goes wrong, there’s nowhere to go, is it? Neither of – the slot, I mean, the slot in the schedule – it is not going anywhere.’

There was a brief silence in the common room. The Captain belatedly realised he had been blabbing too much and stole a lightning-fast look at Pat. Fortunately, Pat’s narrowed eyes expressed no more understanding than all the rest.

‘Still not count,’ Robin said finally, and the others murmured in agreement. ‘If me learn those stupid condition alls, you have to do your workout before you boast about it.’

The Captain was just about to snap back, but Fanny spoke first, ‘Excuse me, but if this enterprise has run its course for today, there are more urgent issues to take care of. I should go and tell Alison off for not decorating the house with just a week left until Christmas.’

‘Oh, does it count if I go too?’ Thomas asked immediately.

‘Give over,’ Pat said to Fanny, waving away. ‘So what if it’s a little late this year? She’s got a whole new human life on her hands, for crying out loud!’

‘I do miss the lights,’ Kitty admitted with a tinge of sadness. ‘Alison keeps saying she’s going to do it later. But there’s not much “later” left, I’m afraid.’

When everyone was out of the common room, Pat stomped up to the Captain, his eyebrows furrowed so noticeably that the Captain froze at once, ready to take a defensive position. Had Pat deciphered his spontaneous soliloquy?

‘Why didn’t you call me if you wanted to do those Jane Fonda exercises?’ Pat asked, all of a sudden, sounding genuinely upset. ‘I’d show you all the moves! You haven’t even seen the video.’

‘Well, you did describe a few verbally,’ the Captain tried to defend himself weakly.

‘No, no, no. The whole point is you have to watch the video and follow along. It’s more fun than just doing it from a list. Don’t think we’ve got that tape here but… Oh, I could be your telly!’ Pat suggested playfully. ‘Show you all the hip thrusts and the leg stretches.’

The Captain stared at him, blinking rapidly. ‘Oh, good Lord, no. No. That won’t be necessary, thank you.’

‘All right, I know I’m going to look ridiculous, throwing my legs around and all that, but–’

‘Oh no, that’s not what I meant,’ the Captain reassured him in a hurry. ‘It’s simply that, um… I should be familiar enough with the basic exercise moves to figure out the–’ He looked Pat up and down and paused. ‘Actually,’ he squeaked, ‘I’m wondering, what if I’m not? It would be a crying shame, wouldn’t it? So it might be rather helpful… to have a closer look.’

Pat raised his fists in victory. ‘Yes! Great. I’ll show you everything I can remember one of these days then, and in a week, you’ll have something to tell at the meeting.’

‘Well, it’s about time. You keep topping me every week, perhaps next time I can top you, for once.’

Pat either coughed or chuckled into a fist. ‘Right. Would be lovely, that. Just saying, by the way…’ Pat gestured at the sofas where the ghosts had been sitting, as if resuming the discussion. ‘Almosts do count, you know.’

The Captain narrowed his eyes. ‘Oh do they now?’

‘Yeah! Half a loaf is better than none, eh? It’s still some change. That’s what we’re doing all this for. You’ll get there, Cap,’ Pat promised sunnily, giving him a supportive tap on the elbow.

Something about his tone and words made the Captain bounce and smirk. ‘Mm. Anything new I can help you with today?’

‘Oh yes, I’ve been thinking about trying breathing exercises. Want to give it a try?’

‘Huh. Are there optimal routines for that too?’

‘Honestly, I have no idea. I just heard something from Alison, and I don’t want to bother her again. I suppose it’s just… taking long deep breaths? Like this.’ Pat closed his eyes and inhaled such a big amount of air that the beige shirt started hugging his chest obscenely tight. He then exhaled gradually. ‘Or the other way round, small short breaths.’ Pat demonstrated noisily. ‘I mean, how many ways to breathe are there? It’s meant to calm you down, I suppose.’

The Captain, visibly abandoned by peace and calm since the second the demonstration had begun, stared at him, round-eyed and flustered. ‘Right,’ he said hoarsely. ‘Very fascinating.’

‘Well, we’ll run some tests and figure it out,’ Pat suggested with a zestful grin.

The next week was the most bustling one yet. It wasn’t even the last one of the game, but Christmas was just around the corner, infusing everyone with the urgent wish to perform a magical leap and secure a nice victory to boast about, while the remaining week of the year would simply be a leisurely aftertaste. The ghosts knuckled down, no sign of truancy or trickery, keeping petty bickering to a minimum. Even Julian seemed to be working hard on his charity speeches, and there was gossip that he had already managed to raise a few pounds. Thomas, who had been providing most of the woeful complaining about the game, hushed down. He was spending hours with Kitty – and the Captain was surprised to hear from her that Thomas was apparently capable, occasionally, of being a gentle and benevolent advisor.

Only two projects at Button House were at a standstill. The lack of Christmas decorations was depressing the ghosts so much that they poured even more vigour into working towards their goals in order to distract themselves. As for the Captain’s dilapidated daily schedule, this time, he pushed it out of the way almost willingly. The pull of guilt and shame lightened when he smiled all his days away by Pat’s side. Stammering, in a whisper and only to himself, he almost admitted that his real goal, all this time, had been hiding in plain sight outside the strict schedule lines. And maybe, just maybe, in a very perfect set of circumstances… it was almost possible to achieve.

Then, the day before Christmas Eve or, more palpably, the day before the third and penultimate meeting of Change Club, all hell broke loose. Instead of the usual last-minute festive chaos, the day started with a hysterical setback from Thomas. He decided his project was going so well that it definitely deserved a celebration – by which he meant a five-hour reading of a farewell poem to Alison that was supposed to include two rapped intermissions and one interpretive dance. Alison’s patience ran out loudly before the 15 minute mark, and Pat dashed off to the nursery to cut the performance short.

‘Do not stifle my blessed anguish, sir!’ Thomas could be heard screaming from the nursery. ‘If there is someone you should be observing closely, it’s Julian and his secret expenses!’

The Captain frowned and shook his head disapprovingly. Why Julian’s lifetime mistakes came up again, he had no idea.

He decided to have a chat with Fanny while Pat was busy. Even Thomas’s loud mishap couldn’t bring him down. He walked around the house with a spring in his step, humming a tune from his youth buoyantly. Thomas was weak and sensitive, an easy target for emotional swings that came with such projects. It was no wonder he was the first and the only one from the group to crack under the pressure. The Captain, on the other hand, was feeling brave, and changing his project was a genuine thought on his mind.

Expectedly, what with Thomas’s yelling still audible in most parts of the house, Fanny brought up Change Club and asked the Captain about his progress with the project.

‘Oh, it has been marvellous,’ the Captain answered evasively but joyfully. ‘Advancing to the desired position, so to speak. And yours is going really rather splendidly too, I believe?’

Fanny threw a few stealthy glances around. No other ghosts were present in the ballroom that they were passing through. She then lowered her voice. ‘That wouldn’t be entirely accurate, I’m afraid.’

‘Ah, I see. Is the lecturer making distasteful jokes again?’

‘Yes, and it’s utterly nasty. What a crying shame I cannot write a complaint. But it’s not the most unfortunate part.’

‘Hm?’

Fanny scanned the surroundings again and made such a secretive face as if a great military secret was at hand. ‘The progress I am making in the field itself is… slightly underwhelming, you see,’ she admitted. ‘I’ve always thought myself an intelligent woman, and I know I ought to be learning faster. But ugh – it’s just so exhausting!’

‘Now then, Fanny, steady on and knuckle down,’ the Captain said in surprise. ‘You’ve never been the sort to be intimidated by an intellectual task, have you?’

Fanny grimaced and shook her head. ‘It’s not so much the demanding nature of the course, but the humiliation of it all! All of these new things, at my age? Honestly, I’m beginning to think it’s just too late for me.’

The Captain halted at the top of the stairs and frowned. ‘Mm,’ he hummed, his face cooling.

He was about to make a hesitant objection when they heard Humphrey shouting for help from somewhere unknown. They looked around in attempts to locate the head. The sound seemed to be coming from… the steps. The Captain stooped down with a grunt, stuck his hand through a few steps randomly until he finally he fished Humphrey’s sulky head out of one.

‘Oh thank you,’ Humphrey mumbled. ‘The things I’ve seen… I mean, I didn’t see anything, it’s dark in there. But you get the point.’

‘How did you even get in there, man?’ the Captain asked. He put Humphrey on one of the tables in the common room, Fanny following him and pursing her lips.

‘I don’t know, ask him! Note: on all levels except physical, I’m pointing at my bloody body, even though I don’t where it is,’ Humphrey informed in a frustrated tone.

‘I take it, your situation isn’t becoming better either,’ Fanny noticed.

‘No, worse! I think he’s pissed off with me or something. Keeps tossing me into weird places. Shouldn’t have even tried getting closer to him.’

The Captain stared at Humphrey, lost in thought, his forehead wrinkling. Defeats were multiplying. Even worse, what he saw and heard snagged on the thorns that already existed inside. Fanny, thinking it was too late. Thomas, sliding into his unbearable old ways. Humphrey, spoiling what he had instead of making it better.

‘Um, right. You were saying?’ The Captain turned to Fanny, trying to shake the darkened expression off his face.

‘Well,’ Fanny continued bleakly, ‘much akin to Humphrey, I regret even starting that course. Trying something so new now – it is absurd! I missed my moment to begin, I suppose,’ she said with a quiet, sharp sadness. ‘I wish I had had a chance to do that when I was younger. That would have been delightful. But now… Goodness gracious, at my age, people are distinguished professors themselves, not students! But here I am, struggling with the easiest course there was. I simply feel like I’m making a fool of myself all the time!’

The Captain listened to Fanny’s bitter complaint, nodding slowly. ‘Mm. Well… I can certainly understand that, I must say.’

‘Oh, Captain, at least you’re saying that you’re coping with yours honourably,’ Fanny said. ‘Unlike most of us.’

‘Ah, really?’ the Captain mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

‘Well, earlier today I caught Julian gambling away the whole sum he had raised – and I know a gambler’s face when I see it. Kitty’s literary journey has sunk into unspeakable amateurish filth that almost makes me miss Thomas’s verses. He is at least familiar with structure and logic, more or less. Robin’s speech still sounds incomprehensible. And how is Patrick doing? You ought to be aware.’

The Captain twitched and forced a stiff smile. ‘What? I– Of course I’m not. What makes you think I am? Ha-ha.’

Fanny raised her chin and narrowed her eyes. ‘Are you not helping him with his project? I seem to recall you were making good progress together.’

‘Oh, no, no… I assure you, I am not making any progress with Patrick,’ the Captain asserted. He softened the rough objection with a few awkward chuckles, and then his face dimmed permanently. ‘None at all.’

Fanny kept on staring at him at a loss. ‘Right. Well, this is going to be a cheerless Christmas. This house has seen a lot of those, but who would think we would come back to that again? Ugh, this beastly Change Club,’ she summed up.

The boiling rooms and minds seemingly cooled off by the evening. The Captain and Pat were sitting in the TV room and ignoring the screen. The Captain was fiddling with his stick absentmindedly, his face still heavy with the thought of the collapses he had witnessed.

For a brief happy while, change had seemed so possible and easy. It had been there, an arm’s length away, inviting to grab on and ready to sweep upward. But… was it a doomed journey, after all? What if for ghosts, change just wasn’t an option? What if they were fated to snap back and not just make things worse but crack them into pieces with the power of the violent rebound?

Meanwhile, Pat didn’t seem to be fazed by the dispiriting news of the day at all. He was retelling Thomas’s story energetically, and even that tale of woe failed to take away his morale.

‘I barely managed to drag him away from there, and then he proper cried! Screamed it was impossible, and what’s the use of even trying, and… something about not being able to change the tragic destiny. I didn’t quite catch the whole poem he started to compose on the spot.’

The Captain smirked without smiling. ‘Typical Thorne.’

‘Yeah. But it was a little intense even for Thomas. Do you think this whole change business is that painful for him?’

‘Well…’ The Captain scrunched up his nose. ‘It does sound like all of us are a bit topsy-turvy about this dashed operation. And may I remind you that tomorrow is the penultimate meeting, and our current situation is an absolute disgrace, to put it mildly.’

Pat turned to him, a hopeful look in his eyes. ‘It’s not that bad, is it? Everyone’s got things to do. We might not have much, but it’s still something. And, well…’ Pat pushed the Captain’s knee with his lightly. ‘I think I’m doing all right with mine, thanks to your help. And I keep telling you, Cap, you’re trying, that’s what counts.’

The Captain, who was, as of a few hours earlier that day, set on his original decoy plan resolutely again, shook his head and snorted. Suddenly, he had no wins again. No breakthrough in sight. Only the burden of wasted hope that was better off strangled for good and forgotten. This whole patronising, forgiving, weakly nonsense that Pat was trying to teach him made the Captain even more irate.

‘Pat, please! It’s not the process that counts but the result. Missions aren’t done for the joy of it. They have a specific goal, and if it’s not accomplished, it is simply a bally failure, not something to celebrate.’

As Pat listened to him, his face grew redder. An affronted glare flamed up in his eyes. ‘You what? So you just dismiss everything that’s not a proper win?’

‘Of course.’

‘And… it means nothing to you?’

The Captain shot him a confused sidelong glance. In his fruitless project, nothing marginally important had really happened at all to talk about meaning. ‘Come on, what bloody use is all this shilly-shally?’

‘But what’s wrong with just… taking things slow and all that?’

‘Not too unlike sitting it out like a coward in the rear,’ the Captain grumbled, thinking more about himself than anyone and anything else.

Pat started breathing faster, angered, almost panicked. The futility of the Captain’s schedule project seemed to upset him greatly.

‘Okay,’ he mumbled acidly and jumped up. ‘If all that just doesn’t mean anything to you… and, well, I wanted to become braver anyway… If you want a bloody accomplishment, here goes.’

Pat stepped forward, bent down and grabbed the Captain by the shoulders roughly. When their faces were close together, it was as if Pat came to his senses a little and toned the intensity down, his hands softening their grasp guiltily. Not having expected that at all, the Captain froze completely. He stared into Pat’s eyes blankly, his mouth agape with fluster, his hands clutching the stick on his lap tightly.

Neither moved. The charged look seemed to crackle on between them for minutes. Unsteadily, moving in tiny stumbling sprints, Pat’s hand slid up to stroke the Captain’s neck and cheek, making him inhale sharply. The Captain gravitated closer to Pat, his head spinning, uncontrollable waves rolling inside his chest and carrying him forward.

His eyes were already half-closed when it shot through his mind again. The hopelessness of it all. It just wouldn’t happen. Change had no place in this house. And when you tried to win back a piece of it, the disillusionment was always even worse.

Pat’s heart didn’t deserve to become a casualty in this ill-fated war.

When Pat’s breath was already warm on his skin, the Captain mumbled huskily, ‘I– I– No, no, no. Pat… We, uh, w-we really shouldn’t.’

Pat froze and blinked in confusion.

‘This, um… This is not going to work,’ the Captain squeezed out, hiding his eyes, the touch on his cheek stiffening and then disappearing.

Pat stepped away at once and clenched his hands in front of himself, lowering his gaze to the floor, his cheeks filling up with red. He was silent for a while, and then he brought his hand to his face, pushing his glasses up.

‘Oh my god,’ he mumbled. ‘I really thought you… Flaming Nora. I’m so sorry.’

The Captain replied with a knot of scratchy sounds, still searching for the determination to raise his eyes and hold Pat’s look, at the very least. Then occurred to him that Pat might have heard a much more distressing – and totally wrong – message in his poorly chosen words than the one he had tried to convey. But refuting it would take a statement he just could not make.

‘No, no, I–’ the Captain stammered, choking on words. ‘Pat, I–’

‘It’s all right.’ Pat suddenly presented a wide smile that couldn’t look more miserable. ‘There’s no need for… No, actually, I’d better…’ he mumbled, looking away and gesturing at the door weakly. And then Pat dashed away, saying nothing more.

The Captain leapt to his feet and watched him go helplessly, his eyebrows angled upwards. Just a textbook catastrophe, sadly. If there had ever been the smallest chance of change there, it was ruined for good. How could Pat possibly not see the dangers he was trying to save them from? Was he blind to where the other ghosts’ endeavours had gone eventually?

The third Change Club was even more depressing than it had been expected. And a very unfestive one: a tiny fake tree on the piano, wrapped in tinsel messily, and rows of postcards on the windowsills were carrying the Christmas spirit on their backs and coping poorly. Thomas was sitting with his feet on the sofa, hugging his knees and swinging back and forth with a despaired expression. Pat had been avoiding the Captain since the previous evening, and now he was facing the other way stubbornly, his arms folded, trying to keep up an emotionless expression. The impossible was achieved, and even Julian’s eyes had a shameful bleakness to them.

‘Okay,’ Pat began as softly as if the sound of his voice would shatter the fragile atmosphere. ‘Well, we all heard and saw enough yesterday, I suppose, but… Maybe someone has something more, um… uplifting to add now?’

‘I am not leaving this sofa,’ Thomas reported. ‘Oh, shame and woe, destroy my weakly spirit and flesh for I cannot take this any more.’

‘Sorry, was that uplifting?’ Pat asked, frowning.

‘Oh, it is,’ Julian said. ‘He tried the basement at first, but didn’t enjoy the company. Which, if these lamentations persist, I strongly suggest to reconsider. Try the exiled poet trope, you know.’

‘Don’t you want to say something for yourself after yesterday’s infamy, Julian?’ Fanny asked lividly. ‘Or are you going to just stick to your awful little jokes?’

Julian’s jocular face blazed up at once. ‘I don’t, actually! “I’m truly honoured”, “this has been an eye-opening experiment”, blah-blah-blah – is that what you all want me to say? Well, you know what I’ve found? That I. Just. Don’t. Care! I can’t see why I should be helping people – or, I don’t know, hedgehogs or something – who I’ve never met and who I don’t care about. To earn some bloody phantom kindness points? Gah! No, I don’t get anything real out of it! In fact, I’m happy as I am, and I shouldn’t have even joined this bloody circus,’ he finished angrily, out of breath.

A drizzle of awkward glances swept through the group.

Fanny looked nervously from side to side. ‘Well, questionable moral choices aside,’ she said after a pause, ‘Julian’s right. I’ve found myself regretting this whole escapade too. We should just stop this nonsense and keep everything the same. That’s the wisest thing to do.’

The Captain glanced at Pat furtively. No reply.

‘Quite right,’ the Captain agreed in a strict voice. ‘Change is very dangerous. We were reckless enough to let this enemy break into our house and mess with our established way of life. Now we have to keep it out by all means and reinforce the defences before it all blows up and ends terribly.’

Pat didn’t even look at him once – he kept gazing out the window where lonely snowflakes were dancing their grey dance.

‘Let’s just admit,’ Thomas said, ‘that change is restricted to the realm of the living. We cannot change, and it’s preposterous to even try.’

‘Well, allow me to disagree,’ Humphrey commented. ‘I used to be on neutral terms with my body, and now it’s a full-on battle. All the time.’

‘See?’ Julian asked. He stood up and raised his fist in the air in an urging way. ‘Change only makes things worse,’ he said, emphasising each word with a shake of the fist. ‘My party line, by the way. Who is in favour of dropping this club and all the relevant enterprises forever?’

Hands went up in the air, one by one. Humphrey blinked rapidly to express agreement. The Captain raised his stick. Even Pat slowly held up his index finger.

And then, Kitty cried out, ‘But I don’t want to! I’m having so much fun composing stories. Can we keep the club a little longer?’

‘Oh Kitty, must you persist with those unseemly scenes?’ Fanny asked. ‘Everything I have heard from your writings contains all the beginners’ mistakes one can ever make! Honestly, it is like you are trying to collect as many as it’s humanly possible within a single paragraph.’

Completely unbothered, Kitty smiled. ‘Well, I know I’m not the next Emily Brontë – which is all right, because I’m more of a next Melanie B. But I didn’t start doing it because I wanted to be good at it. Or actually finish a book one day. I just wanted something new and delightful, and now I have something to think about every day, and it’s only getting more and more exciting! Besides, Thomas and I are spending the best times together, discussing new characters and ideas. Aren’t we, Thomas?’

Thomas’s face froze, processing a gradual realisation, and then softened. ‘In fact, yes, we are. Every day.’ Thomas fell into deep thought and put his hand to his chin contemplatively. ‘I never really realised until now.’ He thought some more. ‘Oh, Kitty, you’re an angel for bringing some of the sweetest memories into such a bitter and unsettled period of my afterlife.’

The Captain gave Pat an expressive stare. Finally, Pat caught it. He swung from side to side, his arms still crossed, but the Captain could swear a familiar warmness flashed in his eyes for a second.

‘Okay,’ Julian said. ‘We’ll take that into consideration, et cetera, et cetera. But the majority of people here have expressed clearly that–’

‘Actually, me don’t want stop too,’ Robin interrupted.

‘Oh really? Doesn’t sound like grammar rules are particularly interesting to you,’ Julian replied with a snort.

Robin sighed. He then cleared his throat, took a deep breath and said, quite slowly, in a smoother, gentler voice than he usually did, ‘For your information, I am perfectly capable of speaking like this too when it is necessary. By the way, judging people by their grammar is something only stupid people do.’

The ghosts stared at Robin, lost for words.

‘What just happened?’ Pat squeaked, expressing the sentiment of the room. ‘Why don’t you always talk like that?’

‘It make my brain hurt,’ Robin said in his normal voice. ‘But yeah, I can, once in while, if I really try. Just don’t like it. English changes so much. Whoosh,’ Robin said, his hand slicing the air, ‘and it’s different again. ‘Thought, why bother? Can’t keep up with every change in world, gotta choose what matters and what not. You all get me anyway, right?’ he added, with a grin.

‘Why are you taking an English course then?’ Humphrey asked.

‘Well, I don’t mind. It fun. Little stupid – but fun. Just wanted to be part of Change Club. Do something with all you.’

The ghosts looked at each other and averted their eyes immediately, as if ashamed by the simplicity of the revelation.

‘But you all so funny,’ Robin added, smirking. ‘We can’t change, we can’t change,’ he imitated in a voice so comical that it probably applied to the whole group instead of someone in particular. ‘Saw good houses ruined to ground, saw villages come to life from nothing, saw biggest, most dangerous animals die out, saw lightning tamed, go from sure death to friend in every house. More important, saw you all come here. How you were then… and now. But yeah, you lot can’t change,’ Robin said, laughing by the end as if he was telling a hilarious anecdote.

All silent, the ghosts sat and stood mulling over what Kitty and Robin had just pointed out. Thomas kept gazing at Kitty in awe. The Captain focused his eyes on Pat. Please, please answer, his piercing gaze begged, please understand that the issue had never been you – it was much closer to what Robin had just ridiculed and what Kitty had discarded so easily, even though that wasn’t quite the whole bouquet of his fears. When Pat took notice of his look, he uncrossed his arms, and his sullen face softened a little. But perhaps silent looks just didn’t cut it by now.

‘Well,’ Julian said slowly after a fraught silence. ‘He might not always use the correct words, but Robin makes a good point, doesn’t he? I think I’ll be speaking on behalf of everyone here when I suggest… keeping Change Club for a while longer?’ he said unsurely.

‘Perhaps we should,’ Fanny agreed with reluctance. ‘But I must excuse myself now – heaven knows I’ll only depress myself more being in this room on Christmas Eve and not seeing a single decoration, not to mention a proper tree,’ she asserted and left, to the sound of understanding murmurs from the group.

Everyone flooded away in different directions. So did Pat, before the Captain could catch him and say – well, say what exactly? The urge was there, the words were not. The fact alone that Pat walked away silently was telling enough – he was probably still massively upset or even angry. On Christmas Eve, Pat would usually go out of his way to invent new games for the group or at least find a way for them to stick together. The Captain sighed and followed the others’ example of wandering around separately and pondering their little projects.

Alison and Mike had neither visits nor trips planned. While slightly dispirited about the absence of a festive mood and nicer, bigger presents, they decided to make the best of the day and spend it resting. The common room remained empty and unusually quiet.

In the evening, however, an unexpected commotion stirred the drowsy house. An unfamiliar van arrived and parked near the door. Two people got out of it and started unloading something. The details were hard to see in the dark, and soon enough, the ghosts flocked curiously from every corner of the house to have a better look. At the door, they found a very stumped Alison in her pyjamas watching blankly as the van people were trying to fit a huge and lush Christmas tree through the door. The picture was complete with a pile of boxes at Alison’s feet – more than half looked like masterfully wrapped presents, and the others were just ordinary boxes, already open, fairy lights, red and golden figurines and shiny ornaments peeking out of them.

‘Sorry, it must be a mistake,’ Alison mumbled, ducking down when the tree’s prickly branches swept right above her. ‘We didn’t order any–’ Julian floated towards her with a grin on his face, winked and clicked his tongue. Alison’s eyes widened. ‘Oh,’ she mouthed soundlessly. ‘Right, hang on,’ she then said aloud. ‘Actually, I think we did. Ordered a train of Christmas stuff and just forgot about it. ‘Cause that happens, yeah.’

The ghosts all looked at Julian, amazed in a nice way. They clapped as he waved away playfully at first and then bowed with grace.

When the workers got busy in the common room, putting up the tree and attaching the lights to the walls, Alison whispered to Julian, ‘All this? And on Christmas Eve? I mean, thank you, but that must’ve cost an arm and a leg! Did you pawn the house or something?’

‘Nah. I have my own ways. Let’s just say I’ve learnt a lot this month,’ he said in such a sweet voice as if he was concluding a children’s fairytale. ‘And after Robin reminded us all how important it is to spend time with people you love, I used my skills to–’

‘Julian.’

‘All right, all right, all right. I scammed and blackmailed a few of my former colleagues and raised enough money for all of this. I know their buttons.’ Everyone groaned. ‘What?’ Julian exclaimed. ‘They’re really nasty people. And I should know, they were my good friends. So I’m basically Robin Hood!’

‘You more like Grinch,’ Robin joked, prompting Julian to make a face and then snort with no resentment.

Everyone shook their heads, but the gesture was purely perfunctory – they were still smiling brightly, and nobody could actually disapprove of Julian’s mischief when it gave them their Christmas back. Kitty was already skipping around the common room and clapping her hands at all the lights that now entwined its every inch.

‘Well, it’s the thought that counts, I suppose,’ Pat pointed out and gave Julian a tap on the shoulder. ‘Maybe you don’t care about helping most people… but I think you do care about helping us. Thank you, mate.’

Julian brushed off the touched expression that had taken over his face for a moment and mumbled, ‘Pft, sure I do. You people would’ve bored me out of my mind prattling on about your precious Christmas if I hadn’t done that.’

The Captain smirked to himself. It was pure fraud, of course. But if Julian, of all people, could change… Julian, the most irredeemable one, was capable, once in a while, of truly listening to the others, empathising and trying to do something – in his roguish spirit, obviously, but still – to make them feel better… then…

‘Oh look, there’s mistletoe,’ Alison said, looking into one of the boxes. Her look bumped into Thomas, and she froze. ‘Oh no. Here we go.’

The rest of the ghosts followed her gaze in horror too.

Unperturbed, Thomas turned to Julian. ‘How nice of you, to observe the tradition. Pray, what other decorations are there?’

Alison’s mouth dropped open, and after a pause, she walked away to hang the mistletoe above the doorway to the library. The ghosts stared at Thomas. He shifted his eyes from one face to the next, confused.

‘What’s the matter?’ he asked.

‘You didn’t say anything about kissing for the first time ever, mate!’ Pat cried out. ‘And the pothole was right there!’

Thomas stood there with his eyes and mouth big and round. ‘Well, I’ll be damned. I didn’t even notice.’

Everyone advanced into the common room. With the Christmas tree up and alight, it was finally starting to feel like Christmas. More than that, there was tremendous comfort in seeing the glowing holiday spirit prevail in spite of all the forces that had been against it, gently erasing the days when it had seemed impossible. The ghosts gasped in awe, looking around the beautified room.

Humphrey, who was under the piano, facing the wrong way, heaved a loud sigh. ‘Guys, I can hear something’s happening. If only I could see it better,’ he complained. ‘Anyone? Please?’

Before any of the ghosts got to him, another Christmas miracle happened, in the form of his body showing up out of nowhere, lifting the head from the floor and placing it on the neck firmly. No matter how surprised the group was, nobody looked more shocked than Humphrey himself.

‘Oh, wow! Good boy, uh, you, uh, me,’ he said, awkwardly stroking his own arm.

Huddled together, the ghosts watched the room being transformed into a world of magic and light. Alison led the workers away to give them further instructions. Pat was standing close to the Captain, and the latter watched him stealthily. He couldn’t help picking up on the subtle occasional dimming of the joy that was illuminating Pat’s face, like a few faulty bulbs on a string of fairy lights. Perhaps, the Captain concluded guiltily, Pat was still a bit too distressed to appreciate the beauty around fully.

Just then, Pat gave a sad smirk. ‘Well, great job, everyone!’ he said to the group, avoiding the Captain’s eyes blatantly. ‘Looks like you’ve all worked really hard and got your little wins in the end!’ He dropped his gaze to the floor sorrowfully, which smudged the encouraging message a little bit.

‘You did perfectly well too,’ Kitty said to him supportively. ‘All of those new things to try every day… it’s such a lovely idea. I should make that my project for the next year!’

Pat waved away. ‘Yeah, thanks. But I didn’t really… Well. It wasn’t just about new things, for me. Even when I was alive, everyone used to make fun of me for being too predictable. Playing it safe, you know. So I wanted to become a better person, I suppose? Be more adventurous and interesting, take risks, just… go for it, for once in my… afterlife. But that, erm… didn’t work,’ Pat concluded, trying to mask the heartache of his summary with a crumbly smile.

The Captain’s eyes widened. The point of Pat’s project only fully dawned on him now. It had always been about him. Not just bits of it, not just the times when he had hung out with Pat and helped him with his daily new things, not even just the few remarkable moments that still lingered in his mind. No. From the very start, every part of Pat’s project had been purely about breaking that last paper-thin barrier and being with him.

And now, Pat believed it had all been in vain, believed it hadn’t worked out only because he wasn’t good enough… Letting that thought stew inside his head even a second longer felt like a crime, and the Captain just couldn’t keep silent any more.

‘Pat, are you out of your mind?’ he cried. Pat looked up at him abruptly, taken aback. ‘To want to change something, it has to be a problem, and it simply never was. You have always been a marvellous chap. You know how I–’ The Captain noticed that everyone around was staring at them, and his sentence stumbled. ‘Well, I… I just want to say, the tactic you chose has been highly effective in, um, some regards, but perhaps… the objective had been accomplished even before you started the operation. Ahem.’

Thoughts were romping in Pat’s unblinking eyes. The rest of the ghosts just looked from one to the other curiously and, thankfully, decided not to interrupt. Pat eyed the group around prudently.

‘Right,’ he said slowly. ‘Not sure I got all that operation talk… But thank you, Cap, I suppose.’

The Captain gave a curt nod, while deep inside, despair clawed at him. He knew he had to say something else and just couldn’t bring himself to do it. The turnarounds in the other ghosts’ projects gave him a shred of hope back – but not enough to convince him that his own one, the real one, could have a happy ending. That he was allowed to venture into it at all and that everything he was wouldn’t get in the way from the very first day.

Throughout the short celebratory evening, the Captain and Pat only communicated with each other in a careful language of expressive glances and laconic, surface-level sentences. Neither brought up what really needed to be discussed. And then all the ghosts went to bed.

The next morning, when the Captain was walking down the stairs, no voices were shaking the common room up yet. When he came down, he saw Pat in the doorway on the other side of the room. Their eyes locked, and the whole sparkling grandeur around blurred into insignificance.

‘Merry Christmas, Cap,’ Pat said, with a shy smile. Perhaps he had given the Captain’s patchy speech some more thought or a festive ease had washed over him – in any case, Pat looked livelier than he had the previous evening.

The Captain bounced and grinned back. ‘Merry Christmas.’ Pat shuffled his feet, looking down. The magic of the Christmas morning made it easy to believe the words would just come miraculously and everything would be resolved in a wink. ‘Pat, I just want to–’

‘Oh hi, guys,’ Humphrey’s voice said. Pat and the Captain turned their heads and found him sitting cross-legged, still in one piece, under the Christmas tree, his face sleepy and disoriented. ‘Sorry, dozed off for a while.’

‘How long have you been here?’ Pat asked, surprised.

‘A few hours, I reckon. It’s like a cat,’ Humphrey said, gesturing at his body. ‘It really likes it here, and I’m afraid it’ll go away if I move. No, no, steady on,’ Humphrey cried as his legs started to uncross anxiously. ‘I’m here, I’m here,’ he added, and his hand, acting as if it still had its own separate will, stroked his hair.

Pat and the Captain narrowed their eyes and turned to each other in sync. Chuckling, they sat down on the sofa by each other’s side. Soon, Kitty arrived too, skipping merrily, Thomas close behind her with his hands clasped behind his back.

‘I’m feeling so inspired!’ Kitty exclaimed. ‘I am going to add lots of Christmas miracles to my story. And then everyone falls in love and lives happily ever after.’

Thomas took a seat beside her, his fists pressed together under his chin, his eyes shining. Not a single remark about the lack of tragedy.

‘Pray tell, fair Katherine, what happens next in your story?’

Fanny, Julian and Robin joined the group only for a moment and then disappeared in the library with enigmatic expressions. When they came out in a while, Fanny looked fairly jubilant, swelling with joy.

‘No more English for me!’ Robin exclaimed. ‘Gonna learn about chicken behaviour now. That really interesting.’

Fanny gave a minor shake of the head, but she looked too excited to dwell on that. ‘With a little help from Julian, I am now taking not one but three courses,’ she announced proudly.

‘Well done, Fanny,’ the Captain said as the others gave their congratulatory smiles too. ‘Did you find any easier ones?’

‘Oh no, no. Harder, actually.’

‘Ah. How so?’

‘Well, you see, Captain, while I still find this entire endeavour most demanding, Kitty reminded me yesterday that I do enjoy most parts of it. Besides, it occurred to me that back in my time, I didn’t have a tenth of the opportunities one has today – nor any woman before me, and perhaps most men as well. There is nothing I can do to change it, but I am fortunately capable of honouring this gift and putting in the work I can still do. If I have to choose between starting late, badly and slowly and starting never, I think it’s obvious what any person with a trace of common sense would do.’

Fanny finished with a didactic, meaningful look at the Captain. It was as if she knew that was just what he needed to hear. Her words shed a new light on his own situation. Back when his age had been more appropriate for the awkwardness of the first love affair and would have smoothed out the bumps of inexperience, it had just not been possible for him. But it was now. All he had to do was get over himself and seize that chance.

‘Perfectly sensible, as ever, Fanny,’ the Captain said, and Fanny nodded at him gratefully.

He flashed a quick glance at Pat. Barely anything had changed in his face, although he was watching the discussion with interest.

Okay, perhaps they both needed a little more than decoy projects and sheepish looks by now.

The Captain stood up and cleared his throat. ‘Right. Well, since the whole unit is here and while we’re on the subject… I’d like to say something too.’ Pat stared up at him, puzzled and as if a little scared. ‘I am officially renouncing my project for the month because – well, it’s just a bally silly one, isn’t it? Force of habit, that’s all. I haven’t done much of it anyway because I never wanted to do it at all. I–’ The Captain stammered, the embarrassment of not living up to the world’s expectations getting to him. He checked Pat’s reaction. Pat was smiling. Right. There was a better goal to fight for. Giving up, at that moment, was the biggest victory. ‘I… shall choose better next time,’ he finished, dropping his look eventually but having managed to say most of the sentence while gazing defencelessly into Pat’s eyes.

The ghosts just shrugged and murmured supportively.

‘That’s all right,’ Kitty said. ‘You can do something you like more next year.’

‘Mm. Yes, hopefully,’ the Captain deadpanned.

‘All right,’ Julian piped up, ‘no offence, but you all seem to have forgotten I’ve got you all presents! And, you know, I’m really in the mood to hear “oh, Julian, you’re so thoughtful and kind” and so on, and so on. Let’s go get Alison and open them, shall we?’

Everyone jumped up from their seats excitedly and flitted in the direction of the kitchen. Pat gave the Captain a merry glance, as he always did, and the Captain answered with an eloquent twitch of the eyebrows, tilting his head to the side slightly. And Pat seemed to get it – at least he stopped where was, and they both watched the swarm of ghosts dash away.

The second everyone was out of the room, the Captain placed his hand on Pat’s shoulder and led him softly to the mistletoe-adorned doorway. Pat looked up at him, hopeful sparks trembling in his eyes. Holding the stick under his arm, the Captain cupped Pat’s face in his hands and gave him a gentle kiss that was so diffident it almost looked methodical. When he felt Pat’s arms enclose him tenderly, pulling him closer, the worn-out formality smashed to smithereens for good. He moved into the kiss, his right hand in Pat’s hair, the other one running up and down his back along a clumsy trajectory.

When their faces parted, Pat beamed brighter than a thousand Christmas trees. They gazed at each other, smiling, happy, flustered, no words seeming good enough for the moment. And it wasn’t nearly enough. Safe and suddenly fearless, in the warmth of Pat’s embrace, the Captain gave him another kiss, a slightly bolder and dynamic one. Pat just had to know it wasn’t just the mistletoe, it wasn’t just the rush of the festive day – no, it had been desired desperately for a long time now. He wanted to kiss Pat at least as often as the densely packed lines of the schedule he had once, so foolishly, wanted to implement would have prevented him from doing so.

‘Now that’s the change I wanted,’ Pat said, keeping the embrace intact. ‘And there’s still a week to go!’ he added enthusiastically.

The Captain stared at him. ‘Hey now… This is frightfully fast, isn’t it?’

‘Oh, no, no!’ Pat realised how it had sounded and giggled awkwardly. ‘I mean, you’ve just sorted out my project with time to spare. That was my only real goal. And as for your new one, it can be anything! Take your time, Cap.’

‘Right. Well, actually, I rather thought… we’d exclude that whole part from it – from us, I mean… projects, results and so on… and focus on where we are now,’ the Captain suggested, swinging Pat in his arms from side to side lightly.

Pat grinned. ‘Yeah. That’d be lovely.’

The Captain caught the concerned downward movement of his eyebrows. ‘Is something wrong?’ he asked, his hand on Pat’s cheek.

‘No, no. Just…’ Pat raised his anxious eyes. ‘You don’t think we’re making a mistake and it’s going to end badly, do you?’

The Captain scrunched up his nose. ‘No idea, I’m afraid. But I am quite certain that whatever happens in the future, we are in for some happy, happy times.’

‘Well said, Cap. Let’s try then!’

Pat stood on tiptoe to kiss him again, and while the kiss went on, the Captain saw the happy times that lay ahead. He saw all of them, lighting up inside his mind in clear, colourful flashes. Kissing again and again at every chance, slow dancing in the ballroom, seeing each other’s dozy smiles first thing in the morning, basking in the warmth of a sleepy hug last thing at night. All the sweet little moments. All the big, groundbreaking ones. A few challenging ones too – but they didn’t seem so bad when Pat was part of them.

It was almost the end of the year. It felt like the end of a chapter too. A chapter that was calmer, safer and probably more predictable than the next one. But the story would keep going anyway, and turning the page, after getting a taste of the rest of the plot, felt almost too easy.

Pat nodded in the direction of the kitchen, where the noise of animated chatter was growing, and they set out to catch up with the others.

‘You know, I might keep my “new thing a day” project,’ Pat said.

‘Ah, you absolutely should,’ the Captain said in a very serious voice. ‘New horizons and so on.’

‘You said it,’ Pat agreed in an expressive tone, adjusting his glasses. ‘No new projects for you then?’

‘Perhaps it’s best for me to remain projectless for a while. And while I am, I’m looking forward to you topping me every day.’

‘Oh my god, Cap…’