Page 54 of Leafpoint Lighthouse

“I didn’t pay much attention,” Lyra admitted, pulling a face.

“It’s actually a double door. They open inward, and a platform is lowered. A pulley lowers the platform; the barrels are placed on it, and I winch them up. It’s merely a matter of rolling them off, once they’re up,” I stated.

Lyra became a little flushed. “Huh, I had images of you carrying them up the stairs. I figured that explained why you were so…”

“So?” I frowned, bewildered.

“Fit.”

“I was incredibly healthy. When alive, I walked for miles a day and often swam in the sea.”

Lyra’s blush deepened. “Um, that is not what I meant.”

I cocked my head, confused. How do some words now have different meanings today? The language gap between us was huge. “Then what does fit mean?”

“Muscular. You’re in good shape.”

“Thank you. That was due to manual work.”

“Bloody hell, William!” Lyra exclaimed. “Fit and well-built means handsome, gorgeous, great body, huge muscles that women want to lick!”

Lyra was bright red, and I sensed myself slowly turning the same. A Jasper had called me ‘fit’.

“Let’s play Scrabble,” Lyra said and placed the board down. She explained the game, and I grasped the idea. She didn’t say a word when I spelt out fit.

Lyra

Damn him. Agitated, I tossed and turned in bed as I glared at the ceiling. That had been so embarrassing, and I’m sure William hadn’t misunderstood on purpose. A creak sounded at my door, and my eyes moved to it. Was that William? I lay waiting, and the sea shanty whispered through the air. It was our intruder ghost.

William and I had discussed what to do today. If I shouted his name, William would move to trap the rogue spirit. The noise echoed, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. This was terrifying. A hand tugged the duvet, and then I nearly choked as something touched my foot. That did it!

“William!” I cried out. I sat bolt upright, and the shadow reared away. Wait! Was that a…? It took off, and I flung the covers off and chased it. My feet pounded up the stairs as a shriek rose from below.

William roared, followed by a frightened cry.

“William!” I screamed as I skidded into the kitchen, and he kicked the trapdoor shut and stood over it, legs splayed wide and arms folded.

“That’s a child!” we both shouted together as we stared at the thin ghost.

William and I exchanged a look, then turned our gazes back to the spirit.

“Don’t harm me!” the boy yelled.

“Nobody’s going to hurt you!” I exclaimed, holding up my hands.

“The mister might,” the kid shrieked, plastering himself to the wall. He thudded against the plaster as if he were trying to escape.

“That won’t work, lad. Leafpoint has strengthened her walls; she won’t allow you to pass through.”

The boy moaned in sheer terror, and I stopped William from approaching him. He kicked the bolt and locked the trapdoor.

“I didn’t mean it, sir. Don’t beat me!” our captive cried, and I held my hands out.

“Honestly, neither of us will hurt you. Calm down. What’s your name?” I asked.

“Avery Polperro.”

“Avery, I’m Lyra, and this is William. How old are you?”