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like in those old sitcoms? How times have changed.’
    I twisted my lips to the side. Yes, I was a working woman, but when it came to the household duties, I did them all. Greg wasn’t any good at them so it was simply quicker and easier to do them myself.
    ‘I’ll have you know I’m quite proud to be a super-dooper housewife, thank you very much.’ Mel took on the same posture I’d displayed before when trying to pretend I’d been talking to her and not the ghost.
    ‘Oh c’mon, I didn’t mean it that way,’ Georgie said. ‘And besides, you’re not only a stay-at-home mother of five, you’re a businesswoman too. I don’t know how you do it.’
    Mel softened. ‘Oh, I only do what any woman would do in my situation, and eBay is my outlet, I need it.’
    Any person overhearing our conversation might have thought she was a shopaholic, but shopaholics kept her in business. And them in debt, more than likely. Her popular humorous t-shirt store was growing, much like her family. And my anxiety, as I scanned the house for our unwelcome visitor. Where does she disappear to? Heaven? Hell? Or some kind of transitionary place for ghosts who can’t decide whether they actually want to rest in peace?
    ‘Anyway, stop getting off topic and tell us the goss, Georgie.’ Lorena rubbed her hands together.
    Georgie leaned forward on the kitchen counter as though afraid her husband might hear her from fifty kilometres away. ‘Phillip has been having some, ah…problems.’ She cleared her throat. ‘And I caught him jotting down the phone number on a late night TV commercial.’
    ‘You mean, one of those commercials?’
    ‘Yes. Something about “making loving last longer” .’ Georgie covered her reddening face.
    ‘Well, it’s good that he’s making an effort to improve things. Go him, I say!’ Lorena pumped her fist.
    ‘What’s with all this longer lasting loving business? I don’t have time for that,’ Mel said as she leaned back. ‘Personally, I’m all for time efficiency.’
    ‘Mel!’ Lorena slapped her arm.
    ‘Please don’t say a word, you guys,’ Georgie said.
    ‘We won’t.’ Lorena held out her hand, palm facing downwards. ‘C’mon girls. Say it with me: “What happens in Barron Springs…”’
    ‘“…Stays in Barron Springs,”’ we chorused, and my stomach fluttered a little. Was it wise to have put Lorena in charge of my bridal weekend? Something in her mischievous smile told me she had something more than a simple, relaxing, dignified weekend in store.
    * * *
    ‘I think I’ll get unpacked. Who’s sleeping where?’ I picked up my overnight bag and peered behind the kitchen.
    ‘Sal, you’re upstairs. Bride-to-be gets the luxury suite,’ Lorena said with a smile. ‘I’m over here,’ she pointed to a room near the front of the house, ‘And Mel and Georgie, you’re sharing in the room next to mine.’
    ‘You better not snore Georgie, I’ve been looking forward to a weekend without Michael’s blocked sinuses.’
    ‘Nothing to worry about Mel, I’m as quiet as a mouse.’ Georgie followed Mel into the bedroom.
    ‘In my state, even a quiet mouse would probably wake me up,’ Lorena said. ‘Which is why I brought these.’ She plucked a container of earplugs from her bag and held them up. ‘Pregnancy does weird things to you. All my senses — heightened. Taste, smell, it’s all so strong.’
    But her hormones obviously hadn’t heightened her sixth sense. For some reason that was allocated to me. Plain, practical, non-believing me. Maybe this was some sort of brain malfunction. A tumour? A mini-stroke? A surge of apprehension shot through me. If it wasn’t for all the trouble Lorena had gone to in organising this weekend, I’d be back at the hospital in a flash, but this time as a patient. At least to rule out anything sinister. Maybe I could do my own neuro obs every hour? Check if there were any other signs of neurological abnormalities? No, that wouldn’t work. I’d