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warm bed.
     
    And now I am waiting in a seemingly never-ending queue of cars that marks home-time in my neck of the woods. I watch a cyclist weaving between the cars before pushing effortlessly up onto the pavement when he reaches the red lights. I can’t blame him, who would want to cycle on an evening like this? I turn up the blowers, revving the engine a little to hurry it to warm up.
     
    I can see the supermarket ahead, just across the next roundabout. I need milk, bread and cheese. Oh and cat food. And wine… The queue moves achingly slowly. The longer I wait, the greater my desire is to go home and put the fire on. Another five minutes and the scales tip in favour of home, my discomfort outweighing the need for groceries. I signal left, pulling out of the queue for Tesco’s, towards home. The superstore lights diminish in my rear view mirror as the rain starts to fall across them.
     
    I put the stereo on. I got this album recently and it’s so good that it’s all I listen to at the moment. It’s called “Truth” by Town Full of Heroes, an American band that I’ve just got in to. I tap the wheel in time with the drums and I think of how warm the house will be when I get home and light the fire.
     
    That was the right decision, sod the groceries. I’m on a fast A-road now, the A25. It links two villages, Seal and Ightham. It slashes through half a mile or so of dense, unoccupied woodland. There are no streetlights here. Fat raindrops fall towards my headlights, shining silver in their beams.
     
    BAM! A stranger’s lips are on mine, though I can clearly still see the road ahead of me. An unseen tongue forces its way into my mouth. Oh my God. I feel hands on my shoulders. My head goes back against the seat, my brain is spinning and I’m in shock. But I’m still driving.
     
    I have to resist falling into this feeling and concentrate on the road ahead. There is no one there. There is no one there!
     
    And I realise that this is somehow the most amazing kiss, stirring feelings in me that only a real kiss could. Wow - if only I could close my eyes I could throw myself into this vision.
     
    The sound of my car engine and the rhythmic ‘thwack’ of the wipers merge with the noise of a duvet crumpling against my ear. The sound of our kissing mixes with the tick-tock of a clock on a night table. There’s a heartbeat that I feel against my chest and the drumming of the rain upon my windscreen. When my eyes are open, I can hear both my reality and somewhere else entirely… its very distracting.
     
    I try to force the vision away, I need to be careful. Well obviously I have Richard to think of. Plus, I am travelling at 60mph on a wet road. The last thing I need is to crash.
     
    But the kisses continue. Down my neck and back up to behind my ear. Soft, sweet kisses. They are haunting, sensual and slow, unpredictable. A hand is on my shirt, pulling at the buttons. This is so wrong. I try to blink whoever it is away, staring straight ahead and refusing to believe what is happening. There is no one there, I tell myself.
     
    The experience stops as suddenly as it began. I feel quite breathless and, despite the shock I have a massive grin on my face.
     
    I have always had strange experiences. Paranormal, or whatever you would call them. Bullshit is what Richard would call them. But this kissing thing – this is something new. I wonder who it is, this ghost.
     
    For a dead guy, he kisses great.
     

CHAPTER SIX
    A fter the kiss, strange things keep on happening. I start to regularly hear snippets of conversation and music in my mind. At first it’s just when I am drifting in or out of sleep, like the time I heard the piano playing. Then, as December gathers pace towards Christmas, I start to get small ‘flashes’ every day or so.
     
    It happens mostly when I’m driving and listening to ‘Town Full of Heroes’. I’ll hear background noises, perhaps plates being put down on a table or a car starting, just