It was a point of suitably poetic irony that a ghost writer should find himself at a function run by ghosts.

Since meeting one of their number, Natty had become set on penning a new novel about ghosts, thus he was here for research. But he didn't know quite what was expected, so the question put to him came as a surprise. He turned to regard the speaker, and paused a second; the young man was alarmingly pleasant of face. Almost ethereal himself, if not an actual ghost.

"Is that to be expected?" he asked, not keen on the concept.