“Do you think my maman is a ghost?” Bea gazes up at me with those big, innocent blue eyes, and I have to swallow down the tension in my throat. How on earth should I answer this question? Perhaps these are the sorts of things real nannies are trained for. “Um… I don’t know. Do you think she’s a ghost?” “Oui,” she replies plainly. “I can hear her walking around sometimes. She comes into my room when I’m sleeping.”
