Paul nodded in agreement. ‘I was born in June. I was always told it was unseasonably hot for that time of year and my mother—’ ‘For Pete’s sake!’ Karen howled. ‘Not that beginning, you nincompoop!’ I looked at Winter. ‘This might take some time.’ ‘I was beginning to realise that,’ he said drily. I sat down and stretched out my legs. I might as well get comfy and settle in for the long haul. *** By the time the three ghosts had finished their tragic story and Winter and I were trudging back towards the car, the sky was darkening and it felt even colder.
Seriously? You write a bunch of annoying ghosts and then skip the interesting part of the story?
