That probably contributed to my haunting this building just as much asthe fact that I'd died here.Just then a voice announced, "Greeting Roger."I slowly turned to look at what appeared to be a ceramic face mask thatwas floating in the air in front of me. "Hello Wayland," I greeted thespirit.Wayland was a spirit, but not a human spirit. He wasn't a ghost, thoughI wasn't really sure what he actually was. What I did know was that thefirst time I'd met him, it had been right after my death when heappeared in front of me looking like a proper British butler and sayingthat he was my advisor in all matters relating to the afterlife. Everyother time he'd appeared, he'd looked completely different. I hadabsolutely no idea of what his real appearance was, or if he even hadone."Tonight is the night," Wayland reminded me unnecessarily."I know," I responded with a faint smile.There was no way I could have forgotten this day and what it meant, notwhen I'd spent the last year waiting for it. . My four housemates were very quiet; they were clearly worried about their exam results, and they were virtually broke, so weren't going drinking at all.On Monday, I sorted out my room and then did some washing before deciding to go and see Sian. I wanted to talk to her about her cousins, and I also owed her a shag as she had missed out on Friday, and it was her turn.The pleasantly warm English June summer weather had become unstable over the weekend; it felt more like August as I left my house to walk to hers.It had been a swelteringly hot day, and the dark clouds in the distance had threatened a storm since mid-afternoon. Physical activity had been almost impossible in the stifling air, and very few people had been out on the streets when I had (extremely slowly) walked round to the girls house.The sound of thunder had rolled around the city from the direction of the Bristol Channel, but so far nothing had come our way.Sian and I were lying naked on her mattress with her window wide.
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