Flash: Ghosts Don't Go Woo

There was a knock at the door. I ran downstairs and the smell of cakes enveloped me; my stepmother was baking again. When she first died it upset me that she carried on inhabiting the kitchen but after a while I found her culinary presence a comfort. I wasn’t sure my new not-quite boyfriend would feel the same way; I didn’t want him to think I was a sinister spinster living in a haunted house. I was ready to invite him to dinner but not yet ready to give him an explanation, so I just stuck to what I was used to and lied. I took credit for the cooking and hoped my stepmother would inadvertently woo him for me. I didn’t count on her reading my thoughts. It was the first time she’d ever burnt anything.