PEPPER

Two

That was how my life in The Mills house with the ghost of Pippa AKA Pepper Mills began.

Pepper was a wonderful addition to the place. Full of vim and vigor as she would say. Pepper had lived in the house with her husband Walter Elias Mills until she died of consumption. After she died she stayed in the house with Walter who for some reason could not (or perhaps would not) see her. She believed that when Walter died they would be together but then he moved to New York City and, as she was unable to leave the house, she never saw him again.

Of course, she told that story much more eloquently and with more feeling than I have relayed it here. There were tears, which in my mind sounded like the soft rustling of wind chimes and her face glistened wetly as she poured out the pain of her loss. As I'm sure you can understand this was all very difficult what with my own loss so fresh.

Pepper as I have told you could not leave the house. It was not so much that she was trapped but there was some force preventing her from venturing out into the world. She did not feel that she was a prisoner but she told me of how sad she was when the house fell into disrepair.

My purchase and restoration of the Mills House gave her a new lease on... life. She was a constant presence at first, jabbering away about the old days. Telling me stories of the neighbourhood. She was very perturbed that she could no longer see Niagara Falls from the big bedroom window upstairs. According to Pepper, that view was the main reason she and Walter had purchased the place. At some point a large brown hotel had been built and now blocked any chance of seeing the raging waters less than a mile away.

After some time Pepper and I settled into a routine like old friends. I would work from my home office, having decided I didn't need to waste time and money on the commute into the city. At lunchtime, I would come down for something to eat, and Pepper would be watching television which she loved. It was all new to her. I would leave the set on and she would sit in front of the small screen for hours entranced by reruns of The Honey Mooners or Gilligan's Island.

We would chat as I ate and then I would head back upstairs to finish up for the day. At dinner time I would come down and fix something to eat. She would sit with me at the table. Sometimes we spoke, but often just having each other's company was enough for both of us.

In the evening I might watch some sports, a hockey or baseball game and she would sit with me like an old friend. It was a comfortable relationship and one that I treasured deeply.

All this is not to say that living with a ghost in the house was perfect. There was a period of adjustment, to say the least. Pepper was used to having the place to herself and at first it as clear that she felt I was little more than a lodger. She would come into my bedroom at odd hours and stroll blithely into the bathroom while I was in the tub or worse.

She appeared solid but her touch as I have mentioned was nothing more than a feeling of cold air. There was one exception to that rule but I will come to that in due course. For now, suffice it to say that there was a learning curve for both of us but it was short and eventually we fell into a comfortable rhythm.

Years passed as they do and eventually I sold my business and retired. That was in 2002. Pepper and I had been together for over twenty years, and I was fifty-five.

Strangely enough, after I retired, not much changed. Instead of working, I took up hobbies. I spent many long pleasant hours making model airplanes and ships in bottles. Pepper had finally grown tired of television, as had I, and there were weeks when I might only see her for a few hours. Where she went the rest of the time I had no idea and, although I wanted to, I didn't ask.