Ruth: Perfect fit. Now all you need is a drink.
Ghost Writer: What are we having?
Ruth: Biodynamic white wine from the Rhinehart Vinery in the Napa Valley.
Ghost Writer: Rhinehart. He doesn't own a distillery, I suppose?
Ruth: Mmm. Evening news.
Female newsreader:...for war crimes. Our political editor has more.
Ruth: Christ, we're the lead story. Pour us some more wine, will you? I may have to get drunk for a change.
Male newsreader: ln Washington, Mr. Lang received firm promises of support, both from congressional leaders and the Secretary of State, before going on to a private dinner tonight with the Vice President. Adam Lang has stood by America's side in the war against terror, and I'm proud to stand by his side this afternoon. Adam, good to see you.
Adam Lang: Thank you. Thank you very much, indeed. lt's good to see you.
Ruth: Don't grin.
Male newsereader:: ln lraq, a suicide bomber...
Ruth: For God's sake! Adam. Calling to find out how I think it went. Let him sweat.
Ghost Writer: Does he always ask for your advice?
Ruth: Yes, and always usually takes it. Until lately. Are you married?
Ghost Writer: Certainly not.
Ghost Writer: No.
Ruth: Did you have a...
Ghost Writer: I had a... Um...
Ruth: What? Girlfriend?
Ghost Writer: Well, a bit more than that.
Ghost Writer: A bit less than that. I don't know, 40,000 years of human language and there's no word to describe our relationship. It was doomed.
Ruth: Come on. Let's eat. How's it going?
Ghost Writer: The book? Well, it's not, to be honest.
Ruth: Sit there.
Ghost Writer: Can I ask you something?
Ruth: Of course.
Ghost Writer: I find it difficult to understand certain things.
Ruth: What things?
Ghost Writer: Well... I can't understand why this good-looking lad who goes to Cambridge without the slightest interest in politics and who spends his time acting and chasing girls, suddenly ends up.. .
Ruth: Married to me?
Ghost Writer: Oh, no, not that. No, not that, at all. No, what I don't get is why, at 22, he's suddenly a political activist. I mean, where does that come from?
Ruth: Didn't you ask him?
Ghost Writer: He said he joined the party because of you. Told me a great story about you turning up at his place in the rain. I was gonna start the whole book with it.
Ruth: And now you're not?
Ghost Writer: No, I can't. It's not true.
Ruth: Isn't it?
Ghost Writer: Well, you know it's not. He'd been a member for two years before he met you.
Ruth: How do you know that?
Ghost Writer: I've got a copy of his original party membership card. Mike McAra found it in the archives.
Ruth: Typical Mike, to ruin a good story with too much research. Did he find anything else?
Ghost Writer: Not much. Cambridge stuff mainly. You were more political than he was.
Ruth: I was certainly a change from his Cambridge girlfriends. All those Jocastas and Pandoras.
Ghost Writer: And so his marriage to you must have been pretty vital, your knowledge and your contacts in the party.
Ruth: And I thought he married me for my body.
Ghost Writer: Did you ever want to be a proper politician in your own right?
Ruth: Of course. Didn't you want to be a proper writer?
Ghost Writer: Ouch.
Ruth: I'm sorry. I've hurt your feelings. I suppose even ghosts must have feelings.
Ghost Writer: We are sensitive spirits. Talking of spirits, could you.. .
Ruth: Let me get you a proper drink.
Ghost Writer: White wine, never really seen the point of it.
Ruth: That's the sort of thing Mike used to say.
Ghost Writer: Ah! At last, something in common.
Ruth: Do you know the coroner reckoned he'd drunk nearly half a bottle?
Ghost Writer: That's convenient.
Ruth: What do you mean?
Ghost Writer: Nothing.
Ruth: You think his death was suspicious?
Ghost Writer: Don't you?
Ruth: Yes. Yes, I do.
Ghost Writer: Today at the beach, I met a man, an old timer who was familiar with the currents. And he said that there was no way that a body from the ferry could have washed ashore on that spot.
Ruth: You're kidding.
Ghost Writer: He also said that there was a woman who saw flashlights on the beach that night. And then she fell down the stairs, and now she's in a coma. That's all I know.
Ruth: That's all you know? Jesus. Can l borrow your phone?
Ghost Writer: Why?
Ruth: I need to call Adam.
Ghost Writer: What?
Ghost Writer: Aren't you gonna call him?
Ruth: Later. I'm going out for a walk.
Ghost Writer: But it's pitch black. It's pouring with rain.
Ruth: It'll clear my head.
Ghost Writer: Well, l'll come with you.
Ruth: No. Thanks, but l need to work this one through on my own. Stay here. Have another drink. Don't wait up.