Note: This is based on/inspired by the entire trilogy of Ghostgirl - a totally underrated series. Last time I checked, there were only 7 fanfics for it! I'm not impressed. The title is a referrence to the phrase "one good turn deserves another", only in this case, I'm talking about bad turns :) The best kind! Sorry if there are any mistakes and shizz, but I really can't be bothered to pour over every word to check that it is spelt correctly. Hope you enjoy this!


Chapter 1 – The Twist

Old habits die hard. If they die at all, that is. Sometimes, you may think you've gotten rid of an old habit. You'll stop doing it for a long time and you'll feel good because you will genuinely believe you've gotten rid of it. Then a situation will present itself and before you know it, those old habits have resurfaced with a powerful vengeance.

'Loved up' was not the word Ingrid would use to describe her relationship with William. 'Happily married', yes. They'd known each other for just over two years and had been married for almost two months. Ingrid was in love with William and he in love with her, there was no doubt about that. Still, when Ingrid's insensitive sister Isabelle stupidly called her 'loved up' with William, Ingrid felt it was only right to hang up on her immediately. She didn't want to hear that kind of talk in reference to her relationship with her husband. Being married to Will 'the softie' Crawford hadn't changed the tough exterior Ingrid had built around her self over the years.

Frowning deeply at the receiver, Ingrid hastily replaced it as William walked into the living room still in his pyjamas, whistling merrily. Being lanky made it difficult to find pyjamas that fit him after going through a hot wash and as a result they were a little short on him. He walked straight past Ingrid, his mop of curly hair bobbing, and was nearly in the kitchen before he remembered. Back-tracking quickly, William twirled Ingrid around and planted a kiss on her lips before returning on his journey to the kitchen, satisfied with him self. Ingrid watched him go, a slight smile playing on her lips despite herself. That man was something else.

Unseen to Ingrid a woman with icy blue eyes was outside, peeking through the window and at the couple with great interest. If anyone could see the woman they would have been surprised by her appearance. After all, it was a little early in the day to be dressed for a dinner party and this woman had gone all out: sleek red dress that hung off her shoulders, a coat made of real fur although it was the middle of summer and heels that had to be six inches at most. Her full lips were caked in shiny red lipstick and if it hadn't been for her sunken-in face, the woman could have been mistaken for a model. It was obvious though that this young woman had been incredibly beautiful at one time in her life, especially from the way she carried herself. It was the confident swagger of a woman who knew she looked good.

Grinning to herself, the young woman slipped inside the house and stood closer to Ingrid than would have been comfortable. Luckily for the woman, Ingrid had no idea of her presence; she didn't even feel a cold chill like the majority of people. This was good news for the woman. She looked down at Ingrid, scrutinising every detail in her appearance from the split ends of her dark hair to the swirls of colour in her hazel eyes. She had dark circles under her eyes and the woman felt smug that she would never have that problem, since she was dead.

"My sister phoned," Ingrid felt compelled to call out to William. His head popped into view by the edge of the door that led into their kitchen.

"Oh?" he inquired with his mouth full of toast. Ingrid glared at William disapprovingly; she'd told him countless times before how much she detested it when he did that. Noticing Ingrid's gaze, William swallowed hurriedly and smiled abashedly. She simply rolled her eyes at him.

"Isabelle says hi," shrugged Ingrid. Their conversation hadn't been all that interesting and it was only now occurring to her why she bothered to bring it up in the first place. She and Isabelle had spoken mostly about what was going on with their parents – the divorce. There wasn't exactly anything new to say about it but Ingrid's sister had managed to make a conversation out of it for a good twenty minutes. That was a small miracle in itself and Ingrid found herself oddly impressed.

William nodded once and his head disappeared as he presumably returned to his breakfast. It reappeared almost instantly after and his face portrayed one of confusion.

"Ingrid?" he asked. Ingrid looked up from the magazine she had idly picked up from the coffee table.

"Yes Will?" she responded, raising her eyebrows a little. Next to her, the woman in the fur coat was gazing at William, stars shining in her eyes. A flame that had once been buried deep inside of her had been rekindled and she found her mind whirring as it came up with a devious plot. For a moment, William's eyes flickered towards the woman and her heart stopped beating. Well, it would have if it hadn't already. Ingrid turned to see what William was staring at but when she didn't see anything of interest, faced him once again. William knew that if Ingrid saw the woman, she would have undoubtedly mentioned something about her to him or at the very least insulted her for wearing real fur. Noting that Ingrid didn't seem to see the woman practically breathing down her neck, William made the wise decision not to mention anything about it.

"I love you," said William, covering up what he had originally been going to say. Feeling that William had paused just long enough to make her suspicious, Ingrid looked once more to where he had. Still not seeing anything that jumped out at her, Ingrid decided to let it go.

"I love you too, weirdo," she replied, smiling at her husband. Ingrid didn't realise it but as she spoke those words, a terrible fate had been decided for her by the ghost of a woman who wore fur coats when she was alive.