Where do all the ghosts dwell?

So Merceline had hobbled around the house like a wounded soldier, even though her legs and feet were perfectly fine. "Yes, I was almost killed by my cat. Yes, I will have him put down. Yes, I do need help putting on my undergarments," she told her friends on the phone, her neighbors on both sides, the local butcher and little elderly ladies at various bus shelters. Pity was expected.
Merceline reveled in the shocked expressions of strangers. She sat at bus stop number six, wearing bright red sunglasses and her sturdy green hat, staring straight ahead at the playground and entertained the thought that she may be a thrill seeker.
I've never jumped out of an airplane before, she thought with a kind of grim determination, and I suppose now I must, for this is what thrill seekers do.
She would never admit it, but imagining herself jump out of a plane made her terribly frightened.
Renton had survived his slip in the hallway with only a burn on his big toe from the telephone cord. He surprised everybody when he mentioned it, and he wore thongs on purpose, even on rainy days, just to have something interesting to say.
"Well! To be frank- ("Oh, that's your name is it?" he said to one stranger when the man he was telling suddenly beamed and exclaimed excitedly: "What a coincidence! Were your parents staying at the Marmone Hotel that year, as well? 1952?" Renton told him his name was not Frank, in a sour tone as he didn't appreciate being interrupted, and explained impatiently that his parents had never been to Hotel Marmone as they were not fans of Frank Sinatra and he, himself, had only heard one song) it's not just medical implications here, is it? It's the fact that Merceline doesn't know the sex of our cat, isn't it?"
People nodded, looking awkward.
Yes, thought Renton as he sipped a carton of iced chocolate, it is rather shameful not to notice whether your pet should be wearing a blue knitted vest or a collar with a dangling heart shaped pendant. He made a mental note to check out this situation.
Merceline was hanging her hat up on the heavy wooden coat-rack when Renton walked in the front door. She watched him bite into a thick-crusted meat pie. She pondered: would there be glass in that pie? If he was daring and thrilling?
Out loud she said: "Where have all the books gone? The ones in the upstairs room?"
Has she been scrolling through ebay looking for bowls with skulls printed on them and dark coloured blankets displaying girls in bikinis? Renton wondered while searching for hidden custard in his teeth with his tongue. He replied: "What, the room with all the wigs?"
Merceline tried to look down her nose at him in some form of disgust, but he was taller than her so she spent a bit of time tilting her head backwards and forwards without realizing what she was doing.
"Merceline, love," he said tenderly, looking at this thin, bright, rather odd lady before him, "let's have a picnic out in the park by that old house."
Merceline peered at him, much like a stern old lady would. "All we have is ham," she said, displeased, "and maybe some dried apricots."
"Well then," he smiled, "let's have a ham picnic out near that old house by the park."
She suddenly smiled and it lit up her entire face. "Let me get some glass."