She sipped her tea. ‘So it’s not just a social visit?’ She giggled girlishly. ‘I’m only teasing you, Mr Nightingale. ‘Of course I’ll help you in any way that I can.’
Nightingale stretched out his legs and stared at his Hush Puppies, still flecked from the rain outside. ‘Can you tell me how I can talk to the dead?’
Mrs Steadman shook her head sorrowfully. ‘There you go again, Mr Nightingale, wanting to mess with things that you really shouldn’t be messing with.’
‘It’s important, Mrs Steadman.’
‘I’m sure that it is. But it’s a very dangerous area.’
‘It is possible, though?’
She sipped her tea again. ‘You know that you can use Tarot cards, don’t you?’
Nightingale raised his eyebrows. ‘I thought they were for telling fortunes?’
‘Oh they do that, of course, but in the hands of an expert they can be used for so much more.’
‘But you’re not really talking to the dead, are you? You’re getting messages through the cards.’
‘That’s true. But often the dead find it easier to communicate that way. And it can be safer.’
‘Because ghosts are dangerous?’
‘You’re confusing spirits with ghosts, Mr Nightingale.’ She frowned as if she was getting the beginnings of a headache. ‘Really, I must counsel you to be careful, Mr Nightingale. You’re very much an innocent abroad, you know. And it can be dangerous to meddle with things that you don’t fully understand.’
‘I keep telling people that I’m on a pretty steep learning curve,’ said Nightingale. ‘But I’m going to need more than Tarot cards.’
Mrs Steadman poured more tea into her mug. ‘There are Ouija boards, but frankly they’re unreliable and dangerous.’
Nightingale chuckled. ‘Been there, done that,’ he said.
Mrs Steadman put down the teapot. ‘You tried?’
‘A couple of times.’
‘With whom?’
‘My assistant. It didn’t work out so well.’
‘I’m not surprised,’ she said. ‘Who were you trying to contact?’
‘My former partner. Robbie Hoyle.’
‘How did Mr Hoyle pass away?’
‘RTA,’ said Nightingale. He saw the look of confusion on the woman’s face and waved his hand in apology. ‘Sorry, police-speak,’ he said. ‘Road traffic accident. He was hit by a taxi while he was crossing the road.’
Mrs Steadman sighed. ‘In a violent unexpected death, any spirit is going to be confused and disorientated,’ she said. ‘And that’s all you’d get through a Ouija board. Confusion. Anger. Resentment. Even an expert would have trouble controlling such a spirit.’
‘It was a bit hairy,’ admitted Nightingale.
‘And is it this Robbie Hoyle that you want to contact?’
Nightingale shook his head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘It’s a girl. A girl who killed herself.’
Mrs Steadman pursed her lips and looked down her nose at him. ‘Another violent end,’ she said. ‘You have to be very careful interacting with spirits who pass over with violence,’ she said. ‘Often times the spirits aren’t even aware of the situation they’re in until someone contacts them, and there can be all sorts of repercussions.’
‘Such as?’
‘That depends on the strength of the spirit concerned,’ said Mrs Steadman. ‘But you could have objects being moved, flashes of light, flames, even — or worse.’
‘Like a poltergeist?’
‘Like a poltergeist, perhaps, but a poltergeist is something different. And the potential for damage isn’t only there for the one who does the summoning. It can be dangerous for the spirit.’
Nightingale frowned and ran a hand through his hair. ‘I’m confused,’ he said.
‘I’m sure you are,’ said Mrs Steadman. ‘Tell me more about this girl.’
‘Her name is Sophie and she killed herself just over two years ago. Jumped from an apartment block in Chelsea Harbour. Her father had been abusing her and her mother didn’t do anything about it.’
‘You were there when it happened?’
Nightingale nodded. ‘I told you I was a policeman. I was with CO19, the armed police. But I was also a negotiator, part of the team that talks to people in crisis. That could be a hostage situation or a self-harmer or a domestic. Any situation where someone might get hurt.’ His mouth felt suddenly dry and he took a sip of his tea. ‘When I got the call I didn’t know it was a kid. She was up on the thirteenth floor, talking to her doll. She’d locked the door to the balcony and the au pair had called the police. I was the first negotiator on the scene.’
‘And this Sophie, why was she on the balcony?’
Nightingale leaned forward and put his head in his hands. ‘She wanted to die, Mrs Steadman. There was nothing I could do that was going to stop that. I know that now.’
Mrs Steadman stood up and walked around to stand behind Nightingale. She put her hands on his shoulders. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said quietly.
‘She was talking to me and then she just slipped under the railing and fell.’ Nightingale shuddered. ‘I don’t know what I should have done differently. I’ve gone over it again and again but I can’t think.?.?.’ He shuddered again. ‘She was just a kid, Mrs Steadman. Her life hadn’t even started, not really.’
‘Is that why you want to talk to her?’ asked Mrs Steadman.
‘She’s the one who’s been trying to contact me,’ said Nightingale.
Mrs Steadman let go of his shoulders and took a step back. ‘What do you mean?’
Nightingale explained what had happened at the hospital and at the nursing home.
Mrs Steadman sat down again and looked at Nightingale, clearly concerned. Nightingale folded his arms and shrugged. ‘I’m not imagining things,’ he said.
‘I wasn’t going to suggest that you were.’
‘I just feel that Sophie wants to talk to me and I want to make it easier for her, if that’s possible.’
‘You have to be careful,’ said Mrs Steadman. ‘It could be something else pretending to be the girl, have you thought of that? It could be an evil spirit that wants to do you harm.’
‘Why go to the trouble of pretending to be Sophie?’
‘So that you’ll let your guard down. And by the time you realise what’s happened, it’ll be too late.’
Nightingale rubbed the back of his neck. He wanted a cigarette, badly.
‘I don’t like to ask, but would you help me? Would you show me what to do?’
‘I’m not a medium, Mr Nightingale. It’s not my field.’ She tapped the handle of her mug thoughtfully. ‘You should try a spiritualist association. There are several very good ones in London. You’ll meet experienced mediums there and you’ll be in a safe environment. If Sophie does want to come through she’ll be in the care of people who know what they’re doing. You’ll do the talking through the medium, so you’ll be one step removed. The medium will act as a fuse in a plug, if you like. If there’s a problem the medium will break contact and no damage is done.’
‘I thought that most mediums were charlatans? Con artists.’
‘Some are. But people aren’t stupid, Mr Nightingale. If they are being conned they’ll realise it sooner rather than later. And the true mediums don’t ask for money.’
‘What about doing it myself??’
‘You, Mr Nightingale?’ She chuckled softly. ‘You can do it yourself, if you have the talent. There are summoning spells that are said to work, but they’re not for amateurs.’
‘Have you ever done it?’
‘Summoned a spirit? I have, yes.’
‘And it worked?’
Mrs Steadman smiled. ‘Magic works, Mr Nightingale. If it didn’t my shop and website wouldn’t be as popular as they are.’
‘Could I try? To summon a spirit?’
‘I really don’t think you’re experienced enough,’ said Mrs Steadman. ‘And if you were to contact this girl, this spirit, you might do her harm, inadvertently. That would be my main concern.’ She sipped her tea. ‘It’s an inexact science, Mr Nightingale. There are things you can do to increase your chances of success. You can burn lavender,
