I sense that someone here tonight has lost a man to cancer.
Half the room started pulling out the hankies and nodded sagely, whispering, ‘He’s amazing.’
And he distinctly remembered logging the reaction of people who heard that their loved ones were reaching out from beyond. They’d often dissolve into tears. But they’d be happy tears or big sniffly thank-you sobs to think that the lost were still out there. Still caring. Still reaching out.
He watched Rachel, with the hint of Holly’s spirit in the air, but she didn’t look happy at all. She had turned to stone.
He broke the silence with a question. ‘And how do you propose asking Holly?’ You do know she isn’t checking her Twitter much these days?
The word he’d expected was coming was finally said, though it still felt wonky and ridiculous when it came out.
‘A seance,’ Joyce said, ‘at Barley Street. That’s where Holly’s heartache is … and that’s where the evil spirit manifested to the girls. I feel like the barriers are going to be thinnest there, so all we do is ask her. Then we might find out what killed Steph once and for all … and more to the point, what this poisoned spirit actually wants. Heck, we don’t even know if this rabbit is Holly’s enemy—’
‘Or her friend,’ Rachel said quietly.
‘Exactly. Or pretending to be. We need to ask her.’
There was no more hiding it and he knew it was unprofessional, but he couldn’t help it, because he was watching a grieving girl get programmed with nonsense from the same people who probably programmed Steph Ellis to hide in a cupboard.
He let out a long, lip-flapping breath.
A mental image instantly popped into Matt’s head. Of DS Larry Forbes in his police car, driving somewhere in London right now because he’d known that this case wasn’t going anywhere. He’d sensed this was little more than a weird accident. Instead, Larry would be tracking down real-life killers right now, with bona fide murder victims. Here was Matt, thinking he might just have an instinct for amateur detective work. Turned out that all he had was a fully working radar for screwball weirdos. What else was new?
He felt embarrassed. He checked his watch.
‘When would you want to do this … seance?’ Rachel asked Bob.
‘Joyce just needs time to prepare and meditate. We were thinking tomorrow night – 8 p.m.?’
Rachel looked off into the park, pondering all of this, so Matt asked the obvious next question.
‘And who’s paying for this?’
Bob frowned. ‘Paying?’
‘If these guys agree to a seance, doesn’t that make them your clients? Like Steph was? Shouldn’t you tell them how much you charge?’
Joyce gave a low chuckle under her breath but Bob looked at Matt with a sad shrug of disappointment. ‘There is no charge. Just fuel us with tea and biscuits and we’ll be fine.’ He looked hard at Rachel. ‘So you’ll ask your mum if we can do it.’ Not a question. Not a request. This was more like a Jedi mind trick.
She stared at the floor.
‘Rachel,’ Matt said. ‘You know you don’t have to—’
‘I’ll ask her,’ she said to Bob.
‘Excellent.’ His beard swooped up into a scratchy-looking smile. ‘And Matt … I really think you should join us. Come and see things you’ve never seen before.’
Matt’s phone buzzed like wasps in his pocket. A welcome moment.
‘Sorry folks. Two seconds …’ He pulled it out: Beth from the publishers. Her name pulsed on the screen like a prodding finger. He clicked on her text message.
Where are you? Other speakers arriving. Call me!
‘Everything alright?’ Bob said.
‘I’m going to have to head off.’
‘Busy man. But I hope you can join us for the seance tomorrow night,’ Bob said. ‘You’d be more than welcome.’
‘Thanks … but I’ve got a lot on.’
‘Ah, the book and everything.’
He nodded.
‘Then why not come and write about Joyce and I?’ Bob stuck his bristly chin out. ‘We’d gladly give you interviews about our work.’
‘I’ll bear that in mind.’ He shook Bob’s hand while the girls started talking together. ‘It was good to meet you. And thanks for the tea.’
‘Wait … take this.’ Bob reached into his bag and pulled out a plastic box file. ‘It’s information on the Wasson case. I reckon you’ll find it interesting.’
Matt whistled when he saw the tape, nestled amongst the folded papers. ‘Wow, Bob. VHS?’
‘You do have a player, don’t you?’
He thought of the loft of his new house. The endless stacks of cardboard boxes thrown up there when they moved in last month. He nodded. ‘I can dig one out.’
‘Good. Then take it.’
He shrugged and took it, looking at Joyce. Keeping his voice down so the girls wouldn’t hear, he said, ‘Quick question. When Steph came to you, did you give her anything? Maybe something to protect herself?’
‘That’s an interesting question,’ Joyce said.
‘Well, did you?’
‘I gave her a cross,’ Joyce said. ‘On a necklace.’
‘Anything else? Any other symbols?’
‘Just the standard cross.’ She frowned and made no mention of the Tau-Rho or the pelican symbol. She took his hand in hers again and spoke much louder, so the others would hear. The girls got the message and stopped talking. Joyce had the floor. ‘You know, Matthew. It’s often said that we mustn’t open our minds so much that our brains fall out.’
‘Wise words.’
‘But equally, if we close our mind too much, the brain struggles to breathe. It will regress into something less than it could be.’ She squeezed his hands. ‘So when you go home, when you see your family, when you fall asleep tonight and ponder Holly Wasson and the topics we’ve discussed, would you consider a question for me?’
He glanced down at the phone in his hand. ‘I’ve really got to go.’
‘What if there are such things? Would you at least consider that?’
‘Will do.’ He turned to Kassy, Jo and Rachel. ‘Good to meet you all
