‘I don’t know. How sane do you have to be, to be a rewards manager?’
‘Very sane. If you weren’t, you’d go mad.’
It wasn’t until the clock struck four that Francis knocked at the front door. He was carrying a black leather doctor’s bag and a walking stick with a silver knob on the top of it. He was accompanied by a balding, fiftyish man with ruddy cheeks and rimless spectacles. When this man took off his raincoat, Rob saw that he was wearing a dark grey tweed jacket, a black shirt, and a dog collar.
‘Rob, this is Father Salter, from Our Lady of the Assumption in Tavistock. He kindly agreed to come over and do a bit of a spiritual recce.’
‘Thank you, father, we appreciate it,’ Rob told him. ‘This is my wife, Victoria, and this is my sister, Grace, and her partner, Portia. And this is my brother’s wife, Katharine.’
‘Francis has explained to me in broad terms what seems to have been happening here in this house,’ said Father Salter. He spoke in a quiet, clipped voice, as if he were trying to explain to a particularly slow parishioner the meaning of transubstantiation.
‘We’ve had another incident since I spoke to you,’ said Rob, and lifted his elbow to show Francis the tea towel wrapped around it.
Father Salter took three or four steps into the middle of the hallway and circled around. Then he stopped, and closed his eyes, one hand raised for silence.
‘There is an atmosphere here, no question about it.’
‘You can definitely feel it?’
Father Salter crossed himself. ‘Oh, yes. An atmosphere. A highly febrile atmosphere. And its excitement seems to be rising, as if the house itself is aware that a messenger of God has entered into it.’
‘What happened to your elbow?’ Francis asked Rob.
‘It was that stained-glass window upstairs. You know, the one with Old Dewer and his dogs. We heard what we thought was Timmy crying, so despite what you’d said we went up to see if he was there.’
Father Salter was listening to him now, and very intently. Rob hesitated, because he knew what he was going to say was totally bizarre, but then he thought that if Father Salter had been able to sense the tension in Allhallows Hall as soon as he had walked in, he would probably accept that he was telling the truth. He must have heard stories in the confessional that were equally weird.
Haltingly, trying to sound as rational as possible, Rob described how the hounds had sprung out of the window and attacked them.
Vicky came and stood close to him and took hold of his hand. ‘It’s true, father. I swear it. Look – one of the dogs tore my sweater.’
Father Salter crossed himself again. ‘I believe you, my dear. I believe you. Why would I not? The Devil has so many extraordinary ways of manifesting his presence. Less so, these days, because we live in much more sceptical times. But this house was built in a time when the Devil was known to roam freely over the moors, and in this house, as in every house, the stones of its construction are imbued with the beliefs of those who built it.’
He paused, and frowned, and turned around to look at the bricked-up door of the cellar. Then he said, ‘This window… may I see it?’
‘Well, yes,’ said Rob. ‘Francis – will that be okay?’
‘Of course. I was going to take Father Salter up to see the witching room in any case.’
‘I think we’ll stay down here, if that’s all right with you,’ said Grace. ‘I’ll light the fire in the drawing room and put the kettle on for some tea.’
‘That sounds most welcome,’ said Father Salter.
Rob led the way upstairs. When they reached the landing, Francis said, ‘Father Salter went to the Vatican last year and took its course in exorcism.’
‘It’s comparatively new, this course,’ said Father Salter. ‘But there has been an increasing demand for it, not only from Catholic priests but from priests of other denominations, and the Pontifical University has opened its doors to them, too.’
‘This “spiritual decontamination” that you were talking about, Francis…’
‘That was a fifteenth-century ritual that is very rarely used these days,’ Father Salter told him. ‘Mala omnia expurget, they call it in Rome. Today’s exorcisms are much more relevant to modern life, and much more specific. Most are designed to rid people of the evil influences that can enter their soul when they are feeling exhausted by their jobs, or stressed by an unhappy personal relationship, or have doubts about their gender.
‘The very last exorcism I carried out was to dismiss a demon that had possessed a transgender woman in her moment of greatest indecision, and was tempting her into having homicidal thoughts about her family and her friends.’
Rob pointed along the corridor to the stained-glass window. ‘There it is. It’s completely intact now, but I swear to you that figure of Old Dewer turned right around and glared at us, and then the glass shattered and the dogs jumped out.’
Father Salter strained his eyes to focus on it.
‘Rather blurry,’ he said. He tugged a handkerchief out of his breast pocket, took off his spectacles and wiped them. Then he peered at it again.
‘Come and take a closer look,’ said Rob, and started to walk along the corridor. ‘The way into the witching room’s down here, too.’
Father Salter followed him, with Francis close behind, but then Father Salter abruptly stopped, so that Francis almost bumped into him.
‘What’s the matter, father?’ Francis asked him.
‘I can’t – I can’t go any further.’
‘Are you feeling okay?’
‘No, no I’m not. I can’t go any further. I’m sorry.’
‘Father, you’re shaking,’ said Francis, and took hold of his arm. ‘Rob – Father Salter’s having a bit of a turn – help me get him back downstairs.’
Rob came up and held on to Father Salter’s other arm. The priest was shaking even more now, so that he could barely stand up. All the rosiness had drained
