LITMIR.BIZ

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a brown felt trilby from his head and performed a small bow. A shock of white hair hovered around his crown in wisps as thin as clouds. ‘At your service,’ he said, his face dissected by laughter lines. Even in the dim light, Jessie could see his eyes sparkle.

      ‘What are you doing here? You’re not supposed to be in here.’

      ‘I was hoping I might be able to help you.’

      ‘How did you get in here?’

      ‘The door was open.’

      ‘Don!’ shouted Jessie again. It was a ruse, to let the man know they weren’t alone. ‘Well, it wasn’t supposed to be. I’m afraid I’m going to have to escort you out. This building is closed to the public. It’s unsafe.’

      He looked around the small atrium. ‘Unsafe. Indeed, especially to those who remain here. I expect you can feel it.’

      ‘Feel what?’ Jessie walked slowly down the last couple of steps, stopping a few feet away from him when she reached ground level.

      ‘The heavy atmosphere, a terrible feeling of regret.’

      ‘No,’ she said. Actually, now you come to mention it … ‘No,’ she said again. The strange old man stared over her left shoulder.

      ‘Have we met before?’ asked Jessie, resisting the temptation to check behind her.

      ‘I don’t think so.’

      ‘You look familiar to me. Have you been in trouble with the law, Father Forrester?’

      He chuckled. It sounded like someone shaking a bag of marbles. ‘Not since leaving Oxford University when there was an embarrassing moment with some underpants and a flagpole. You could say I am a reformed character.’

      She moved round him to the door that led to the entrance. Never let the unknown entity stand between you and the exit. Especially in a dark, derelict building. ‘Are you sure? You aren’t wearing a dog collar.’

      ‘I am now retired, but not redundant. I think I can help you.’

      ‘And how is it that you can help me, Father Forrester?’

      ‘Someone in here needs forgiveness. As it happens, I am in the forgiving business.’

      ‘Don’t you normally knock on the door with leaflets?’

      His faint smile didn’t falter. ‘Does the name Ann mean anything to you?’

      Oh dear, thought Jessie. One of those. It was extraordinary what human peculiarities crime scenes conjured up. From nowhere gypsies with crystals would arrive; wailing women, pagans, hippies, spiritualists offering to talk to the dead, housewives who’d had vivid dreams. Body-bags brought out the supernatural in everyone, it seemed. Personally, Jessie liked to stick to the facts.

      ‘Nearly right, Father. Her name is Anna. Anna Maria. And she isn’t here. Now I know a lot has been on the news, and that rumours of a body rushed through the press, but it isn’t her. Anna Maria isn’t here. Now, I insist you leave.’ She opened the door. Don was standing just the other side of it.

      ‘Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,’ said the caretaker.

      ‘You didn’t,’ she said, removing her hand from where it had jumped to her chest. ‘I need to escort this gentleman off the premises.’

      The vicar looked at Don. ‘It is often the guilty who cannot move on,’ he said.

      Don shrank from the vicar. ‘Go away,’ he said in a strained voice.

      ‘It’s all right, Don, he’s going.’ Jessie turned to the white-haired man. ‘Right now.’

      But the retired priest was not listening to her. ‘An earthbound spirit can make a place feel unsafe. They make themselves heard in a number of ways.’

      ‘I can hear them,’ said Don.

      ‘What?’ said Jessie, turning back to Don. ‘Who?’

      ‘The voices.’

      ‘Everyone, just stop,’ said Jessie. ‘This conversation is over.’

      ‘He drowned. It was an accident,’ said Don.

      ‘What was an accident?’ Jessie looked at him sharply. ‘Who drowned?’

      The caretaker began to quiver slightly; he looked around the room nervously.

      ‘Do you know anything about the body downstairs?’ Jessie persisted.

      ‘Questions, questions, questions – I don’t like questions. They give me the wobblies.’ Jessie didn’t want the caretaker getting the wobblies. Whatever the wobblies were, a psychiatric ward meant they were probably more harmful than the name suggested.

      ‘It’s all right, Don. Let’s sit you down. We don’t have to talk about this.’ She walked him back through to the foyer. ‘Don’t you go anywhere,’ Jessie shot back over her shoulder to the priest.

      ‘An infested location will often attack the human element within it,’ he called after her. ‘Especially if the human –’

      Jessie held up her hand. She helped Don on to an upturned box. The quivering stopped as suddenly as it had begun, and when he looked up at Jessie, he seemed quite unaware of what had happened.

      ‘Did you know they used two hundred and eighty-six marble tiles for the big swimming pool? Each one three foot by four foot, put there by hand.’

      ‘No,’ said Jessie. ‘I didn’t know that.’

      ‘I’ve worked here all my life,’ said Don.

      ‘Yes,’ said Jessie, ‘I know. But now it’s definitely time to go home.’

      ‘It’s about money,’ said Father Forrester, walking through the double doors towards them. ‘Old money.’

      ‘Who have you been talking to?’ she asked, then immediately regretted the question. He smiled benignly. If he was expecting enlightenment, he was talking to the wrong girl.

      ‘That is a complicated question, Detective, and one that I should like to answer in the fullness of time. Until then, perhaps it is better to simply pass over my details. It will become increasingly evident when and why you’ll be needing me.’ He handed her a piece of paper. ‘I’m staying with some very good friends of mine: Sister Beatrice and Mary at the Rectory, Mill Lane, Wapping. I took the liberty of writing the details down. Call me when you want to talk. I’ll be ready.’

      ‘Ready for what, exactly?’

      ‘For whatever is needed of me.’ He bid her goodnight, replaced the trilby on his head and walked out into the rain. There was something about him that made Jessie feel uneasy. She was about to call after him when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned abruptly.

      ‘Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you again.’

      ‘Again, you didn’t.’ Again, she lied.

      They watched as the elderly man was swallowed up by crowds of commuters battling with the steady downpour.

      ‘If you’re ready …’

      Jessie nodded. ‘Are you feeling better?’

      ‘I’m not sick, you know, I just get the wobblies sometimes.’

      Jessie was suddenly very tired. ‘Goodnight, Don,’ she said. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’ She stepped out into the rain. Behind her the caretaker pulled the thick metal chain through the door handles and began the lengthy ritual of locking up his keep.

      Jessie was walking towards her bike when she remembered she’d left her helmet in the foyer. Unable to face going back, she pulled the collar of her leather jacket up and thought about hailing a cab and going home. It had been quite a day and she felt emotionally drained. Her relationship with Mark had never been easy to

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