Shadows in the Moonlight

Chapter Five

After tea, Olivia and Antoinette accompanied Pixie and Ulysses to their bedrooms. Tabitha had wanted to go with them, but Olivia had suggested she watch TV with Zach. Zach was grateful for the company. He didn’t want to be alone, especially after dark. ‘You know why they’re here, don’t you?’ he said, flopping onto the sofa and grabbing the remote control. ‘They’re ghost hunters.’

Tabitha frowned. ‘What’s a ghost hunter?’

‘Someone who hunts ghosts.’

‘Well, I know that, duh! What do they do once they’ve found them?’

‘They get rid of them – that is, if you believe there are ghosts in the first place.’

‘How do they get rid of them?’

‘I don’t know.’ He shrugged. ‘Perhaps they put a stake through their hearts.’

‘That’s vampires, silly.’

‘Can ghosts be killed? Aren’t they dead already?’

‘I’m going to ask Pixie.’

‘She’s cool,’ said Zach. ‘I think you should dye your hair pink.’

‘Mum would kill me.’

‘Then you’d be a ghost too.’ He laughed and, pointing the remote at the TV, flicked through the channels.

‘I’d be a ghost with pink hair – a spirit with pink hair,’ she corrected, wanting to get the terminology right. Tabitha curled into the corner of the sofa beside him. ‘I want to help Pixie find the spirit.’

‘They won’t let you. They think it’ll frighten you.’

Tabitha was about to confide in him that she’d always seen spirits, like for ever. But she held back. ‘Why would I be afraid of dead people? They’re like smoke. They have no body, so they can’t hurt me.’

Zach settled on a superhero film, even though it was already halfway through. ‘I’ve had enough of ghost talk,’ he said dismissively. ‘Let’s watch the film.’

Tabitha crossed her arms and sighed irritably. She decided she’d never confide in her brother, ever.

Pixie felt the sense of unhappiness intensify as they climbed the stairs to the first floor. Something dark had taken place here. They made their way down the corridor and her whole body began to bristle. ‘I can’t believe you’ve been living here since mid-December,’ she said to Olivia. ‘It’s now January. How have you coped? This place has a very heavy energy. Can you feel it, Ulysses?’

‘Not really,’ he replied with a shrug. ‘It just feels cold.’

Pixie chuckled; Ulysses never felt anything. ‘Can you feel it, Antoinette?’

‘Absolutely,’ Antoinette exclaimed heartily. ‘It makes one’s hair stand up, doesn’t it.’

Olivia wished she felt it too, but she didn’t. A part of her thought this whole ghost thing was crazy, but the other part longed to be convinced that it was true. She decided she’d go along with it and keep an open mind. Pixie didn’t seem like a fraud, and she trusted Antoinette.

After putting their bags in their rooms, Olivia suggested Pixie look around the rest of the house. ‘Just so you know what you’re up against,’ she said. ‘I do hope you can sort it out. I don’t know what I’m going to do if you can’t.’

‘Of course, she will,’ said Antoinette confidently. ‘Have you ever not been able to move on a spirit, Pixie?’ she asked.

‘Sometimes they just don’t want to leave,’ said Pixie truthfully. ‘But I’ll do my best.’

Olivia felt anxious. If Pixie didn’t release the ghost, they might be forced to sell up. They couldn’t live in a house that was haunted – no one would want to come and stay.

Pixie followed her intuition right to the bedroom where Antoinette had heard the crying. ‘It’s in here,’ she murmured to herself, opening the door. Although she didn’t hear the sound of crying, she felt the woman’s grief as soon as she entered. It was like a grey shadow that enveloped her. She focused a moment and tuned into the finer vibrations of the spirit dimension. There, by the window, was the slim figure of a woman looking out. She was wearing a long black dress with a veil over her head that covered her face. When she turned, her eyes shone through the silk, wet with tears. On seeing Pixie, she stiffened. Pixie knew she was about to disappear. Don’t be afraid , she said in her mind. I’m here to help you. The woman did not move. She stared at Pixie, astonished perhaps to be visible to this strange creature with pink hair. Pixie wondered if any of the mediums had tried talking to her before. The woman certainly appeared surprised to be spoken to. I’m here to help you , Pixie repeated.

You cannot help me , the woman replied at last, her voice as thin as ribbon. No one can. She turned back to the window with a sob.

I can , said Pixie, her heart flooding with pity. And I will.

Then find my son.

Before Pixie could say anything further, the woman vanished.

Olivia, Antoinette and Ulysses stood quietly in the doorway, knowing not to disturb Pixie by asking questions. She was standing very still and staring at the window, a look of concentration hardening the contours of her face. After a few moments she turned to them. ‘It’s a lady. And she wants me to find her son.’

‘But her son is surely dead,’ said Ulysses. ‘Or very, very, very, very old.’

‘She doesn’t know that. I doubt she even knows she’s dead,’ Pixie explained.

‘Are you going to tell her?’ Olivia asked.

‘It’s not as easy as that. If I told you you were dead, would you believe me?’

‘No,’ said Olivia, confused suddenly. How could a spirit not know they were a spirit?

Pixie looked at Ulysses. ‘I’d say she’s Victorian or early Edwardian. She’s wearing a long black dress with a veil. Late twenties, early thirties. No older than that.’

‘We can look in the book Bruce found and see if we can work out who she is,’ Olivia suggested. ‘Who she was …’ she corrected quickly.

‘That’s a brilliant idea,’ said Antoinette enthusiastically. ‘Perhaps there’s a record somewhere of the fate of her son. Then you can tell her.’

‘That’s a good start,’ said Pixie. But she sensed by the stubborn energy of the spirit that this was going to be a difficult case. She had worked with the paranormal long enough to know when a job was going to be challenging. ‘It would be helpful to know something about her before I meet her again,’ she added.

They gathered in the drawing room once more. Bruce poured wine. Pixie declined. Ulysses gratefully took the glass. Tom came in and put another log on the fire. On the sofa, Olivia looked down the family tree in the book Bruce had found, which only included names of the direct family members. But it was enough to identify the spirit. Olivia’s finger swiftly rested on a likely candidate. ‘Cordelia Pengower was Mrs Delaware’s grandmother,’ she said. ‘She was married to Ivan and died at the age of thirty-four, in eighteen ninety-six. And, yes, she had two sons, Robert, who was Emily Delaware’s father, and Felix.’ Olivia looked up, eyes shining with excitement. ‘Felix only has a dash by his name, and the words disappeared night of 29th June 1895 .’

‘Must be the spirit, don’t you think, Pixie?’ Antoinette asked with rising excitement.

‘Yes, that’s her. She was young, in late Victorian clothes. She’s not leaving St Sidwell Manor until we find out what happened to her son.’

‘So what do you do?’ Antoinette asked. ‘You just tell her?’

‘Once I’ve found out what happened to him,’ said Pixie.

‘Okay,’ Olivia said. ‘How are you going to find out what happened to him? I mean, if no one managed to find out at the time, how are you going to find out now?’

Pixie inhaled deeply, unsure about whether or not to tell them. ‘It’s …’ She hesitated and looked uneasily at Ulysses. Even he only knew a small part of what she did.

‘Complicated?’ Ulysses arched his eyebrows.

Pixie did not feel ready for this.

‘What does that mean?’ asked Antoinette keenly. She had not missed the silent communication that had passed between their two guests.

‘It means that I have to go back in time and find out what happened,’ said Pixie. Normally, she would not have told the clients this information, as most sane people would think her mad, but Antoinette was an ally and a friend.

Bruce, who had been sitting quietly, listening, frowned. He’d agreed to invite Pixie to the house only to please his wife. He hadn’t heard any crying in the night and most certainly did not believe in ghosts. As for time travel, he’d really heard it all now!

‘How do you do that?’ Olivia asked, suddenly feeling a little sick, because this woman was beginning to sound like she was two sandwiches short of a picnic.

‘I didn’t notice a Tardis in the back of your car,’ said Bruce with a chuckle. Olivia shot him a warning look.

‘I timeslide,’ Pixie replied simply.

‘What the hell is timesliding?’ Bruce asked, looking at his wife, who shrank. ‘Am I the only person here who’s never heard of it?’

‘Darling, why don’t you go and find something to do in your study?’ Olivia suggested tersely. She didn’t want Bruce’s scepticism to put Pixie off – and if she was, indeed, a little loopy, she did not want him to know.

Bruce didn’t protest. The whole situation was ridiculous. He decided to go and look through his emails and leave the witches to their witchy business. He hoped the two charlatans would be gone first thing in the morning.

Once he’d left the room, Pixie knitted her fingers and took a breath. Timesliding was hard to explain to people who had no understanding of metaphysics. Even she didn’t fully grasp it. But having slid to different times since childhood, it was second nature to her. ‘If you accept that there is no time, then you will agree that there is only infinity,’ she began. ‘If there is infinity, then there is no beginning and no end, in which case there can be no past or future, just a continuous present.’

‘That sounds like a riddle,’ said Ulysses, who had heard Pixie explain it various times and still didn’t understand it.

‘You don’t need to get your head around it,’ said Pixie. ‘Just know that that is the way it is. No time. Just now. Which means that everything is happening all at once.’

Antoinette chuckled. ‘I don’t suppose our human minds can grasp that,’ she said, wanting very much to have one of the rare human minds that could.

‘Mine certainly can’t,’ said Olivia. She glanced at her watch. Would it look indecent to have another drink?

‘You don’t have to understand it, or even believe it,’ Pixie went on. ‘It is what it is, regardless. What it means is that some, like me, can slide through time, like walking through a veil and arriving in another era.’ Pixie, however, had never met anyone else who could do that.

‘That’s crazy,’ said Olivia. ‘You can actually time travel? Is that a thing?’ The sick feeling in her stomach intensified. Did Antoinette appreciate what sort of people she had allowed into their house? Please , she thought feverishly, don’t let them be mad .

Pixie nodded. ‘It’s not as extraordinary as it sounds. It’s really quite simple. And it’s not that exciting. I link into a spirit via an object of theirs and follow them to where they are. Tomorrow, I’ll link into Cordelia. There must be something of hers in this house.’

‘I’m sure there will be,’ said Olivia, not sure how she was going to know unless it had the name Cordelia on it.

‘How will you get back?’ asked Antoinette. She didn’t want Pixie getting lost in the past.

‘Sliding back is easy because this is where my body is. I can return to my body at any time.’

‘And how long do you stay, um, out of it?’ Olivia asked.

‘I stay for as long as I need to. Sometimes, I stay a day, other times a couple of weeks. It just depends.’

‘You’re going to disappear for two weeks?’ Olivia gasped, panicking suddenly that these crazy people were going to stay in her house for an entire fortnight.

‘I won’t disappear, and it won’t be two weeks to you. Remember there is no time. To you it will seem like I’ve been sitting with my eyes shut for merely minutes, maybe a few hours.’

‘You just sit with your eyes closed?’ said Antoinette.

‘Yes, but I must not be disturbed. That’s why I work with Ulysses. I need him to stand by me, to keep me safe.’

‘What happens if he doesn’t do his job properly?’ asked Olivia, who had a tendency to think of the worst-case scenario.

‘Let’s just say it’s dangerous,’ said Ulysses, knowing Pixie wouldn’t want to talk about the time she had ended up in hospital after being shaken out of her trance by her worried grandmother. ‘I do my job properly, every time,’ he added firmly.

‘Can you change the past?’ asked Antoinette. ‘I mean, if you find Cordelia’s son, you’ll change her destiny, won’t you?’

‘I can only witness what happened. I cannot, and must not, change it. That is a responsibility I must bear,’ said Pixie seriously. ‘I have to be careful not to change the future, by altering things that happened in the past.’

‘Are you you ?’ Antoinette was so enthralled by this fascinating information that she had forgotten to take a sip of her whisky.

Pixie did not want to tell them too much. She hadn’t even told Ulysses what really happened. It was too weird. ‘I’m me,’ Pixie replied simply, which was partly true.

‘Sounds like a movie,’ said Olivia, praying hard that she wasn’t being fed a load of garbage.

‘Timesliding has been around for thousands of years,’ said Ulysses helpfully. ‘The thing is that most people don’t believe it’s possible. They write it off as science fiction.’

‘Which is a good thing,’ Pixie added. ‘If novices tried to do it without proper guidance it could be really dangerous. Like astral projection and any other psychic experience, it’s unwise to attempt it if you don’t know what you’re doing.’

‘I must admit, it’s not an easy one to comprehend,’ said Olivia, wanting very much to believe it. ‘I mean, most people accept there’s some sort of life after death, many believe in spirits, some even believe we come back time and again to live other lives, but timesliding feels like one step too far. It sounds unbelievable.’

‘It does,’ Pixie agreed. ‘But the good thing is you don’t have to believe it. You don’t have to do anything at all. Just leave me to sort it out for you. If I help this soul move on to where she’s meant to be, then you can pay me. If not, I’ll leave, and you will have lost nothing.’

To Olivia, that was only mildly reassuring.

After dinner, when Pixie was in her bedroom getting ready for bed, there came a soft knocking at the door. She knew it wasn’t Ulysses, because he never knocked, and she knew it wasn’t a spirit, because they didn’t knock either. She did not expect it to be Tabitha.

The child’s pale face looked up at her inquisitively.

‘Are you all right, Tabitha?’ Pixie asked, standing aside to let the child into the room.

‘I’m scared,’ Tabitha replied. The truth was that she wasn’t scared at all. She just wanted to talk to Pixie on her own.

‘You don’t need to be scared,’ Pixie replied, although she understood why she was. Children were often sensitive to the spirit level of vibration, having so recently come from there. Pixie went over to the bed and sat down. ‘Come here and tell me why you’re scared.’ She patted the space beside her. Tabitha climbed up and sat cross-legged on the quilt.

‘Zach says you’re a ghost hunter,’ she said, eyes wide with curiosity and not a trace of fear. ‘Is that why you’re here? To hunt down the spirits?’

Pixie laughed softly. ‘I’m not a ghost hunter, Tabitha. I help spirits find their way home.’

‘Why are they here?’

‘Because they’re stuck.’

‘Why can’t they get unstuck?’

‘Because they don’t know they’re dead.’

Tabitha frowned. ‘How can you not know you’re dead?’

‘Well, when you dream, do you know you’re dreaming?’

‘Sometimes.’

‘But most of the time you don’t, right?’

‘I suppose.’

‘It’s a bit like that. It’s like they’re in a dream. Things look strange, just like they do in a dream, but they’re lost in the strangeness, just like when you’re lost in your dream. It’s only when you wake up that you realise it wasn’t real.’

‘Why do they get lost?’

Pixie put her hands in her lap and smiled at Tabitha. Her childish curiosity was endearing. She had none of the adult’s cynicism, only a sense of wonder – that precious quality so quickly lost in puberty. ‘When we die, we leave our bodies behind. We still look like us, only more transparent, because the spirit world is made of a quicker frequency than the earth world, which is made of matter. Imagine a fan.’ Pixie waved her hand. ‘When it’s spinning slowly, like this, you can see it, right?’ Tabitha nodded keenly. ‘But when it’s spinning really really fast, like this ,’ Pixie made her hand move at speed, ‘you can’t see it. It becomes invisible to your eyes. Spirit is just like that. So, when you leave your body, most people can’t see your new form. I can, because I’m psychic and I can see that level of vibration, but most people can’t. If they could, they would realise that there is no death, only transformation. The spirit, on leaving its human form, goes home. But some, either because of fear, or hate, or because of some terrible trauma where they slip out of their bodies but don’t realise they’re dead, fail to see the light that’s leading them home. They don’t realise where they’re meant to go. Those poor souls get stuck. That’s where I come into it. I can help them find their way home. I simply lead them to the light.’

‘Are all spirits just souls who are stuck?’ Tabitha asked.

‘Not all of them. Some are people who love us and want to visit us. They’ve returned home to where they belong but choose to keep an eye on us, so they come back. In fact, we’re surrounded all the time by those we love who are in spirit, but most people can’t see them. Even animals come back to be near us.’ Tabitha’s face lit up. She liked the sound of animals coming back. ‘For spirits, we’re only a thought away. There is no distance or time. But you never need to be afraid, Tabitha. You have an angel looking after you constantly.’

‘An angel? Really?’

‘Of course. You don’t know about angels?’

‘They’re in the Bible,’ said Tabitha, remembering the angel Gabriel from the nativity play at school.

‘The angels mentioned in the Bible are archangels, which are very powerful beings. Those angels work with everyone. I’m talking about your guardian angel who works especially for you to keep you safe. That angel has been with you from the moment you were created as a soul. You are never alone, ever.’

‘Do horrible people have angels, too?’ Tabitha asked, scrunching up her nose, hoping that they didn’t. Horrible people didn’t deserve to have an angel looking after them.

‘Everyone does, regardless of whether they’re good or bad. But some people don’t listen to their advice. They don’t hear that small voice within. If they listened to it, they wouldn’t be bad.’

‘Where do evil people go when they die?’ Tabitha was warming to the subject. It was wonderful to be able to talk about these things with someone who knew the answers.

‘Let me explain to you the law of attraction.’

‘Aunt Antoinette told me about the law of attraction, but I didn’t really understand it.’

‘Then let me try to explain it to you better. It’s the most powerful law in the universe. Basically, it means “like attracts like”. Have you ever heard the expression “birds of a feather flock together”?’

‘Yes,’ Tabitha replied keenly.

‘That’s not just a fun saying. It’s true. You tend to get on with people who are like you. It’s the law of attraction and it applies to everything. If you think positive things, you’ll attract positive things into your life. If you think negative things, you’ll attract negative things into your life. You’re like a magnet. Whatever you put out, you’ll get back. If you complain about things all the time, you’ll just attract what you complain about and get more of it. If you notice the beauty and good in things, you’ll attract that. So, with that in mind, after we die, our souls, by the law of attraction, go to a place of equal vibration to our …’ Pixie was going to say ‘consciousness’, but she didn’t imagine Tabitha would know what that was. ‘To our state of being. Imagine a balloon filled with hot air – it will rise very high, won’t it? A balloon with cold air will drop. Love is like hot air that fills a person’s soul, like a balloon. Life is all about love, Tabitha. Each of us is here to learn about that. If you’re loving, you’ll find yourself in a beautiful place after your body dies. You’ll rise like a big balloon. Cruel people find themselves somewhere very different. Everyone has a choice to be loving or not. We all get what we deserve, and no one judges. It’s up to us to decide how we want to be.’

‘Is the crying woman a spirit?’ Tabitha asked.

‘She is.’

‘Will she go to Heaven?’

‘I’ll try to encourage her to move on.’

‘Why doesn’t she go on her own?’

‘That’s what I’m here to find out.’

‘Do you ever get scared?’

‘Not really, although sometimes unhappy spirits can be mean. This one isn’t mean. She’s just lost.’

Pixie was keen to get back to Cordelia. She hoped that in the quiet of night she might be able to persuade her to find her way home without having to timeslide. Most likely her child was in spirit, waiting for her to join him. Pixie put a hand on Tabitha’s shoulder. ‘You should go to bed. It’s late. You’re not scared any more, are you?’

‘Not now,’ Tabitha replied, reluctantly slipping off the bed; she wanted to stay and talk.

‘We can chat more tomorrow,’ said Pixie.

‘I’ll show you the chapel and the fountain.’ Tabitha smiled broadly. ‘There’s so much to show you. This is a really cool house.’

Once Tabitha had left, Pixie tiptoed down the corridor to the room where she had encountered Cordelia Pengower. She sat on the edge of the bed in the darkness and closed her eyes. She then called out to her with her mind. Cordelia. A moment later, Pixie sensed the presence of a spirit. It carried in its energy the heavy, cold weight of unhappiness. I want to help you.

She felt Cordelia’s presence and opened her eyes. In the darkness she could make out the dim figure standing by the window. Cordelia, I want to help you , Pixie repeated. She knew Cordelia could hear her; she was deciding whether or not to respond. Pixie continued to sit patiently and wait. She’d wait all night if she had to.

The woman’s energy was thick, the light she carried within her frail and dim, like twilight. There was no way she was going to be able to return home to Spirit on her own. She needed Pixie’s help, but she seemed not to want it. Why?

Pixie decided to take another tack. Cordelia, are you happy here? Is that why you wish to stay?

At last, the spirit answered. How can I be happy when I have lost my child? When I have lost everything? Everything that was dear to me has been taken away.

I can help you reunite with your son.

You lie. No one can help me.

I can show you the way home.

I am home.

You are between worlds, Cordelia.

Who are you? Why do you tell me this?

Because I want to help you. You have died a physical death. You must leave this place and go home, to the light. Your child waits for you there.

You know nothing. My child is lost. If you want to help me, find him. Find my son and bring him home to me. The woman’s voice broke into a sob. The little light she emanated faded so that Pixie could barely see her.

He’s not out there. He’s already in that light. You can go to him any time you want. Why not go now?

What are you talking about? You know nothing about it. Nothing. He is lost, somewhere out there. Alone in the dark. Alone and afraid. Your talk of light is the Devil’s work. Perhaps you are the Devil. I will not be lured away. I wait here for my child to come home, as any good mother would do. I wait for him, and I pray. That is all I can do. No one can help me. Least of all you.

Cordelia’s energy faded further. Then she was gone. Pixie was baffled. There was something evasive in the way she refused even to consider that her child might already be in spirit. It didn’t make sense.

Cordelia didn’t want to leave – that was the problem. Given that she had lost her child, that was understandable. But Pixie sensed there was more to it. There was something else. The only way she could find out what that was, was to slide back to her time. Pixie didn’t imagine it would take very long. She knew the date on which the child had disappeared. All she’d have to do was observe the events that had taken place on that night and then return and tell Cordelia what happened.

It was still dark when Olivia climbed out of bed. She hadn’t slept well. She’d been worrying about the stuck spirit – if there truly was one – and whether Pixie and Ulysses were the real deal. She hoped she hadn’t invited a pair of frauds into her home. The very idea of timesliding sounded ridiculous. Olivia considered herself pretty open-minded, but, really, this was way out there. Beyond what an educated, intelligent person could accept as truth. She was too embarrassed to discuss it with Bruce, and he had had the tact not to mention it or tease her about it. She was ashamed to have even listened to such nonsense. However, as she had invited them down to do a job, she felt compelled to go along with it. And a part of her wanted to believe in Pixie, so that the house would warm up and they could make it a home. So much depended on it: Bruce’s health, the children’s happiness, her own happiness. This had to work.

She dressed in the bathroom so as not to wake Bruce, and then went downstairs to see if she could find something that had belonged to Cordelia Pengower. The room she had chosen to be her studio had previously been a study. By the pretty wallpaper and curtains, she deduced that it had been a woman’s room. However, the chance of finding something of Cordelia’s in there was pretty slim, for Cordelia was Emily Delaware’s grandmother. The objects could have belonged to Emily’s mother, or to Emily herself. Elsa had explained that Emily had changed very little, preferring to live among memories rather than creating memories of her own, so there might be something lying around that had once been treasured by her grandmother. And if it hadn’t belonged to Cordelia, did it matter? If Pixie was a fraud, it wouldn’t matter whom the object had belonged to.

She switched on the light. The window was laced with frost. Elaborate patterns in the shape of ferns caught the weak glow from the rising sun and shone like gold. Olivia didn’t want to linger in there for long; it was too cold. She hurried, opening drawers and cupboards. At last, she came upon a miniature portrait of a woman in an oval locket. She was arrestingly beautiful, with fair hair curled and pinned to her head in the Victorian fashion, and deep blue eyes that stared solemnly out. Her naked shoulders sloped prettily to the indigo top of her bodice. Around her neck was a pearl choker with a diamond centrepiece at her throat. Olivia turned it over. On the back, the initials CJP were engraved into the silver. Triumphant, she put it in her pocket and went to the dining room for breakfast.

When Pixie and Ulysses came down for breakfast, Bruce was reading The Times at the head of the long table, Olivia and Antoinette were discussing the weather, and Zach and Tabitha were eating their cooked breakfasts, arguing once again about the existence of ghosts. As soon as Pixie and Ulysses appeared, they stopped their debate. Bruce lowered his newspaper and grinned. ‘Did anything go bump in the night?’ he asked.

Ulysses smiled mischievously. ‘Only the poor devil dragging his ball and chain.’

‘Oh really, Ulysses,’ said Olivia, feeling uncomfortable again.

‘I heard that woman crying,’ said Tabitha. ‘But I wasn’t frightened.’

Bruce ignored his daughter and turned to Pixie. ‘How long is this going to take?’

‘I’m not sure,’ Pixie replied.

‘It’ll take as long as it takes, Bruce,’ interjected Antoinette, pretending she hadn’t noticed the cynical look on his face.

‘I found this,’ said Olivia, turning to Pixie and holding out the locket.

Pixie took it and looked it over carefully. The spirit in the bedroom had hidden her face behind a veil. From this portrait, Pixie could see that Cordelia Pengower had been a very beautiful woman. ‘This will do nicely,’ she replied.

‘Can I help?’ Tabitha asked.

‘I’m afraid not.’ Pixie smiled at the girl. ‘This is something I have to do on my own. But I’d love you to show me around the garden when I’m done.’

Tabitha nodded enthusiastically. ‘And I’ll show you the chapel and the statue too,’ she said.

Bruce closed the newspaper and got up. ‘I’m going to the farm to find Tom,’ he told Olivia. Then he turned to Pixie and Ulysses. ‘If you’re gone by the time I get back, it’s been nice meeting you. I hope you find your ghost and send it on its way.’

Olivia winced at his flippant tone, but Pixie did not seem at all offended. ‘It’s been nice meeting you, too,’ she replied. It made no difference to her whether or not people believed in the existence of spirits. She was here to settle Cordelia’s soul, not to win over Bruce Talwyn.

After breakfast, Pixie and Ulysses set off to do their work. They requested only that they be left alone in the bedroom on the first floor where Pixie had encountered Cordelia Pengower. Olivia and Antoinette decided to leave them to it and drive into town to see if there was any information about Cordelia Pengower in the local library. Zach and Tabitha didn’t want to join them. They remained in the hall, listless and cold, wondering what to do with themselves.

Pixie sat on an upright wooden chair. The spirit of Cordelia Pengower had chosen not to appear, but Pixie did not require her to be present. She could link into her energy through the locket, and, by holding her in her thoughts, she would ensure that she slid to the right time. That was of vital importance. Pixie needed to slide back to the summer of 1895 in order to find out what had happened to Felix, not to a time long before, or after. Therefore, she envisaged Cordelia and the child, and put out the desire to be transported into the past to ascertain why Cordelia was unable to move on into Spirit in the present. Then she waited to travel on the vibration of that desire. The thought was the deed. Together with the locket, it was a powerful combination.

However, what she hadn’t mentioned to Ulysses, or indeed to Olivia and Antoinette, was that linking into an earthbound spirit in this way in order to investigate a possible crime that had happened in the past was a new technique for Pixie, which she had only recently discovered and was gradually refining. Right now, it wasn’t an exact science. In fact, it wasn’t exact at all. What she had to factor in was the existence of a higher intelligence – which people called the universe, a higher power or God – that also played a part in her slides. Pixie put out the desire and together with the law of attraction, the higher intelligence set about fulfilling it. But she had no control over divine power. She just had to put her trust in it.

Pixie had come a long way in her development, from astral projection in childhood, which took her back in time as herself, to actually possessing another person’s body, which enabled her to remain in the past for longer and experience a physical life. But she wasn’t even close to perfecting it. This case gave her the ideal opportunity to hone her ability. She hoped it would work.

Ulysses lay on the bed, crossed his ankles, and chose his favourite Ingrid Bergman movie to watch on his iPad: Casablanca . ‘Okay, Ulysses. Are you ready?’ Pixie asked.

‘Are you?’ he said, putting on his earphones.

‘As ready as I’ll ever be,’ she replied.

Pixie wrapped her hands around the locket and closed her eyes. She took three deep breaths. In her mind’s eye, she imagined a silver cord extending from her solar plexus and wrapping around the locket, linking her to its owner. As she sank into trance, she heard the familiar thrumming in her ears, she felt the heaviness in her limbs and then she gave herself over to the gentle lift and floated out of her body.

‘Safe travels, Pix,’ said Ulysses, before turning his attention to his movie.