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He hadn’t realized he had been so brutal with his pencil. He hadn’t been aware of the anger that the act of writing had been expressing.
    Jenny stared at the page for a moment or two, then murmured, ‘Or perhaps the
mother’s
spirit? Projected from her own tormented mind? She might not even be aware that she’s doing it.’
    Richard sounded more dismissive than he’d intended. ‘I’m not quite ready to start thinking of astral projection. Not until I get to the edge of madness.’
    Undaunted, Jenny took him by the arm. She was genuinely concerned for him, for Susan. ‘But if you’ve started to
think
about the possibility of a restless spirit in the house, why not from the mother herself? There’s
something
going on, and it certainly isn’t natural! What are you afraid of in accepting that?’
    From the kitchen came the sound of a child’s distressed sobbing. From the sitting room came the sound of laughter. Richard heard his name called. Upstairs, someone was trying to flush the toilet but without success. Feet thundered across the ceiling, and childish screams told of a game ending in tears.
    ‘At the moment, Jenny, I’m terrified of my own shadow. So’s Susan.’ He stared at the woman, at the thin but strong features of her face, her eyes so full of sympathy, but so certain, so sure. ‘Thanks for your help.’
    He leftthe study, closing the door on Michael and his minder, and went out into the garden again.
    It was time to end the party.

FIVE
    The last guestleft at seven in the evening, taking the last child with him, leaving a sudden, wonderful peace. Cleaning and clearing took two hours, and that was only the kitchen and sitting room. The garden would have to wait until the next day.
    Exhausted and shaking, Richard poured himself a Jack Daniels and flopped down across the armchair, wordless and dizzy. Susan was feeding Michael and the infant’s tiny fists were clenched with ecstasy as he sucked at the bottle.
    ‘Have you locked everywhere?’
    ‘Everywhere,’ Richard murmured. ‘And I’ve searched the house from top to bottom. Just in case some brat with the bone of a giant is still in hiding.’ He smiled at the thought of ‘Isadora’. ‘The brats, I am glad to report, are all tormenting adults elsewhere.’
    ‘It was a good day. I’m glad we went ahead with it.’
    ‘I agree. Hard work, but good. Brilliant barbecue, of course. And thank God for Jenny.’
    ‘She’s a wonder.’
    ‘How do you feel now?’ Richard asked after a moment.
    Susan looked up, eyes red, moistening. ‘Terrified …’ she said, and Richard felt a shiver pass through him.
    ‘The house is empty. And we’ll not leave Michael. And we’ll sleep well, tonight. I’m quite determined.’
    ‘That’s notthe point, though. Is it? Nothing happens when we’re with him.’ Her voice began to rise. ‘We can’t
prove
anything by keeping him with us. She might be here and hiding and she won’t come out if he’s with us. We can’t
prove
it, Rick, can we? Can we? If we’re going to catch her—’
    ‘Susan!’ He rose and went over to her, sitting by her and watching the infant feed greedily. ‘Take it easy, love.’ He stroked her neck, pinching the stiff muscles, kneading them between thumb and forefinger.
    ‘That’s good.’
    They stayed up until one in the morning, then took the child quietly to his cot and went to bed themselves.
    But Richard couldn’t sleep. Every murmur and whimper from Michael startled him, sent a surge of shock through his system. After a while he sat up in bed and resigned himself to wakefulness.
    He was thirsty. He had drunk too much wine, and too much Jack Daniels. He walked downstairs quietly and drank a pint of water, then sat by lamplight in the study, leafing through one of his albums of photographs.
    Past glories. Special effects …
    After a while he became drowsy and put his head across his arms, leaning on the desk. His heart was pumping hard and he tried to will it to calm