Kester awoke to the sight of a high, white ceiling, almost ecclesiastical in style. Am I in a church? he wondered, with the hint of a smile. He’d always liked churches. Their peacefulness appealed to him, not to mention their stoic conservatism. It was tempting to drift back to unconsciousness again. There was something in his head, a little urgent voice, insisting it would be better to go back to sleep. A whole lot better.
Why are my ears hurting? A shrill ringing needled at his eardrums, making his head feel like it was being assaulted by an army of angry, vocal rodents. He felt sick. Even more alarmingly, there were people next to him, which he wasn’t expecting. With great reluctance, he turned his head. Five faces floated into focus, studying him with varying degrees of concern. I’m definitely not in a church, he realised, blinking. Then he remembered.
“Oh dear lord, no,” he said. The awfulness of the memory hurled itself back into his head and he groaned. “Dear god, that was awful.”
“Ah, you are back with us!” Dr Ribero boomed, clapping his hands. Kester peered up at them, all huddled together like a group of vultures surveying a helpless antelope, from his horizontal position on the sofa. He felt bile rising to his throat, and fought hard to swallow it down.
“I—what was—? What just happened?” he finally burbled, shaking his head. He sat up, then wished he hadn’t. Blood rushed to his cheeks, making him feel faint again.
“Well, I knew you’d be scared, but I didn’t think you’d pass out,” Serena said scathingly, kicking a patent heel against the floor.
“I know, he was like the big sissy, was he not?” Dr Ribero chuckled, nudging her in a conspiratorial manner.
Miss Wellbeloved scowled. “Julio!” she chastised. “Remember who you’re talking about!”
Dr Ribero had the decency to look abashed, but not for long. Adjusting his trouser legs, he deposited himself next to Kester with the grace of a landing eagle.
“My boy, you have seen your first spirit,” he declared, beaming. “And how did it feel?”
“Horrendous,” Kester said, rubbing his forehead. “What the hell was that thing?” The memory of it was coming back fast, the evil screeching, the swirling black smoke, the terrible face, leering out at him. He shuddered. There was no way he was going to be able to sleep tonight. Or perhaps ever again.
“Just a very low-grade Bean Si,” Serena sneered. “Gosh, if you can’t cope with one of those, then I don’t know what you’ll be able to cope with.”
“Serena, remember he didn’t even believe in spirits before today,” Pamela chastised, flapping her arms at the younger woman like a disapproving hen. “Be kind. He’s very young still. And he is Gretchen’s boy, after all.”
Kester looked warily around the office, expecting to see the creature still hovering in the air, waiting for him to notice it. Thankfully, the room had returned to normal, and not a wisp of the evil thing remained.
“Where is it now?” he asked hesitantly.
“Back in the bottle,” Pamela said, in a soothing voice. “Don’t worry, we’ve put her right back in, and she’s now locked up again in that room. She can’t get out, love; I promise you.”
“She’s a loud one, isn’t she?” Mike shook his head, as though trying to dislodge water from his ears. “Dunno about you, but my ears are still going. It’s the only thing I really dislike about them actually, that awful noise they make. Always gives me a headache after.”
“Why was she leaning towards me?” Kester asked. He didn’t want to ask the question, but he felt that he needed to. During the event, he had had the horrible sensation that the Bean Si had been reaching out for him in some way, reaching out for him, and him alone. He very much hoped that he had been mistaken.
“Yes, I noticed that.” Miss Wellbeloved perched on the armrest of the sofa. “That was most strange. I did wonder if it was due to the fact that you’d recently had a family member die.”
“It’s normally before the death that they latch on to people though, isn’t it?” Mike interjected. “I’ve not heard of a Bean Si reaching for a human after the death’s happened. They might hang around, scream a bit, unsettle everyone; but they don’t target just one person, do they?”
“Great, that makes me feel much better,” Kester muttered, massaging his temples. He knew what Mike meant about the headache.
“Maybe she thought you were handsome and fell in love with you,” Serena said sarcastically. Both Miss Wellbeloved and Pamela shot her a severe look.
“What was the doorway?” Kester asked, suddenly remembering.
“What doorway?” Dr Ribero asked.
“The doorway, behind that creature.”
“You mean the doorway at the back of the room?”
Kester shook his head. “No. Not that one. The weird cave-like door. It was like the air had ripped open behind her. It was the oddest thing I’ve ever seen. Even odder than that horrible creature.”
“Hang on, hang on. Just one minute, please. What do you mean, door?” Dr Ribero asked, suddenly serious.
Kester straightened himself, addressing the problem of his shirt, which had untucked, revealing his pale belly, which bulged most unflatteringly over his belt. “When that—that thing came out of the bottle, there was a weird door right behind it. It wasn’t like a normal door; it was like—”
“Yes?” Dr Ribero said, leaning closer. His eyes were gleaming.
Kester shrank back. “It was probably nothing,” he concluded. “I was so terrified; I would have imagined anything. Tell me, was that creature real? It wasn’t just some horrible joke you were all playing on me, was it?”
“God, that would be one elaborate practical joke, wouldn’t it?” Serena said sarcastically. “Do you imagine we have a holographic projector system and state-of-the-art, top-volume hi-fi system, rigged up and waiting to trick unsuspecting visitors?”
“Well, Mike is an IT guy,” Kester replied crossly.
“Electronics expert,” Mike snapped. “And you’re right. If I wanted to create a machine that produced a realistic Bean Si, I’d certainly have the expertise to do it. But for the record, you were looking at the real thing. No trickery at all, I’m afraid.”
“That is strange, that you would see a door,” Dr Ribero muttered. He looked up at Miss Wellbeloved, who shrugged.
“I’d say the whole experience was rather strange,” said Kester, shuddering. The memory was still grotesquely fresh. He didn’t think he’d ever forget that craggy, misty face hanging over him, like a ghastly haunted tree. It was all his worst nightmares, all compressed into one dreadful minute of his life, and he wished fervently that there was a way that he could empty his mind of it, or at least reverse time and never experience any of it.
He rose to his feet, wobbled, and steadied himself against the nearest desk. “I think I’ll be heading off now,” he announced, fighting to keep his voice from shaking. His head was beginning to throb, and he wanted nothing more than to retreat to the pink-frilled Victorian safety of his B&B. The idea of burying his head into the worn eiderdown and trying his hardest to ignore the events of the day was very appealing indeed.
“Really, you’re going so soon?” Pamela said, surprised. They all looked instinctively at the clock.
“I don’t feel very well,” Kester replied. “I think I need to lie down somewhere, take some time to think things through. It’s been quite an afternoon.”
“I’ll say,” Mike said jovially. “Not every day you meet the father you never knew you had, and come face to face with a banshee.”
“Indeed,” Kester agreed faintly.
“Why not join us for a pint after work?” Mike continued, oblivious to Kester’s obvious state of distress. “We’re popping down to the Fat Pig for a drink or two, did you want to come?”
“That’s very kind of you, but I really think I need to be alone. My head is pounding.”
“Bloody banshees,” Mike acknowledged. “You’d think someone would ask them to come equipped with painkillers.”
“Just a moment!” Ribero barked, as Kester scooped up his bag. “How long are you staying in Exeter, hey? When are you returning to Cambridge?”
“I’ve only booked the one night,” Kester replied. “I’m catching the train back tomorrow.” Tomorrow can’t come soon enough, he thought wistfully, thinking of his own familiar bedroom, his cosy living room, reading in the sunlight in the garden. Except he’s actually the one who paid for that house, not mother, he realised, eyeing Dr Ribero warily. I wonder if he’ll want it back, now she’s dead?
“Hmm,” Ribero grunted. He scratched his chin, then stood. “Perhaps you would like to stay a little longer, yes? Maybe a few days?”
“Why?” Kester asked. He knew it wasn’t the politest way of responding, but at present, his desire for social etiquette had rather been overwhelmed by his need to snuggle under the nearest duvet.
“Ah, well,” the doctor said, coughing. “You know, we have only just met, and it seems a shame for the visit to be so brief, does it not?”
“I think what Julio is trying to say is that he’d like to get to know you better,” said Miss Wellbeloved with a wry grin.
Kester studied the floorboards, dismayed and overwhelmed by it all. His head felt as though it was going to explode, not just because of his headache, but because of the confusion of the day. It was simply too much to cope with. He wished that he had never come, that he’d resisted booking the train ticket down, that he’d ignored his mother’s dying wish entirely. So far, it had brought him nothing but rotten luck, and everything he’d discovered since being here had shaken his world to the core.
“I’ve only booked one night in the bed and breakfast,” he mumbled, hoping the excuse would be adequate. “I don’t think I can extend it any further, I think she was fairly fully booked, what with it being the summer and everything.”
“Ah, that is not a big problem,” the doctor persisted, patting Kester on the shoulder like a groom calming a skittish horse. “We can find you somewhere. You should stay a little while, see what we do here. What do you think, eh?”
“I really think I should be getting back,” Kester persisted, edging subtly towards the door. “Though perhaps we can arrange another time, in the future, to meet up again?”
Dr Ribero shook his head earnestly. “No, Kester, my boy, no. That will not do. You are here now, right? So we must make the most of it. After all, we have only just met.”
“Julio, perhaps don’t force him,” Miss Wellbeloved murmured, narrowing her eyes. Kester shot her a grateful look.
Ribero shrugged her comment off with a dismissive wave. “Ah, he is not being forced. He just wants the formal invite, don’t you, Kester? It is because he is polite, you see. Raised by his mother to be a good boy. That is all.”
“Kester, you’re more than welcome to stay at mine for a while, if you’d like,” Pamela offered, bustling up to him like a bobbing balloon. “I’ve only got a small back room, but it’s quite cosy. As long as you don’t mind the dog jumping on you first thing in the morning.”
“And the fact that her house stinks of mince and mashed potatoes,” Serena added, wrinkling up her nose.
“Serena, it was just that one time, and that was because I actually had been cooking mince and potatoes,” Pamela chastised. She leaned towards Kester earnestly and added, “it doesn’t smell of that all the time, I promise you.”
“Well, it still smells of damp dog hairs,” Serena said with a snort. “Your dog moults for England. It’s amazing it’s not completely bald yet. I thought your lounge had a carpet until I realised it was just dog hair I was treading on.”
“Please don’t exaggerate.”
“Every time you inhale in your house, you get a nose full of dog hairs.”
“Serena, will you just give it a rest, please?”
“Well, I’m just pointing out that—”
“Please!” Kester shouted. It was a little louder than he had anticipated, and he felt his face redden. The others fell silent, looking at him with mild amazement.
“Please,” he continued, a little more quietly. “I feel like I’m going a little mad. I’ve not even been here an hour, and in that time I’ve found out I have a father, who I didn’t even know existed, and I’ve also discovered that there are horrible ghosts lurking around the place. I just need some time to myself. I can’t . . . I can’t hear myself think in here.”
“Oh, you poor thing,” Pamela said, placing a soft hand on his shoulder. “Of course. This is just all too much for you, isn’t it? Especially given what you’ve gone through recently.”
“It is a bit,” Kester said, fighting the urge to sniff. He was feeling oddly emotional, and worryingly close to tears. It was most unlike him, but then, this day had been quite unlike any other he’d ever known. He supposed an unusual reaction was only to be expected.
“Why don’t you just stay one more night and come out with us tomorrow?” Dr Ribero suggested. There was a strident ring to his tone, a stony obstinacy, that suggested he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.
“Come out with you tomorrow?” Kester said, blinking in confusion. “What’s happening tomorrow?”
“Oh, it’s the woodland job tomorrow, isn’t it? I completely forgot about that one,” Mike said, before he chortled. “Well, it’s certainly an interesting job to bring Kester along on.”
“Wait a minute, is this another supernatural thing?” Kester said, stuttering slightly. No way, he thought. I can’t believe they’d even think there was a remote possibility that I’d want to join them.
“Well, of course it’s a supernatural thing!” Serena said, confirming his fears. “What else would it be?” She shook her head, folding her thin arms in a neat concertina across her relatively flat chest.
“No,” Kester said firmly. “Not a chance. Thank you anyway.” He moved with greater urgency towards the door.
“This one isn’t a frightening job,” Dr Ribero continued, stepping nimbly around him and blocking his path. “It’s unusual, but not at all scary. I promise you. You will love it.”
“I doubt that very much.”
“It’s just a small, little, lost ghost. Nothing at all to be bothered by.”
Kester shook his head with disbelief. “You said that the Bean Si was nothing to be bothered by, and that was the most awful thing I’ve ever had the misfotune to see. Why would I want to see anything else?”
Pamela coughed. “Well, this one might make you feel a bit less negative about spirits. It’s honestly not scary at all. Just a tiny little spirit that’s lost its way. It’s quite sad really. We’ve found where it’s hiding, now we just need to help him home.”
Kester paused. There was something about the image of a lost little ghost that moved him slightly. But only slightly. After all, it was still a ghost at the end of the day. And he didn’t much relish the idea of hanging around in a wood, actively seeking one out. However, judging by the faces surrounding him, they weren’t going to let the subject drop. And in spite of everything, there was a tiny part of him that was just a little bit curious.
“If I do come,” he began, “can I go home after that?”
Dr Ribero tweaked his moustache between his thumb and finger, pulling it into a point with a flourish. “If you still want to,” he said slowly. “Yes, yes, absolutely. We are not trying to make you stay against your wishes, no. Of course not.”
“No, that’s definitely not what we’re trying to do,” Mike added. His amused expression suggested the exact opposite.
“I’m sure you can easily change your train times,” Pamela said. “And if you do want to stay longer, the offer to sleep at my place is still there.”
“Well, that’s very kind of you,” Kester said quietly, giving up all hope of getting out of it. “Do you want me to come here tomorrow then?” If I really must, he added silently.
“No, we’ll pick you up in the van,” Mike said. “What B&B are you at?”
Kester gave him the address, then laughed. “Is it like the Scooby Doo van?”
Dr Ribero glared at him. “It is nothing like the Scooby Doo van. That is a cartoon, yes? No, it is not like that. We are a serious company, not a joke. Thank you.”
Kester cleared his throat. “Okay.” He resisted the urge to laugh again, aware that there was a slight note of hysteria to it. “So, shall I wait outside?”
“Yep, wait out on the street at around six o’clock,” Mike said.
“Six in the morning?” Kester squeaked. He never normally got out of bed until at least gone nine.
“Yeah, think you can manage to wake up at that time?” Serena said with the vaguest hint of a sneer.
“I’m sure that won’t be a problem,” he snapped, though privately thought exactly the opposite. His only consolation was that, as he wouldn’t be able to sleep, thanks to the banshee, he would probably be awake anyway. Whether or not he’d be functioning properly as a human being would be another matter entirely.
“And maybe you’ll see that door again,” Dr Ribero added, finally moving out of the way to allow him to pass.
“Door?” Kester repeated with a blank look, his attention focused on the office exit, which was now unblocked and presenting a tempting passage out into the normal world.
“The door, the spirit door,” the doctor repeated impatiently.
“The one you saw behind the Bean Si,” Pamela added.
“Oh, was that what it was?” he asked, without much real enthusiasm. He had reached the point of being beyond caring. Now, all that filled his mind was thoughts of getting out of here, out into the afternoon sunshine, where things were normal, and ghosts simply didn’t exist.
“Yes, very interesting you should see it, very interesting indeed,” Dr Ribero muttered thoughtfully. Shaking himself like a dog coming in from the rain, he gestured grandly towards the exit. “But we can discuss it more tomorrow. I can see that you are tired and overwrought. You go now. Get some sleep. Recover. Big day tomorrow.”
Kester smiled weakly, already regretting his decision to agree to join them. What was I thinking? he wondered as he scuffled from the office, closing the door with great relief behind him. What on earth was I thinking?
In the pitch blackness of the upper hallway, he shuddered suddenly. Visions of the Bean Si, its plumes of evil-smelling smoke, suddenly came to mind with horrible clarity. Who knows what other creatures are lurking in the darkness with me? he thought, then wished he hadn’t. He staggered in the direction of the staircase, cursing when his knee made sharp contact with the bannister. Images of monsters, ready to pounce, propelled him into the dim light of the downstairs corridor.
As he emerged on to the dusty, aged alleyway, he didn’t think he’d ever been so relieved to see the daylight.