Clara had spent all morning waiting for the knock on the door. Today she would finally communicate with a ghost. Not just any ghost either. Her ghost. She was excited to see Sam again too. With his mournful eyes and quiet disposition, he was easily the most interesting person she had ever met.
But when the knock finally came, just after eleven o’clock, Clara was alone in the house and felt unsure what to do. Her father was at work, her mother was visiting a shop to discuss furnishings for the new house and Hopkins had asked permission to accompany Mrs Preston to the shop, seeing as she was so nervous about leaving the house these days.
Even Clara understood it would not be right for her and Sam to be alone in the house. She resolved to ask him to wait outside until Hopkins and Mrs Preston returned.
However, when she opened the door, it wasn’t Sam who was stood on the doorstep.
‘Hello, my dear,’ said Reverend Fallowfield.
‘What do you want?’ she asked, as rudely as possible.
‘You ruined my show,’ he replied.
‘You said it wasn’t a show.’
‘I was there to show people what I do.’
‘Go away. There’s no one else here,’ she replied.
‘Oh yes, there is.’ Reverend Fallowfield pushed past her and stepped inside. He sniffed the air like a bloodhound picking up the scent of its prey. ‘You have a new one. A fresh demon.’
‘Get out,’ she exclaimed.
‘He’s working against me, this Kitchen Killer, filling the holes I make. But I will rid this house of its new tenent as easily as I rid it of the previous one.’
‘No!’ shouted Clara.
‘You would defy me?’ he pronounced. ‘I am on a mission from God.’
‘You’re mad.’
‘I have been touched by the Almighty, not madness. Those hypocrites in the church call me heretic. It’s a word used by those who do not understand the true gift I have.’
‘Get out of my house.’ Clara felt panicked.
Reverend Fallowfield pushed her away. ‘I must clean this lair of Satan. I must cleanse the world of those who dare defy God’s natural order. Earth is for the living. The dead must go to almighty heaven or damnable hell.’ He raised his hands. ‘Spirit, show yourself.’
‘No!’ screamed Clara. ‘No!’
Fallowfield grabbed one of Clara’s wrists and squeezed hard, twisting her arm behind her back, causing her to bend over in pain. He strong-armed her into the drawing room, slammed the door shut and turned the key, locking her on the other side.
‘Let me out! Get out of my house!’ Clara screamed at the top of her voice. On the other side of the door she could hear Reverend Fallowfield muttering incantations, but there was nothing she could do to stop him. ‘Please,’ she sobbed. ‘Leave her alone.’