Jason drank his coffee hastily, making small talk with Beeson. His mind was in turmoil, and he paid his bill and walked swiftly back out to his car. As soon as he was inside, he dialled Emily’s mobile, but it went straight to voicemail. He tried Louise’s number. She answered after a couple of rings.
‘Hi, Louise, it’s Jason, is Emily still with you?’
‘No, I left her at the wholesalers – she was just heading home with a full van-load of food. She might need some help unloading it all.’
‘I – I’m heading home now. I’ll – I’ll give her a hand.’
‘Are you OK, Jason? You sound a bit strange.’
‘Yes – well – no, actually. No really. I mean . . .’ He tried to collect his thoughts, to make sense of everything. ‘Look, the vicar who came to the house yesterday – the Reverend Fortinbrass – who was going to arrange for an exorcist – a Minister of Deliverance or whatever – there’s something very strange going on.’
‘I’m sorry, Jason did you say vicar?’
‘Yes. The chap who came yesterday – said his name was Roland Fortinbrass – the Reverend Fortinbrass.’
Louise sounded puzzled. ‘Emily didn’t mention this – when did he come?’
He frowned. ‘Yesterday morning, when you were at the house, you were there, you met him.’
‘No one came while I was there – it was just you, Emily and myself.’
Was she having a memory lapse or something? ‘Louise, he came into the kitchen, we were all chatting with him. He tried to recruit Emily and me into the church choir, then he asked you, too. You told him you lived too far away.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘He must have come after I’d left.’
‘You must remember!’ he insisted. ‘He asked you if you would like to join the church choir and you told him you lived in Brighton, not in the village. Remember now?’
‘Jason, I honestly don’t know what you’re saying. Are you sure you’re OK?’
He suddenly felt hot. He was perspiring. ‘Yes – I – I’m . . .’ His head felt like it was spinning. ‘I – I’m . . .’
‘Jason?’
Her voice sounded distant, as if she was calling out to him from the bottom of a well.
He’d felt like this once, he remembered, after eating a duff prawn in a cocktail. Food poisoning. Had the chicken been off? The bacon?
‘Jason? Jason?’
Trying to get a grip, he said, ‘I’m OK, Louise. Look – are you saying you really didn’t see him?’
‘No,’ she said good-humouredly. ‘I didn’t see anyone apart from you and Emily. Are you sure you didn’t imagine him?’
‘What?’
‘You have a very vivid imagination – you must have, to do all those brilliant paintings.’
‘Thanks, Louise, but however vivid my imagination, I didn’t conjure up a vicar walking into our kitchen and trying to recruit us all for his church choir.’
‘Just saying . . .’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Where are you, Jason?’ she asked.
‘I’m in the car – but it’s OK, I’m in a car park.’
‘Have you been drinking?’
‘No way! I’ve had a Diet Coke and a coffee.’
‘Do you want me to call Emily and ask her to come and get you?’
His head was cooling. Clarity was returning. ‘It’s OK, I think I’ve realized what’s happened. I’m fine, don’t worry about it.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘I’m sure. Are we seeing you before Christmas?’
‘Yes, I’ve got a babysitter. Des and I are coming out with you both – we’ve booked a table at the Ginger Fox on Christmas Eve.’
‘Ah, great, brilliant. OK, see you then, if not before.’
‘You really sure you’re OK?’
‘I’m OK, thanks.’
He ended the call and sat still in the car, staring at the windscreen, which was opaque with drizzle. Remembering. Emily had told him that when Louise went into one of her psychic trances it was like she had gone to another planet, and could never remember anything afterwards. That must be it. It made sense now.
Except it didn’t.
She might not have seen the Reverend Fortinbrass in their kitchen, but he sure as hell had, with his own eyes.