The answer was small, thin, wearing a fawn trenchcoat, beneath which was a clerical shirt and collar and grey trousers, and carrying a large, battered attaché case. He looked about twelve, but must have been north of forty. With the darting eyes of a wary gerbil, and limp, ginger hair brushed forward like a monk’s tonsure. The Reverend Jim Skeet was accompanied by a far more confident-looking man, around a decade older and seven stone heavier, with jet-black hair that looked freshly dyed, and a triple chin. He was also wearing a clerical shirt and collar, and jeans, beneath a parka.
‘My colleague,’ Jim Skeet said, by way of introduction. ‘Reverend Gordon Orlebar.’
Jason and Emily led the strange duo through to the kitchen, sat them at the table and produced tea and digestive biscuits. When they were all settled, Skeet, who had a curiously high-pitched voice, said, ‘Exactly where did the manifestation – or rather, manifestations – happen, Mr and Mrs Danes?’
‘Right here in this room,’ Emily replied.
‘And up in my studio,’ Jason added.
‘And in our bathroom,’ said Emily.
Gordon Orlebar spoke with a far more mature and assured voice. ‘We’ve done our research as best we can, given the short time. Quite interesting really.’ Then he fell silent.
They waited patiently for him to continue, but he picked up a digestive and peered intently at it, with a slight frown, as if he had discovered a foreign body present. ‘Hmm’, he said. ‘Digestives. Can’t really beat them, can you?’
‘I suppose not,’ Emily said, puzzled by his sudden switch of focus.
‘Sort of the comfort food of biscuits, I always think.’
‘So, what did you find that was interesting?’ Jason asked, growing impatient.
Orlebar continued studying the biscuit as he spoke. Meanwhile Skeet was rummaging, preoccupied, in his bag.
‘Quite a bit of historical activity,’ Reverend Orlebar said, calmly, with a relaxed smile, and placed his biscuit on his saucer. ‘This whole area, the land on which your house has been built, has something of a history of disturbances.’
‘We are aware of some of it,’ Jason replied. ‘And certainly, if you meet the locals, they are over-eager to talk about it. I think they’re resentful of this estate being built. Like they want to scare us off.’
‘Locals in the country tend not to like change of any kind,’ Skeet said.
‘Tell me about it,’ Jason said.
‘Unrested souls bring negative energy,’ Orlebar continued. ‘It all needs putting to bed, then hopefully everything will be fine and you will both be able to enjoy your new home.’
‘And how do you do that?’ Jason asked.
‘What the Reverend Skeet and I will do, if you are both agreeable, is hold a service.’ He looked at each of them in turn.
‘What does that entail?’ Jason asked.
‘A communion service, in which we will formally lay any restless spirit in this house to rest. First, I’d like you both to tell us anything you can think of, out of the ordinary, that has happened since you moved in – which was very recently, I understand.’
Jason glanced at Emily. ‘Gosh, where do we begin?’
‘Tell us everything, Mr and Mrs Danes, whatever has been disturbing for you,’ Orlebar suggested.
‘Well,’ Jason said and nodded at the unplugged command box. ‘It started with some strange occurrences around that. But it could just have been teething issues.’
‘Then footsteps,’ Emily said, and pointed up at the ceiling.
They told the two clergymen about the disturbed night, and calling the police. The appearances of the woman, identified as Caroline Harcourt, they had both experienced. And the deceased vicar, Roland Fortinbrass, whom only Jason had seen.
The clergymen listened intently, asking questions as they went along. When Jason and Emily had finished, Orlebar explained the procedures they would carry out, then asked, ‘Would you both be happy for us to proceed? Of course, if you would prefer not, then we can just chat. But I understand from your visit to the Bishop this morning, Mr Danes, that you are both very concerned and somewhat distressed by occurrences here?’
‘On both counts,’ Emily said.
‘What would be involved – is there a fee?’ Jason asked.
‘There is absolutely no charge for our services, we are just here, representing the Church, to help you.’
Jason and Emily looked at each other, then nodded.
‘This may sound a bit silly,’ Jason said. ‘Is there any chance this service, whatever you do, could make things worse here?’
‘No,’ Orlebar said emphatically, glancing at his colleague.
Skeet nodded equally emphatically. ‘Absolutely not.’
‘What if our ghost – ghosts – are non-believers?’ Emily asked.
If their situation wasn’t so serious Jason might have laughed. And he loved his wife for asking the question.
Orlebar was unfazed. ‘Ghosts are neither believers nor unbelievers, Mrs Danes. Most Christians would believe that the time to choose whether to be a Christ follower – a believer – or not is while someone is alive on earth. After that we are all in God’s hands. He is the one who sorts out the sheep from goats, wheat from tares, and makes the final decisions.’
Skeet chipped in squeakily. ‘Also, clergymen like us believe that God has total control over the living and the dead – so it would make no difference if the deceased who are now ghosts had once been believers or not.’
‘Exactly,’ Orlebar confirmed. ‘Prayer is more powerful than any ghost. The Holy Spirit is more powerful than any human spirit. We Christians believe Jesus conquered death and Hell through his death on the cross and resurrection from the dead. He is all-powerful over all principalities and dominions. If you recall the Creed, He will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead.’ He smiled at them, comfortingly. ‘Whether ghosts are believers or not is irrelevant. God has authority over them.’
‘Fine,’ Emily said. ‘Thank you.’
‘What if it’s a different faith from Christianity?’ Jason asked.
Orlebar replied, ‘We believe it is the same God for all faiths.’
‘Glad we got that one sorted,’ Jason said, jokily. Then he fell silent as above them they heard footsteps, clearly and loudly.
Stomp. Stomp. Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.
Skeet looked up, warily, at the ceiling.
‘Someone’s not happy,’ Orlebar said. He gave a benign smile. ‘Hey, as your locals told you, no one likes change!’