We swooped right at Alexandra Avenue, where Rani parked. ‘The observatory is straight through there.’ She pointed. ‘Through the Botanic Gardens.’

‘Couldn’t we have parked a little closer? Like, a lot closer?’

‘I want a fall-back position.’

‘I love it when you talk military.’ I grabbed my pack and scrabbled for my surprise. ‘And speaking of military, get a load of this, a genuine Acme Li’l Ace slingshot!’ It was a beauty, made of carbon fibre or something, and I had a couple of hundred 8mm ball bearings to go with it. ‘You get in all close and deadly while I dance around at a distance and pick them off with this.’

‘When did you get that?’

‘Today. I wanted to lift my game after our last encounter with those bastards.’

She held out a hand and examined the slingshot for a while before handing it back. ‘Are these things legal?’

‘That’s an interesting point. Some people say yes, some people say no.’

‘And what do the police say?’

‘They could be more on the no side. Which gives us another good reason to avoid our fine law enforcement officers.’

Rani studied me for a moment. ‘You saw what the Ragged Sisters did and how they attacked us. Are you really sure you’re ready for more combat situations like that?’

I swallowed. ‘I didn’t just sign on for the good times, you know. I mean, a staff party or after-work drinks now and then would be good, but work comes first.’

‘As long as you understand what we’re facing.’

‘I understand that we can’t walk away from this. Now, let’s get on with it before I lose my nerve.’

We walked around the outside of the gardens, following the spiky fence.

The old Melbourne Observatory and the Botanic Gardens are a hop and a skip away from the middle of the city, right opposite the Shrine of Remembrance. The observatory is actually a jumble of buildings scattered across a nice lawn with, of course, a café and gift shop tucked in neatly behind. The grandest of the observatory buildings are big Victorian bruisers, built during the gold rushes when Melbourne was so wealthy that people used to sprinkle gold dust on their morning porridge, which may or may not be true, depending.

Over the years, the observatory venture grew and now there are three of the classic domed observation buildings as well as a whole lot of other places for astronomers to do their secret astronomy business in – sheds, storehouses, clubrooms, vaults, bowling alleys for all I know.

At the Gate Lodge, Rani paused and scrutinised the layout. ‘I’ve taken part in training sessions around the Royal Observatory at Greenwich. I was expecting something a little grander.’

‘Grander? So how old’s your Royal Observatory?’

‘It dates from the late sixteen hundreds.’

‘Okay then. Sounds like the sixteen hundreds was a big time in old London town, then, what with your Royal Society and now your observatory. Don’t look at me like that. I use all my history muscles on local stuff because it helps with our ghost hunting.’

‘Remind me to lend you a few books sometime so you can catch up on little things like the Black Death and the Great Fire of London.’

She set off towards the biggest building and we almost automatically separated, putting some distance between ourselves in approved Rani skirmish style. My pendant was kicking up a low-key vibration on my chest, which added nicely to my nervousness.

I advanced on the nearest clump of buildings in a half crouch, like a serious spy/commando type. Rani had been holding up her side of the partnership bargain and thrashing me with this training business so I could be a bit more systematic in sneaking up on ghosts. Patrolling and surveillance methods. Skirmishing. Intelligence gathering. General fitness, including abseiling for god’s sake. I noted, in the mildest possible way, that abseiling was about the least likely way to approach ghosts seeing as it’s basically semi-controlled falling, in my book, but Rani wouldn’t listen. My way or the privatised toll road was her attitude and, while it doesn’t exactly rhyme, the point was well made.

I’ve found that sometimes a rich internal life isn’t enough and you have to make it obvious to others what’s going on inside you. That’s why I started waggling my fingers slightly to show how amazingly intense my alertness was.

She glanced at me, did a double take, rolled her eyes and said, ‘Don’t be such a nob.’

Rani took the first building, ducking in through a low door she unlocked with her bracelet while I circled the larger, older buildings not far away. It didn’t take long before my pendant directed me fairly and squarely to what I knew to be – thanks to a handy sign bursting with historical explanation – the Astrograph House, the biggest of the domed observatories.

Inside, lots of oldness, that slightly damp smell that stone buildings often have, timber walls, some neat plasterwork, and a narrow stairway that echoed alarmingly, even though I was treading as softly as I could on my way up to the business part of the structure, the bit under the dome. It was circular, of course, about six or seven metres across, with the brass barrel of a huge telescope in the middle and a walkway around the outside. The dome itself was wooden, with ribs filled in with neatly painted boards, a section of which was ready to slide back when it was look-at-the-heavens time. There were plenty of nice historical photos, too, but I only glanced at them because a Sigher was hovering on the other side of the telescope, on the walkway directly opposite.

She was a comfortable middle-class woman, maybe from the 1930s? She was in her best going-out gear as if ready for a stroll in the park or on the beach. Those perky little hats are a real giveaway for that period.

If I was making an RPG profile for a Sigher, it’d basically be Combat Ability, zero, Charisma, zero, Everything Else, close to zero. They’re one of the least dangerous ghosts, basically hanging around the place and – you guessed it – sighing a lot. People without ghost sight feel a bit uncomfortable in their presence, not quite sad, more like melancholy, which I admit is splitting hairs. And if the Sigher hangs around for a long time, this melancholy can get to be a way of life for the people in the vicinity, and things like happiness and excitement are only memories.

A violent Sigher is a contradiction in terms, so if she started coming on all aggressive, it would be a sure sign that this change in ghost behaviour couldn’t simply be ignored as something they were going to grow out of.

Careful Anton was careful. Sneak up, take the ghost by surprise, ease her passage, help Rani out if she needed it, rinse and repeat somewhere else. Easy-peasy.

What’s that thing about the best-laid plans? Yeah, well, that. When I got close, her features contorted into a halfhearted snarlface, but being a Sigher she didn’t rush at me with teeth and nails or anything. Nope, she wanted to try something different.

It was a classic cartoon set-up. I got close and the ghost waved a feeble, clawing hand at me, then whirled – way faster than most ghosts move – and sped around the walkway the other way, trying to catch me from behind. Not being ghost-level stupid, I turned as she came around the telescope. When she caught sight of me facing her, she pulled up short, snarled weakly at me, then spun and went back the other way.

I sprinted in the opposite direction, figuring to catch her by surprise, which is almost the equivalent of tricking your dog by pretending to throw a ball and hiding it instead. It sort of worked, if you consider a ghost/Anton tangle after we smacked into each other as a win. She shook me off fast, though, before I was able to ease her passage, and then zoomed back the other way to try to get me from behind before I got to my feet.

I sprinted after her. She wanted to catch me from behind? Not going to happen, Spooky, because I was going to catch her from behind.

Easier said than done, though. This ghost was probably the speediest spook I’d ever run into. Most ghosts have trouble going faster than a drift. This one was slick as all get out.

After fifteen minutes of pounding around that walkway, sometimes spinning and racing back the other way to try to surprise her, I was panting and sweating and swearing and no nearer to catching the stupid thing. On the plus side, she hadn’t floated up from behind and slapped me around the head pathetically either, so I was calling it a nil-all draw.

Rani’s voice came from below. ‘Is everything all right up there?’

I straightened. There were a few ways this could play out. I could say, ‘Stay there. I’m just warming up,’ in order to save my pride, or I could shout out, ‘Thank god you’re here! I need your help!’

I settled on Option Two. I’d save my pride sticking-point moment for something important, like maintaining that Guardians of the Galaxy 2 is better than GotG1 despite overwhelming public opinion.

That’s my hill, and I’m prepared to die on it.

Rani crept up the stairs with her sword ready. She took in the situation and smiled. It wasn’t a smile of scorn or contempt; it was a smile of understanding how stupid the situation was, and a smile that said she knew I knew the situation was stupid.

It was a smile of a friend.

‘How do you want to handle this?’ she asked unnecessarily. A few of those military-style hand gestures and we would have darted around the walkway in opposite directions and sandwiched the bugger, but she was deferring to me as it was my situation. I could have dug and dug and dug looking for condescension and I would have come up empty, too.

Friend.

‘You go right,’ I said, ‘I’ll go left.’

It was as easy as that. When we closed in, the ghost turned this way and that, teeth bared, until I was able to get close enough to press my hands against her chest. With hardly any resistance at all, the Sigher flew apart.

Rani let me have a moment to cope, then she raised an eyebrow. ‘Lots of feelings of safety,’ I said. ‘Walking hand-in-hand with someone much bigger than her. Warmth, too, going with the smell of wood smoke and the distant sound of bells. The smell of oats.’

‘Very domestic, very ordinary.’

‘Most ghosts are spun off from very domestic and very ordinary people because most people are very domestic and very ordinary.’

She patted me on the shoulder as she brushed past heading for the stairs. ‘You’re not very ordinary, Anton, but I do like how domestic you are.’