‘I asked my mum about building things on old graveyards and she says they have to get a vicar in to desecrate the site first,’ said Wobbler. ‘That should be worth seeing.’

‘It’s de-consecrate,’ said Yo-less. ‘Desecrate is all to do with sacrificing goats and things.’

Wobbler looked wistful.

‘I suppose there’s no chance—’

‘None!’

‘I’m going to go along tonight,’ said Johnny. ‘And you lot ought to come.’

‘It won’t do any good,’ said Yo-less.

‘Yes it will,’ said Johnny.

‘Look, the place has still been sold,’ said Yo-less. ‘I know you’re sort of wound up about it, but it’s all over.’

‘Going along will still do some good.’ He knew it, in the same way he’d known the Pals were important. Not for reasons. Just because it was.

‘Will there be any . . . freak winds?’ said Bigmac.

‘How do I know? Shouldn’t think so. They’re all watching television.’

The other three exchanged glances.

‘The dead are watching television?’ said Wobbler.

‘That’s right. And I know you’re all trying to think of funny things to say. Just don’t say them. They’re watching television. They’ve made an old TV set work.’

‘Well, I suppose it passes the time,’ said Wobbler.

‘I don’t think they experience time like we do,’ said Johnny.

Yo-less slid down off the wall.

‘Talking of time,’ he said, ‘I’m not sure tomorrow would be a good time to go hanging around cemeteries.’

‘Why not?’ said Bigmac.

‘You know what day it is?’

‘Tuesday,’ said Johnny.

‘Halloween,’ said Wobbler. ‘You’re all coming to my party, remember?’

‘Whoops,’ said Bigmac.

‘The principle is astonishingly simple,’ said Mr Fletcher. ‘A tiny point of light! That’s all it is! Whizzing backwards and forwards inside a glass bottle. Basically it’s a thermionic valve. Much easier to control than sound waves—’

‘Excuse me,’ said Mrs Liberty. ‘When you stand in front of the screen you make the picture go blurred.’

‘Sorry.’ Mr Fletcher went back and sat down. ‘What’s happening now?’

The dead were ranged in rows, fascinated.

‘Mr McKenzie has told Dawn that Janine can’t go to Doraleen’s party,’ said William Stickers, without taking his eyes off the screen.

‘I must say,’ said the Alderman, ‘I thought Australia was a bit different. More kangaroos and fewer young women in unsuitable clothing.’

‘I’m quite happy with the young women,’ said William Stickers.

‘Mr Stickers! For shame! You’re dead!’

‘But I have a very good memory, Mrs Liberty.’

‘Oh. Is it over?’ said Solomon Einstein, as the credits rolled up the screen and the Cobbers theme tune rolled over the canal. ‘But there iss the mystery of who took the money from Mick’s coat!’

‘The man in the television just said there will be another performance tomorrow,’ said Mrs Liberty. ‘We must be sure not to miss it.’

‘It is getting dark,’ said Mr Vicenti, from the back of the group. ‘Time we were getting back.’

The dead looked across at the cemetery.

‘If we want to go, that is,’ he added. He was smiling faintly.