Johanna’s older brother Ron had stencilled the alphabet with biro in two curving rows in the middle, and the numbers zero to nine underneath that. The words YES and NO were scrawled heavily in bubble-writing at the top. FUCK OFF was written at the bottom.

‘It’s supposed to say goodbye,’ said Johanna, shutting the curtains and sitting down opposite, cross-legged. ‘But my brother is a gaylord.’ She put a guitar plectrum on the board. ‘Ready?’

No, thought Matty.

‘Fingers.’ She put her forefinger on one side of the plectrum.

Matty did the same on the other side.

‘You have to be a bit careful or you might end up talking to Satan.’

‘I thought your family didn’t believe in him.’

‘He’s an angel. Just one who gets in the way a lot.’ She grinned. ‘If it goes to all four corners of the board, we blow the candles out and burn the guitar pick-thing.’ She shifted forward. ‘Our knees have to touch.’ Her face got serious. The shadows from the candles didn’t help. ‘Is anyone there?’ she said in a new, higher voice.

The cars could be heard on the road outside. A siren, further away.

Johanna had her eyes closed. ‘Is anyone there?’ she said again.

One of the candles smelt like Mamma’s panettone at Christmas.

The plectrum began to move and Matty’s breath jerked. It moved up, and to the left. To YES.

Matty looked up at Johanna. ‘Did … you do that?’

‘No.’ It was always a bit hard to tell what Johanna was thinking if she wasn’t saying it out loud. Her eyes were wide, the candle flickering in them. She pulled in her lip. She was excited. ‘Who. Are. You?’ she said to the board, slowly, as if talking to an old person in a wheelchair.

Their fingers didn’t move, staying up on the left.

‘Who are you?’ she said, twice as slowly.

Outside, the road had gone quiet. The plectrum moved to the middle of the board. To the letter J.

Matty stopped breathing.

Along to the left. O.

Their hands stayed pushed together, not moving. Matty was like a freediver, like Hal and Roger in South Sea Adventure, lungs full, diving for freshwater to keep them alive. Their hands still didn’t move.

I don’t spell my name like that, you spanner, Dad would have said.

‘You pushed it,’ Matty said.

‘I didn’t!’ said Johanna.

It moved again, along a bit. To the E.

‘Holy mackerel,’ said Johanna.

A cold laser, going all the way up Matty’s spine.

‘What do you want to ask?’ Johanna whispered.

‘I don’t know.’

‘Well, go on, ask something.’

Matty was too terrified.

‘Are you Joe?’ Johanna said, with loads of breath in her voice.

Up, to the left. Johanna’s arm seemed too stiff. YES

‘Are you alive?’ she said.

NO

‘Did you drown?’