‘Daniel,’ said the ghost. ‘Although I’m not sure that Freud would approve of the analogy.’

‘Was he not religious?’

‘Men of science rarely are. The two are contradictory.’

‘It’s a little ironic, all the same, isn’t it?’ asked Achilles.

‘What is?’

‘Well, didn’t Daniel end up in the lions’ den? Or was that a different Daniel?’

The ghost thought about it. ‘No, that was the same Daniel,’ she agreed. ‘And I see what you mean.’

‘I’m not following,’ said Beverley, looking up from her food with a baffled expression on her face.

‘Daniel was accused of worshipping God over the king and was thrown into the lions’ den for his troubles,’ said Achilles. ‘But he was saved by an angel. Your previous ghost ended up on a safari being mauled to death by a lion.’

‘How do you know so much about the Bible?’ she asked, putting down her fork. ‘You’re not being radicalized, are you?’

‘Not that I know of.’

‘It’s impossible to know what goes on in schools these days,’ she said, turning to the ghost. ‘They let any type of person come in to give random talks to the children and the government approves them all. In my day, we were lucky if we had a member of the Women’s Institute stop by to break up the tedium. I remember an elderly lady who gave us a talk once on “How to Satisfy Your Husband” and we all thought it was going to be some ghastly tale of lying back, closing one’s eyes and thinking of England, but instead it had something to do with the correct way to roast a chicken and dispose of the giblets afterwards.’

‘You do make a mean roast chicken,’ said Achilles.

‘Thank you, darling. But, speaking as a mother, I can’t help but feel concerned about what goes on when my children are out of the house. One reads so much in the papers about ISIS and child brides and boys running off to fight whoever they’re fighting in Syria, so you’ll understand if I worry when one of my own starts quoting the Bible. We don’t really do God in this house, you see. We never have. Sometimes, at Christmas, George lets Him in for a few minutes before we eat but I always usher Him back out on to the street afterwards. God, I mean. Not George. Anyway,’ she added, turning back to Achilles, ‘all I’m saying is, please don’t come home some day with a long beard and waving a copy of the Koran in my face. I wouldn’t have the energy for it.’

‘Can you even grow facial hair?’ asked the ghost, peering at the boy’s skin, which was so smooth that it looked as if he’d never had to buy a razor in his life. ‘Some boys can’t.’