‘Tell me,’ she said through gritted teeth.

Jack let go of her wrist and Belle settled back into her chair. He righted the cup and poured in more tea. Added milk. Said nothing.

Belle scraped her chair back and stood there, fuming. ‘Then there’s nothing more to be said,’ she said, and went off to the spare room, slamming the door behind her.

135

Belle awoke in the night, aware of sounds nearby. Not switching on the bedside lamp, she sat bolt upright, listening intently in the deep country darkness.

Had she heard something? Or was it a dream?

There!

Someone was moving about out in the kitchen. She wasn’t imagining it and she wasn’t dreaming either. Carefully, as quietly as she could, Belle pulled on Jack’s mother’s dressing gown and crossed in the faint moonlight that seeped through the thin curtains over to the door that led out into the kitchen.

Probably just Jack, she thought, trying to reassure herself.

But the sounds were stealthy, like someone moving and trying not to let their movements be heard.

She turned the handle and opened the bedroom door a crack. Instantly she was struck by a sudden chill and in the pale wash of moonlight she could see the bare table, the sink, the fridge and . . . the outside door was open. Cool breeze was wafting in. She couldn’t see anyone in the kitchen. Not Jack, not anyone.

She opened the bedroom door wider and stepped out. Steadily, carefully, not making a sound, she crossed on tiptoe over to the back door and forced herself to look out there, into the yard. Nothing. No one. An owl hooted, so close that she jumped. If you believed in ghosts, she thought you might almost expect to see the pale shades of Nipper and Ludo coming, floating over the yard toward the house.

Then Belle’s breath caught in her throat and she felt the hair on the nape of her neck stand on end. No. She couldn’t be seeing this . . .

But she did see it.

There was someone coming up from the far end of the mist-shrouded yard, coming toward the house.

Shut the door. Shut it, lock it. Quickly!

She couldn’t. Frozen with fear, she could only stand there and stare as the apparition drew closer, closer . . .

Oh Christ!

She stepped back, forced her frozen muscles to move.

Shut the door, shut the door, shut the door . . .

It was coming closer, moving soundlessly because ghosts didn’t make a sound, did they?

‘Belle?’ it said, whispering.

‘Jack?’ She felt almost faint with relief.