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Contents ( 89)
  1. The Secret of Cold Hill
  2. Table of Contents
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. 38
  41. 39
  42. 40
  43. 41
  44. 42
  45. 43
  46. 44
  47. 45
  48. 46
  49. 47
  50. 48
  51. 49
  52. 50
  53. 51
  54. 52
  55. 53
  56. 54
  57. 55
  58. 56
  59. 57
  60. 58
  61. 59
  62. 60
  63. 61
  64. 62
  65. 63
  66. 64
  67. 65
  68. 66
  69. 67
  70. 68
  71. 69
  72. 70
  73. 71
  74. 72
  75. 73
  76. 74
  77. 75
  78. 76
  79. 77
  80. 78
  81. 79
  82. 80
  83. 81
  84. 82
  85. 83
  86. 84
  87. Acknowledgments
  88. About the Author
  89. The Cold Hill Ghost Stories

He continued thinking, eyes shut, weird images filling his head.

Two ghosts?

He stood up and walked over to his librarian fan. ‘Do you know where the Bishop of Lewes lives?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘But it’s bound to be on his website. I’ll have a look for you.’

She tapped her keyboard, then waited for some moments. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘We still have a pretty antiquated connection here.’ Finally, after another gap, she said, ‘Right, I’ve got it.’

She read the address out to him, he wrote it down and thanked her. Then he added, ‘I’ll have to do a new series, “Folk in Public Libraries”!’

‘Please do,’ she said.

He promised he would seriously consider it.

Another theme for his forthcoming exhibition, he thought!

Then she held up an ancient, dusty, leather-bound volume. ‘I found this; it’s the only thing that I can see has a mention of Cold Hill in it. It’s from the reference section, so I shouldn’t really lend it out, but –’ she gave him a conspiratorial wink – ‘as it’s you, I’m sure I can trust you to return it.’

‘Wow, thank you. Of course!’

It smelled old. Probably full of germs.

The faded, gold, embossed print read, Sussex Mysteries – Martin Pemberton.

‘You might even find some inspiration in it for future pictures.’

‘I’ll guard it with my life!’

‘It was down in the stacks. The last time anyone looked at it was twelve years ago, so I don’t think it will be missed for a few days!’

Thanking her, he left, and when he reached the car park, he placed the volume safely in the boot of his car. Then he squirted hand sanitizer on each palm and carefully rubbed his hands together.

57

Wednesday 19 December

The Bishop’s residence was a substantial, 1920s red-brick house at the edge of the town, backing onto fields. It looked more like the home of a successful stockbroker than a man of the cloth. As he drove in through the gates and onto the gravel driveway, Jason was a little surprised to see a Harley-Davidson motorbike propped on its stand near the front door, beside a couple of modest saloon cars.

As he walked towards the porch, he was shaking with nerves. Pressing the imposing doorbell, he stood, trying to compose himself and not sound like a total idiot.

A stern-looking woman opened the door and peered at him suspiciously.

‘May I help you?’ she asked.

He decided to play the librarian ticket. ‘Yes, my name’s Jason Danes.’

From her blank expression it clearly didn’t register. No fan here.

‘I’m a local artist – a painter.’

‘I see,’ she said. Clearly not seeing.

‘I have a problem and wondered if it was possible to have a very quick word with the Bishop.’

‘I’m afraid he’s an extremely busy man, is he expecting you? I don’t have any appointments in his diary for this morning.’

‘I have a really urgent situation, could I ask you a favour? I’ll wait here – please go into your office and google me and you’ll see that I’m not a nutter. And then ask the Bishop if he could just give me five minutes. Please. It’s really important, I need his advice very urgently.’