‘You absolutely sure?’

‘It’s her.’

‘That’s so weird.’

‘Is it?’ she said, the sharpness of her voice surprising him. ‘What’s so weird?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You’re an artist, you draw or paint people, often random strangers you’ve seen. What’s so weird about that?’

He stared at her for some moments, trying to unravel her logic. ‘Random strangers, yes, but not random strangers in our house, normally.’

‘I’m not sure what normal is at the moment.’

He ate another mouthful, chewing in silence. ‘Perhaps…’ he began, then fell silent again.

‘Perhaps what?’

He continued chewing. On the screen behind Emily, one of the presenters was admiring an array of old toy soldiers. ‘Perhaps we’re both suffering a kind of moving trauma. Dr Dixon warned me that it might take some time to adjust to our new home.’

‘Did Dr Dixon also warn you that the ghosts of the previous occupants might still be in residence?’

He smiled. ‘No, he forgot that bit.’ He reached across the table and took her hand. ‘Hey.’ He squeezed it, gently. ‘Look, you and I are both rational people. Our emotions are bound to be in turmoil; moving home is a big thing. You know what I think?’

‘No, what do you think?’

‘That maybe we’re both picking up on the vibes of a previous occupant.’

‘What do you mean, vibes?’

‘We’re all full of energy – maybe the energy of people who’ve been here before us remains in some way, leaves some kind of vibe that we occasionally pick up.’

‘How come we never picked up any before, in our previous homes? And anyhow, there hasn’t been a previous occupant, Jason. This is a brand-new house.’

‘I meant a previous occupant of the old house. We know this is on part of the footprint of the former mansion here. Perhaps – I don’t know – we’re picking something up from the past, and we’re communicating it to each other telepathically? That’s what I think is one possibility.’

‘And the other possibility?’

He sipped some of his wine then set his glass down and looked her in the eye. ‘It’s the one I’m struggling with – because it goes against all my rational thinking.’ He looked at her and fell silent.

30

Sunday 16 December

Jason refilled her glass. In the past quarter of an hour, he had not touched any more of the casserole and it was now stone cold.

Emily came from a family of staunch Catholics. While having some faith herself, she rarely went to church. He was much the same, coming from a family of lapsed Anglicans. Although he didn’t have any truck with the notion of the biblical God, Jason did believe in a bigger picture – a view they both shared.

Emily finally broke the long silence. ‘We imagined it?’

‘That’s the best explanation I can come up with.’

‘Of course,’ she said, cynically. ‘What else have we imagined? Cold Hill Park? This house? Each other? Do you exist? Do I?’