I waited in the hope I’d prompted him to answer, but when the phone stayed as quiet as a slab I went back to work. I was looking at books by Colin Wilson, a philosopher and novelist who’d concluded magic was essential to living a complete life. He’d felt humanity had to rediscover ancient occult powers so as to see beyond the trap of the mundane and develop the next stage of evolution. I took him to believe truths could be found in grimoires and in other legacies left by practitioners of witchcraft. I wondered if my aunt had read him, and why Roy was following her trail. I urged my phone to ring, and when the only messages came from the railway station – every train with the same voice, prophesying the same route, which defined the train – I gave in to making another call.

“It’s Roy…” Though some of the brashness must be manufactured or at the very least studied, this failed to prevent the inhospitality from feeling aimed at me. Could he have seen my name on the screen and decided for some reason not to answer? If he was simply too occupied with his girlfriend then I supposed I had to understand, even if it seemed unsympathetic to my situation. My grief at the loss of my parents was still keeping its distance, but Roy didn’t know this, and I tried not to feel I would be trading on his misapprehension. “Me again,” I said once his routine finished confronting the caller. “Forgive me for badgering you, but—”

“Dad, I’m sorry. I was going to get back to you. There wasn’t any coverage when you called.”

“I thought that might have been it,” I felt able to say. “Where were you?”

“Nowhere special. Just somewhere the phone didn’t work.”

“You were somewhere special the other day, I believe.”

“Anywhere with Bell is pretty special.” As I imagined him presenting her with a look that went with this he said “Do you need me to come over?”

“If you’re in the neighbourhood you know you’re very welcome. Bella too.”

“Thing is, we’re not. Near you, I mean. You can talk if it helps.”

“No need to worry about me, but yes, let’s talk. I saw where you went the other day.”

“What was that?” Bella said at some distance but with force to compensate. “Did Patrick say he saw us?”

“Yes,” I said, “online.”

“Who put us there?”

“I did, Bell. My pics on Facebook.”

“Oh, just those. I wasn’t even in them.”

“I’ll put you in next time.”

“Don’t even try, Roy. I’ve told you I don’t photograph well.”

I wondered if I was about to overhear their first argument, but Roy said “What about it anyway, dad?”

“Why did you go to Drummer’s Meadow?”

“To see if we could see what your aunt saw.”

“And did you?”