‘Samhain is a special time,’ she explained. ‘A time to give thanks for the fruits of the harvest, to prepare for the winter and also to remember our dead. I’ve laid a place for Frank, you see. I always feel him drawing close on this day every year.’ As she spoke, her eyes settled on the photograph on the small table. ‘I speak to him all the time anyway, but he seems to answer me on Samhain. You should try to talk to your loved ones who have passed, too. To your auntie, maybe?’

I noticed she hadn’t mentioned Reggie. I felt suddenly cold. I had no desire to try to speak to my dead aunt. The very thought gave me goose bumps.

Mrs Barley was studying me with interest and I began to feel unnerved.

‘I don’t really … it’s not my thing, in all honesty.’

She nodded, an odd smile twisting the corners of her mouth. ‘Ah well, there we have to agree to differ. I’ve always felt it’s so important to commune with people who have passed to the other side. Especially those who have meant a lot to us. It might … help you.’

I didn’t want to dwell on the subject of Auntie Jane. I needed to steer the conversation back to Mrs Barley.

‘I don’t want to sound nosy, and I hope you don’t mind me asking, but what were you doing in the summer house last night? It’s just that, well, I was awake and thought there was an intruder, but then I saw you in the garden.’

She inclined her head and gave me a wry smile. ‘Ah. Well, I’m sure you must have guessed by now. Frank loved his summer house and I always feel closest to him in there. So I light candles for him, and say prayers of sorts. It’s a kind of tradition I have, to set the scene for the following day. Samhain started yesterday and goes on until late tonight, and that’s when the magic is strongest. Some people even celebrate it for a few days.’

This seemed plausible. Mumbo jumbo it may have been, but it explained what she had been up to. I glanced at the little altar she had erected in Frank’s memory. It was alien to me, but I suppose if it brought her some comfort to think Frank was communicating with her there was no actual harm in it. Nevertheless, it still felt slightly macabre.

I felt I needed to broach the subject of the attack on her house.

‘Do you get much bother from the kids in the village? It was pretty rotten, what those lads did.’ I wanted to choose my words carefully here. ‘I appreciate it’s against what you believe, but maybe if you met people halfway – offered the little ones sweets or something, they’d be a bit more understanding.’