Walking with Ghosts

I wiped it immediately.’
    But you’re sure she didn’t mention a name? Anything at all that might give us a clue to who he was?’
    ‘No. I’ve thought about it, of course. Lots of times especially since they found the body. All I can be sure of ^ that they were lovers. It was embarrassing to listen to. They mentioned, well, body parts.’
    Geordie sat back in the sofa. ‘So you think Edward Blake found out about the affair and paid a hit man to get rid of his wife?’
    ‘Something like that, yes.’
    ‘You don’t think the lover could have done it?’
    ‘Yes, he could have, of course. But I was there when India Blake disappeared, and Edward Blake certainly wasn’t himself. I mean, before he went to the police. He was absolutely calm about the whole affair. I could see he was going through the motions. His wife had disappeared, and he wasn’t worried about it. Not really. He knew what had happened. Or he thought he did. He thought she was dead. He didn’t know she was still alive, slowly starving to death under that shed.’
    ‘And that’s when you left the company? When he went to the police?’
    ‘Yes. I couldn’t stay there. I couldn’t stand to be in the same building with him, let alone the same room.’
     
    ‘The plot thickens,’ said J.D. when he got into the passenger seat of the Montego and pulled the door closed behind him.
    ‘Yeah,’ said Geordie. ‘It’s already thicker than we thought it would be when we first unwrapped it.’
    ‘If this was a novel,’ J.D. told him, ‘Polly Marsh would be about fifteen years younger, and she’d be really hot for the PI. She’d have the evidence to put Edward Blake behind bars, and old mad Eddy, there, would be concocting some foolproof plan to put her in her grave.’
    ‘You think he did it, then?’
    ‘He’s the only suspect we’ve got,’ said J.D. ‘And the more I hear about him, the more suspicious he becomes.’
    Geordie turned the key in the ignition and the Montego roared into life.
    ’Jesus,’ said J.D. ‘I never expect it to start. This must be the oldest crate in the universe.’
    ’Don’t let Sam hear you say that,’ Geordie told him. ‘He’s very fond of it. Put him back nearly three hundred notes.’
     

11
     
    You miscalculated, Dora. You forgot about the children. Diana and Billy miss Arthur. They don’t like living in this new house with the grimy windows. Diana wants to go back to her old school, and both of them want to play in the avenue with their friends. Billy does not sleep at night. He creeps into your bed and talks about his father. ‘Where’s Daddy? Why doesn’t Daddy come to see us? When are we going home again? Why, Mammy, why?’
    Arthur’s ghost hovers over the bed. Well, Dora. The boy asked a question. Tell him why.
    ‘Shhhhhhhh.’ You hold Billy tightly, pulling the covers over your head. ‘Hush, Billy. You must try to sleep.’
    Arthur had been reading The Pied Piper of Hamelin to him before you moved. Billy cries for the lame boy who was left behind when the door in the mountain-side shut fast.
     
It’s dull in our town since my playmates left!
I can’t forget that I’m bereft...
     
    He is quiet for a while, but never still. He cannot rest. His legs move all the time. You try to hold them down, but he struggles against you. His legs are like snakes in the bed.
    ‘Billy. Be still.’ You whip back the covers and slap him-You feel his eyes in the darkness, they are pinned to his face with staring pupils. He holds his breath until you think he is dead.
    ‘Billy.’
    Silence.
    ‘Billy-’
    Then he speaks with his father’s voice. ‘I want to go home-’
     
    Diana sits by the window. Her new teacher is not the same as Miss Carson. ‘She’s horrible. She’s older than you.'
    ‘Shall we go for a walk?’ You force a note of gaiety into your voice.
    Diana grunts by the window. Billy lolls, half on and half off his chair.
    ‘We could walk by the river. There might be some boats.’
    In the distance a longboat’s siren seems to echo your words. The children are paralysed.
    Billy slowly brings his eyes in line with yours. He stares you down. He is eight years old and he crushes you with his eyes. You step back, until the wall is behind you, feeling the crumbling plaster with the tips of your fingers.
    ‘I just thought...’ Your words won’t come any more.
    ‘I want to see Daddy.’ Billy’s eyes are still gripping you.
    ‘So do I.’ Diana has turned to you as