Ways to See a Ghost

while he stopped, and began humming in his off-key whine. The noise blended with the hushing wheat and the distant whir of a combine harvester. Isis fought against it, but with her eyes closed her mind started to drift, a sleepy cloud covering her thoughts.
    Small, freezing hands grabbed her arm, pulling at her.
    Isis snapped awake, looking down to see Angel staring up.
    “Wake up!” said the little ghost.
    Isis smiled a thank you, but put a finger to her lips.
    “You have to be careful,” she whispered. “He can see you, remember?”
    “He dint see me,” said Angel, looking pleased with herself. “I play hidey-seek.” As Isis watched, the small figure scattered herself into the shadows between the ripe wheat, vanishing.
    Now Isis only pretended to close her eyes, keeping them open a crack, ignoring Philip’s strange humming. He finished, and there was silence for a minute. Then the rustle and crack of footsteps through the wheat as Philip moved around the circle. She watched him stop next to each of the hypnotised adults and murmur words to them she couldn’t hear.
    Isis held still, eyes nearly shut and heart fully pounding, as he crunched her way.
    “Are you awake?” he whispered to her.
    She didn’t move. He laid a heavy hand on her shoulder, pushing a little. She swayed gently, not resisting the movement, but not falling either. Was that what a hypnotised person would do? She hoped so.
    Philip leaned in, breathing next to her ear.
    “You will stay here, in this circle, until I tell you to open your eyes,” he whispered. “You won’t hear anything, or remember what I say and do.”
    She tried to stay motionless. If he was giving her commands, then he must think she was hypnotised like the others. She breathed slowly and steadily, as if she were sleeping, while his footsteps crunched away from her, becoming more and more distant. After a little while, when she was sure he’d gone, Isis opened her eyes properly.Around her the adults were standing motionless in the wheat, arms at their sides, heads tipped forwards a little, like sleeping scarecrows.
    “He stinky,” muttered Angel, flickering like moonlight from behind the wheat stems. “I glad he gone.”
    “Where did he go?” whispered Isis, trying to see. Fifty metres away were the screens and bright dots of Gil’s computers and monitors, his tall figure moving between them, oblivious. The rest of the field was fading into shades of grey, as the last of the sunset slipped out of the sky. She couldn’t see Philip anywhere.
    “He over there,” said Angel, pointing at a distantly dark and gloomy corner of the field, where Isis could only see the shadow of an overreaching hedge. “He talking.”
    Isis stared at her in surprise. Who else could have come into the field?
    “Who’s he talking to?” she whispered.
    Angel shook her head, and pressed her lips together.
    “Please?” asked Isis.
    Angel folded her arms. “I not tell. He horrid.”
    Isis narrowed her eyes, peering into the shadows. There was only one person Angel always called horrid. She took a step, and the wheat crunched and creaked loudly.She stopped. She couldn’t follow, or try and eavesdrop on Philip. He’d easily hear her crashing towards him.
    Angel wafted in front of Isis.
    “You not go!” she commanded.
    “I can’t get near him anyway. Walking though this stuff is too noisy.” She stared at the brooding line of the hedges. “But if I go around…”
    “Isis! Don’t!” cried Angel. “Pease!”
    Isis crouched down, face-to-face with Angel.
    “I have to find out what he’s doing, because…” She stopped, she couldn’t tell Angel about Philip’s plans. She didn’t want to scare her. “He’s a bad man, Angel.”
    “He a bad ghost,” was the answer.
    Isis went back to the nearest tramline, following it to the edge of the field. Angel tagged behind, plucking at her with cold fingers.
    “You not go!” she cried. “He horrid! He stinky!”
    Gil looked up from his stack of quietly beeping electronics as Isis came out of the crop.
    “You had enough already?” he asked.
    “I need the loo,” she said.
    “Take your pick.” He smiled. “Watch out for nettles.”
    Isis headed off, down the strip of rough grass at the edgeof the field. She tried to use the long shadows and growing darkness to hide in, keeping close to the overhanging hedge.
    Angel’s luminous shape flitted anxiously after.
    “Come back!” she cried. Isis turned round.
    “Shh,”