The Unseen(49)

‘No, dearest, but you are,’ Hester points out. She raises her eyebrows censoriously at her friend, and they both laugh.

‘Introduce me,’ Claire hisses, as Robin saunters over to them.

‘Ladies, may I accompany you back into the village?’ He smiles at them, clasping his hands behind his back urbanely.

‘Mr Durrant, may I introduce Mrs Claire Higgins, a good friend of mine?’

‘Mrs Higgins, a pleasure,’ Robin says, with a cheerful shake of her hand.

‘I do hope you weren’t put off by the curious stares you were given during the service, Mr Durrant,’ Claire says. ‘I fear we receive few visitors of note here in Cold Ash Holt. And certainly none as exciting as a spiritualist.’ The three of them turn away from the church and walk steadily along the gravel path towards the gate.

‘Well, I fear I must disappoint you, Mrs Higgins, for I am neither very much of note, nor a spiritualist.’

‘Oh? Is a theosophist very different from a spiritualist then?’ Claire asks.

‘Indeed we are, Mrs Higgins. A great deal different.’

‘We held a seance with a local spiritualist just the other night, as a matter of fact. Only don’t tell the vicar, or Hester will be in trouble!’ Claire says, conspiratorially.

‘Claire!’ Hester protests, but Robin smiles so warmly at her that she relaxes again.

‘Fear not, your secret is quite safe with me,’ he says. Claire beams at him, and tightens her grip significantly on Hester’s arm. ‘But, perhaps I might urge caution in this area?’ Robin continues. ‘I fear that most mediums, as they term themselves, are quite fraudulent.’

‘Oh, not Mrs Dunthorpe, surely?’ Claire says. ‘She is able to look beyond the physical world, and see into the world of spirit … We’ve both experienced it, haven’t we, Hester? I am quite sure her powers are genuine.’

‘And she talks to the dead, I presume?’ Robin asks, seriously.

‘Well … yes, indeed she does,’ Hester replies, less certainly. ‘Although I have never actually seen one of these spirits she talks to, or heard it …’

‘I fear that you, like many good people, have been taken in by this woman.’ Robin shakes his head. ‘The spirits of the dead do not exist – not in the way such fairground mediums suggest.’ He waves his hand dismissively. ‘Upon the death of the body, the individual consciousness of man rejoins the universal soul, and waits in bliss for its eventual rebirth. The personality of the deceased is lost; so that ghosts, with any knowledge of their previous lives, simply cannot exist,’ he explains.

‘Oh dear! Is that really so? And she always seemed most genuine in her beliefs, her abilities …’ Claire murmurs, quite crestfallen.

‘I am quite sure she did, Mrs Higgins. Don’t be ashamed to have been deceived in this way – thousands of others have before you! And I do not say she has no inner vision or ability at all, but that even if she has, she is untutored, and confused,’ Robin says kindly.

‘Well, perhaps we ought not to go again?’ Claire looks at Hester with troubled eyes.

‘Oh dear – I fear I have upset you, and spoiled your fun?’ Robin stops walking and turns to Claire and Hester, pressing his hands together earnestly. ‘Please, forgive me. I shan’t move another step until you have, even if it means I miss my lunch!’ He remains that way, all solemn and beseeching, until Claire giggles, and Hester feels a smile tug at the corners of her mouth. ‘There, you have forgiven me. I can see it in your faces.’ He grins broadly.

‘Walk on, Mr Durrant. I would not have you miss your lunch,’ Claire assures him.

‘Well, at least that puts my mind to rest about one thing,’ Hester says.

‘Oh, what’s that?’ Robin asks.

‘Well, at our last … sitting with Mrs Dunthorpe, she received a most dire warning from one of the spirit voices she heard. Or thought she heard, that is.’

‘Oh – Hetty, that’s right!’ Claire says.

‘Apparently, a source of great evil had come into one of our lives, and was going to bring dark times upon us. After some discussion, the conclusion reached was that the warning was for me,’ says Hester, lightly, though she well remembers the cold shivers she’d felt, and the dark, watchful figure under the tree.

‘For you, indeed? Well, fear not, dear lady,’ Robin says. ‘I am quite sure that Mrs Dunthorpe was hearing an echo of her own colourful imagination. I would wager my last shilling on it, in fact.’

‘Mr Durrant!’ Albert’s voice comes from behind them. They pause, and turn to see the vicar trotting up behind them with a jerky, angular gait, his robe flapping around his knees. ‘Mr Durrant, I wonder if you would be good enough to allow me to introduce you to somebody?’ he asks, breathlessly.