Читать книгу The Dream Weavers онлайн | страница 5

‘I have heard a great deal about her tenants over the years, and as far as I can see if they find anything at all to gripe about in what must be one of the loveliest holiday lets in the country, a ghost has never been one of them. So, what makes you think there is one?’

He pushed the milk jug towards her. ‘I don’t. That was her idea.’ He gave a sudden grin. It lit up his hitherto rather solemn face. ‘When she couldn’t think of any logical explanation for the voice I’ve been hearing, it was the only thing she could suggest. Being the perfect landlady, she knew at once who to turn to. I could hardly offend her by telling her it was a ludicrous idea. I take it you know the cottage?’

Bea nodded. ‘I’ve been there a few times.’ She was trying to suppress her sense of excitement. She was intrigued.

‘And you didn’t ever feel anything amiss when you were there?’

‘No, but then I wouldn’t necessarily have done so. I wasn’t looking for a problem.’ She thought for a minute. ‘I’m not sure if you know anything about my rather unusual job, Simon, but presumably Chris filled you in, or you wouldn’t be here. I don’t walk around the town seeing ghosts wherever I look, all touchy-feely and other-worldly. Nor do I do exorcisms. There is a very competent deliverance team here in the cathedral who will help you if that is what you require. Or there is a psychic Druid who lives over in the Black Mountains beyond Hay who can perform an equally good service if you choose to take that route. I trained with him myself a few years back. I myself work as a freelance practitioner.’

For a moment he looked dumbfounded. ‘So, what do you do exactly?’ he asked at last.

The touch of amused scepticism in his voice brought her up short. Taking a deep breath, she reined in her enthusiasm. ‘I deal with situations that other people consider frightening: the darkest corners of old houses, the sudden banging of doors, the creak of floorboards, the shadows thrown on a wall from an unseen presence. I go to houses that are uncomfortable, find out why and remove the irritant. It may indeed be a ghost,’ she glanced up at him with a rueful smile, ‘but often it’s no more than a draughty corner, or it may be something in the underlying geology of the land; it may be something simply sorted by what people call feng shui; it may be underground water or an unhappy tree or an unfortunate choice of wallpaper, or sometimes merely a difficult neighbour.’