Читать книгу The Dream Weavers онлайн | страница 6

She had spent years training to deal with whatever arose, to rule out the obvious, to produce a screwdriver, to ring a plumber and, occasionally – very occasionally – to speak to lost souls, to reassure the newly departed and guide them gently on their way, to work with shadows and echoes and re-enactments from a past not as long gone as it should be.

He rubbed his face with his hands and stared at her in mock despair. ‘Wow! Well, it isn’t the wallpaper, I can tell you that much. And I checked with the neighbouring farm this morning and they have no animal, lost or otherwise, of any description, called Elise or indeed anything else. But a ghost?’ He heaved a deep sigh. ‘Rational people don’t actually believe in ghosts, surely?’

So, why on earth had he bothered to come to meet her? This wasn’t the first time she found herself regretting the day she had confided her interest in the paranormal to Christine.

‘OK.’ She paused. ‘Well, we’ll leave it as something to consider once all the other explanations for your visitor have been ruled out. But I would ask you to be open-minded if you can. Sadly, the response of most people to supernatural happenings they can’t or won’t accept, or situations they find frightening, is to mock.’ She was watching his face, so far studiedly neutral, and was pleased to see him wince as she used the word. ‘Let’s say, for me these things are real. I am lucky enough to be one of those people who are able to access that world and discern what is causing the imbalance that is making a place uncomfortable, or if something is wrong, contact the beings involved and help them find peace.’ She gave him what she hoped was an encouraging smile.

‘Well, that’s me told! And I thought you looked quite normal.’ He reached for his coffee. There was a brief pause. ‘Sorry. That wasn’t meant to be as rude as it sounded. OK. Here’s what’s happening. Let’s see what you make of it. I rented the cottage to give myself a few months’ peace. As I expect Christine told you, I’m an author.’