comfortable enough for sleep. The cat left him. Tail high, it went into the tiny kitchen, and he heard it find the last of the weak sunlight on the window sill.
Kyle picked up the eight pieces of uncollected mail he’d taken from the hallway of the Clarendon Road house on his way out that morning. And then began to google the names of the former tenants.
‘Mrs Phillips. Rachel Phillips?’
‘Speaking. Who am I talking to?’
‘Kyle Freeman. You’re at work on Sunday? Tough.’
‘I’m at work every day. Who are you?’
‘Oh. We don’t know each other—’
‘You’re not selling anything are you? I’m in the middle of something.’
‘No, no. I was just, well, I have an interest in a property you rented at Clarendon Road.’
‘Oh, I see.’
‘Well, I understand you were the previous tenant of the ground-floor flat and—’
‘How did you get this number?’
‘Oh, I googled you.’
‘Googled me?’
‘Yes, I’m sorry. It must seem intrusive. And ordinarily I 91
ADAM NEVILL
wouldn’t have bothered you, but, well, I was at the property on Saturday and . . . I’m not quite sure how to put this . . .’
‘I have a feeling you’re going to ask me why I left the flat halfway through my lease.’
‘Er, you did?’
‘Don’t rent it. Don’t go near it.’
‘I don’t intend to. Wouldn’t now, anyway.’
‘So the estate agent gave you my name so you could google me?’
‘Umm, no.’
‘Glad to hear it. So how did you get my name then?’
‘Mail. But I didn’t open it. I saw some mail this morning, when we went back for the . . . and I decided to call one of the previous tenants. You were the only one I could find a number for. At your chambers. You’re the only QC online called Rachel Phillips. I was going to leave a message.’
‘My, my, you are tenacious.’
‘Well, it’s quite important to me. And it’s just that, well, I wondered—’
‘If I noticed anything unusual about the property when I lived there?’
‘Exactly. Like, did you come across any funny smells?’
‘Smells? Ha! And the plumbers told me there was nothing wrong with the pipes. I say plumbers because I had three of them look. And the drainage is fine too. But the smells were the least of my worries, Mr?’
‘Freeman. Kyle Freeman.’
‘Mr Freeman,’ she lowered her voice as if someone might have been listening at her end. ‘Do you believe in ghosts?’
‘You know, I get asked that a lot. Perhaps I better come 92
LAST DAYS
clean; I make films, ma’am. I’ve made films and documentaries about unexplained phenomena—’
‘Sorry, I thought you were a prospective tenant. You should have said. I have no intention of going on the record about any of this—’
‘No, no, you don’t have to. We had permission to go inside the house to shoot a documentary about its history—’
‘History? What history?’
‘It does have a bit of one. Look, I’m not a journalist, and I would never use your name for anything at all. I’m an independent documentary film-maker, and I don’t even want to film you, unless you wanted—’
‘Good God, no!’
‘Sure. Not a problem. But . . . Do you have time to talk now? About the house?’
‘Not really.’
‘Could we meet then? I’m happy to spring for lunch.’
There was a pause.
‘Ma’am?’
‘Yes. Hang on. Just looking at my diary. Look, maybe it’ll help to talk about this to someone other than my friends, who think I’m mad whenever I mention it. Are you free Monday?’
‘I can be.’
‘At one? It’ll have to be tomorrow. I’m unavailable for the next three weeks.’
‘Sure, sure. I can do that.’
‘And you’ll have to come to me. I work off The Strand.’
‘Right. Great.’
‘Good. Meet me at the Star Inn. One sharp. I can give you twenty minutes. See you then. And bring my mail with you.’
93
ADAM NEVILL
‘Of course,’ he said to a dialling tone.
Kyle exhaled, then gulped at the pint of tap water on his coffee
Kyle picked up the eight pieces of uncollected mail he’d taken from the hallway of the Clarendon Road house on his way out that morning. And then began to google the names of the former tenants.
‘Mrs Phillips. Rachel Phillips?’
‘Speaking. Who am I talking to?’
‘Kyle Freeman. You’re at work on Sunday? Tough.’
‘I’m at work every day. Who are you?’
‘Oh. We don’t know each other—’
‘You’re not selling anything are you? I’m in the middle of something.’
‘No, no. I was just, well, I have an interest in a property you rented at Clarendon Road.’
‘Oh, I see.’
‘Well, I understand you were the previous tenant of the ground-floor flat and—’
‘How did you get this number?’
‘Oh, I googled you.’
‘Googled me?’
‘Yes, I’m sorry. It must seem intrusive. And ordinarily I 91
ADAM NEVILL
wouldn’t have bothered you, but, well, I was at the property on Saturday and . . . I’m not quite sure how to put this . . .’
‘I have a feeling you’re going to ask me why I left the flat halfway through my lease.’
‘Er, you did?’
‘Don’t rent it. Don’t go near it.’
‘I don’t intend to. Wouldn’t now, anyway.’
‘So the estate agent gave you my name so you could google me?’
‘Umm, no.’
‘Glad to hear it. So how did you get my name then?’
‘Mail. But I didn’t open it. I saw some mail this morning, when we went back for the . . . and I decided to call one of the previous tenants. You were the only one I could find a number for. At your chambers. You’re the only QC online called Rachel Phillips. I was going to leave a message.’
‘My, my, you are tenacious.’
‘Well, it’s quite important to me. And it’s just that, well, I wondered—’
‘If I noticed anything unusual about the property when I lived there?’
‘Exactly. Like, did you come across any funny smells?’
‘Smells? Ha! And the plumbers told me there was nothing wrong with the pipes. I say plumbers because I had three of them look. And the drainage is fine too. But the smells were the least of my worries, Mr?’
‘Freeman. Kyle Freeman.’
‘Mr Freeman,’ she lowered her voice as if someone might have been listening at her end. ‘Do you believe in ghosts?’
‘You know, I get asked that a lot. Perhaps I better come 92
LAST DAYS
clean; I make films, ma’am. I’ve made films and documentaries about unexplained phenomena—’
‘Sorry, I thought you were a prospective tenant. You should have said. I have no intention of going on the record about any of this—’
‘No, no, you don’t have to. We had permission to go inside the house to shoot a documentary about its history—’
‘History? What history?’
‘It does have a bit of one. Look, I’m not a journalist, and I would never use your name for anything at all. I’m an independent documentary film-maker, and I don’t even want to film you, unless you wanted—’
‘Good God, no!’
‘Sure. Not a problem. But . . . Do you have time to talk now? About the house?’
‘Not really.’
‘Could we meet then? I’m happy to spring for lunch.’
There was a pause.
‘Ma’am?’
‘Yes. Hang on. Just looking at my diary. Look, maybe it’ll help to talk about this to someone other than my friends, who think I’m mad whenever I mention it. Are you free Monday?’
‘I can be.’
‘At one? It’ll have to be tomorrow. I’m unavailable for the next three weeks.’
‘Sure, sure. I can do that.’
‘And you’ll have to come to me. I work off The Strand.’
‘Right. Great.’
‘Good. Meet me at the Star Inn. One sharp. I can give you twenty minutes. See you then. And bring my mail with you.’
93
ADAM NEVILL
‘Of course,’ he said to a dialling tone.
Kyle exhaled, then gulped at the pint of tap water on his coffee
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