The Ghosts of Sleath by James Herbert Page A

digressing again, aren’t we?’
    ‘Background information can be useful,’ he assured her.
    ‘I can’t see how it helps catch ghosts.’
    It was his turn to smile. ‘We don’t catch them. We determine if there is a genuine presence or not.’
    ‘Are you good at your job, David?’ It was a serious question, asked in earnest.
    ‘I generally achieve results, one way or another.’
    ‘But you do believe in this … this spirit world. You do believe we can be haunted.’
    She wondered why he quickly turned his head as if something back at the house had caught his attention. But his eyes were not focused on the house and his thoughts were inwards.
    ‘What is it, David?’ she asked. ‘What have I said?’
    She saw his neck stiffen and his shoulders straighten imperceptibly as though he were gaining control over whatever had disturbed him.
    ‘What I believe in isn’t important,’ he said quietly.
    ‘But -’
    He stopped her. ‘No, Grace. We’re dealing with what has happened in Sleath.’
    ‘Why are you so troubled, David?’ It was a simple but direct question, and it pierced through emotions he had held in check for a long time. Yet still he held back, perplexed by her intuition. ‘Won’t you tell me?’ she urged.
    Finally he spoke. ‘It’s too soon, Grace.’
    ‘Is it?’ she instantly replied. ‘Didn’t you feel something strange happen to us earlier at the church? I sensed you were there before I even set eyes on you, and I know you felt it too. Something happened between us before we even met.’
    His manner became abrupt. ‘Maybe. But it had nothing to do with this investigation. I’d rather we dealt with that.’
    Grace was taken aback by his sudden change and she wondered what he was hiding. Why wouldn’t he talk to her about the peculiar sensation she knew they had both shared atSt Giles’, that sudden and almost electrifying awareness of each other even before they had met? Why did he choose to deny it?
    ‘Grace, tell me about these other incidents.’
    He had deliberately cut into her thoughts, but there was no challenge in his eyes. Perhaps it was a pleading she saw there.
    ‘All right, David,’ she acquiesced, then added: ‘But how do you know that wasn’t part of what’s happening here? You, yourself, heard children singing in an empty schoolhouse a short time before. How do you explain that? Don’t you think there might be a connection?’
    He took time to consider before he replied. ‘It’s possible. I need a lot more information before I can make any kind of judgement. You have to help me if I’m to help you, Grace.’
    ‘Perhaps I should apologize again.’
    ‘No need. Just tell me about these other sightings.’
    She watched him take out the micro-recorder from his pocket once more and switch it on. He placed it between them on the bench. ‘Go ahead,’ he told her.
    Grace drew in a deep breath before she spoke. ‘A young girl who works as a barmaid in the Black Boar Inn came to my father several days ago. She was very upset and looked as if she hadn’t been sleeping well for some time. In fact, she hadn’t.’
    ‘Is her name Ruth, by any chance?’
    ‘You’ve met her?’
    ‘When I booked a room at the inn. I noticed she looked as if she’d had some bad nights.’
    ‘Her name’s Ruth Cauldwell. Her father’s a local carpenter.’
    ‘What was her problem?’
    ‘She claimed she had been having terrible dreams, only they weren’t dreams, they happened even when she was awake.’
    ‘It’s not uncommon to dream you’re awake. She could have been in a semi-conscious state.’
    ‘Father explained that to her, but she had insisted that she was awake. She sat up in bed and even turned on the lamp bythe bed on one occasion. The man who had woken her was still there at the end of her bed.’
    ‘It was a man.’
    ‘It had the appearance of a man.’
    ‘Someone she knew?’
    ‘Someone she knew was dead. Ruth was molested when she was a child. The man’s name