And Mrs Wilding plunged an intangible hand into each of their brains and solidified her fingers.

And they began screaming too.

' whatsgoingonwhereami? whatsgoingonwhereami? ' '

Who are you, little bright light? Why are you here?

' whereisherewh.o.a.reyouhowdidigethere? whereisherewh.o.a.reyouhowdidigethere? ' '

An interesting question. Now, if you relax, we'll try and sort out your questions. You are frowning. and sort out your questions. You are frowning.

' myheadhurtsG.o.dithurtssomuchwhydoesithurtpleasemakei myheadhurtsG.o.dithurtssomuchwhydoesithurtpleasemakei tstop! tstop! ' '

All right, but it won't stop until you relax. Now Open your eyes and tell me what you see. your eyes and tell me what you see.

' lighticanseelighticansee - lighticanseelighticansee -'

209.

Stop! Too fast. Calm down. I can't help if I can't understand. understand.

' sorryit'sjustthat.i.t'sso . . . so . . . so fright sorryit'sjustthat.i.t'sso . . . so . . . so fright ening. I'm frightened. Please help me.' ening. I'm frightened. Please help me.'

What can you see?

'A room. I'm in a room. White. The ceiling has lights and there's someone at the end of a corridor. I'm in a hospital, aren't I? Have I had an accident?'

Of sorts, yes.

'Where am I?'

We're going to help you. This place is what you want it to be. If you're seeing a hospital, that's good. Hospitals it to be. If you're seeing a hospital, that's good. Hospitals are good. They'll help you be mended. are good. They'll help you be mended.

'The person at the end of the corridor, he's coming towards me.'

Good. Is he nice?

'I think so. He's smiling. I know him, though.'

Is he going to help you? Is he a doctor? Hospitals are full of doctors and nurses. full of doctors and nurses.

'Yes. Doctor - he's a doctor. . . no, he's the the Doctor.' Doctor.'

So. Do you know him?

'He saved my life. He's a bit strange but he's weird.'

If he saved your life before and you're seeing him again, then he's probably here to help you. That's good. again, then he's probably here to help you. That's good.

'Hey. He can't get to me. I don't understand. He's running, trying to reach me but he's getting further away. Why can't I go to him?'

If he's having trouble getting to you, it's because you won't let him. How would you describe him? As a person won't let him. How would you describe him? As a person I mean? I mean?

'Oh. All right. No, nice. I mean, he's very confident.'

More than you?

'Oh yes, far more. He sorted Kerbe out and took his gun from him. Very clever.'

How did he 'sort out' this Kerbe?

'He just bulldozed his way in, took charge I suppose.'

Weren't you in charge, though?

210.

'No. No, Kerbe was. Or Thorsuun. I've never been in charge really. Not very good at it.'

I'm sure you're being harsh on yourself. You're a university professor it says here. You must be in charge university professor it says here. You must be in charge of your students. of your students.

'Nominally, yes. But frankly, not very often. They rather take the . . . er . . . mickey out of me.'

Why?

'I don't know . . . yes, I do. It's my stutter. Somehow I let them get me down. They're not a bad bunch of kids but it's so easy to lose control if you can't talk properly.'

You sound fine now You're not stuttering at all.

'No. No, I'm not. Why not?'

Who knows. Maybe your need to stutter has gone.

Why did you stutter?

'I don't know. It just happened one day. I didn't really notice it at all. People say it's a confidence thing but I'm not so sure.'

Most people stutter because of their past. Let's examine your past shall we? examine your past shall we?

'Why?'

Because we might find an answer and make you better. better.

'No! I mean, the stutter's gone. I am better.'

Are you still in the hospital with the lights and the white walls? white walls?

'Yes.'

Then you're not better. Sorry but that's the way it goes. Hey, who's this? goes. Hey, who's this?

'Oh G.o.d. That . . . that's my mother.'

She's beautiful. Look, she's waving at you - oh no, not at you, at him. Who's he? not at you, at him. Who's he?

'Father? Oh G.o.d, it's my father too . . . where am I?'

Is your father dead? Is that why you're crying?

'Yes! Yes, they both died. Together. On the same night - and I was there and didn't do anything to stop it!'

Could you have?

'What?'

211.

Could you have saved either of them? How did they die? die?

'Do we need to do this? Can't I just go with them?'

Is that what you want? Really want? Oh, I see it now.

Your mother killed your father and then took her own life, isn't that right?. . . h.e.l.lo? Am I right? life, isn't that right?. . . h.e.l.lo? Am I right?

'Yes. Yes, and I was there. And I did nothing . . . nothing at all . . .'

'h.e.l.lo, son. How are you?'

'D. . . Dad? You can see me? Hear me?'

'Of course I can, son. Hey, Margaret, it's Nick. Come and say h.e.l.lo.'

'h.e.l.lo, love. How are you. Still ghost-hunting?'

'Mother? How do you know I ghost-hunt?'

'Because the ones you find told us. You're looking for us, aren't you? That's why you do it, isn't it?'

'Is it, son? That's daft, you know. I'm sorry but we're dead. Even tracking us down as ghosts won't bring us back.'

'But . . . but I never had a chance to say goodbye. To say I love you. I . . . I miss you so much.'

'We miss you too, son, don't we, Margaret?'

'Oh yes, Alex, we do. But we're also so proud of you. We always have been.'

'Really? But why? I haven't done anything.'

'Oh, Nick my son - not done anything? Of course you have, you're successful in a nice, modest way. You're good to the kids at the university. Frankly, you'd never have got to university and to teach if I'd been around. Too stubborn, me.'

'Yes, that's true. Your father wanted you to follow him into the navy.'

'I'd have hated that.'

'Of course you would, son. We know that now. By the way, the bit at Whitley Bay, the ashes and all that. Nice touch. We both appreciated that.'

'Oh yes, Nick. Very nice. But you keep coming back. It's a nice gesture, but so pointless. We're not there really. We're here. With you.'

212.

'Where exactly is here?'

Inside you.

'Who are are you?' you?'

'Oh, he's you, Nick. He's the piece of you you keep bottled up - the strong, a.s.sertive part. He always asks you questions, but you never answer them properly. I think now's the time to do so. Leave us - don't forget us but don't think about us so much.'

'Mother's right, son. Let us go and help your kids. And the others. The Doctor - he seems a good fellow. Probably ex-service, seen a bit of action. Join up with him. He needs you. They all do.'

They're right, Nicholas. Everyone needs you. The strong Nicholas Bridgeman that's always been here. The strong Nicholas Bridgeman that's always been here. The one who coped. The one who really coped when the one who coped. The one who really coped when the world crashed in on him. world crashed in on him.

'Go on, Nick. For me and your father. We'll see you again. One day. Remember us.'

'Mother? I love you. Please don't go.'

'We love you too, son. We love -'

They're gone.

'What now?'

What do you see?

'Whiteness. Not the hospital - I've been here before.

There's a woman. And a man. In a chair. And there's someone else with them, curled up. Asleep. h.e.l.lo? h.e.l.lo?

Where are you?'

'Professor Bridgeman?'

Nicholas Bridgeman opened his eyes and looked up at someone he knew was called Mrs Wilding. He felt a warmth rush through him, as if a thermostat had just triggered. He tried to get up but stumbled. She was reaching to help him, but he pushed her away. 'No. No, thank you. I'm fine.'

He looked around him. It was the same whiteness he had seen when he first arrived. After the telephone box. Mrs Wilding was the woman he had seen there, in that odd village that was not quite real.

213.