'They were so shocked to hear her saying these things that Amy could tell at once, from their reactions, that she must be in possession of the truth. All of which was quite enough to reduce both the girl and the parents to a state of absolute dread.'

The spirit of a dead person.

The Bishop said, 'Did she tell them then, Dennis, about the ouija board sessions? Because-'

'No, she didn't. This initial exchange took place immediately following Amy's... upset, during the Eucharist. When they got home, there was an attempt at a family discussion, which ended rather abruptly when Amy realized that her adoptive parents had concealed this a whatever it was a disturbing information from her. She became resentful and spiteful. She told them she was in contact with her real mother, but she didn't explain how this had come about. She was, I would guess, behaving in a rather sly way: playing her parents off against her natural mother.'

'Pretty unnatural mother, if you ask me,' Bernie Dunmore spluttered. 'So this, presumably, is what led to the adoptive mother's request for an exorcism.'

'Hazel Shelbone didn't tell me about any of this,' Merrily said tonelessly. 'And as for Jane's-'

'It was only after Mrs Watkins's latest visit that Amy explained, somewhat reluctantly, about the ouija board,' Dennis Beckett said. 'Which I would imagine carries less kudos than direct personal contact with one's late mother.'

'Do we know when the mother died?' Bernie asked.

'No.'

'Not in childbirth, then.'

'I don't know, I'm sorry.'

'Are they still asking for this exorcism?'

'I was able to pray with the child,' Dennis said.

Merrily felt the Bishop's glare this time. More than you were able to do.

'I think it was sufficient,' Dennis said. 'But I'm prepared to go back.'

'Look...' Merrily fumbled for words. 'I... I accept that I probably mishandled this from the beginning. And maybe I shouldn't even have attempted to talk to Amy when her parents weren't there. But I can't accept that Jane's in any way involved in this.'

'Merrily,' the Bishop said, quite gently, 'I think I'm correct in saying that it wouldn't be the first time Jane's exhibited curiosity about things that-'

'She would not do this.'

There was silence, the two men looking anywhere but at Merrily. The door was open; Sophie, presumably in the Deliverance office next door, would have heard everything.

'She's my daughter,' Merrily said. 'I would know.'

Bernie Dunmore pulled out a tissue, blotted something on his beach ball of a forehead. 'You'd better tell us the rest, Dennis.'

'Amy...' Dennis Beckett half turned to face the Bishop. 'I'm afraid that Amy maintains that Mrs Watkins was fully... fully aware of her daughter's involvement.'

Merrily shut her eyes, shaking her head.

'And when Mrs Watkins came to see Amy on Saturday evening a when her parents were out a she warned the child very forcibly-'

'What?' When her eyes reopened, Dennis Beckett was finally staring directly at her, perhaps to show how much he wasn't enjoying this.

'-that she'd better keep quiet about Jane Watkins-'

Merrily sprang up. 'That's a complete and total-'

'-if she knew what was good for her,' Dennis said.

'It's a lie,' Merrily said.

Bernie Dunmore breathed heavily down his nose. 'Sit down, Merrily,' he said. 'Please.'

Part Two.

When I am involved in the work of deliverance I admit my own ignorance...

Martin Israel, Exorcism a The Removal of Evil Influences.

Church of England.

Diocese of Hereford.

Ministry of Deliverance email: deliverance@spiritec.co.uk.

Click Home Page Hauntings.

Possession

Cults.

Psychic Abuse.

Contacts.

Prayers.

Hauntings.

Haunting or spiritual infestation of property is a complex problem which constitutes most of the work of the Deliverance Service. It falls into a number of clear categories and each case needs careful investigation before a particular course of action is undertaken.

The following pages will attempt to explain the difference between the most common types of haunting: poltergeist activity, 'imprints' and 'the unquiet dead' and why each demands different treatment.

12.

Everybody Lies.

'THE LADY OF the Bines in person?' The Rev. Simon St John was slumped like a tired choirboy on a hard chair he'd pulled into the centre of the studio floor, his cello case open beside him. 'Scary.'

He hauled the cello out of its case. It was every bit as dented and scratched as a much-toured guitar. Simon drove the bow over the cello strings, and the sound went up Lol's spine, like a wire.

'It was scary at the time.' He'd decided he had to tell somebody. It wasn't so long ago that a vicar would have been the very last person he'd have opened up to, but there were aspects of Simon St John that made him more a or maybe less a than what you thought of as a normal clergyman.

Lol had spent the night, as usual, alone in the stables. Prof had said he should move over into the cottage, but he felt more comfortable in the loft room above the studio. All last evening he'd been somehow expecting Stock to turn up, with an explanation of the newspaper story, but Stock hadn't shown. And then, this morning, when the footsteps sounded in the yard, it had been Simon St John in jeans and trainers, carrying his cello case, looking like a refined version of Tom Petty.

Prof had mentioned that Simon would often drop in on a Monday, to unwind after an entire day of being polite and cheerful to his parishioners. Before moving to Knight's Frome, he'd been in some bleak sheep-farming parish in the Black Mountains, which thrived on threats and feuds and general hatred and where the vicar was expected to be hard-nosed and cynical.

'But a am I right? a you didn't know the story of the Lady of the Bines at the time you saw this woman,' Simon said.

Lol sat a few feet away, on the hardwood top of an old Guild acoustic amp he'd picked up in Hereford last year. 'No.'

'That is quite spooky.' Simon's bow skittered eerily across the strings. He winced. 'And naked, hmm?'

'And bleeding from superficial cuts, like she'd just run through some spiny bushes or brambles or-'

'It's how ghost stories are born,' Simon said. 'Give me your chord sequence again. B minor, F sharp...?'

'Then down to E minor for the intro to the verse.' This was the River Frome song, for which there were still some lyrics to write.

'And you made a careful exit,' Simon said. 'Wise.'

'I was thinking drugs, I was thinking witchcraft. I was wondering, should I call the police in case she's been... you know? But she was... smiling. She seemed relaxed. Have you ever met Stephanie Stock?'

Simon pushed the bow over the strings of the cello in a raw minor key, recoiled. 'Ouch. I'm just so bloody atrocious these days. No... when he comes to Church a and he's actually been a time or two recently, the cunning bugger a he comes on his own. She's a mouse, they say a quiet, goes off to work in Hereford in her little Nissan. Making the best of the dismal place, presumably, when she gets home, because she never goes to the pub with him.'

'So, what do you reckon?'

'Dunno, is the short answer. I don't know what you saw. Why don't you ring her one night while he's out? Why were you naked in the old hop-yard, Mrs Stock?' Simon lifted his bow. 'No, wouldn't be such a good idea. Anyway, it doesn't change my view of the situation. He's a lying git. "I need an exorcism, Si, soon as you can." Jesus!'

'That was what he was asking for when he came here? And you said no.'

'Damn right. An Anglican exorcism, sanctioned by the Bishop of Hereford, would put God and the Church of England firmly on Stock's side. Comes to a civil court case, I get called as a witness. Stuff that.'

'But why would he then go to the papers? Why would he expose himself to public ridicule?'

'You think that bothers him? He's a PR man. He knows how transient it all is. News today, chip-paper tomorrow... except in Knight's Frome. Here, it might send a slow ripple up the river... Still, what's he got to lose?'

Lol persisted. 'OK... Prof suggests Stock's making up the haunting bit to put pressure on Adam Lake to dismantle his big barns and stick them somewhere else. But that still doesn't quite add up. Getting rid of the barns might put a few thousand on the value of the place. But when you think how many people'd want to live in a house well known as a murder site a and now even better known a at the end of the day, Lake's going to be the only person really interested in buying it.'

'All right.' Simon leaned forward, letting his arms droop over the body of his cello. 'I'll tell you what I think, why I think Stock wouldn't talk to Lake's lawyer when the first approach was made. I think, in normal circumstances, he'd sell that place tomorrow. He's a townie, an arch-townie. He hates it here. But I don't think he can sell. Not to Lake, not to anybody. What did Stock say to you about the reason Stewart Ash left them his house?'

'He said Ash didn't bequeath his house to Gerard Stock, he bequeathed Stock to Adam Lake. He wanted to be sure there was someone in that house who wasn't going to do Lake any favours.'

'Yeah, but Stock doesn't do anyone any favours. Especially not someone who's both dead and stupid enough to leave him a house.'

'But it was his wife's inheritance.'

'His wife does what she's told. She's a mouse. What other kind of woman would Stock marry? What I'm trying to suggest to you is that Stewart Ash would never leave his house in the hands of someone like Stock to make sure it didn't fall into Lake's hands... if he hadn't already taken steps to make sure Stock couldn't sell it, anyway.'

'You mean some kind of a I don't know the legal term...'

'Restrictive covenant. Stock wants us to think he doesn't want to sell the kiln, when in fact he can't. I'd put money on it.'

'It makes sense,' Lol admitted.

'It's the only explanation that does. He's buying time until he can find some way a legal or otherwise a around it. Maybe the place is going to mysteriously catch fire one night, maybe one of the extra candles he needs to combat the awful darkness topples over. Oh, there are lots of things he could do.'

'And still emerge looking clean and innocent?'

'He doesn't care, Lol, long as he stays out of jail. Look... he wants a ostensibly a to get back at Lake for what he did to the house and to Stewart Ash. He also wants a perversely, it might seem, but not when you get to know him a to get back at Ash for saddling him with a saleable country property that he can't sell. Which means he's almost certainly looking at a way of turning the situation into money a maybe even now selling the story, a book, a TV documentary. Something...' Simon stood up, leaned his cello against the chair seat.

Lol stood up, too. 'What if you're wrong? What if he really has got problems in that place?'

'Why are you so bothered?'

Lol shrugged.

'Anything to do with your forlorn and possibly unrequited love for the Reverend Watkins?'

Lol sighed. 'Good old Prof.'

'Yeah, yeah, he called in at the vicarage before he left for London. And then, lo, she rang me herself. Apologetic, in case she'd said something to the press that might have offended me.'

Lol went still. 'Merrily?'