‘I know, but, not yet,’ said Imogen, her eyes avoiding the papers.
Cynthia looked despairingly at John Wiseman who simply shrugged. He didn’t like to get involved in other people’s business. Not even his daughter’s.
‘Strange things have been happening in the house,’ said Imogen suddenly.
Henry’s head snapped up.
‘I need to tell someone,’ said Imogen. ‘It’s making me quite jittery. I’m sure it’s all in my mind but …’
Cynthia cocked her head, her eyes curious.
‘What do you mean strange things?’ she asked, a small tremor of excitement in her voice.
‘I sensed something. It happened yesterday and again today.’
The hairs on the back of Henry’s neck bristled. Imogen had sensed him.
‘What kind of strange things do you mean?’ Cynthia asked.
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said Imogen, wishing that she hadn’t brought it up. ‘It happened after you left yesterday. I felt something when I was in the bedroom.’
‘Felt what? I don’t understand.’
Henry saw John shiver.
‘It felt like someone was in the bedroom with me.’
Cynthia gasped.
‘I was,’ cried Henry excitedly. ‘I was right beside you.’
‘Oh, my goodness,’ said Cynthia.
‘That’s ridiculous,’ said John, putting a dampener on the affair.
‘Then again, before you arrived, I thought I heard something upstairs but …’
They all lifted their heads to look at the ceiling as though they expected something to be hanging from it.
‘You’re very low, that’s all it is,’ said John, who didn’t believe in such nonsense.
‘Yes,’ said Imogen. ‘You’re right.’
Cynthia Wiseman, who found all things psychic fascinating, wasn’t going to let it go that easily.
‘Perhaps Henry is trying to make contact,’ she blurted, without thinking.
‘Got it in one,’ said Henry. Now they were making progress.
‘For goodness’ sake Cynthia,’ said John, shocked. ‘She’s just lost her husband.’
Imogen wiped tears from her eyes.
‘It’s alright,’ she said.
‘For pity’s sake,’ he groaned.
‘Maybe you should visit a psychic?’ said Cynthia.
