'But Cally saw the children too. It was because of her call that I went out there.'
'Auto-suggestion.'
She stared at him.
'I assume you are very close to your daughters. The mother-child relationship is one of the strongest bonds possible, one that's full of intuition and shared feelings. A mother can often know why her baby is crying without there being any physical evidence of something wrong. In the same way, a baby or small child can often sense the mood of their mother without a word being spoken.'
Eve thought of her intuitive connection with Cam, but it was Gabe who spoke.
'What are you saying, Mr Pyke? Cally saw the children because the thought of them was already inside my wife's head?'
'That's exactly what I'm saying.' Pyke thumped the top of his cane enthusiastically. 'The almost hallucinogenic vision of children dancing in a circle was created by the spinning top and was fixed in your wife's mind. It transferred itself to your daughter, who thought she was seeing the real thing and so called out to the mother.'
'Wait a minute.' Gabe scratched the side of his chin, perplexed. 'The night before last, Loren woke up screaming. She said someone had beaten her with a stick. Was that some kinda thought transference too?' He was thinking of the punishment stick they had found earlier that afternoon and how disgusted and horrified both he and Eve had felt at the sight of it.
'No, I don't think so. But there is an underlying emotional tension in this house; I sensed it as soon as I entered. Have you suffered a bereavement recently, or had bad news?'
Eve looked down into her lap, leaving it for Gabe to answer.
'Our five-year-old son went missing a year ago,' he said dispassionately. We're still grieving.' Glancing at Eve, he added, 'And we're still hoping.'
'Ah.' Pyke brought his steepled fingers up to his mouth and stared into the mid-distance. 'That could explain much. You must all be in a fragile emotional condition. Perhaps Loren, when she felt herself being beaten, was punishing herself because she is here, safe with her parents, when her young brother is gone. Perhaps she feels guilty. You've heard of the stigmata, people suffering the wounds of Christ on the Cross? It's a rare but accepted phenomenon. An inborn guilt causes those who devoutly believe Christ suffered for the sins of mankind to take on the agony of repentance themselves. I merely suggest Loren might feel some unreasonable blame for your loss and so had to be punished.'
He let out a compassionate sigh. 'I take it there were no visible signs of her pain?'
It was Eve who shook her head; Gabe was too busy trying to understand what Pyke had just suggested to them. The investigator had to be wrong: Loren was a normal well-balanced kid; there was nothing for her to feel guilty about. And besides, she'd never had that kind of dream before.
'If anyone was to blame,' said Eve, 'it was me. I let Cam out of my sight that day.'
'Eve…' Gabe reached for her hand to comfort her, even though he had become a little weary of the guilt she imposed upon herself. He wished he could take that burden from her, but even after all this time he just didn't know how.
Gordon Pyke was about to expound further when Loren entered the room bearing a tray on which there were two teacups in their saucers, a jumbo coffee mug that was for Gabe, and a bowl of sugar, a teaspoon dipped into it. Gabe noticed she had even laid out a small plate of biscuits. Cally trailed after her.
Treading slowly so that nothing was split, Loren made her way directly to the investigator.
'I thought you might like a cup of tea, Mr Pyke,' she said respectfully. 'I didn't know if you took sugar.'
Gabe was impressed. Loren was not usually so congenial towards adults, especially when they were strangers. Polite, always. But most times she was too shy to come forward like this. She must have taken an instant liking to the man who had helped her on the bridge.
Eve saw that Loren's injured knee had stopped bleeding, although the scrape looked red and sore. She had meant to clean it for Loren and dab on antiseptic, but Gordon Pyke had kept them talking in the sitting room.
His cane now leaning on the arm of the chair, Pyke stretched forward to take a cup and saucer from the tray. He gave Loren a broad smile.
'No sugar, my dear, but I'll help myself to a biscuit if I may?'
Almost coyly, she returned his smile. She really did like Pyke, thought Gabe again, and he wasn't surprised—there was something reassuring about the big man. Cally, as ever, was indifferent, as she was with all grown-ups.
So far, Pyke had impressed Gabe with his grounded logic for things considered paranormal or supernatural, although he could tell Eve was far from convinced. It broke down to two attitudes, he supposed: the willingness to believe in ghosts or believe in what Pyke was saying. Eve was definitely in the former category and Gabe blamed Lili Peel for that.
After Loren had given Eve her tea and Gabe his coffee, she leaned the tray against the side of the couch and squeezed herself in beside her father. Cally pressed herself against Eve's knees. Both girls eyed the stranger as he bit off half his biscuit. He munched away, a small smile showing through his short beard as though he were content in their company.
But Eve had other ideas: she didn't want her daughters included in this conversation.
'Loren, haven't you got homework to do? And Cally, why don't you do some painting in the kitchen? Loren will help you set it up.'
'Oh let them stay,' said Pyke, the remainder of the biscuit poised only inches away from his mouth. 'They should be part of this. Besides, our conversation might allay some of Loren's concerns. And the little one, well, much of what we say will go over her head.'
You might be surprised at what Cally understands, Gabe thought, but he said nothing. Loren was smiling at Pyke gratefully, pleased to be respected for the sensible girl she was.
Gabe was curious, but not only about hauntings and their rationale.
'Mr Pyke…' he began.
'Ask me anything you like,' said Pyke and popped the rest of the biscuit into his mouth.
'I was just wondering how you got into this business.' Gabe was not ready to trust the investigator completely. He was cautious because Gordon Pyke had arrived unannounced and unexpected, and they had allowed him in because of his kindness to Loren. But they knew zilch about him and there was a chance he could be another nut like the psychic, Lili Peel, even though outwardly he seemed sane enough.
'A perfectly reasonable question,' said Pyke cheerfully as he flicked crumbs from his fingers. 'To you ghost-hunting must seem a singularly odd occupation, but for me it's a splendidly unique calling and one, I discovered, that I'm particularly adept at, although investigating psychic phenomena is a passion that came to me late in life. Oh, I had a cursory interest in the paranormal, but my profession took up most of my time. I was a librarian in London, you see. That was a while ago and eventually I left the grime and the clamour of the city to follow a more sedate life as a librarian in Barnstaple.'
Gabe had heard of the town, which was quite a distance from Hollow Bay. So the man wasn't a local.
Pyke paused to sip some tea. Cally was thoroughly bored by now.
'Mummy,' she said plaintively, 'can I play in my room?'
'Yes, of course, dear,' Eve replied. 'Just in your room though—you're not to go up to the attic.'
'No, Mummy.' Cally trotted to the door and they heard her small steps clattering across the flagstones of the hall.
'You have exemplary children,' remarked Pyke.
'Thank you.' Eve was growing impatient. She had already guessed Pyke's purpose in coming to Crickley Hall, but she wasn't sure if she was willing to agree to it. No matter how the investigator sought to explain the bizarre events of the past week, she knew he was fundamentally wrong: Crickley Hall was haunted by ghosts. The problem was that Gabe, ever the pragmatist, seemed to be going along with Pyke's rationalizations.