FAMILY

For the next few days, Ellen’s life was blessedly free of spirits, seances and those foolish enough to believe in either. While she had found no proof of trickery at the house in East Melbourne, she was reassured that her friend was in no imminent danger. Most of the women had seemed pitiable, not threatening. Even Caroline McLeod herself had become less unnerving once the seance had finished and she had all but collapsed. Ellen, unsure whether this was merely a performance, allowed the possibility that Caroline may have been exhausted by the deep concentration needed to maintain her act. Regardless, she had no fear that Caroline would actively harm Harriet. More likely it was about her inheritance—it could hardly be coincidence that most of the church members appeared to be recently bereaved.

With no word from Harriet, Ellen resumed her normal activities. She visited Mrs Davidson and bought the children’s good behaviour with cake and biscuits while she spoke to their mother. She baked for William, too, in an effort to cheer him, and played the quiet, melodic music he preferred, instead of boring him with scales or startling him with thunderous chords. She did the things that had always filled her days with purpose, but which now seemed dull in comparison to playing detective. She itched to return to the gloomy mansion and learn the church’s secrets.

By Thursday, William was growing tired of her mothering. ‘Have you heard anything from Harriet?’ he asked over their evening meal.

‘No.’ Ellen had been wondering why she hadn’t so much as sent a note. ‘She didn’t seem angry when I last saw her, but perhaps someone said something to her after I left. I was perfectly polite, though.’

William didn’t need to speak; his expression said enough.

‘Really, Will. I was on my best behaviour! I didn’t so much as mutter, even when Caroline was pretending to be her dead husband and saying the most pompous things.’

‘You’re too honest to hide what you’re really thinking. I’m sure everyone there knew just how ridiculous you found them.’

‘I felt sad for them, mostly. Not Caroline or her daughter, obviously, but the people they’re preying upon. They’re not bad people, they just don’t want to see the truth.’

‘Perhaps they’re happier without it.’

It was not the first time William had suggested such a thing.

‘No one’s happy being lied to,’ she argued.

‘No?’ His eyes were sad. ‘I think Harriet would disagree.’

*

The following morning a brief note arrived with the morning mail. Harriet was sorry she had not written sooner, and would Ellen come to the house for tea that afternoon? And so she found herself back at the home of the Church of the Spirit.

It was a sunny day, and yet still the shadows lingered on the verandas, still the windows looked like dark and staring eyes. Only the garden was different. There were fewer weeds, Ellen was sure, than when she had first visited. Someone had begun the tremendous task of tidying the flower beds. Not Harriet, who saw gardens as places to pick flowers or to stroll in, and had never understood Ellen’s willingness to get her hands dirty.

This time it was Harriet herself who opened the door.

‘Sorry I didn’t invite you back sooner.’ She embraced Ellen warmly then dropped her voice to a whisper as she dealt with the dual locks. ‘You wouldn’t believe the excitement we’ve had here this past week.’ She looked around—the hall was not the place for private conversation. ‘Would you mind terribly if we took our afternoon tea in the kitchen? There’s no maid, you see, so—’

Ellen laughed. ‘How many times have you taken tea in my own kitchen?’

‘Your kitchen is a lot cosier,’ Harriet argued, but she led Ellen to the working part of the home nonetheless.

While Harriet put the kettle on the hob and laid out crockery Ellen took the chance to examine her surroundings. The range itself was enormous—at least twice the size of the one in the cottage—which would have been a necessity, Ellen supposed, when the house was filled with children and the Plumsteads entertained. But then there would have been servants to black and clean it. Who did that now? Surely not Margaret herself.

The rest of the room was designed for utility, not charm. The walls were tiled in glossy white from floor to ceiling, while the floor itself was a scuffed expanse of tessellation in light and dark terracotta. At the centre of the room stood a large rustic wooden table surrounded by half a dozen chairs. There was a dresser filled with china and the usual pots and pans, and a dented scuttle half-full of coal. Harriet was right. It was a plain, bare room that seemed cold, somehow, despite the heat from the range.

‘Do you do your own cooking?’ Ellen asked once Harriet joined her at the table and they were waiting for the tea to steep. ‘I think I should be frightened, using a range that big.’

Harriet laughed. ‘Can you imagine it? Me, roasting a leg of lamb? No, there’s a woman who comes in to cook for us, thank goodness. I’d gladly pay her wages personally if it meant I didn’t have to fend for myself.’

‘You’re not, I hope. Paying.’

Harriet dismissed her concern with a wave of the hand. ‘No, but would it matter if I were?’

‘That one thing?’ she said carefully. ‘Perhaps not. But you’re here as a member of the church, not as its benefactor.’

‘I shan’t fritter away all my father left me, if that’s what worries you. I have far more sense than that!’

Ellen did not feel particularly reassured, but she watched in silence as Harriet poured the tea and cut fat slices of currant cake. The fine china setting, decorated with a delicate pattern of painted violets, seemed too pretty for the austere room.

‘You said there’s been excitement this week?’ she prompted once the cake was served.

Harriet’s gaze flickered to the doorway. She leaned towards Ellen and lowered her voice. ‘I’ve felt like a background character in a newspaper serial! Did you meet Sarah on Sunday?’

Ellen frowned, searching her memory. ‘I don’t recall the name.’

‘She’s the one who played piano at the meeting.’

Ellen remembered the woman now. ‘Have you no one more accomplished?’

Harriet laughed. ‘I should’ve known you’d judge her playing. Adelaide plays better, but she prefers to be part of the circle.’

‘I don’t think I…’

‘Oh, you will have noticed her, I guarantee it. Dressed like a French fashion plate? Her father’s Albert Forsyth. The Albert Forsyth.’

‘Really? I would have thought her too grand to hobnob with the middle class.’

‘She’s actually very sweet.’

‘Perhaps she can put in a good word for Will with her father, then. The support of the manager’s daughter would do wonders for his career at the bank.’

Harriet ignored the mention of William. ‘Sarah joined the church a while before I did,’ she said, as though she’d been speaking of her all this time. ‘She’s married, but she and her husband have been living apart.’

Ellen was always happy to listen to gossip, regardless of whether she knew the people concerned.

‘She’s living here?’

‘For the last few months, yes. There’s been no sign of him until this past week, but on Monday night he came here demanding to see her, and then again on Wednesday.’

‘Goodness…’ Ellen glanced toward the door. ‘Is he violent?’

Harriet looked horrified, as if she hadn’t considered the possibility until that moment. ‘No! At least…I don’t think so. I know it’s not the reason Sarah came here. There was a child, you see, and when she died…’

‘Ah.’ Ellen nodded.

‘Her husband thinks it’s all nonsense—as he said several times, very loudly. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but even with the door closed you could hear him in the parlour. He kept insisting that she return home with him, but Sarah wouldn’t have it and eventually Margaret ordered him to leave.’

‘It sounds frightening.’

‘A little,’ Harriet admitted. ‘It makes one very aware that this is a house full of women. Doctor Corrigan left when he was asked but if he hadn’t, I don’t know what Margaret would’ve done.’

Ellen had been so busy worrying about Caroline’s intentions that she hadn’t even contemplated the other dangers of Harriet’s situation. She was vulnerable in so many ways.

‘Do you think he’ll come again?’ she asked.

‘I hope not. But it’s up to Sarah, really. She refuses to cut him off entirely.’

‘Well…he is her husband.’

‘Not much of a husband if he wants to take her away from their daughter.’

Ellen wasn’t so sure. She couldn’t help but sympathise with this man. After all, she was at the house for the same reason; she was merely being more circumspect, biding her time until she had the proof to persuade Harriet. If she’d thought shouting would work, she would have tried it, but she knew Harriet. It was more likely to alienate her than to alter her beliefs.

‘It must be hard losing both wife and daughter,’ she ventured.

‘Life is hard.’

Ellen had never heard Harriet sound so bitter.

Before she could think of a response, Margaret bustled in with a tray full of china. ‘What are the two of you doing, hidden away in here?’ She put down the tray and moved to Ellen’s side. ‘Imagine making a guest sit on these hard chairs! Miss Whitfield must think us terribly rude.’

‘I really don’t mind,’ Ellen said.

‘No, you’ll be much more comfortable in the drawing room. Come—I’ll help you with your things.’

The drawing room was, thankfully, empty when they entered. It was lighter, too, with the low afternoon sun on the windows. Or perhaps Ellen was already growing accustomed to the shadows. How long would it be before the house’s other oddities became similarly mundane?

Ellen had hoped Margaret would leave them to their conversation, but instead she eased herself into the chair angled to face their sofa. ‘I’m very glad you’ve returned to us, Miss Whitfield.’

‘Ellen, please, if I’m to call you by your Christian name.’

Margaret looked pleased. ‘Ellen, then. Some women are frightened away forever by their first encounter with the spirits, but I felt quite strongly that you would not be one of them, and I’m glad my intuition was right.’

‘Intuition? Are you also a medium?’

‘Heavens, no,’ Margaret laughed. ‘Quite the opposite.’

‘Not everyone has the ability,’ Harriet explained. ‘If there’s a natural inclination, you can strengthen it, but you can’t develop something that isn’t there.’

‘You’ll find people eager to tell you otherwise, and most of them wish to sell you something. A person who says he can teach anyone how to be a medium is lying. If it were that simple, we’d all be mediums by now.’

Ellen was surprised to hear such words from Margaret. ‘Doesn’t that sadden you?’ she asked. ‘If I thought my sister was here and I couldn’t speak to her…I think it would be worse than knowing she’s gone.’

Harriet reached across to place a hand over Ellen’s, where it lay between them on the sofa’s lumpy cushion. She squeezed it once before letting go.

‘That’s why the church is so important,’ Margaret said. ‘Caroline never pretends we all can do as she does. She has the gift—was but a bairn when the spirits first came to her—and she has the reverend to assist her now. She doesn’t make false promises, simply offers all she has to those who need it. And she doesn’t ask a penny in return.’

‘Ellen’s worried I’ll give away my inheritance.’

Ellen frowned at Harriet, trying to silence her with her eyes. ‘I said nothing of the sort.’

‘I’m just teasing.’ Harriet smiled at Ellen, her expression fond. ‘You do tend to fuss. But I assure you I’ve no intention of giving away all I own.’

‘Caroline wouldn’t know what to do with it anyway. She has all she needs here.’ Margaret’s broad gesture encompassed the entire room.

Ellen wasn’t sure that the house was quite the treasure that Margaret seemed to think. She turned the conversation to a less perilous subject. ‘Has Caroline always been a medium, then?’ she asked Margaret.

‘Always gifted, yes, but not always what you’d call a medium. She was a very pious child, by all accounts,’ Margaret said. ‘Not unusual for a minister’s granddaughter, I suppose, but she was only thirteen when she fell into her first trance, and apparently the writing she produced under the control of spirits was far too advanced for a girl of her age.

‘She met Reverend McLeod several years later. He based his ministry around spiritualism—the most pure form of Christianity, he said. As you can imagine, they were an ideal match. They married and had a wee son, and then young Grace.’

Ellen’s mind had begun to wander, but that detail sparked her interest. ‘Grace has a brother?’

‘He didn’t live long, poor bairn. Caroline told me once that Grace was named for the Lord’s grace in giving them a second child.’

‘It’s only her, then?’

Margaret nodded sadly. ‘Perhaps if the reverend hadn’t been taken so young…’

‘Oh? I’d assumed he died fairly recently.’

‘Nigh on twenty years ago. Grace would’ve been four, maybe five. He wanted to spread his ministry further, you see—bring Christian spiritualism to the colonies—but he died before the ship reached Sydney. A terrible tragedy for the world. And for Caroline, alone in a strange new country.’

‘Terrible.’ Ellen’s sympathy was genuine. It couldn’t have been easy for Caroline, supporting herself and her daughter in an unfamiliar place. It was two decades on now, however…

‘Caroline felt called to continue her husband’s work as his spokeswoman: indirectly at first and then, as his spirit form grew more powerful, he became her control when in trance.’

‘And when did she leave Sydney to come here?’

Margaret thought for a moment. ‘It’d be three years ago, now. I met her shortly afterwards.’

Caroline hadn’t taken long to establish herself in Melbourne. Ellen wondered how quickly she had moved into Margaret’s home. ‘You’re clearly very devoted to her,’ she said.

‘She brought my family back to me.’

‘To all of us,’ Harriet added. ‘She’d do the same for you, if you’d let her.’

Ellen manufactured a laugh. ‘And who would she bring? Some ancestor I’ve never met?’ There was a tight, unnatural tone to her voice. ‘I’ve sufficient family already. More than sufficient, it feels like, whenever I’m at the farm!’

Harriet smiled sadly. ‘Bella.’

Ellen was spared the expectation of a response by the arrival of Caroline herself, walking in on her daughter’s arm. Grace’s hair was loose again, almost completely hiding her face, and as her pale hand gripped her mother’s, Ellen realised how much Caroline had been relying on Grace’s support. The medium sank back into the cushions and allowed her eyes to fall closed.

‘Where’s Sarah?’ she asked at length.

Margaret shook her head. ‘I haven’t seen her this afternoon. Why?’

‘Mother fell into a trance without warning.’ Grace looked up, but her gaze darted away again when she saw Ellen watching and she ducked her head, too late to hide the pale bloom of pink across her pale cheeks. ‘She says the spirits told her Doctor Corrigan is on his way here.’

‘Of course he is,’ Margaret grumbled. ‘That man doesn’t know when he’s not welcome.’

‘Do the spirits often do that? Tell you something that’s about to happen?’

This was something new to think about. Ellen had assumed the information given during seances was gathered beforehand by Caroline or an accomplice, and that there was some kind of mechanical trickery behind the raps and the bell. Predicting the future was more difficult to explain. She supposed it was reasonable to think Dr Corrigan might return to the house, but this was quite a specific prophecy. If Caroline had not simply seen the doctor approaching through a window, Ellen was unsure how she would manage such a thing.

‘No, not often,’ Caroline said, her voice still weak. ‘And I should say that it’s only things that are imminent. Some mediums claim to see far into the future, but I find it difficult to believe. Why would the spirits know what will happen to us in a month or a year’s time? Only the Lord knows that.’

‘The spirits reveal events in motion,’ Margaret clarified, and Caroline nodded. ‘They don’t see things as they will be; they see them as they are now—but with a view broader than our own.’

‘So they can see a visitor turning into your street, for instance?’ That wouldn’t be too hard to contrive, Ellen supposed.

‘Yes, or hailing the cab that will take him there.’

Ellen couldn’t explain that; but then, she was assuming Caroline’s predictions were accurate. Unless Dr Corrigan appeared fairly soon, there was no proof of that at all.

‘I’ll see if I can find Sarah.’ Harriet gave Ellen an apologetic smile as she left her with the other women.

Ellen shifted on the sofa, certain that without Harriet beside her Caroline would see through her front of curiosity to the steadfast cynicism that lay behind. Grace must surely have discussed Ellen with her mother; the only question was how much weight Caroline placed on her daughter’s opinion. She gave no sign that she considered Ellen a threat to the church; but then she had been trading in lies for decades. She would be a master at concealment by now.

Grace could benefit from a few of her mother’s skills, Ellen thought, sensing the girl watching from beneath her veil of hair. Her disapproval felt like a challenge, and Ellen had never been good at resisting those.

‘And what about you, Grace?’ Ellen kept her tone bright and her expression cheerful. ‘Do you share your mother’s abilities?’

Grace had jumped slightly at the sound of her name, but she didn’t raise her head when she spoke. ‘I…no.’ She darted a glance towards Ellen, her dark eyes skimming over Ellen’s features and lingering at the unexpected smile. ‘I…not really…’ she stammered.

‘Grace looks after me,’ Caroline said. ‘Always has done, ever since she was a girl.’

Grace was saved further awkwardness by a loud knocking at the front door.

‘That’ll be him, I suppose.’ Margaret got to her feet, but before she could leave the room there was a flurry of footsteps in the hall.

‘I’ll get it,’ called an unfamiliar voice.

More footsteps, and then Harriet appeared in the drawing-room doorway. ‘Found her,’ she said, her gaze focused outside the room. Ellen could hear the faint sound of keys being turned, followed by the hum of voices. If it was Dr Corrigan, he was apparently more in control of his temper now.

Harriet watched for a moment longer before moving further into the room and closing the door behind her. ‘You should have seen Sarah’s face when I told her he was on his way. She’s exhausted, poor woman. You would think he’d realise that all his bothering is only hardening her heart.’

Ellen thought of William. He’d been right, it seemed, not to contact Harriet. How different they both were from herself. If she ever called off an engagement—although the idea of her being engaged at all was laughable—she would expect her former betrothed to attempt to change her mind. Silence would feel akin to an admission that true feeling had never existed between them. She understood why the women disapproved of Dr Corrigan’s shouting, but they seemed to think him unreasonable for wishing to speak to his wife at all. Perhaps there was more to the story…or perhaps Sarah’s fellow church members simply feared he might influence her to leave them.

Harriet reclaimed her seat next to Ellen and they all attempted to make light conversation despite the distraction of the other conversation taking place in the hallway—all, that is, except for Grace. She had retreated to the piano once her mother regained her colour and was now doing her best to look uninterested in anything taking place in or outside the room. She made no attempt to play; simply sat with her fingers resting upon the keys. Ellen couldn’t help but be curious. Grace seemed an unlikely pianist, but perhaps her sullen exterior hid her talents.

Almost without thinking, she rose and made her way over. ‘Do you play?’

Grace snatched her hands away from the keys and hunched into herself. ‘Only very poorly.’

Her response was unsurprising, but Ellen felt a little disappointed all the same. She so rarely encountered women who genuinely loved to play.

Then, unexpectedly, Grace spoke again instead of pointedly ignoring her. ‘I wish I could. I never had the chance to learn.’

‘Your mother never taught you?’

‘She…’ Grace glanced over her shoulder at her mother, then looked briefly up at Ellen before returning her gaze to her hands. ‘We didn’t have a piano in Sydney.’

‘Pity.’ Ellen ran her fingers over the side of the piano. ‘You have a lovely one now, although it could do with a coat of polish. It’s never too late to learn, you know, and there’s no feeling better than sitting down at the piano after a trying day. I’m sure Harriet could teach you the basics if your mother’s too busy.’

‘I…I don’t think so.’

Ellen shrugged. ‘It was just a thought.’ She didn’t know why she’d even bothered. For a moment there it had seemed like they could have something in common, but no: Grace was as hostile as ever. Irritated, Ellen turned from the piano just as the drawing-room door swung open and Sarah herself entered, still tired-looking but more cheerful than on Sunday.

When Sarah took her place on the sofa, Ellen took it as her cue to leave. ‘I shan’t intrude on your private conversation.’ She nodded a polite greeting to Sarah. ‘If you’ll show me out, Harriet…’

‘You’re not intruding, my dear.’ Caroline smiled at Ellen. Her eyes had regained their usual intensity and Ellen found herself quite unable to look away. ‘You’re always welcome here. Families should keep no secrets and, while you’re not family yet, Harriet is. That’s almost the same.’

Ellen had no intention of joining this woman’s family, but it was nevertheless pleasing to be considered trustworthy. She was beginning to understand the allure these people held for Harriet, who had lost her true family so suddenly. Ellen knew the hole that the loss of only one person left; Harriet’s loss was closer to a chasm. Ellen had thought that she and William might be enough to fill it, but how could they compare to a church-sized family? Let alone one that offered a relationship with those she’d lost.

It would be nice, Ellen thought, to feel so wanted. If only it wasn’t just a ploy to profit from Harriet’s grief.

‘Please don’t let me frighten you away,’ Sarah said. ‘I’m glad to have the chance to meet you finally.’

Realising there was now no polite way to leave, Ellen resigned herself to staying a while longer. She took a seat in a faded armchair and resolved to remain no more than half an hour. That would be time enough to appear well-mannered.

‘Alexander was very calm today,’ Sarah said. ‘I think he was as surprised as I was by his ill temper earlier this week. He’s not usually excitable, and never violent.’

‘You’ve seen his true colours now.’ Margaret shook her head. ‘It’s always the calmest men who become beastly when they’re distressed.’

‘These are exceptional circumstances. And he apologised for shouting at me.’

‘As he should.’ Caroline’s gaze was thoughtful. ‘You’re considering going back to him?’

‘I…I don’t know.’ Sarah scrubbed at her temple with the palm of her hand, tugging several strands of greying hair from their twist. ‘Things were so strained between us after Millie…’ She didn’t finish the sentence. ‘And then, when I found you, he was so cruel and dismissive. He wouldn’t even consider coming to a meeting, even if it meant getting his daughter back, so it was easier just to leave him to his work. But now I can’t help wondering whether I was wrong. He is my husband. I made a vow to love and obey him…’

‘He made a vow, too,’ Margaret argued. ‘When you needed him most, he failed you and failed your daughter.’

‘Perhaps I failed him, too.’

Ellen found it hard not to feel for a woman so overwhelmed by all that life had served up. She was clearly wealthy—her well-cut black silk held the rich sheen of the most expensive fabrics and her fingers were adorned with rings—but her advantages had done little to shield her from the trials common to all of humankind. Death exacted its toll on everyone. And only the spiritualists claimed to know its cure.

‘What about your responsibility to your Millie?’

Sarah’s face crumpled in response to Margaret’s question. ‘I’d still come to meetings.’ There was a waver in her voice.

‘And you would be very welcome,’ Caroline said. ‘As would Doctor Corrigan.’

‘He’s calmed down,’ Sarah said wryly, ‘not changed his mind entirely. If I attend future meetings, it’ll be on my own.’

‘Does that not bother you?’ Margaret gestured towards Ellen, much to her consternation. ‘Ellen came, after all, and Harriet’s only claim on her is friendship. Isn’t it a husband’s duty to support his wife?’

Ellen didn’t like being used as a comparison, and not least because her intentions were far from pure. If she’d thought dragging Harriet from the house physically would work, she would have done it without hesitation.

‘I’m not the best example,’ she said. ‘Harriet can confirm that I’m a terrible busybody.’

‘Yes, awful,’ Harriet laughed. ‘But a loyal friend. You thought spiritualism was complete nonsense, but you came to a meeting anyway.’

Heat rose in Ellen’s cheeks as she glanced towards Caroline.

‘Don’t look so alarmed, my dear.’ The medium’s eyes betrayed nothing but mirth. ‘It takes a lot more than scepticism—perfectly reasonable scepticism, I might say—to offend me. You’ve been respectful and open-minded and that’s all that any of us could ask. Even if you were never swayed from your first impressions, you’d still be welcome here. Of course,’ she added with a smile, ‘I’d be delighted if we did change your mind.’

Sarah covered her face with her hands and when she spoke, her voice was muffled, but Ellen could hear the despair in her tone. ‘Oh, I wish I knew what to do!’

‘If you ask me, that’s obvious,’ Margaret said. ‘You belong here, with your family. We’re the ones who understand you, not your husband.’

‘He’s not as dreadful as you make him out to be,’ Sarah argued, but Ellen could hear the uncertainty.

‘He’s a doctor, and yet he didn’t save your Millie. That sounds rather dreadful to me.’

Sarah let out a wordless sound of misery and began to sob wretchedly, her breath coming in choked, heaving gasps. Harriet rushed to her side and wrapped her arm around Sarah’s trembling shoulders. Caroline, too, moved to comfort her. There was no room on the sofa, so she knelt in front of Sarah, paying no mind at all to the dusty carpet. She took Sarah’s hands in her own and sat in silence until the flow of tears began to lessen.

‘The Lord led you to us,’ she said finally. ‘He loves you dearly…and so do we.’

Sarah bent so that her cheek was pressed against their entwined hands. It was clear that she would stay.

Ellen’s steps were brisk as she set off for home. She had stayed at the church’s house longer than she had planned to, but it had felt wrong to leave too soon after Sarah’s outpouring. As she neared the end of the street, she became aware of the sound of footfalls behind her, just as she had after the public meeting. This time when she turned, however, Grace McLeod was hurrying towards her. It would be rude to continue walking; Ellen reluctantly stood and waited for Grace to catch up.

She had taken the time to plait and coil her hair before leaving the house, but had missed a thick lock at the base of her neck. Her capelet was cut from a dull brown fabric that clashed with the deep burgundy of her dress and hung crooked across her shoulders.

When she reached Ellen, she took a moment to catch her breath, but even then she said nothing, merely frowned and shifted awkwardly.

‘Well?’ Ellen asked. ‘If you’re here to accuse me of stealing the silver, I’d prefer you did so quickly. I’ll be late home as it is.’

‘What?’ Grace blinked. ‘Why would I do that?’

‘No idea. But it’s clear you’ve despised me from the moment you first saw me, so I don’t imagine you chased me down the street for a chat.’

‘I don’t…’ She ducked her head but now that her hair was pulled back, Ellen could see the nervous working of her jaw. ‘I’m not good with strangers,’ Grace said finally.

‘Is that why you left the meeting on Sunday?’

Grace shrugged. ‘I find them overwhelming—all those people wanting something—and I worry for my mother.’

She sounded sincere enough, but it would take more than that to convince Ellen that Grace had been doing anything other than engineering the taps and other phenomena attributed to the spirits.

‘I was rude when we first met,’ Grace added. ‘I apologise for that.’ She met Ellen’s eyes briefly before looking back towards the ground.

Not for the first time, Ellen wondered how a mother and daughter could have such starkly contrasting eyes. Caroline’s so bright and enticing—while looking into Grace’s eyes felt like sinking into darkness itself.

‘Thank you,’ she said, because it was expected. ‘But you still haven’t told me why you followed me.’

‘I just wanted to say…be careful.’ The last two words came out in a rush.

‘Are you threatening me?’

‘No!’ Grace shook her head, frustrated. ‘What I’m trying to say is that if you become part of the church’s family, you’re likely to lose your family outside.’

Ellen dismissed that with a wave of one hand. ‘I’ve no interest in joining your family.’

‘No interest yet, perhaps. My mother’s devotees can be very persuasive. But you shouldn’t believe everything they say.’ She gave Ellen a brief, tight smile, then turned and walked away.

‘Normal people say goodbye, you know,’ Ellen called after her.

Grace didn’t even slow her steps. If she replied, her words were lost to the breeze.