Free Ways to See a Ghost by Emily Diamand Page A

position; there was a muffled rushing in Isis’s ears, then words.
    “… vote unanimously agreed, which means, Calista, I am very happy to welcome you to the Welkin Society. I hope you find it as rewarding as our other members do.”
    “Thank you. I can’t tell you how pleased I am.”
    There was a jolting, sickening lurch in Isis’s vision, as Angel wriggled sideways along the wall. Now Isis had a view of Cally, sitting three places along the table from Philip Syndal. Her mum pushed her hair back from her face and smoothed it down, a flush of colour in her cheeks.
    “
Mummy happy.
” Angel’s whisper drifted through the wall.
    Their shared view lurched again, and Isis swallowed, clenching the muscles of her stomach.
    Angel was looking at Philip Syndal now, his features sagging from charming to solemn. “And now we must turn to the great sadness our group has suffered. There is an empty seat at this table, the seat of a visionary, of ourfounder. He was our protector, a kindly father to us all.”
    “A terrible loss,” said the curly haired woman, Andrea.
    “But the question is what we should do without Norman leading us.”
    “I wonder if we should even continue as a society,” said a man’s softly spoken voice. Isis couldn’t see who it was.
    “You may wonder, Ian,” said Andrea, loud and importantly. “But I
know
he wants us to carry on. I have felt his presence many times in these last weeks, telling me to continue his good work.”
    “You, particularly?” said the softly spoken man.
    Andrea turned and nodded at whoever it was. “
Someone
will have to take on leadership of the society,” she said.
    Philip Syndal looked sharply at her. “Yes, well. We’ll come to that later.” He turned his gaze to the rest of the table. “Norman set up the society to be greater than any of us. He created a beacon of hope in this world, and the next. We are a meeting point for clairvoyants, clairaudients, channellers, psychics and any persons with an ability that extends beyond the everyday, into the supernatural. Of course, it’s very important who our next leader is, and there will be elections in due course. But as treasurer of the society, I will take on temporary leadership for now.”
    “When will the elections be?” asked Andrea.
    Irritation flashed across Philip’s face, but it was quickly smoothed into a smile. “It may take a few weeks, Andrea. I have to write to our more far-flung members.”
    “I hope it’s not too long,” she muttered. “As I said, I have felt Norman’s presence, I am sure he is calling me.”
    “Well I’ve felt him too!” snapped the posh, elderly woman.
    “And me,” said the man Isis couldn’t see.
    Philip Syndal picked up his papers, shuffling the top two sheets. “I’m sure Norman visits us all,” he said. “Perhaps in our meditation today, we will hear him speak.”
    “I would be utterly amazed if they did,” said a voice next to Isis, inside the wall. She gasped, letting go of Angel’s hand and falling back into the hallway. Her stomach lurched at the sudden change, and she pressed her hand over her shut-tight mouth, holding back a retch.
    Angel tumbled out of the wall after her.
    “Isis poorly?” she asked, looking worried.
    “I let go too quick,” Isis whispered.
    Part of the blue painted plaster of the wall dissolved into the powdery shape of a tall, thin man. A body pulled itself out, then a head, leaving the paint unmarked andperfect. It was the ghost from the park and the seance. Mandeville.
    He nodded his head in greeting. Angel squeaked and huddled up to Isis.
    “Very good to see you again,” he said.
    Isis swallowed and shivered, her stomach slowly untwisting.
    “I must say,” Mandeville continued, “your channelling powers are unique. You are a true adept.”
    “What are you doing here?” hissed Isis. “Are you waiting for a seance?”
    “In there?” Mandeville laughed, dusty fibres coughing out of his mouth. “Those fantasists