Free Banquet for the Damned by Adam Nevill

down, will take the world off your shoulders. Clean off, honey, where it hadn't ought to be.'
She reclines on the couch and sinks into the cushions and throwrug. She dabs at her eyes with a white tissue she has kept tucked up her sleeve. Hart stretches his arm across to the tape recorder and indents the RECORD button as quietly as possible. 'This is Doctor Hart Miller on August 25 at 11:00 a.m., speaking with Kerry Sewell, a fourth-year student on the Art History honours degree programme, at St Andrews University. Kerry, I would like to ask you a few frank questions about your general wellbeing and state of health.'
'OK.'
'Are you taking any medication, or have you been over the course of your troubled sleep?'
'No. Wait a minute. Yes. Some hay-fever tablets. And I had a really bad flu. Like a forty-eight-hour thing. I took antibiotics.'
'Have you suffered unduly from stress or depression?'
'I'm not depressed, but I have been working hard. I had final exams and still have my thesis to finish.'
'So you often work late?'
'I would say so.'
'How much do you drink a week, on average, in terms of units of alcohol?'
'Umm, I don't know. Wine sometimes with a meal, or in the evening, and at the weekend I go out with friends, but I rarely get drunk.'
'OK. Is there a family history of mental illness? Schizophrenia, to be precise?'
'No. Grandma's a bit scatty, but she is nearly eighty.'
'Right. Have you ever had any psychological problems?'
Kerry looks away.
'Kerry, I am not asking for specific details, but generally have –'
'I saw a psychiatrist during my A-Levels.'
'A-Levels? What are those?'
'Exams you take before university.'
'Oh, right. So you needed counselling for something?'
'Yes. I had a few problems in my teens. Nothing major.'
'That's all right, honey, I –'
'Sorry, but it was very painful. Can we talk about the dreams now?'
'Sure, sure. I was just establishing a bit of background.'
'And you think I'm a nut already, because I saw a psychiatrist?' Her words come quickly and her face hardens with annoyance.
Still smiling and keeping his voice steady, Hart says, 'Kerry, there is no taboo in counselling. I think everybody should have an analyst. I spent most of my youth on a couch talking about my mother to some dude in a check jacket and brogues.'
Anger changes to relief, and her face softens with a smile. 'I'm sorry . . . for snapping. But everything is difficult for me at the moment. I'm not sleeping and I think I should leave St Andrews.'
'Kerry, I hear you, but I think you should start at the beginning. You mentioned your nightmares on the phone. Just give me what you can remember about when and how they began.'
She folds her arms across her chest, as if for warmth, clasping the top of each arm with a hand. 'It started about two months ago, when a student called Ben Carter killed himself. At first I thought it was a reaction, like delayed shock. I didn't know him that well, but when someone your own age dies, it's terrible. You just don't expect things like that to happen.'
Hart nods his head. 'It was awful. Did you and Ben take the same courses?'
'No. Ben and I were part of a group. I knew him from there.'
'What kind of group?'
'Umm, a paranormal society, run by a lecturer in the divinity department. Eliot Coldwell. Lots of people went, but it was all quite harmless.'
Hart frowns.
'Most of the people there went out of curiosity. Mr Coldwell has quite a reputation for being weird. Bit of a giggle, really. That's why my friend Maria and I went along.'
'So this lecturer, what did he do?'
'Oh, gave talks and things. Like the stuff you see on those Arthur C Clarke's Mysterious World programmes. I heard he conducted experiments with some people who thought they were psychic as well. But I dropped out early. I had too much work to do.'
Hart squints and tries to remember where he's heard the name before. 'Eliot Coldwell. The name rings a bell.'
'He wrote a book. Some of the boys in the group kept asking questions about it. Because