Free The Prayer of the Night Shepherd by Phil Rickman Page B

although it probably had the best rooms – had been set aside by the Foleys as staff quarters.
    The problem was, it had been dragged into the 1960s or 1970s and left there. The walls were lined with woodchip, probably to hide the damp, and it was dim and dusty, a languid light drifting from a tall, narrow window at the bottom of the passage. This area of the house needed a lot of money spending on it. Money they probably thought they’d have to spare, but now it had gone, on the basics: keeping the damp out and the heat in. Or trying to.
    The first room, convenient for the stairs, was Ben and Amber’s own. What must it have been like when they first arrived here, and they were the only people sleeping in this huge house? This was Mum’s problem with Ledwardine Vicarage magnified about four times. A lot of the time, even now, Ben and Amber would be alone here during the week. Most of the part-time staff – cleaners and waiters – came in daily during the summer, or when there were guests.
    ‘Jane!’ The fire doors clicking together. It was Ben. ‘Forgot to give you the key.’
    He strode ahead of her down the passage, near to the end, unlocking the last door on the right. Actually, she was quite glad to have him here with her. Stupid, huh?
    Inside the door, there were steps up into the actual tower, and then another door. When Jane had first started work here, she’d been flattered and excited to be given the room under the witch’s-hat tower. OK, it was big, cold, needed redecorating, but it was, like, you know... the room under the witch’s-hat tower .
    Ben put on the light. The room had gloomy maroon flock wallpaper, pretty old, and less than half as much furniture as a space this size needed to look vaguely comfortable – the three-quarter divan, the wooden stool serving as a bedside table, the mahogany wardrobe with the cracked mirror.
    The aim, apparently, was to create an en-suite bathroom at one end, and this was actually essential before you could legitimately charge anyone for spending a night here and experiencing those incredible views across Hergest Ridge into Wales.
    With the light on, all you could see through the triple windows now was a thin slash of electric mauve low in the sky, like the light under a door. Ben stood in the middle of the room, rubbing his hands.
    ‘Couldn’t take it, then, Jane?’
    ‘Sorry?’
    ‘You wanted out.’
    ‘Well, you know... look at it. It’s like sleeping in... in somewhere too big.’
    ‘That’s all?’
    ‘All?’
    ‘No other reason?’
    ‘Should there be?’ Sod this; she was giving nothing away – she was going to make him say it.
    Ben leaned over his folded arms, rocking slightly. ‘So you had a perfectly untroubled night’s sleep.’
    ‘Don’t people usually?’
    ‘One of the builders – when we were having the partition wall taken down, between the hall and lobby – he stayed in here, and he didn’t want to spend a second night.’
    ‘Oh?’
    ‘He thought it was haunted.’
    ‘What happened?’
    ‘Oh... noises, he reckoned. Breathing. And he said he thought he saw a woman’s shape outlined against the window. Next morning, he was not a happy man. Said he thought we’d set him up.’
    Jane struggled to bring up a smile. ‘Did you set me up?’
    ‘I thought... well, you’re quite interested in this sort of thing, aren’t you? Weird stuff.’
    ‘So-so. Ghosts are a bit... I mean, they’re usually just imprints, aren’t they? Emotional responses trapped in the atmosphere. Nothing to worry about.’ She was furious – the bastard . ‘I mean, I wish you’d told me...’
    ‘You’d have been expecting something then. Pointless exercise. So you wouldn’t mind moving back sometime, if necessary?’
    ‘Look, Ben, I wouldn’t mind spending a night in a sleeping bag on a station platform, but I’d rather have an ordinary-sized room, thanks.’
    Ben grinned. ‘Ah, Jane.’
    ‘What?’
    ‘I should’ve realized the most important