Free Time's Legacy by Barbara Erskine

voices. Superstition. And now ghosts! She had seen the ghosts in here, in this church! He shuddered. He turned round, forcing himself to stay calm. They had gone. No, they had never been here. After all, he had seen nothing. Not really. It was all imagination. It always had been, since he was a child. A residue of nightmares. In a dark old building it was easy to think one had seen things. Nothing but shadows, that was all. His hands were beginning to sweat. He rubbed his face and winced. The bruise where she had hit him hurt. His tooth still felt wobbly. For a while this morning he had thought it was going to fall out. But he shouldn’t have slapped her. That was unforgivable. He had lost his temper and that was not acceptable behaviour. He had prayed for hours last night, trying to see a way through the mess, pleading with God to make her see sense. To make her understand how much he needed her.
    The obvious answer of course was that she needed him as much as he needed her. If he could give her the strength to overcome her weaknesses, show her the true path then she would be in a position to help him. Or would she? Would she always be a danger, a threat to his sanity? He had a sudden picture of her clear passionate eyes, her wild hair and he felt another clammy frisson of fear.
    There was a sound behind him, a creak from the choir stalls which they had left in place for now. He turned round quickly, listening. Nothing. Then, suddenly, a small rattle as though someone had dropped a coin. He shivered nervously, forcing himself to stand still, trying to pull himself together. Flakes of plaster probably fell now and then from loose patches in the vaulted roof. All their banging and crashing earlier in the day would have shaken the structure a bit. He found himself turning round again, acutely aware of the emptiness around him. It had been fun in here earlier, with the others here. There had been a constant stream of banter and easy conversation and laughter. A couple of people had brought thermoses of coffee. He had forgotten it was a church for a while. It was just a job to be done; a space to be cleared, a re-allocation of resources. When the others had gone he had stayed behind to turn off the lights. Check everything was all right. Lock up. Abi hadn’t come to help of course, but he had hardly expected her to do that after last night. He frowned. He still didn’t understand why she had reacted the way she had when he had kissed her. Women usually found him attractive. He had thought she found him attractive. She always seemed to like his company. Or she had until recently. He sighed and shook his head. He was offering her an awful lot. A home, a future, support. And she needed no end of support, he saw that now.
    Another creak from the stalls made him swing round, straining his eyes into the shadows. ‘Hello? Is there anyone there?’ He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. ‘Come on out.’ Even in full sunlight this was a dark church but he could see there was no-one there. Nowhere to hide.
    ‘Come on! Time to go. I’m about to lock up.’
    The silence was almost tangible.
    Behind him a light flickered. He swung round to face the altar and gasped. There were two candlesticks on it now, two candles, lit, a lace cloth, a cross. His mouth dry with terror he stared for a long moment, not daring to breathe. Raising his hand at last he reached out and at once the candles vanished. ‘Our Father who art in Heaven,’ he whispered. This was Abi’s doing. She hadn’t wanted them to touch this place. He backed away towards the door. ‘Hallowed be thy name.’ It was her. She had brought evil here with her. That was why she didn’t want him to touch her. That was why she had panicked when he had reached out for her.
    There was only one word for what was happening here. Witchcraft.
    David Paxman looked at Abi quizzically. ‘I gather you almost knocked out one of his teeth, Abi. That must have been some