Free An English Ghost Story by Kim Newman Page A

invited me to the Hollow. It is sacred turf to us, of course. The Avalon of Teazle.’
    Kirsty didn’t know how to take that. She ought be made uncomfortable by this odd fellow, but was at her ease. He was reverent of the Hollow. She should extend him a welcome.
    ‘We were wondering whether you would be averse to opening your home to a select number of us, on a strictly limited basis of course. We would not want to invade or swamp you. We should winnow out the applicants. Only the most presentable would pass. The Society is not without funds. We would, of course, reimburse you any expenses, and indeed be prepared to pay a fee for the privilege of access. I am empowered to gift you with quite a substantial figure. To help with the restoration. We could also provide advice. Some of us have made a deep study of Teazle. We know where everything goes, you see. We know how things should be.’
    ‘I don’t follow you.’
    ‘This table and these four chairs, for instance. You have them at the wrong end of the Puzzle Patio.’
    The Puzzle Patio was in
Weezie and the Hopscotch Hobgoblin
. It was also, Kirsty realised, this crazy-paved stretch outside the French windows.
    ‘They should be over by the tower, near the kitchen door. So Katie the Cook can hand Weezie apple juice through the sink window. More importantly so, when she stands on a chair, she can see through the tree telescope and over the moor to the standing stones.’
    ‘I’m not sure the stones are real. I think Louise made them up. She was probably thinking of Glastonbury Tor. We can see that from the picture window.’
    Bernard seemed saddened by Kirsty’s lack of trust in Teazle. He put down his tea and stood, then tugged Kirsty across the lawn towards the kitchen door. She did not resist.
    He turned her round and pointed, between the trees, putting a hand on the small of her back to encourage her to stand on tiptoes. She became as tall as a child standing on a chair.
    ‘The branches of that tree make a fork, a sight-line. The tree telescope. See the mump with the stones.’
    ‘You’re right.’
    Kirsty felt light, as if she might drift upwards. From just this spot, looking through a tunnel-like curl of branches, she saw, miles off across the moor, a hillock with five upright stones around an altar-piece.
    She leaned to one side and tried to look around the tree. Another tree was in the way. She leaned to the other and the side of the barn cut off the view. She walked out on the lawn, past the tower, almost to the ditch. The land sloped slightly and a far-off copse blocked view of the stones.
    It was remarkable.
    ‘Here is where the table should be,’ said Bernard.
    She went back to the patio and found herself agreeing with him.
    ‘The full resources of the Society are available, Mrs Naremore – Kirsty, may I call you? We feel you have been chosen by Dame Fortune to be custodians of this place that is so special to us all. We owe you our support, our help, our labour.’
    He kissed her on both cheeks and left.
    If she didn’t hear the cough of his car leaving the drive or see his empty cup on that wrongly placed table, she wouldn’t have been surprised to learn he had never been there.
    By now, she knew a ghost when she saw – or sensed – one.
    * * *
    O n the long table in the Summer Room, Mum had laid out an array of oddments she had found in the storerooms. Jordan supposed the stuff ought to be called Teazleiana. Mum had brought the collection out to show her visitor. Colouring books and diaries, cuddly Weezie dolls, a spinning top with Weezie’s ghost friends painted on it, Weezie and Drearcliff Grange jigsaws, a Gloomy Ghost money-box, Drearcliff badges and boaters, a Weezie whistle. The playthings of her grandparents’ generation. No game cartridges, action figures, boxer shorts, videos, pogs, graphic novels, collectible cards, temporary tattoos.
    She picked up a stereoscope, a device like a set of plastic binoculars with a slot for a