over Evi’s head and disappeared into ever-thickening cloud. The ruined walls of the old abbey stood out sharply against the brief flash of light. They looked strangely empty without the bone men, although one of them seemed to have been left behind.
Harry dropped his eyes to look directly at Evi. ‘I bumped into Gillian today,’ he said.
As predicted, Evi’s face stiffened. She opened her mouth and he held up one hand to stop her. ‘I know you’re not allowed to talk about her,’ he said, ‘but there’s nothing to stop me from doing it, so just listen.’
Yes, there was definitely still one of the bone men left in the ruin, he could see a figure in the window of the tower. He had to concentrate, this was important. He made himself look down at Evi, not too difficult really. ‘She was in the grounds of her old house, close to hysterical,’ he said. ‘Clutching one of her daughter’s toys. I had to drive her home, but she was barely functioning. Her mother arrived after a few minutes, which was—’
‘Her mother?’
‘Yes. I only met her today. She was quite happy to take over, so I left. But the thing is, we all thought Gillian was getting better. People say she’s improved enormously over the last few weeks, pretty much since she’s been seeing you, but today I was worried. She talks about her daughter in a way that doesn’t seem normal. She said the girl was haunting her. She wanted me to carry out an exorcism.’
Evi was looking at the bench. He couldn’t see her eyes. Another firework hit the sky. He’d been mistaken about the figure. The tower window was empty.
‘I just thought you should know,’ he said.
‘Thank you,’ said Evi, to the bench.
Harry took a deep breath. ‘And also,’ he said, ‘I hope it goes without saying that even if she weren’t seriously emotionally damaged and obviously in need of ongoing professional help, that never in a million years would I even consider … do I really need to say it?’
‘No,’ whispered Evi.
‘Thank you.’
‘But …’ She looked up.
‘Why is there always a but?’ asked Harry, wondering if holding hands might count as unprofessional.
‘Let’s just say, hypothetically, that I could see a potential conflict of interest in my treatment of a patient,’ said Evi. ‘The correct procedure would be to find a colleague suitable to take over the case. But that can’t always happen instantly. And the wishes of the patient have to be taken into account. They may not want to be referred. And as long as someone remains my patient, his or her interests have to remain my priority.’
‘Understood.’ Harry stood up and held out his hand to Evi. She took it, rose to her feet and then took his arm again. They crossed the now empty street and turned into Wite Lane.
The bone men were in a circle around the bonfire, being held upright by people who were dressed in black with black paint on their faces. ‘It’s just face paint,’ Tom’s mum kept saying to no one in particular. ‘Look, that’s Mr Marsden from the paper shop.’ Tom knew his mother meant well but she was wasting her breath. He knew they were people dressed in black. But when they kept to the shadows they could hardly be seen at all. As they’d walked past the family just minutes earlier, it had almost looked as if the bone men were moving by themselves. Now they were standing around the fire, bone men at the front, shadow men standing behind them. Then, forming another circle some distance back were people from the town. Tom and his family had stayed behind in the lane. Joe was still on his dad’s shoulders and Tom was on the wall, just behind his mum, who was starting to mutter about how long the rain was going to hold off. He could see easily over the heads of the crowd to the circle of bone men and the fire in the middle. It really was the coolest thing he’d ever seen.
It was hard, taking his eyes away even for a second, but he had to keep looking round. She was here somewhere, he knew it. She wouldn’t miss this.
As Harry and Evi crossed the street a bicycle ridden by a boy dressed all in black and with a black face came speeding past them. Sparklers blazed from the handlebars. He glared at Harry, before speeding away down the hill.
‘Friend of yours?’ asked