Sit down, someone said, but it wasn’t a voice, really, it was more like a thought that came from outside his head. He sat at a place near the edge of the cluster of tables and waited.

The ghosts arrived slowly, picking their way along the silk paths with unsure steps. They crowded around the tables, translucent, dressed in their grave clothes, winding sheets, their Sunday best. The air became dense with ghosts. More than one hundred and sixty-nine thousand people were buried in this cemetery. Robert wondered if all of them could fit around the tables. The ghosts shivered in the morning light. They look like jellyfish. There was a ripple of dissatisfaction: the ghosts were hungry; there was no food. He thought he saw Elizabeth Siddal and began to stand up with a thought of going to speak to her, but a hand on his shoulder kept him in his chair.

There were immense numbers of ghosts now. The tables had multiplied as well. A voice, well-known, long wished-for, spoke just behind him. “Robert,” said Elspeth, “what are you doing here?”

“I’m not sure. Looking for you?” He tried to turn, but again he was restrained.

“No-don’t. I don’t want-not here.” She was pressed close to him. He felt uneasy, confined. Suddenly he had the sense that something horrible, monstrous, was standing behind him, pressing its disgusting hands on him.

He shouted out her name, so loudly that he woke the twins in their bedroom; so loudly that Elspeth herself lay on the floor above his bed for hours in the slowly increasing grey light, waiting to hear him call her again.

THE PHONE rang. Edie stretched out her hand and brought it to her ear, but did not immediately say anything. She was curled on her side, in bed; it was almost nine in the morning. Jack was at work.

“Mom?”

Edie sat up. She smoothed back her hair with her fingers as though Valentina could see her. “Hello?” She sounded as though she had been awake for hours. “Valentina?”

“Hi.”

“Are you all right? Where’s Julia?”

“She’s upstairs. Hanging out with Martin.”

Edie felt the adrenaline subside. She’s fine. They’re both fine. “We missed talking to you on Sunday. Where were you?”

“Oh…I’m sorry. We just…lost track of the days, you know?”

“Oh,” said Edie. She felt a pang of neglect. “So, what’s up?”

“Nothing…I just felt like calling you.”

“Mmm, you’re sweet. So what’s going on?”

“Not much. It’s kind of rainy and chilly here.”

“You sound a little down,” Edie said.

“Oh…I dunno. I’m fine.” Valentina was sitting in the back garden, shivering in the drizzle. She hadn’t wanted Elspeth listening in on this conversation, but it was suddenly awfully cold for June and she had to make an effort to keep her teeth from chattering. “What’s up with you and Dad?”

“The usual. Dad just got a promotion, so we were out last night celebrating.” Edie could hear birds through the phone. “Where are you?”

“In the backyard.”

“Oh. Have you and Julia been anywhere fun lately?”

“Julia’s got almost the whole city memorised now. She can walk around without the map.”

“That’s impressive…” Edie thought, There’s stuff she’s not telling me. But then she thought that was inevitable: They move away and soon you have no idea. They make their own world and you don’t belong any more. Valentina was asking a question about a dress she was trying to make; Edie told her to email the sketch and then remembered that the twins had no scanner.

“Yeah, oh well. Never mind,” said Valentina. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Edie said. She just sounds strange.

“Yeah. I’ve got to go now, Mom. I love you.” If I stay on the phone I’ll cry.

“Okay, sweetie. I love you too.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

Valentina dialled her dad’s work number and got his voicemail. I’ll call later, she thought, and didn’t leave a message.

IT WAS almost dawn. Jessica stood at the window in the cemetery’s Archives Room, looking out over the courtyard at the Colonnade. The room was dark. She had lain awake most of the night worrying over the letter she had written to one of the cemetery’s vice presidents. Finally she had left a note for James and walked down here to put it right, but even though her head was crowded with the phrases that would convince the vice president of the logic of her request, she had not been able to sort out the tangle of her argument. Jessica leaned against the window sill, her hands clasped together in front of her and her elbows jutting at right angles. The trees and graves above the Colonnade were dark and hazy in the indeterminate light. The courtyard reminded her of an empty stage. So much work, she thought. No one realises how we worked. Every sett in that courtyard laid by hand-

Suddenly the courtyard was filled with light. Foxes, she thought and swept her eyes left and right, to see them. They’ve set off the motion detectors. But then a man walked across the courtyard. He didn’t seem fussed by the lights, didn’t hurry or change his course. Jessica craned her head forward, trying to see him better. It was Robert.

Damn the boy. I’ve told him not to use that door! Jessica rapped on the window as hard as she could, not minding the pain of arthritic joints on cold glass-she was angry enough not to notice; later she would wonder why her hand was swollen and throbbing. Robert continued walking, unheeding. Jessica grabbed her keys and torch and got herself down the stairs and through the office, into the courtyard. She stood not quite under the chapel archway and shouted his name.

Robert stopped. I’m for it now. Jessica walked quickly towards him. He thought, She’ll fall, walking so fast. She had forgotten to switch on her torch and carried it as though she had brought it along as a weapon rather than a source of light. He roused himself and walked to her to shorten the distance between them. They met by the Colonnade steps, as if choreographed. Jessica paused to catch her breath. Robert waited.

“What on earth do you think you are doing?” she finally said. “You know better. We’ve discussed this, and yet here you are- flagrantly strutting about at the crack of dawn in the cemetery- where you have absolutely no right to be! I trusted you, Robert, and you have let me down.” She stood hatless and fuming, glaring up at him, her hair spiky; she was wearing her gardening clothes. Robert was startled to see the glint of a tear on her cheek. It undid him.

“We have rules! The rules are there for legal and safety reasons!” Jessica was yelling now. “Just because you have a key does not entitle you to come in at night! You might be attacked by intruders, or fall into a hole. You might trip on a root and concuss yourself-you don’t even have a radio! Anything could happen: a monument might fall on you, anything-think what the insurers would do to our rates-the publicity if you got yourself injured, or killed! You’re just bloody selfish, Robert!”

They stared at each other. Robert said gently, “Can we go into the office to talk? You’re going to wake the dead.”

Jessica lost whatever control she had had over her temper. Why can’t he take it seriously? I’ll make him see it’s no joke! “No! We are not going into the office to talk! I am going to have your key, please”-she held out her hand, in which she already held her own keys-“and you are going out the front gate.” Robert didn’t move. “Now!”