Bert flinched, expecting a slap for suggesting such a thing, but all he found were the whites of his mother’s eyes, searching his face for signs of hope. ‘No joke, mum, I swear. He spoke to me just today.’ Bert bit his lip, choosing his words carefully. ‘A girl in school was mean to me and he was angry about it.’

Grace stiffened as her cold fingers dug into his shoulder. ‘Callum never got angry.’

‘He always stuck up for me, mum, you know that.’

Mother considered it. Her head should have told her it couldn’t be true, but her heart, raw and aching, won out. ‘I’ve heard about things like this, when twins have a telepathic bond. Can you hear him now?’

Bert screwed up his face. He needed to think this one over. ‘Not right now, but he’s always there, I can feel him, inside me.’ He shook the earth from his fingers and pointed to his chest. It was a half truth. There was certainly something in there.

Mother blurted out a convulsive sob, so sudden that it made him jerk back, for fear he had gone too far. Letting go of his shoulders, she wiped her eyes then pulled him to her, wrapping her arms so tightly around him he could barely breathe. The smell of coconut shampoo arose from her wavy blonde hair, and he closed his eyes as he breathed in the precious moment.

‘Callum,’ she whispered, ‘Callum, if you can hear me, daddy and I love you so much.’

Bert closed his eyes and pretended she was talking to him. His mother’s body shuddered and she released her grip, swallowing back her tears and fixing the loose strands of hair that were taken by the light breeze. ‘Bert, if you ever get a message then you’ve got to tell me, but say nothing to your father, OK?’

Message? Bert thought. The only messages he got were from the voice in his head telling him to hurt people. Mother sighed as she spotted the rose petals scattered on the ground. Her attempts at growing flowers around the ill-fated oak tree had failed as the pansies and daffodils withered and died. Bert allowed himself a secret smile. He could have told her – nothing would grow in soil soaked in blood.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Bert sucked what was left of his roll-up cigarette. Taking his mother’s car was a wise move. The police were bound to be looking for him now, and they had all sorts of gadgets to check number plates and such. He used to watch a lot of police programmes on the television. His mother didn’t allow a television in the house. He shrugged. It didn’t matter where he watched it. The past did not matter to him any more. When he was well, everything would slot together like pieces of a puzzle. He would be himself again, and the clouds would clear to bring days filled with hope and lucidity. He had enjoyed watching Jennifer leave work, stopping to talk to the ragged old man. Mother’s binoculars were proving quite useful. He had cracked a smile as a lone raven swooped over their heads, stopping to perch in the spindly tree overlooking the bench. They were part of him, the ravens. They were as capable of carrying his presence as much as if he walked up behind her and whispered in her ear.

He watched as Jennifer glanced up at the raven overhead and brought her hand to the back of her neck, caressing the skin before shooing the raven away. But the bird stared fixedly at them both, and as her hand returned to scratch her neck once more, he allowed a smugness to wash over him. This would be easier than he thought. But all in good time. He was enjoying playing with her too much to cut it short now.

That evening he drove back to the forest where he abandoned his van. It was quite safe there because nobody ventured far into Raven’s woods any more. Turning on the radio, he began to warble as he drove down the bumpy unused track. His mother’s rosary beads swung back and forth from the mirror as he did so, and he forgot all his worries as he filled his thoughts with future plans.

It wasn’t until he drove over the narrow bridge that he noticed somebody poking around in his mind. The thoughts felt icy cold, frozen sparks shooting through his brain. He did not appreciate their attempts to see through his eyes. He knew exactly who it was. Bert stopped singing and clenched his teeth at the audacity. He scratched behind his ear. Who did she think she was, nothing but a girl poking around in his private thoughts? Worse still, she was trying to catch him off guard when he was driving. He ground his teeth. He instructed her, not the other way around. An angry itch spread over his raised skin like a coat of wasps and he dug his nails into his right arm. He would give her something to worry about. She was not playing fair, using her power to catch an old man off guard. He drew back his lips at the prospect of the pain he was going to make her endure, blocking her probing with his favourite poem. While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, as of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door, his voice whispered in the darkness.

‘Who are you?’ Jennifer whispered.

Bert laughed at the audacity. You come knocking on my door and you ask me who I am?

‘You have made yourself known to me prior to this, so I would argue it is you knocking on my door,’ the self-assured response came forth.

Bert’s cracked lips twitched in a smile. Perhaps she was more of a challenge than he thought. He liked that. He granted her an answer. Why I’m Raven of course.

‘Did you kill Emily?’

Maybe, maybe not. A faint echo of laughter.

‘What do you want, Raven? Tell me, perhaps I can help …’

You’ll find out soon enough. But do not come to me uninvited again …

But Jennifer probed further, reaching out for clues.

Bert climbed out of his van in his secret place in the forest, gathering every ounce of energy to deliver his warning. Dropping to his knees, he dug his bony fingers into the soft soil of the earth, summoning the eager darkness. The trees echoed with flapping wings, working with the clouds to blot out the dying sun. The air filled with cries of abandon. Bert took a deep breath and held it. GET OUT little pig! I said, GET OUT! he screamed internally, the shockwaves sending the unwanted intruder back to reality. Spent, Bert leaned against a tree as he sat, the birds coming to nest all around him. He took what he could from the land to replenish his energy. Jennifer Knight was drawing near. He touched the cards in his jacket pocket. It was time for another prediction.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Her brief contact with the Raven left Jennifer uneasy in her skin. Despite the wine, she could still taste the tobacco in his mouth and feel the dull throb of the veins in his temple. Parting the curtains in Will’s flat, she peered out to the grey-blue slate rooftops of the houses across the road. A couple walked down the deserted street, arms interlinked as their footsteps echoed through the night. A blast of cold night air sliced through the gap in the window, and Jennifer strained to listen for the flap of black feathered wings. Thoughts loomed cold and dark as goose bumps rose on her skin. What if they were waiting for her at home? she thought, sitting on the rooftops and chimney pot as she pushed the key into the door. What then? She rubbed her arms. Ravens didn’t usually come out at night but she was living in a world where anything could happen. Speaking seductively to the murderous man had made her flesh crawl, and she could not bear the thought of sleeping alone. The ten o’clock news rang out on the television. Will shook the half-empty bottle of wine and placed it back on the table. ‘You’re not in a hurry to go, are you?’