The Ghost Hunters by Neil Spring

self-consciously towards his desk and the pile of papers and unopened letters on top of it.
    Letters.
    The sight of them grounded a lightning flash of memory to a miserable night in early 1914: my father as I had never seen him before, crying as he crouched furtively in the darkness next to his bed. He was holding something I couldn’t see.
    What was it?
    ‘Miss Grey?’
    I snapped back and saw that Price was smiling at me. Therapidity with which his mood had softened was astonishing.
    ‘The position will be well paid, of course.’
    ‘I’m … hardly an expert in these matters,’ I protested, struggling to find my words.
    ‘You can learn, can’t you? I need an astute assistant.’
    ‘But you already have an assistant.’
    ‘Why don’t you let me worry about him?’ Price cut in, his eyes never leaving my face. ‘My, I sense in you so much doubt.’ He nodded and said with a confidence that made my neck tingle, ‘I can make that doubt go away.’
    I didn’t know how to respond, so instead I asked him what the role would entail.
    ‘That’s the best part,’ he breathed. ‘In this line of work, one never quite knows …’
    For a moment I felt as though all the air had been sucked out of the room, taking all rational sense with it. Of course I was tempted, yet a large part of me was floundering for an excuse to say no.
    ‘Can you drive?’ he asked hopefully.
    ‘I have no intention of becoming your chauffeur!’ I said sternly, and from the way he cowered immediately behind outstretched arms, smiling broadly, I could tell he was only half serious. ‘Anyway,’ I added, ‘if it’s a secretary you want, I don’t do shorthand.’
    ‘I don’t want shorthand. Can you type?’
    It so happened that I could type, rather well in fact, and I told him so. During the school holidays my father had occasionally taken me with him to his chambers on Fleet Street and instructed some of his lovely secretaries to sit with me and teach me.
    ‘Very well, then it’s settled!’ he said confidently.
    ‘But Mr Price – you know nothing about me!’
    ‘No.’
    ‘I could be anyone.’
    ‘Yes.’ His hand brushed mine. ‘But are you the sort of woman who likes to take risks?’
    What was I doing? This peculiar stranger, this loner, was asking me to follow him into something I knew nothing about. And what about Mother? Now she knew Price was a sceptic, she would hate the idea of me working for him, surely?
    ‘I need to go,’ I said abruptly, stepping back from the heat of his gaze.
    He took a slight step towards me and immediately I felt a warmth rising in my throat and an uncomfortable feeling of self-consciousness came upon me. I glanced at his left hand. No wedding ring.
    ‘Leaving? So soon?’ He looked so surprised that I had an immediate impression that ‘no’ wasn’t a word he often heard. ‘But you didn’t say what you thought of my lecture.’
    ‘That’s because you interrupted me!’
    He gave me a smile which seemed to say ‘touché’ before looking away thoughtfully. ‘Perhaps just as well,’ he sighed. ‘I require total loyalty from anyone who works with me.’ His stern eyes flicked back up at me. ‘Total and unconditional loyalty, Miss Grey.’
    I was about to tell him that I was not the sort of woman who takes orders blindly, when Mr Radley burst into the room.
    ‘Mr Price, here you are! It’s time, I’m afraid. Our guests are leaving. You really should be thanking them for coming.’
    In the corridor behind him, a swell of other visitors was advancing towards the sweeping stairwell. ‘Excuse me,’ I said politely, stepping out of the room, ‘but I must go.’
    Suddenly, out of the throng of guests, my mother appeared atmy side. ‘Sarah, where have you been?’ She sent a furtive glance towards a tall gentleman in a long black coat who was approaching from down the corridor. Then, as she raised her left wrist, I saw that her favourite piece of jewellery was missing. ‘I must have