The Ghost Hunters

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lost it on the tour.’
    ‘Then we must search for it,’ I insisted. She loved that bracelet. It had belonged to my grandmother.
    ‘No, no,’ said Mother, giving another flustered glance to the man who was coming our way. ‘We must leave. Now, please.’

– 5 –
PIERCING THE VEIL
    It had been almost a week since I met Harry Price. His job offer had hijacked my thoughts.
    ‘Sarah, you’re not going to say yes – are you?’
    ‘I’m thinking about it.’
    I was strolling past the statue of Peter Pan in Hyde Park with my best friend Amy, whom I had known since we met as girls in Sunday School. I wanted to enjoy the splendour of that crisp afternoon, but my mind wouldn’t allow it. Images of Harry Price – cool gaze, mechanic’s hands – raced through my head.
    ‘Well, stop thinking about it!’ Amy insisted. Her yellow hair fell forward as she turned her soft round face towards me. She had bright, adventurous eyes and a lightness of spirit that never failed to relax me. ‘Anyway, there are more exciting matters to attend to now, and I’m not going to manage without your full attention.’ She meant her wedding, which was to take place the following year – 1927. All afternoon we had traipsed the streets of Mayfair to find a suitable printer for her wedding invitations, but I didn’t mind. Although I adored Amy, our shopping tripsdid sometimes feel like entering a competition I couldn’t win. Her family was incredibly wealthy.
    ‘The wage will be handsome. Perhaps I should say yes.’
    Amy looked at me with something close to shock. ‘Have you lost your senses? Working for someone so divisive – a spook-ologist?’ She laughed at the phrase. ‘You’ll be about as fashionable as a horse and buggy!’
    She was being sarcastic. Most of our friends would prefer a motor car as a mode of transport if they could afford one. Amy obviously could.
    She asked me another question.
    ‘Do you really want to work in a place like that?’ Her tone and the expression on her face told me she didn’t think this was a good idea. I, however, thought it might be exciting to meet new and interesting people, whatever their class. I imagined myself greeting these men of the scientific age, working alongside them. This was my chance for a proper career, more fulfilling than modelling, a chance to develop myself. What good was an education if I couldn’t put it to some use?
    ‘It is a worthy position,’ I said.
    ‘Don’t you think office jobs are generally more suited to the man of the house?’
    But this wasn’t ‘just an office job’, was it? And I wondered how to explain to a dear friend who would never need to work, a girl whose biggest concern was her wedding seating plans, that I already felt like ‘the man of the house’.
    ‘What was he like anyway – Harry Price?’
    ‘Intense,’ I said, remembering the way his gaze had held mine, how he had made me feel as though I was the most important person in the world. ‘And his passion was … electric.’ I pondered the matter. ‘I suppose I believe in what he stands for – justice, truth.’
    ‘Oh Sarah, he’s obviously a crank. Keep your distance. You’ve a family name to uphold. And you need to consider how a job like this will reflect on you, too.’
    I saw she had a point. I could get a respectable job – take a position in a children’s charity perhaps, or with the Women’s Institute. Mother would like that. Or apply to one of the new film companies that were establishing offices in Soho. I had an eye for visual representation. The photographers in Paris had said so.
    ‘Here’s an idea, Sarah!’ said Amy suddenly. ‘Come out with me tomorrow night. There’s a party at the Café de Paris. Jazz and men and cocktails!’
    ‘I’d love that!’ I exclaimed. Then with sudden disappointment I remembered that Mother had asked me to accompany her to a dinner party hosted by one of the neighbours.
    ‘How is Frances?’ asked Amy.
    ‘Not

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