“Come back?”

  “Back ashore,” Heidi tried to explain. “Listen, I'm not for one moment pretending that I've got all of this figured out. I don't reckon anyone understands very much of it, not even the poor bastards themselves. But I've seen it enough times by now, and other people have told me a few things so I know it's pretty much true. They get to come out for about twenty-four hours. Most people don't notice them. I don't know why, I think you just have to know to be looking. It's kinda sad, if you think about it. Except the smell. I think the smell's pretty hard to miss.”

  “You're lying,” Judy said, shaking her head. “You're making this up. Why are you trying to make me look like an idiot?”

  “I -”

  “I'm trying to find my daughter!” Judy sobbed, stumbling to her feet and taking a step back, almost colliding in the process with a man who was hurrying past. “My daughter's here all alone in the city and she's lost, and she barely has any money, and you're distracting me by trying to tell me ridiculous stories about ghosts.”

  “Distracting you?”

  “I thought you were going to help me!” she shouted, almost breaking down again as tears streamed down her face. “I thought you were going to show me where to find her!”

  “How can I possibly know that?” Heidi asked, standing up and stepping closer to her. “I don't have some kind of tracker fixed to all the homeless people in London!”

  “Why not?”

  “Are you out of your mind?” Heidi asked, staring at her with an increasingly shocked expression on her face. “Lady, it's not like she has to go somewhere and register as soon as she hits London! They don't tag homeless people! Not yet, anyway.” She paused again. “You said something about Paddington, right?”

  “Yes, but -”

  “Then she could have gone anywhere!” Heidi continued, sounding even more exasperated than before. “She might've gone north, although I wouldn't recommend that. North London's not my favourite place. If she went west, she'd be heading toward Shepherd's Bush by now. Again, not what I'd do. She could've gone east and hit the West End, she'd be more or less near where we are right now, but that might be a little scary for a country mouse. So if I had to guess, I'd be thinking she might've gone south. Into Hyde Park.”

  “Is...”

  Judy paused for a few seconds as she tried to make sense of everything she'd just heard.

  “Is that big?” she asked.

  “Hyde Park?”

  “Is it a big place?”

  “Yeah, it's pretty huge. And dark, too. Plenty of places to hide. She might think she can keep her head down for a night while she tries to come up with a better plan.” Holding a hand out, she looked up at the sky. “The rain's holding off a bit, but that won't last. It's gonna come in strong soon.”

  “So you're saying I should go to Hyde Park?” Judy stammered. “Is it safe there?”

  “I'm not giving advice,” Heidi replied, before watching as a limping, rotten figure slowly made its way past. At the same time, Judy took half a step back. “Hey,” she added, “did you notice that?”

  “Notice what?” Judy asked.

  “That dead dude.”

  “Not this again,” Judy sighed. “I don't know how you did all that stuff down by the river, and I definitely can't even begin to imagine why you did it, but I refuse to let myself be distracted for even a moment longer. I -”

  Before she was able to finish, she stepped back again and watched as another of the rotten figures sloped past. She opened her mouth to continue, but instead she could only keep her eyes fixed on the walking corpse as it made its way through the crowd.

  “Interesting,” Heidi said after a moment. “I could tell right from the start that you had an affinity for this stuff, but now it's more than that.” She smiled as Judy turned to her with a confused expression on her face. “You can see them properly now, and I think I know why. I think it's because you let old Bedstead Boris touch you.”

  ***

  “I've met people like you before,” Judy said as she hurried across the road, making for the lights of Trafalgar Square. “Don't think that I haven't, because I have. You think you're so smart, and you think you can make fun of people like me just because we're not so... streetwise and all that stuff. Well, you've got another thing coming!”

  Reaching the steps, she turned and pointed at Heidi.

  “I'm not quite so -”

  Stopping suddenly, she found herself pointing into thin air. Although she was sure that Heidi had indeed followed her along the street and through the underpass and then across the road, now she couldn't see her at all. A man and woman wandered past and glanced at her as if they thought she was quite insane, and she quickly lowered her hand and turned to look toward the gallery on the far side of the square.

  “Hey,” Heidi said.

  “There you are!” Judy sighed, not quite understanding how the highly irritating girl had briefly given her the slip somewhere near Charing Cross – but not really caring, either. Once again she raised a hand and pointed at her. “I get it. You think I'm this frail little creature from the countryside who's lost in big, scary London. And do you know what? On any other night, you'd be right. But you're forgetting one thing.”

  “Oh yeah?” Heidi replied, seemingly amused by this particular outburst. “And what's that?”

  “My daughter's missing,” Judy sneered, stepping closer to her, “and there's nothing I won't do to find her. I would die for Grace, and that's not even an exaggeration. So if you think that I'm in the mood to listen to this load of baloney that's coming from your lips then... then I don't know what else to tell you, because you're clearly out of your depth. You've never been a mother, have you?”

  “What gave it away?” Heidi asked.

  “You don't understand how far I'm willing to go,” Judy insisted. “I would burn this entire city to the ground to save my daughter. With all the people in it, too. So yes, I might be out of my depth here, but I'm going to more than make up for that with sheer determination. And no matter how much you might try to fool me with stupid little parlour tricks, I won't be distracted from my mission. So if you'll excuse me, it's clear that you're not going to be able to help me find Grace, so now I have to go and do that on my own.”

  She paused, waiting for another smart reply from Heidi, but after a few seconds she began to think that she might actually have got through to her.

  “No?” she continued. “Nothing to say? Great, then I'll be on my way. Thanks for your lack of help, and for wasting my time. Maybe you'll be a mother one day, and then you'll finally understand.”

  “I'm not so sure about that,” Heidi replied.

  With that, Judy turned to head back across the square, only to stop and let out a startled gasp as she saw that there were now hundreds upon hundreds of people crowding into the space, and filling the roads too even though traffic was roaring past. The sight was so unbelievable and horrifying that for a few seconds she could only look around with her mouth hanging open while she saw all manner of people – tall and short, thin and fat, young and old – shuffling around in such an immense crowd that she wondered how they could all possibly fit into one space.

  “Yeah, you're really seeing them now alright,” Heidi said finally.

  “What... what are they?” Judy gasped.

  “What do you think they are?” Heidi continued as her smile returned. “You're seeing the ghosts of London. All of them. All at once.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Spotting a couple more drops of blood on the floorboards, Patrick stepped forward and then paused again. He'd been following the spots for a while now, only seeing a few every now and again, but they'd proved to be just regular enough for him to use them as a trail. And now, as he looked along a narrow corridor, he felt on some visceral level that Grace was close again.

  Sometimes he wondered whether he and his daughter were eternally connected by some kind of invisible thread. Whether everything that had happened over the years, everything they'd been through, had somehow linked them forever.

  He waited, but now the silence wasn't telling him that he was wrong. Instead, the silence was now the result of Grace holding her breath, or at least that was how it seemed. All the doubts had left his mind and he felt absolutely certain that she was nearby; so certain, in fact, that he felt himself filling with confidence as he took a step forward while still holding the metal pipe.

  “Grace,” he said calmly, convinced that he could lure her out from whatever hiding spot she might have found, “come on, don't you think that this has gone on for long enough now? I'm your father. You're not really scared of me, are you?”

  He waited, and then he took a few more steps forward. He peered through open doors on either side of the corridor, but he saw only empty rooms. Ahead, meanwhile, another empty door awaited at the corridor's far end.

  “Your mum's not here,” he pointed out. “I don't know where she is, to be honest. Probably wandering around London like a lost little puppy. Anyway, she doesn't matter right now. And to be honest, she doesn't ever have to matter again. You don't have a connection with her, Grace. Not like the connection you have with me. So if you want, I can get rid of her. I can snap my fingers and make her go away. Then you and I can be together forever.”

  He stopped and looked into two more rooms.

  Still nothing.

  “Maybe that's how it was always meant to be,” he purred softly. “Your mother has outgrown her usefulness.”

  He set off again, slowly walking along the corridor while glancing into each of the rooms. He still saw no sign of his daughter, yet he was more certain than ever that he was getting closer. Telling himself that he could sense her heartbeat, he imagined her hiding behind a door or in a cupboard, and then he stopped as he saw some more dots of blood on the floor.

  Reaching down, he pressed a fingertip against one of the dots. As he stood up straight, he saw the bead smeared on his finger, and then he very slowly leaned closer and licked it away. He took a moment to savour the taste in all its wonderful richness and then he looked along the corridor again.

  “Your blood tastes as good as ever,” he murmured.

  He waited.

  Silence.

  “Consider it done,” he went on. “Your mother, that is. As soon as we get home, I'll tell her I'm filing for a divorce. She shouldn't be surprised, although I imagine she will be. Let's be honest, your mother's hardly the brightest bulb, is she? But she's served her purpose, because now you're all grown-up and we really don't need her anymore.”

  Yet again he waited, convinced that his words were soon going to entice her from her hiding place. Indeed, he was a little surprised that she hadn't emerged already, although he supposed that a combination of the crazy thin guy and the whack to her hand might have made her a little reluctant. He had no idea where the thin guy had gone, but he could only suppose that finally his threats had managed to penetrate the moron's consciousness. The fellow had clearly been a pathetic little wretch. Not a real man at all.

  He swallowed and, in the process, he noticed that his mouth was very dry.

  “Grace,” he continued, taking a step forward, “if -”

  “Stop!” she shouted, suddenly stepping out from one of the rooms ahead and backing toward the door at the end of the corridor. She was clutching her injured right hand, trying to keep it wrapped in the side of her red coat. “Don't come anywhere near me!”

  “Grace,” he said with a sigh and a smile, “you were starting to worry me. Come over here and let's get everything sorted out.”

  “Don't come near me!” she snarled, still keeping hold of her bloodied hand as she took another step back. Already there was blood smeared on her coat. “I swear, if you come near me, I'll... I'll...”

  She paused, before turning and looking over her shoulder, peering through the open doorway.

  “You'll do what?” Patrick asked.

  “I'll jump.”

  “Jump?” He waited for her to answer. “Where?”

  “Down there,” she continued, and her voice was shaking with fear now as she turned to him again. “You probably can't see it from where you're standing, but this door opens out at the top of some kind of storage room. Back in the day it was probably used when supplies were hoisted up or down but... but there's no hoisting anymore. Only a hell of a drop.” She looked over her shoulder again. “If I step back, it's a thirty-foot drop onto the concrete floor below. I'd never survive.”

  “Why are you making this up?”

  “I'm not making anything up,” she snarled, before pulling her phone out and throwing it into the darkness behind her. “Listen.”

  Patrick opened his mouth to reply, but instead he hesitated as he realized that he hadn't yet heard the phone landing. He waited, and three or four seconds later he heard a distant smashing sound. In that moment he realized that her claim, no matter how unlikely it might seem, was possibly true.

  “No-one could ever survive,” she told him, sounding a little calmer now. “But if you come even one step closer, I swear to God that I'll do it.”

  “Of course you won't,” he replied, although he wasn't quite ready to put that confidence to the test just yet. “However, I don't like you being near that edge. You might trip and fall accidentally. Grace, come to me.”

  He gestured for her to join him.

  “Grace, I mean it. There's no need to be afraid.”

  “I'm never coming near you again,” she replied, struggling to speak as fresh tears filled her eyes. “Why can't you get that through your thick head? When I ran away from home, I didn't want you or Mum to come looking for me! Why couldn't you just leave me alone?”

  “Grace -”

  “Why did you have to come here?” she sobbed, and now the tears were running freely down her increasingly red and flustered face. “What the hell's wrong with you? Apart from the obvious, at least. Why couldn't you just let me disappear?”

  “Impossible,” he said calmly. “Grace, I love you.”

  “Don't say that!” she snapped.

  “I'm your father. And so much more.”

  “No!” she screamed.

  “But it's true,” he continued, almost stepping toward her – but deciding at the very last second to hold back for a moment. “And you love me in return. All this running away business is such palpable and absurd nonsense. Don't take this the wrong way, Grace, but you're not cut out for a life on the streets. I won't let it happen.”

  “You don't have a say!”

  “I'm your father and I have a big say,” he replied. “Grace, listen, I'm sorry about your hand, that was a genuine accident.”

  He slowly reached down and set the pipe on the floor before standing tall again.

  “We'll get it looked at. We'll get it fixed. I'm sure with some surgery, you'll be able to play the piano again. You'd like that, wouldn't you? And it probably won't interfere very much with your riding lessons. Don't you think the wonderful horse at the riding centre misses you? What's her name again? Susie? You can't seriously be planning to leave Susie behind, can you? Just come home, Grace, and I'll even start paying for a second weekly riding lesson for you. I can't really say fairer than that, can I?”

  He waited, but to his surprise he realized that his very generous offer had seemingly fallen on deaf ears.

  “You want more?” he continued. “Tell me what you want, and it's yours. You know I've always liked treating my little princess. I'm feeling in a generous mood, so tell me what you want and I'll sort it out. You know I can arrange pretty much anything for you. Darling -”

  “Don't call me that!” she yelled.

  “Sweetheart -”

  “Shut up!” she shouted. “Why don't you get it yet? I don't want anything to do with you!” She paused for a moment, watching him carefully. “But you're never going to stop, are you?” she added, sounding a little calmer now – and also more determined. “Even if I get away from you tonight, I can never be sure that you won't suddenly appear again one day with more of your pathetic promises.”

  “I'll be -”

  “Different this time?” she sneered. “Yeah, I've heard that one before. But the thing is, I'm not like Mum. I can't just ignore things I don't like and pretend they're not really happening. I wish I could, I wish I'd inherited that from her, because then life would be so much easier.”

  “Grace -”

  “But you'll always be haunting me, won't you?” she added, straightening her posture a little as she stood in the dark open doorway with nothing but a void behind. “I thought I could run away, but I can't. Because every day for the rest of my life, there'll always be that niggling fear that you might show up again.”

  “It shouldn't be fear, Grace,” he said firmly. “You should want to see me. And I know that, deep down, you still do.”

  “Maybe,” she replied, before gritting her teeth for a few seconds as another tear ran down her cheek. “In Hell.”

  Patrick opened his mouth to reply, but in that moment Grace took a step back. For a fraction of a second nothing seemed to happen and she appeared to simply hang in the air, but then she toppled back. Keeping her eyes fixed on her father, she opened her mouth but didn't let out a sound as she silently fell out of view so quickly and so easily that it was almost as if she'd never been there at all. And then, just as the whole thing seemed like it might have been an illusion, the silence was briefly disturbed by a distant cracking and thudding sound.

  Standing in the corridor, Patrick stared at the spot where his daughter had been standing. Convinced that this was all some kind of joke, he didn't dare to move, since moving meant that he might actually have to go and take a look. Telling himself that this had to be some kind of trick, he stayed stock still for a few more seconds until finally the fear became too strong and too tight in his chest. Feeling strangely numb, he began to make his way along the corridor while bracing himself for Grace to leap out and tell him that the whole mess was one big practical joke.