‘This place is really quite interesting,’ Evelyn said as she lugged her bag up the steps to the front door. ‘I can’t wait to explore the whole house.’

 

That could take days, Danny thought to himself. He was dreading the prospect of exploring to the bottom of the staircase again, never mind the whole house. Maybe they could come back some other time, and bring bicycles, or even better, get somebody else to explore the bloody place.

 

They passed through the musty damp of the entrance vestibule and into the cavernous hall, reminiscent of a cathedral in many ways, but perhaps a bit larger. ‘Why is it so dark in here?’ Danny asked, as their feet echoed across the ornately tiled floor.

 

‘Ah well, that’s a phenomenon known as photodissipation,’ Ciarán explained.

 

‘I think it’s a phenomenon known as bloody big house and bloody small lightbulbs,’ Danny grumbled as the stairs seemed to get no closer.

 

‘I’m due my tea break, and I need a…’

 

‘Yes, alright Mike, we don’t need to know all the sordid details.’ Danny shifted his bag onto his other shoulder. His overnight case hadn’t been designed for long distance travel. ‘We’ll just get unpacked, then you can do whatever it is you have to do.’

 

‘That’s good, cause I’m desperate for a…’

 

‘Okay Mike, we’re nearly at the stairs.’

 

‘What are we doing about dinner?’ Ciarán asked, as always, the first one to think about food.

 

‘Duncan mentioned something about pizzas,’ Danny said, as they finally reached base camp at the bottom of the stairs.

 

‘Oh goody. I like pizzas.’

 

Cheryl was waiting for them when they arrived breathless at the top of the creaking staircase. ‘You’re Kevin, yeah?’ she asked, somehow making it sound like an accusation.

 

‘Ciarán,’ he corrected, out of breath from the climb and wishing he had used oxygen for the ascent.

 

‘You’re along ere guvvna.’ They all followed Chery’s departing form as she vanished into a gloomy corridor. Dark panelled walls seemed to press in from both sides, even though the passage was wide enough for four people to walk comfortably side by side. Cheryl opened a door and allowed Ciarán to look inside, then without waiting, she turned to Evelyn. ‘You’re Emily, yeah?’

 

‘Yeah, that’ll do,’ Evelyn said, and they followed Cheryl to the end of the corridor and around a corner into another wing. After dumping Evelyn just as unceremoniously in this far corner of the decaying mansion, the dwindling party retraced their steps all the way back to the staircase. They repeated the exercise down to the end of a corridor on the opposite side of the house, depositing Mike, who asked where the nearest bathroom was. His flushed cheeks and restless manner suggested that this was only just in the nick of time.

 

‘You must be Benny then,’ Cheryl said, not waiting for a reply as she retraced her steps yet again to near the top of the stairs, where she opened a door to reveal another staircase. ‘You’re up ere.’ Danny followed the overstretched denim up to the next floor, a much less salubrious part of the house that was once the servants’ quarters. By now, the strap on his overnight case had cut off all circulation to his right arm. She opened the door to a small but comfortable enough looking room. ‘I’ve put you up ere so she won’t find ya.’ Danny guessed that she meant her mother-in-law. ‘As long as yer careful, it could take her days to find you up ere. Keep yer ‘ed darn and stay quiet, she’ll not bovva yer.’

 

Maybe Cheryl had a heart after all, Danny thought, or maybe these were the only rooms that were usable, the rest falling into disuse, or more likely, falling into the rooms below. He set about unpacking, making a note not to step to the right-hand side of the wardrobe where the floor seemed a bit creaky, one floorboard in particular having a texture like a dried out sponge.

 

When he was settled and had made a quick call home to say where they were, Danny tried to remember the way back downstairs and through the hidden doorway onto the balcony that ran around the first floor of the central hall. He thought about trying to find the rest of the crew in their scattered accommodations, but gave it up as a hopeless task. He went back downstairs and made his way to the kitchen, the only room he knew he would be able to find. Ciarán and Evelyn were already there, but there was no sign of Mike.

 

‘Ah, there you are,’ Duncan said, as Danny walked in. ‘Pizza alright for you?’

 

‘That will be lovely, thanks.’ Danny said as Duncan opened a large upright freezer stacked with boxes of pizza. ‘Wow! That’s quite a selection.’ Danny said, estimating there must be seventy or more stacked on the shelves. ‘What do you have there?’

 

‘Ham and cheese,’ Duncan said, taking a boxed pizza from the top shelf. The following silence suggested that they were all ham and cheese.

 

‘Ham and cheese is good, thanks,’ Danny said.

 

‘Sorry all, got a bit delayed,’ Mike said as he found his way into the kitchen. ‘Hope the plumbing in this place doesn’t block easily. That one was a little bit…’

 

‘That’s more than we need to know, thanks Mike,’ Danny said quickly. ‘Ham and cheese pizza okay for you?’

 

‘Oh.’ Mike looked thoughtful for a moment. ‘Are there any other flavours?’

 

‘Nope.’

 

‘Yeah, go on then,’ he said graciously, settling himself in the same chair that he had been in earlier. Rufus didn’t appear to have moved while they had been out of the room, still playing some sort of mind-numbing electronic game, while occasionally fingering a spot that looked ready to burst. Olivia still stared into her phone as if it contained her entire universe, which it probably did.

 

Just as Danny wondered how they were going to cook so many pizzas before morning, Duncan opened the heavy cast-iron door of an enormous stove that could have been powered by gas, electricity, or perhaps heat from the earth’s core. ‘I’ll cook yours now,’ he said as he placed four of the identical factory mass-produced food substitutes on the shelves within. ‘Then you can get on with, well, whatever it is that you do, and we can have ours later.’

 

Danny was relieved. At least he could have a little bit of time without the resident grandmother gawping at him while he tried to eat pizza.

 

Then the resident grandmother walked in. ‘Oh, there you are, Danny. Are you all comfortably settled in?’

 

Danny felt cold sweat prickle down his back as she stared in his direction with her yellowing eyes. ‘Yes, thank you. Just having a quick bite to eat and then off to work,’ he said nervously.

 

‘Oh, which bedroom are you in?’

 

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ he blustered. ‘This place is so big, you get lost, really. Somewhere upstairs.’ He had a feeling he had somehow said too much already.

 

‘Which stairs?’ the old woman smiled with her gleaming teeth, or with somebody’s gleaming teeth anyway.

 

‘I didn’t know there was a selection,’ Danny joked, not really joking, just desperate.

 

‘We have seven staircases.’ Her face had hardened with determination. ‘You must know which one.’

 

‘Oh, they go up, these ones do, well I suppose they all do, in a way.’ He was mumbling incoherently now.

 

‘Pizzas are ready,’ Duncan said, blissfully unaware that he had just saved Danny from any more mumbling.

 

‘Pizzas, great,’ Danny said a little too loudly. ‘Can I help with anything, chairs or spoons or…’

 

‘I’ve got everything here, thanks,’ Duncan said, making warm plates appear from one of the other ovens, then transferring the first pizza from the oven with remarkable skill. He had obviously done this many times before, and judging by the freezer, would be doing so many times again. He placed it onto a mighty slab of wood that could have been left over when the Mary Rose was built, and using something more akin to a machete than a knife, chopped it into sections, then slid it deftly onto a plate. Within less than a minute the whole crew were wrapping themselves around the industrially produced comestibles, watched by Marjorie, visibly thwarted in her attempts to track down the co-ordinates of Danny’s bedroom.

 

Between mouthfuls of boiling cheese, Danny tried his best to question Duncan about the poltergeist occurrences, hearing about ornaments hurled down, furniture knocked over, seen by all the family. This was clearly going to be a high-scoring day for Evelyn, and Ciarán would have a lot of phenomena to try to explain rationally.

 

As the slices disappeared, Marjorie limbered herself for another round of Guess the Bedroom. Mike saved the day, butting in before she had a chance to continue her questions.

 

‘I was only contracted for this afternoon you know,’ he said, with the look of a sad puppy.

 

‘Have you actually recorded anything yet?’ Danny queried.

 

‘I’ve been out of the house since eight. That’s all working time.’

 

Danny knew exactly where this was going. It was a familiar routine when they were on the road. ‘That’s okay Mike, Evelyn reckons she can do sound. You take the night off.’

 

‘No way.’ Evelyn flicked up an escaping string of melted cheese from her bottom lip. ‘I can’t operate that archaic contraption. Something modern, digital, with a touch screen and weighing less than a sack of potatoes, yes, but the last thing seen with controls like Mike’s machinery was sunk by the Bismark in 1940.’

 

The negotiations lasted five minutes, which Danny reckoned added up to more work than Mike had actually done so far that day, with an agreement that he would be paid double rate until nine. Before Marjorie could swing the conversation back to tracking down which room Danny was staying in, they got up from the table, uttering thanks for, well, for food of some sorts, and made their way back to the main staircase.

 

‘Does anybody have a clue where we’re going?’ Evelyn asked as they returned up the treacherous stairs.

 

‘As far away from Marjorie as possible,’ Danny replied.

 

‘Think again, big man,’ Evelyn said, casting a glance behind her.

 

Danny looked back, seeing the determined grandmother in hot pursuit, and quickened his pace, hoping to open some space between himself and the old woman, but she was clearly gaining on him. Escape was impossible, so he opted for a change of tactics and slowed as he reached safety at the top of the stairs. ‘Ah, Marjorie. I didn’t know you were there. We’re just going to do some really boring looking around, so why don’t you wait in your bedroom? We won’t be long.’

 

He hoped the deranged old woman would read more into those few words than he ever intended, and surely enough she gave him a shy schoolgirl smile, a flash of raised eyebrows, and she sauntered off along the corridor, casting a glance back with longing eyes.

 

‘Nice one Danny,’ Evelyn said. ‘Right, if Morticia’s going that way, we need to go this way.’ She led them in the opposite direction. ‘We may as well start in Ciarán’s room, if that’s okay?’

 

‘Suits me fine.’ Ciarán agreed. I can take these bloody shoes off and put my slippers on. When in the room, Mike parked himself on a chair and let his microphone rest on the floor, then he remembered the dog and picked it up again. Ciarán sat on the bed and eased off his polished leather shoes and tucked them under the bed, pulling out some white fluffy bunny slippers with pink ears. ‘Don’t laugh, they were a present.’

 

Evelyn was in the middle of some sarcastic comment when Danny turned to see what was so funny, just as a heavily built man dressed as a monk was about to brain Evelyn with a large wooden crucifix.

 

‘NO!’ Shouted Danny, instinctively rushing forward to grab the crucifix, but the be-robed figure vanished as if he had never been.

 

‘Jesus,’ Evelyn said, turning round to see what Danny’s problem was. ‘They may be a bit comical, but they’re not that bad.’

 

‘He was here,’ stammered Danny. ‘About to hit you with a crucifix.’

 

‘Who was here?’ Evelyn said, suspecting that Danny had lost at least one of his marbles.

 

‘The monk. I just saw him.’

 

‘What?’ A big grin spread across Evelyn’s face. ‘The poltergeist monk that we’re supposed to be looking for?’

 

‘Yes, of course the poltergeist monk. Do you think they have a selection of monks?’

 

‘Well, I wouldn’t put it past them in this place.’ Evelyn looked around but saw no sign of a monk. ‘Are you sure you saw him?’

 

‘Yes, as real as you or Ciarán. He was right behind you, lifting…’

 

Evelyn was now grinning at him, as if he was the victim of some great elaborate hoax.

 

‘You don’t believe me, do you?’

 

‘We’ve just climbed a high staircase,’ Ciarán explained as he pulled one of the big squashy bunny slippers onto his foot. ‘That could have caused light-headedness leading to a suggestive and hallucinatory conditioning state.’

 

‘I saw the bloody monk,’ Danny insisted.  

 

‘Ciarán’s right,’ Evelyn agreed. ‘We’ve only just started, and it’s not even dark outside yet. Well, not really. It’s a bit early for seeing ghosts.’

 

‘I don’t bloody believe this.’ Danny started to feel self-doubt creeping in. In all the years he had worked with Evelyn Hollow, she had never disbelieved anybody claiming to have seen a ghost, and now she was visibly patronising him.

 

‘Oh, come on,’ she said. ‘Do you not think it a bit unlikely? All three of us in the room, and you’re the only one to see it.’

 

Ciarán stood up in his ridiculous white fluffy slippers. ‘Evelyn’s right. If he had been behind her, then when you shouted and I looked round, he would have been right in my line of sight.’

 

‘But he’d gone by then,’ Danny explained, now really doubting himself, but not doubting at the same time, because he definitely saw the bloody thing. Or did he? ‘As soon as I shouted, he vanished.’

 

‘Ghosts don’t just vanish like that,’ Evelyn explained. ‘Apparitions take time to appear, usually over at least a few seconds, and then it takes time for them to fade again from a solid state, or an apparently solid state. It’s a phenomenon I’ve been studying for a few years now…’

 

‘It wasn’t a bloody phenomenon,’ Danny protested, realising he was wasting his time.

 

All these years wanting to see a ghost, and when he finally saw one, nobody would believe him, and now he was disbelieving himself. Somehow, he always thought it would be better than this. Hang on, surely Mike had seen it. ‘Mike,’ he said loudly, then ‘MIKE!’ at the top of his voice, waving his arms. Mike looked annoyed, stood up, and took off his headphones. ‘You must have seen him.’

 

‘Seen who?’

 

‘The monk.’ Danny pointed towards Ciarán’s bed. ‘Over there, a big monk, shabby robe, about to…’ Mike’s face told him he was wasting his time. ‘Just before I shouted.’

 

‘I didn’t hear you shout. Didn’t hear nothing.’

 

‘But you were recording, weren’t you? You had your headphones on.’

 

‘I wasn’t recording. You haven’t started yet.’ He put his headphones back on and said too loudly; ‘I just put these on so I don’t have to listen to your blather.’ He sat back down in his chair, marking an end to the conversation.

 

‘I’m just going to nip to my room and get my fleece jacket,’ Evelyn said, reaching for the door. ‘It’s colder than Leith Docks in this place. Oh hello, your monk’s out here now Danny.’

 

‘What!’ Danny rushed for the door.

 

‘Too late,’ Evelyn said. ‘He can shift for a big guy in a brown dress. I think he’s gone into Grannie’s room.’

 

Danny looked in that direction but saw nothing. Ciarán appeared through the door. ‘Ah, so now you’ve both had the same hallucination.’

 

‘This was no hallucination. That was Friar Tuck in the full costume Ciarán. You’re going to owe me a pint for this one.’

 

‘Ah, now we mustn’t jump to conclusions. Double hallucinatory experiences are well documented.’

 

‘Well, you two can document this one if you like. I’m off to get my fleece. It’s proper Baltic in here.’

 

‘Hang on.’ Danny couldn’t believe what he was seeing, or not seeing. ‘We’ve both just seen a ghost, a proper ghost, allegedly a poltergeist, during an Uncanny investigation, and you’re more concerned about getting a jacket?’

 

‘Of course I am. It’s like midwinter in Muirhead in here. I’ll be back in a minute.’

 

‘Are you not even a little bit scared?’

 

‘Why?’ Evelyn couldn’t see what all the fuss was about. Had Danny forgotten what she does for a living? ‘They can’t hurt you.’

 

‘Well, this one was about to give it a bloody good try.’

 

‘Aye, well hypothermia kills, remember? That’s what I’m more concerned about at this precise moment in time.’ Evelyn disappeared to fetch her jacket, so Danny and Ciarán returned to the room where Mike was still sitting on his chair, blissfully unaware of anything going on around him. There was a clinking sound and Danny turned around to see Marjorie standing in the doorway wearing a nightie that may have been alluring in the 1970s, but now looked like an indecent prop from a Carry On film.

 

‘Oh, there you are Danny.’ She looked around as if she had never seen this room before. ‘Is this your bedroom?’

 

‘No,’ Danny said, a little too quickly, noticing that she was carrying only two glasses and a bottle of Jameson Irish Whiskey. ‘This is Ciarán’s room.’ Feeling guilty that he had just dropped one of his best friends right in it, he explained. ‘Ciarán is a very light sleeper. He mustn’t be disturbed.’

 

At that moment, Mike looked around to see what was going on. It was either the sight of Marjorie in the shimmering pink nightie, or the bottle of Jameson, but his face lit up with sudden interest.

 

Marjorie shivered dramatically, and Danny did think she had to be a tough old bird to stand there in a nightie in such a cold house. ‘Would you like a little something to warm you up?’ she asked.

 

‘Not just at the moment,’ Danny said. ‘I have to keep a clear head while I’m working.’

 

‘Well, you know where I am.’ Marjorie gave a suggestive smile and disappeared back where she came from.

 

‘Have I just missed something?’ Evelyn asked as she returned to the room, casually shrugging creases out of her Mauirice L’au Sinistre designer fleece jacket. ‘Only I’ve just seen Marjorie hoofing it down the corridor holding up a bottle of something with our monk chappie and Mike in hot pursuit.’

 

Danny and Ciarán looked around to see that Mike’s chair was empty, and that was when they heard the scream.

 

Darkness had now fallen on Doomlake Priory, and what little light had previously seeped in through the distant windows was gone. The cavernous hall was now lit only by weak pools of electric light from the few ancient lightbulbs that still worked. They crept along the balcony towards Marjorie’s room, with no idea why they were creeping. It just seemed the right thing to do.

 

Danny, who seemed to be the appointed leader in such situations, despite being the biggest coward of them all, entered the room cautiously to see Marjorie in a state of some distress. ‘The thieving monk has taken my bottle of Jameson.’

 

Danny looked around the room, no sign of the monk, but Mike was rummaging around in his bag which gave Danny a good idea of where the bottle may have gone.

 

‘Now this is quite interesting,’ Evelyn said while inspecting her black nail varnish, finding a chip and wondering how it had got there. That would have to wait till later. Returning to the matter in hand: ‘Apports, where objects appear mysteriously are actually very common, but asportations, where objects disappear are quite rare.’

 

‘Of course, we don’t know that the bottle has actually disappeared in a physical sense,’ Ciarán added.

 

‘We bloody do,’ Marjorie corrected, her Belfast accent stronger than ever. ‘I saw the boggin rascal take it with my own eyes. Thankfully, I have another to keep me going.’ She opened the door to reveal a stack of cases of assorted Irish whiskeys, selecting another bottle of Jameson.

 

Mike was still rummaging in his bag, Danny now getting annoyed that the best encounter with the paranormal they had ever come across was not being recorded. ‘Mike!’ He shouted, but to no effect. He was about to shout louder when he heard a sound from outside the door that was very much like a bottle hitting something. ‘This way guys,’ he said, leading the way back down to the corridor from where they had just come.

 

He heard the sound again, the unmistakable sound of an almost full bottle of Irish Whiskey hitting something solid. Beyond the door to Ciarán’s room he saw a hand clutching onto the missing bottle of Jameson’s.

 

Just a hand.

 

The bottle went clunk again as the hand tried to pull the bottle into the solid wood of the panelling, unintelligible gabble coming from behind the woodwork. Occasionally, parts of the brown sleeve could be seen as the ghostly hand that emerged from the solid wall tried changing its grip to attempt to get the bottle to go through the wall.

 

‘Now this is interesting,’ Evelyn observed, bending closer to get a good look at the apparently solid hand and arm that emerged from the apparently solid wall. ‘It appears that the apparition, the manifested phantasm, can pass through this physical barrier, but the bottle that it is holding cannot.’

 

‘Ah, well, “appears” is the right word to use here, because this, of course, is merely a hallucinatory experience. As you can see, the bottle isn’t actually there.’ Ciarán reached forward and grabbed the neck of the bottle. ‘Oh, how strange.’ He tugged on the bottle, and the hand from behind the panelling tugged harder. ‘It appears the bottle,’ he pulled harder, his voice now sounding quite strained, ‘is real,’ he pulled even harder, his face now showing signs of exertion, but the monkish hand pulled the other way in a ghostly tug of war over the bottle of whisky. ‘But there are unexplained forces acting upon it.’

 

‘Are you sure you’re okay, Ciarán?’ Evelyn enquired, still unhappy about the chip in her nail varnish. Paying attention to the contest going on in front of her again, it did seem that Ciarán was winning as more of the monk’s arm emerged from the wall.

 

‘Nearly got it,’ Ciarán snarled through gritted teeth.

 

‘Well, don’t strain yourself,’ Evelyn said, now genuinely interested in the outcome of this wrestling match. ‘You’ve gone a bit of a funny purple colour.’

 

‘I’ll just get a bit firmer grip.’ Ciarán let go with one hand, and before the bottle could be whisked away, he quickly took a hold of the centre of the bottle, at least that is what he intended to do, but the phantom hand was in the way. A hand that obviously wasn’t real. Except that when he touched it, he was met with solid flesh and bone.

 

‘Aaah! It’s a bloody ghost!’

 

He let go, and the bottle thunked into the wall again, a stream of unintelligible curses coming from the other side of the wooden panelling. He ran to hide behind Evelyn, nearly tripping over his own feet in his ridiculous bunny slippers.

 

Marjorie, having come along to see what all the fuss was about, peered past Ciaran and Evelyn, and saw the bottle, still gripped by the phantom hand. ‘That’s mine yer wee melter.’ She took a firm hold of the top and yanked it out of the ghostly hand, which disappeared through the wall with the sound of crashing noises and unearthly curses.

 

She checked the level, pleased to see that it was still nearly full.

 

End of  Part 3

Next and final episode: Exorcism.