‘But it wasn’t a sunny day?’

‘It was later, but it was very dull then. Only about half past seven. When the police came, they breathalysed him straight away, and he was completely clear. They said he couldn’t have seen a light, but he insisted that was why he’d swerved, and he was a nice man – not young. One of the policemen said to me afterwards, Oh, I expect he fell asleep at the wheel and dreamed it. I said, That’s not fair, you don’t know…’

An orb, Merrily was thinking without much enthusiasm. Very fashionable with cable-TV ghosthunters, orbs. Bit of glare got recorded by the camera and it was an orb, a semi-formed manifestation. What Huw Owen called a spirit-egg, though you were never quite sure when Huw was being disparaging.

‘Did the driver think there was anything… strange about the light?’

‘Well, it was certainly strange, but I didn’t think there’d have been anything ghostly. Not then. But then there was Mr Loste… and the others.’

‘Mrs Cobham.’

‘She’s a bit…’ Mrs Aird put her nose in the air ‘… if you ask me. And not over-friendly. Mr Loste… well, some people think he ’s a bit

… what’s the word…?’ Mrs Aird waved her cardiganed arms about in a random sort of way. ‘Maniac… manic. Obsessed with his music and his choirs… and, give him his due, he’s marvellous. He’s done wonders. But some people think he’s not reliable in other ways. And his friendship with the American woman who goes to the wells. Bit peculiar. But… he saw what he saw, and he’ll tell you as much, give him his due.’

‘I’m hoping to see him later. I’ll probably need to go back and see the Rector first.’

‘He’s not in,’ Mrs Aird said. ‘His car’s gone.’