There was a welcome silence in my apartment, but it made me nervous. Were we really alone, or was an invisible, uninvited guest watching us, waiting for the right moment to strike again. Jeff stirred, his eyes flickered open and he smiled weakly. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.
“Don’t speak, just rest, you’re exhausted.”
Jeff smiled and closed his eyes. I moved gently from the sofa, resting his head on a cushion as I did so. I found a blanket and covered him. He looked so pale. Overcome by emotion, I bent down and kissed his forehead. Was this really the hippie that wandered the country roads after dark? The phone rang and grabbed it quickly, not wanting to disturb my sleeping savior.
“Lucy have you heard what happened to the Vicar?” It was my mum, full of news. “I think he’s going to be alright, but he was run over, he’s in the hospital.”
“I’m sorry to hear that mum,” I said, not wanting her to know he was coming to visit me when it happened, “I’ll stop by and see him if you like, take him some books and…..” My mum didn’t let me finish,
“Something else is going on too, there is a priest from Newcastle here, he’s got quite the reputation, he’s staying in the Vicarage.”
My mum was all of a twitter.
“What sort of reputation? Why are you so excited?”
“He has a reputation for performing exorcism’s. Your dad read about him once in the Sunday paper. He’s supposed to be the real deal. Someone around here has an unwanted visitor. I wonder who it is.”
“He could just be here for a change of scenery, maybe he’s having a little vacation in North Yorkshire.”
She paid no attention to me and had already made up her mind he was here to work, “I’ll bet it’s The Grange, there’s been talk it was haunted. Or maybe the old cottages at the back of the church, you know, where that drunk died when he fell and hit his head.”
My mum’s excitement was contagious. It lifted my spirits a little. If anyone needed an exorcist, it was me. I didn’t tell my mum that of course, instead I said, “Well I’m sure you’ll find out eventually.”
I saw Jeff begin to stir, “Mum, I have to go, I have something on the stove. Call me when you have the scoop on the Exorcist.”
“I will, good night pet.”
“Night mum, love you.”
Jeff sat up, “Exorcist?” he said.
I sat down next to him. “Yes, apparently a priest from Newcastle has moved into the Vicarage, my mum seems to think he’s here to perform an exorcism.”
“Father Angelo!” Jeff said. “We need to talk to him.”
I am having fun with this story, it brings back memories of a small country village in North Yorkshire, the village in which I was raised. I also spent a few years in Germany, which prompted me to write a Ghost Story set in Dortmund.