Page 70 of On Circus Lane

“Probably black mould,” Bee says apologetically.

I can see the moment the guide gives up. “On to the next haunting,” he cries, and we follow him. He shoots a dubious glance at Bee who he has obviously identified as an educated troublemaker.

Bee mutters something, and I bend towards him. “What?”

The feel of his breath makes me shudder. “Did I do wrong?” he whispers.

“Absolutely not,” I say immediately.

His body loses some of its tension, and I feel a deep affection towards this clever but still very kind man.

I add, “You were very polite and just saying your opinion. You didn’t shout or call him names.”

“Even so, I think I’ll keep the facts to myself. It’s rude.”

“Okay, babe.”

He snorts and nudges me.

The guide comes to a stop by a gravestone. “Now, I have something here for you. No mould,” he says hastily, and Bee grins at him. “Something is different about this gravestone. Can you see?”

The group stares raptly down at it, a couple of the blokes swaying as if their balance is off. The grave is covered in a long cage that’s green with moss and age.

“Why does it have a grill over it?” Freddy asks.

“This is a mortsafe,” the guide says in a tone of revelation.

Everyone stares at him apart from Bee, who immediately steps forward, dragging me with him in his enthusiasm. “Oh, mygoodness, I’ve read a lot about these.”

“You have?” I say.

He nods enthusiastically. “Yes. I’ve just never seen one live, so to speak.” He grins at the guide. “Do tell everyone. It’sfascinating.”

His approval is as endearing as usual, and the guide puffs up. They smile at each other, and the guide turns to the group. “In the early nineteenth century, the city’s medical school was full of eager students, but they had one problem. They didn’t have enough cadavers for the students to dissect. Legally, these bodies were supposed to come from public executions, but there simply weren’t enough bodies. Gangs of thieves would come into the graveyards to dig up the fresh graves in order to sell their occupants to the medical school. People, therefore, set up watchmen to guard their loved one’s graves, and wealthier members of society would even build these mortsafes—cages that covered the graves and locked them into place.”

Georgina stirs. “Would you have done this for my grave, Theo?”

Theo jerks as if waking from a standing sleep. “What?”

She taps her chin. “Well, would you pay to cover my grave so no one could have access to my body that you loved so much inlife?” She brightens. “Or would you lie next to the grave because you couldn’t bear to lose me?”

All heads swing to look at Theo, who laughs carelessly. “I’d put the grate over it to keep you in.”

He chuckles with the breezy air of a man who doesn’t know that death is imminent for him, and as one we all step back.

“Howfunny,” Georgina says in a poisonously sweet voice. “What acomedianyou are, Theo.”

It’s a testament to the DEFCON aura of the exchange that even the drunk men get out of range.

“Okay, on to the next ghost,” the guide says frantically.

We follow him, with Bee and I bringing up the rear. He pauses, and I stop alongside him. “What?” I ask.

He motions back at the now hissing argument that has erupted by the mortsafe. “Will they be okay?”

“Yeah, of course. They’ll argue for a while and then go home happily to have angry sex, which everyone in their flat will have to listen to.”

As if on cue, the two turn and march off, still arguing.

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