“Oh Vicar, I’m so glad you’ve come. Come in. Would you like a cup of tea? I’m at my wits end I am. Didn’t know what to do for the best. It was old Mrs Tinkle at number 43 who said I should phone you. I’m not much of a believer Vicar and it’s years since I last went to Church and that was for my poor Charlie’s funeral. Does that matter? I’m quite happy to put some money in the collection, if that’ll help.”
“That won’t be necessary Mrs Watts. Now, you said something about an evil presence?”
“That’s right Vicar. His moaning and wailing is driving me round the bend it is. Some nights he never stops.”
“Sounds awful Mrs Watts. I’ve brought my stuff with me. Soon as I’ve had this cup of tea I’ll say a few prayers, sprinkle some holy water around, and that should do the trick.”
“If you would Vicar, that would be wonderful. I’ve been trying to get rid of the bugger for years.”
“So you’ve actually seen him have you, Mrs. Watts? This ghost of yours?”
“See him all the time Vicar. In fact he’s here with us right now, sitting next to you on that sofa, that mournful look on his face. Horrid looking man he is, Vicar. One eye, dripping blood from a gash in his head and him forever dragging that left leg of his along the ground.”
The Reverend Michael Jones looked beside him but saw nothing. He finished his tea, opened his bag and took out a small bottle of holy water. As he stood, ready to perform his duties, the ghost next to him smiled. His chance to get away from this batty old girl and her decrepit little house was finally here.
As he tucked himself into the Vicar’s pocket he wondered how big the Vicarage would be.