Mike Shevdon - The Eighth Court

“Well, we can change things,” said Katherine hurriedly. “You can choose your own decorations. We’ll have a man in to do it properly, you’ll see.” She hugged her daughter back and kissed her hair. They were almost the same height, I noticed.

“It’s a bit…” I started to say. Alex glared at me over her mother’s shoulder. “…smaller than I remember.” I finished. “But I guess you’ll get used to it.”

“It’s fine,” said Alex, releasing her mother. “Right, Dad, it’s time you were going, isn’t it?”

“Is it?” I asked. “There were a few things I thought we should talk about,” I suggested.

Alex side-stepped her mother and steered me towards the stairs. I found myself being propelled gently down to the front door. “You will remember to be careful,” I said to Alex over my shoulder. “You’re not supposed to be here, remember?”

“I’ll be invisible,” said Alex. “You can come and get me in a few days. It’ll give Mum and me some time together.”

“I meant to talk to you about Kayleigh,” I said, remembering that I hadn’t explained to Alex what Kayleigh knew.

“Don’t worry. It’ll all sort itself out.” She opened the door pointedly.

“OK, I give in. I’ll leave you to it.”

She stood on tiptoe and kissed my cheek. “Thanks, Dad.”

I shook my head. “If you need me to come and get you…”

“I’ll come back when I’m ready. Mum knows I’m not staying forever.”

“OK. Have a good time.” I stepped outside and she closed the door after me. I couldn’t escape the feeling that I’d just been evicted by my own daughter.

I straightened my jacket and evaluated options. I would actually be better walking down to the tube station and then finding a Way-node in the centre of town. It would take slightly longer, but would involve a lot less walking.

I turned out of the drive and set off for the station, only to have Katherine run out of the house after me. “Niall, wait!”

I turned and waited for her. “That didn’t take long. What’s the problem?”

“No problem,” she said, “but this came for you. It’s been behind the clock in the lounge for a week or so, but I didn’t have a forwarding address.” She handed me a white envelope with my name and Katherine’s address written out longhand in scrawling blue script. I turned it over and there was a serious-looking crest on the back of the envelope.

“It looked like a summons,” she said. “You haven’t been speeding again, have you?”

I slit the top of the envelope with my finger and pulled out a sheet of carefully folded heavy white notepaper. The crest was repeated on the letterhead — it gave the address as The Royal Courts of Justice, The Strand, London. The same scrawling hand had written the letter.

Dear Niall, if that really is your name.

Please forgive the unorthodox method of contacting you but I have no other way. I’ve checked the archives, and read the notes of my predecessors, and there’s no precedent for this. I got this address from Sam — you remember him, I’m sure. He said this was the last address you were known at. I hope to God it reaches you.

It’s happening again. They’ve been here, I know it. It feels wrong and there are things in places where they shouldn’t be. It shouldn’t be possible, but I swear it’s them.

“Niall?” said Katherine. “Is it bad news?”

“May I come in for a moment?” I asked her. “I’d like to use your phone.”

I followed her back to the house. Alex was holding the door half open. “What’s wrong, Dad? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“May I?” I asked Katherine, nodding towards the phone in the hall.

“You can use the one in the lounge if you’d like privacy,” she said.

I stepped through to the lounge and took the sofa seat next to the telephone, opening out the letter to read the rest of it.

They don’t know I’m wise to them yet, and I’m not sure what they’re after, but they’ve been here more than once. I’m making a point of not staying after dark, but I need your help. I can’t deal with this alone. I’ve taken limited precautions, but there’s only so much I can do.

Please come,

Claire Radisson, Chief Clerk to the Queen’s Remembrancer.

Picking up the phone, I dialled the number on the letter. The phone rang twice.

“Royal Courts of Justice,” said a voice. “How can I help?”

“I’d like to speak to Claire Radisson,” I said.

“One moment, I’ll put you through.”

The phone went quiet for a moment, and then rang again. It continued ringing. Eventually the voicemail picked up. A recording started: You are through to the Queen’s Bench Division of the Royal Courts of Justice. Unfortunately there is no one available to take your call. If you would like…

Katherine watched me from the doorway as I dropped the call and pressed redial.

“Royal Courts of Justice,” said the same voice. “What can I do for you?”

“I called a moment ago,” I said, “I was trying to reach Claire Radisson in the Queen’s Bench Division. Can you tell me if she’s in today?”

“I’m afraid I can’t give out details of people’s whereabouts,” said the voice. “I can take a message if you’d like me to ask her to call you, or I can put you through to her voicemail?”

“No, it’s OK,” I said. “Thanks for your help.”

“That’s OK. Have a good day.” The call dropped and I put the phone back on its cradle.

“Would you like some tea?” asked Katherine.

“That would be nice, thanks,” I said. Katherine headed for the kitchen and was replaced by Alex in the doorway.

“What’s up,” she asked.

“Nothing, I hope. While you’re here I want you to look after your mum. No one knows you’re here, and let’s keep it that way, but take some precautions. Set wards on the doors and windows, that kind of thing.”

“Against what?” she asked.

“Unwelcome visitors,” I said, tucking the letter into the inside pocket of my jacket and moving back into the hall. Next to the stairs there was a mirror. I placed my hand on it. “Claire Radisson?” A stillness crept into the hallway, broken only by the sound of a kettle boiling from the kitchen. “Claire, are you there?”

The sound wavered in the mirror and then set up a jarring vibration so that I pulled my hand away sharply before it damaged Katherine’s mirror. “She did say she was taking precautions,” I told Alex’s enquiring look.

“Who did?”

“An old acquaintance.”

“What does she want?” she asked.

“I’m going to have to go,” I told Alex, as I went to the front door. “Give my excuses to your mum.”

“She’s making you tea,” she told me.

“You drink it.” I watched Alex made a face. “Look after each other,” I told her.

“You’re not going to start with the whole, don’t talk to strangers thing, again are you?”

“It’s good advice,” I said, “especially at the moment.” I reached out for her and she gave me a brief hug. Then I slipped out of the door and headed for the tube station at a brisk pace.

The Royal Courts of Justice has a portal entrance of pale stone on the north side of the Strand opposite the church of St Clement’s Dane. It has iron railings along the front, which are opened to allow the public inside, but if you’re fey they still make your teeth ache when you walk between them.

Joining the file of people going through the metal detectors and full-body scanners, I walked through without raising any alarm. Once past security, I strolled past the central reception confidently and mounted the steps to the first floor. I turned right at the top of the steep stairway and followed the corridor to the end. The door to Claire’s office was closed. I tried it, finding it locked. I placed my hand upon it.