Tomorrow's Ghosts Read Free

favourite haunts I ought to know about?”
    “There are a couple more,” I say noncommittally (as I’m certainly not going to tell the vicar about the ghost’s X-rated bedroom materialisations when she looks more like Titian’s
Venus d’Urbino
) “but she mainly confines herself to appearing by that window in the afternoon.”
    “Good,” Ursula replies, “because if I’m going to be a regular visitor here, I don’t want to be worrying about when and where I’m next going to encounter her.”
    “So you are going to be a regular visitor here now are you?”
    “Well I did warn you I’m like
The Terminator
and that I’d be back.”
    I nod thoughtfully. “Either life in this parish is so dull that spending your afternoons drinking cheap rosé wine with me seems an attractive proposition. Or, something has happened.”
    She blushes. “Am I that transparent? You’re right, something has happened.” She pauses to take a deep breath. “There’s a lot of weird stuff going on in this diocese. I’d spotted a few, shall we say, causes for concern before I first visited you here. But, at the latest diocesan meeting, when I was chatting to representatives from the other parishes, I began to realise there was so much more going on than I’d thought. I also had a quiet word with your friend the Archdeacon. He confirmed that the diocese is getting an increasing number of requests for assistance. Then he told me that I should seek you out for help, because of your extensive experience and because you can be relied upon to be discreet.”
    “That’s me, good old Mister Soul of Discretion,” I say with a smile. “But you said weird stuff. What sort of weird?”
    “Your sort of weird!”
    “Ah,” I reply, “that’ll be the coming apocalypse then.”
    “What apocalypse? I thought we’d survived that Mayan
End of Days
thing?”
    “In this line of business, apocalypses are like London buses. If you miss the first one, two more will be along shortly.
    “Never mind the Mayans, you Christians have your own
Rapture
. Both the Hebrew and Islamic messianic traditions tell of a
Day of Judgement
and an
End of Times
apocalypse. Then there is the Hindu
Kali Yuga
apocalypse. The Norse
Ragnorak
apocalypse. The Zombie apocalypse. Even the Buddhists of all people have some apocalyptical beliefs. The New Age hippies say we’re about to enter the
Age of Aquarius
and there’s also a weird end-of-the-world cult in Japan that involves Mickey Mouse.
    “I was joking about the zombies by the way but not Mickey Mouse although the Disney Corporation’s lawyers do a good job of keeping a lid on that one. Not exactly the kind of publicity they want associated with their theme parks.”
    Ursula says nothing for a few seconds before replying. “I’m not sure if I approve of you lumping together the religious and mythical. Christianity has a tradition going back over 2000 years whereas the Norse sagas are...”
    “Are just fairy stories,” I suggest. “Unlike the beliefs of established religions which are what?”
    I leave the question and there is an awkward silence for a few moments that leaves me wondering whether I may have gone too far and Ursula is suddenly going to have to remember another meeting she needs to rush off to attend but then she shrugs her shoulders.
    “Whatever,” she says, “but why so much activity around here in this Suffolk backwater? I’ve worked for most of my career in inner-city parishes, where there are thousands of people getting up to all kinds of wickedness and mischief but nothing like this.”
    “Nothing like you’ve uncovered in these crooked counties eh, as Sherlock Holmes would have put it? Perhaps that’s true but just look around you. We’ve got prehistoric settlements, Druid ritual sites, Roman ruins, pagan Saxon burial mounds and some of the oldest Christian churches in the country. This is also the land of Queen Boudicca, the Sutton Hoo ship burial, Witch-Finder General Matthew