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Mr Stirling looked at his watch. It had just gone four in the afternoon.

The plane would have landed by now and his guests would be well on their way to the hotel in two separate vehicles he had deliberately arranged to keep them apart; he didn’t want Pixie Tate to divulge to Tanya Roseby the reason for her visit.

He hoped she’d get rid of the ghost – if it were such a thing – before it had a chance to put Tanya off.

He very much wanted her to represent the Aldershoff.

It was a relief, therefore, when the first sleek black Lincoln Town Car drew up outside the hotel and the bellhop opened the passenger door for Mr Stirling’s most important guest. After a moment’s pause, one patent black stiletto alighted onto the pavement, then the second, and Tanya Roseby, in a pair of dark sunglasses and a soft white coat, emerged into the light.

Mr Stirling appreciated glamour and Tanya Roseby did not disappoint.

Wrapped in luxurious pale cashmere with an expensive designer tote bag hooked over her arm, she was the epitome of fashionable London.

Accompanied by her young assistant, equally elegant and polished, they made a glossy pair.

Mr Stirling introduced himself with enthusiasm, shaking their hands firmly and escorting them into the hotel.

He politely enquired after their journey and asked whether they would like something to drink while they checked in from the comfort of a pair of purple velvet armchairs.

‘A Bellini, perhaps? Or a cordial. It’s not too late for a cup of coffee. ’

‘I think Bellinis would be nice, don’t you, Lara?’ said Tanya, taking off her coat and draping it over the back of the chair. ‘Let’s start as we mean to go on, shall we?’ she added with a smile. Mr Stirling was charmed. Her smile was the kind that could infect an entire room with a party spirit.

Tanya Roseby was used to being fawned over by hoteliers but had never allowed herself to grow spoilt or jaded from the attention.

Fawning hoteliers were always a delight, and she settled herself into the chair with a contented sigh.

Mr Stirling summoned a member of staff from Reception, giving orders that she show them to their rooms as soon as they were checked in.

‘The Bellinis are on their way, Miss Roseby,’ he said. ‘Please, make yourselves at home.’

Satisfied that his most important guest was happy, he turned his attention to his two other guests who were now making their way into the foyer.

It was a relief that their car had arrived a decent time after Tanya Roseby’s.

Mr Stirling was immediately struck by Pixie Tate’s unconventional appearance.

With her long black crocheted coat and pink hair, she cut a bohemian figure.

In fact, if she’d been carrying a broomstick in place of her carpet bag, it wouldn’t have surprised him.

His skin bristled with the fear that he’d flown a charlatan all the way from London, and in business class too!

However, his dismay at Miss Tate turned swiftly to wonder when he laid eyes on the excessively handsome man who eclipsed her.

In fact, he didn’t think he’d ever seen such an attractive human being.

Ulysses Lozano, Mr Stirling deduced with mounting enthusiasm – the person he had spoken to on the telephone.

‘Welcome, Mr Lozano,’ he said, turning to the man with a fresh and eager gaze.

‘How kind of you to come so quickly. Miss Tate,’ he added.

He shook the young woman’s hand and was disarmed momentarily by the surreal shade of her blue eyes.

They really were an extraordinary colour, like lazulite.

With tact honed over many years in service, Mr Stirling ushered them to the other side of the room where he could speak with them without the fear of being overheard.

‘We are in dire need of your assistance,’ he said in a low voice after enquiring politely after their journey.

The three of them sat down on the plush armchairs arranged around a low table.

‘I sought the help of a medium I found here in Manhattan, but he was unable to get rid of the disturbance. I’m very much hoping, indeed, I’m praying, Miss Tate, that you can succeed where he failed. ’

‘Please call me Pixie. I’ll do my best,’ she said, folding her hands in her lap. ‘Tell me what happened.’

Mr Stirling would have felt uncomfortable discussing such a whacky subject with anyone else, but these two subscribed so wholeheartedly to the world of whacky that he launched into the story betraying not a whiff of his doubt.

He filled them in on Alma Aldershoff’s disastrous attempts to contact the dead with a Ouija board and confessed that, had he known what they had intended to do, he would never have given them permission to use the room.

‘I’m not sure what they were playing at, she and her accomplices, but they seem to have attracted a spirit that they believe is Mrs Aldershoff’s brother-in-law, Lester Ravenglass.

’ He coughed to disguise his unease. Really, the whole thing sounded ridiculous.

He inhaled sharply. He was committed now and had no alternative than to fully embrace it.

‘Mrs Aldershoff later came back with more information. Lester died an alcoholic in nineteen thirty-seven, aged forty-nine.’

‘Did he die here?’ Pixie asked.

‘No, he died in England.’

‘Okay, so something has drawn him back here. Either Alma Aldershoff herself or this building. Can you take me to the room where the seance took place?’ she asked.

Then added, to Mr Stirling’s dismay, ‘It would also be helpful to meet Mrs Aldershoff too.’ Mr Stirling did not relish the idea of involving Mrs Aldershoff any more than she had already involved herself.

Mr Stirling glanced warily at Tanya and Lara, who were now being shown across the hall to the elevator.

Once they were safely out of sight, he hastened to the double doors of the Walter-Wyatt drawing room, turned the glass knob and strode in.

The builders had left for the day and the room was quiet.

The broken picture frames and pieces of furniture had been taken away and the place looked tidy once again.

He closed the doors behind Pixie and Ulysses, and folded his arms with a shiver.

In spite of the seasonal warmth outside, the air in the room was cold.

Pixie immediately sensed the presence of a confused and miserable soul.

It was as if it was coiled up in the corner like a snake, watching them suspiciously.

As she tuned in, she managed to see a murky energy, rather than a human form, building like thickening smoke.

‘I think you’d better leave me to it,’ she said, anticipating another rampage.

Mr Stirling was only too pleased to abandon the room.

‘Shall we wait in the bar?’ he suggested to Ulysses, who followed him into the hall.

Ulysses smiled and Mr Stirling found him so full of charm and mischief that he smiled back like a schoolboy experiencing his first crush. ‘I never pass on the opportunity to enjoy a cocktail,’ said Ulysses, his Brazilian accent transforming his words into music.

‘Good,’ said Mr Stirling, and his unease lifted at the prospect of enjoying a quiet moment alone with this captivating man. ‘I have a feeling your friend Pixie is going to see off the ghost,’ he added, keen to ingratiate himself.

‘Oh, she will,’ Ulysses replied with confidence. ‘One way or another, she always does.’

Pixie sat down on one of the upholstered chairs that had escaped the rampage, closed her eyes and focused.

She took a few deep breaths. She felt the energy in the corner of the room growing thicker as the earthbound spirit, consumed by distress and confusion, gathered enough power to make itself known.

It wasn’t easy for disembodied souls to grab the attention of the living due to the difference in vibration, theirs being so much lighter, but this spirit seemed to have mastered it somewhat.

The energy grew into a mud-brown funnel of smoke, like an uncurling snake, at least that’s what it looked like to Pixie’s clairvoyant eye.

It then began to move towards her. Are you Lester?

asked Pixie in her mind, sensing the drop in temperature and the alarming weight of negativity the spirit carried.

This was not a nice spirit, she realised, but a very troubled one.

‘Lester,’ Pixie repeated, this time out loud.

She opened her eyes. ‘I’m here to help you move into the light.

’ The energy whooshed past her, brushing her cheek and shoulder, and causing the curtains to billow behind her.

‘Lester, is that you? Are you Lester, or are you someone else? I’m here to help you, whoever you are.

You’re stuck and I can help you find your way out. ’