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The following morning dawned over Fifth Avenue with bright sunshine and cobalt-blue skies.

The rumble of traffic and sporadic wailing of sirens reminded Pixie of where she was, and what she was here to do.

She climbed out of bed with a heavy heart and opened the curtains.

New York appeared to her as the concrete jungle it was known to be.

Skyscrapers rose high above the treeline, their glass cladding reflecting the light and shining sharply.

She wondered how it had looked in Lester’s time.

Smaller, certainly. But she didn’t feel ready to find out.

As she showered and dressed, she wondered how long this slide would take.

How much time would she need in the past to set Lester Ravenglass free in the present?

When she had travelled back to St Sidwell Manor to find out what had happened to Cordelia Pengower, she had needed eleven days.

Due to the elasticity of time, what had been nearly two weeks for her had been merely a few hours for Ulysses, who’d kept watch to make sure that she had not been disturbed out of her trance.

Those ten days had taken their toll, not only because she had fallen in love with Cavill, but also because she had grown fond of little Felix Pengower too.

His death had affected her deeply and she had carried that sorrow with her into the present.

It had altered her profoundly. How could it not?

She wasn’t sure she could take another blow like that, for even though those events had happened a long time ago, Pixie had had to live through them and her experience had been very real.

It would take every ounce of courage to slide into the past again.

She hoped it would be quick and less traumatic.

For certain, she would make every effort not to get emotionally involved this time.

She would slide in, do her job and slide back, like she had done lots of times before, and not allow herself to be affected in any way.

She knocked on Ulysses’ door. A moment later it opened. He stood before her with his hair wet and swept off his forehead, in a blue shirt and jeans. ‘Did anything go bump in the night, Pixie?’ he asked, grinning at her mischievously.

‘Thankfully not. I don’t think I need to ask you the same question.’

‘I gave up trying to see spirits many years ago.’ Which was true. In spite of joining the paranormal society at Manchester, and joining in every workshop and lecture, Ulysses had never once had any unearthly experience. ‘Are you ready for your slide?’ he asked.

‘No.’

‘But you’re going to do it, right?’

‘I have to.’

‘Then you need a full stomach. Come on, let’s go and check out the breakfast. It’s not every day that we get to enjoy a free banquet in a five-star hotel!’ He slipped past her and set off down the corridor.

The dining room was busy. As they followed the member of staff through the tables Pixie was aware of the usual stares as Ulysses’ beauty drew eyes off smartphones, iPads and newspapers, and her long pink hair caused a few curious looks. She knew that they made an incongruous couple.

They were seated at a table by the window and ordered coffee from the waitress who seemed only too delighted to take Ulysses’ order.

Then they looked at the menu. ‘Okay, Pix, what’s it going to be?

’ Ulysses asked excitedly. ‘Pancakes with maple syrup, waffles, bagels, bakery basket with Vermont butter and homemade preserves, eggs – in a dozen different ways – yogurt, granola, oatmeal—?’

‘You know I don’t eat breakfast.’ Pixie scanned the menu indecisively. ‘But it does look tempting.’

‘When was the last time you ate breakfast in a place like this?’

‘Never.’

‘Then make the most of it and order a feast. I know I will.’ The waitress returned and Ulysses ordered more than any human being could possibly eat, and Pixie asked for the bakery basket.

Ulysses was tucking into scrambled eggs and smoked salmon on toast when Mr Stirling appeared, debonaire in his suit, purple tie and matching silk handkerchief in his breast pocket.

‘I trust you slept well,’ he said, looking hopefully from one to the other and clearly not failing to appreciate how handsome Ulysses looked, fresh from the shower.

‘Very well,’ Ulysses replied.

‘Me too,’ said Pixie. ‘No visit from our resident troublemaker.’

‘Then I will leave you to enjoy your breakfast.’

‘Oh, I’m certainly enjoying mine,’ said Ulysses with a laugh, piling as much scrambled egg onto his fork as was humanly possible.

Mr Stirling was relieved. He hoped the ghost had gone.

Clayton Miller had not reported any paranormal activity in the night and, so far, no one had complained of any disturbances.

Tanya and Lara were having breakfast in their rooms before their meeting with him and his marketing team at eleven.

The only disturbance came on the dot of ten when, with the usual commotion, Alma Aldershoff arrived with her daughter, Leona Croft.

Mrs Aldershoff was leaning heavily on her stick.

Her bony white hand seemed scrawnier than usual.

It resembled a claw. She looked frail, as if she had aged suddenly.

As if she had been defeated somehow, or simply given up.

He wondered what had happened to her in the last twenty-four hours to so diminish her.

Mr Stirling noticed too, on greeting them, that Mrs Croft was carrying the dreaded Ouija board in its distinctive blue box. He very much hoped that she did not intend to use it.

‘I’d like to see Miss Tate alone.’ Mrs Aldershoff announced this in her usual lofty tone. Mr Stirling was surprised to feel relief that her voice retained its punch.

‘Are you sure, Mom?’ Mrs Croft asked, her thin face crinkling with concern.

‘I’m sure,’ her mother replied curtly. She did not go on to explain why. But Alma never felt the need to explain anything, and her daughter wished she hadn’t asked.

‘Of course,’ said Mr Stirling. ‘Why don’t you come into the dining room and I’ll introduce you.’ Mrs Aldershoff sniffed her approval and followed him across the hall and through the double doors.

Pixie saw Mr Stirling approach with a frail-looking woman leaning on a walking stick and knew at once that she must be Alma Aldershoff.

She was birdlike in stature, but formidable in gaze, which settled sharply on Pixie with ill-concealed surprise.

It must have been her pink hair, she deduced.

From the conventional manner in which the old lady was dressed, it was not inconceivable that Pixie would come across as alarmingly quirky.

‘May I introduce Mrs Aldershoff,’ said Mr Stirling in a formal voice. ‘And her daughter, Mrs Croft. Pixie Tate and Ulysses Lozano.’ Both Pixie and Ulysses got to their feet. Alma Aldershoff had the air of a queen and both felt compelled to show her due respect.

Pixie shook Mrs Aldershoff’s hand. It was bony and cold. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you,’ Pixie said.

The elderly woman appraised Pixie with a hawklike regard and did not return her smile. ‘I hope you are good at your job,’ she said, and then added, ‘Much depends on it.’

Leona Croft’s demeanour was apologetic and Pixie sensed that her mother had dominated her all her life and even now, in her sixties, she had not learnt how to stand up to her. ‘It’s lovely to meet you,’ Mrs Croft said, and she shook Pixie’s hand with a limp hold.

‘Give Miss Tate the box, Leona. The table, please, Mr Stirling.’

Pixie took the box Mrs Croft gave her. She suspected it contained the Ouija board, but she decided to wait until Mrs Aldershoff mentioned it before she made a comment.

Mr Stirling showed Mrs Aldershoff and Pixie to a table at the far end of the room and pulled out an armchair for the older woman.

‘Put the box on the banquette,’ Mrs Aldershoff said to Pixie, waving her bejewelled fingers as to a servant, and sank into the chair with a groan.

Ulysses invited Mrs Croft to join him while they waited, and taking the chair Pixie had vacated she glanced anxiously over at her mother.

‘Pixie will look after her,’ said Ulysses kindly. ‘She’s experienced at this sort of thing.’

‘I do hope so,’ said Mrs Croft, turning her eyes back to Ulysses.

‘She’s been acting very strangely recently.

I’m not sure what’s got into her. One minute she’s the autocrat she’s always been and the next minute she’s as terrified as a mouse.

’ She sighed. ‘It’s good of you both to fly out from London. ’

Ulysses grinned and her face softened and smiled with him. ‘Are you kidding? It’s a joy. I wouldn’t have missed coming here for the world!’

Mr Stirling reluctantly left the room. He would have liked to spend more time with Ulysses, but work did not allow it.

He needed to go to his office and prepare for the meeting with Tanya and the marketing team.

He hoped that whatever Alma Aldershoff and Pixie Tate were up to, they would be discreet.

Mrs Aldershoff handed Pixie her walking stick as if Pixie were a lady-in-waiting and settled into the armchair.

Pixie admired the silver dog’s head in order to put the other woman at ease, for she seemed tense and suspicious, and then leant it carefully up against the wall.

‘It was my grandfather’s,’ Mrs Aldershoff told her, lifting her chin.

‘William Aldershoff, who built this mansion.’

‘It’s beautiful,’ Pixie replied and slipped onto the banquette opposite.

‘It was made especially for him in London.’

‘How lovely to have something of his to remember him by.’

Mrs Aldershoff sniffed. ‘Oh, I never knew him. He died before I was born.’