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Bonnie bit her lip as Alma flicked the two brass clasps and lifted the lid.

Inside, the Ouija board looked innocuous enough.

It certainly didn’t give the impression that it was about to leap out and bite them.

However, it was painted in the muted colours of its time and the bold black numbers and letters were in a curvy font, which gave it a magical air.

On the inside of the lid was a yellowed label that stated the name Haversham 1891 , and the words The Mysterious Cabinet .

Leona had seen it before, but Phyllis and Bonnie had not.

They didn’t know what to expect and hoped Alma knew what she was doing.

Stories of teenagers playing with Ouija boards did not on the whole end well.

Carefully, Alma lifted out the board. Leona put the box on the floor beside her chair, for it would not be needed.

Alma slid the board into the middle of the table as her grandmother used to do.

Bonnie and Phyllis studied it curiously.

Painted in an arc was the alphabet and beneath it the numbers 0 to 9 .

Under the numbers were the words Goodbye and Hello .

In the top-left corner was Yes . In the top-right corner was No .

The planchette was made out of wood in the shape of a giant teardrop, with a circular hole carved into the fat end within which the number or letter chosen could be viewed.

The idea was for each person at the table to lay a finger lightly on the planchette and wait for it to move around the board, spelling out words and numbers as the spirit communicated from the Other Side.

Alma was ashamed that, in her youth, she had condemned her grandmother’s interest in spiritualism as absurd, following her mother’s lead like an obedient sheep – Alice Aldershoff had only been interested in things she could buy, and which preferably shone.

Having been raised in the Christian faith Alma believed in some sort of afterlife, but she did not believe in spirits, much less in her grandmother’s ability to communicate with them.

However, as she approached the end of her life and the question of where she was headed grew increasingly more pressing, she had begun to open up to the possibility of surviving death in spirit form, and even perhaps being capable of returning to keep an eye on those left behind.

Certainly, she hoped to be reunited with the people she had loved in life who had gone before her.

She very much hoped to communicate with the dead now.

‘Alma, are you sure you know what you’re doing?’ Phyllis asked. She knew Bonnie felt the same anxiety but was too scared of Alma to voice it. ‘I mean, this was something your grandmother used to do. Don’t you have to be a spiritualist or something to work this board?’

‘Anyone can use a Ouija board,’ Alma replied with a sniff. She had already explained this, so why were they getting nervous about it now? ‘Even children play about with them.’

‘And get into trouble,’ Phyllis said with an uneasy chuckle. ‘I don’t want things to start flying about the room.’

Alma shook her head. ‘My dear Phyllis, nothing is going to fly about the room.’ Of course, Alma didn’t really know anything about Ouija boards, but she didn’t remember anything untoward happening when her grandmother had used it.

‘Mother, perhaps now would be a good time to tell Phyllis and Bonnie what you intend to do with the board?’ suggested Leona gently. She couldn’t reveal that she thought the whole operation ridiculous. Leona didn’t believe in life after death. In her opinion, when you died, you just became earth.

‘Very well,’ Alma replied. She took a deep breath, aware that what she was about to say was going to sound crazy.

The Ouija board was one thing, what she intended to do with it was quite another!

‘I need to contact my father,’ she said.

Bonnie and Phyllis did not seem surprised to hear this – after all, the purpose of the board was none other than to communicate with the dead.

‘What do you need to ask him?’ Phyllis enquired.

Alma’s nostrils flared as she readied herself for disbelief, or worse, ridicule.

‘You are my two dearest friends,’ she said carefully, looking at each woman with a steady gaze, as if challenging their devotion.

‘That is why I have invited you here, because I trust you.’ She paused, feeling exposed suddenly.

Alma was not known to be a sensitive woman, but she was feeling sensitive now.

Recent events had cut her to her core. She felt as if she’d shed a skin, leaving her vulnerable.

She did not want to be laughed at. ‘I need to ask my father where he hid the Potemkin Diamond.’

Bonnie, who was a shy woman, did not allow her face to show surprise. But she was surprised. Phyllis was bolder. ‘The Potemkin Diamond?’ she repeated, her face ablaze with astonishment. ‘Treasure hunters have been searching for that for years.’

‘Which is why I need to ask my father directly,’ Alma said.

A vision floated to the front of her mind: her father kneeling before her and opening his hand slowly, as if he were a magician doing a trick.

Cradled in his palm was a sparkling pale-pink diamond, the colour of candy.

The many smooth facets caught the light and shone brightly.

It was the size of a date. She blinked the vision away.

‘He died young and without sons to pass it on to,’ she continued, another memory rising like damp to sully the recollection of that rare, tender moment with her father.

‘You know how he felt about daughters. He would never have left it to my elder sister, or to me, the final longed-for child who should have been a boy. No, he kept the secret as his father had done before him, and waited for the heir that never came. Oh, what a disappointment I was. All I have is this key, which he always wore about his neck.’ She pulled from her blouse a tiny gold key that hung on a chain. ‘I need to know where the lock is.’

‘But why now?’ Phyllis asked. ‘What does it matter?’

Alma caught her daughter’s eye. ‘I need to sell it,’ she said tightly, shuffling uncomfortably on her chair.

At last Bonnie spoke up. ‘But you’re in your nineties, Alma. What would you do with all that money now?’

‘I have something very specific I want to do with it,’ she replied cagily. ‘A dying wish.’

‘You’re not dying, are you?’ Phyllis exclaimed in alarm.

Alma laughed, a rare flash of humour on this dark night. ‘I’m approaching a hundred, Phyllis,’ she replied wryly. ‘I’d say I’m on the home stretch, wouldn’t you?’

‘So, let’s get on with it then,’ said Phyllis. ‘If you’re on the home stretch, we mustn’t waste a moment. How do we do it?’

Alma felt better now that she had shared her purpose with her friends, although she wasn’t confident it would work.

‘A Ouija board is all about the law of attraction,’ she said, recalling what her grandmother had told her.

‘If you go into it with the intention of playing a game and causing mischief, you will attract a mischievous spirit. That’s why we say a prayer and ask for protection prior to using it. ’

‘That sounds very sensible,’ said Bonnie, who looked really quite nervous.

Alma nodded. ‘So, let’s do that now.’

She closed her eyes. The others followed her example.

The room was silent, except for the rumble of traffic outside on Fifth Avenue, and the more distant droning, like the low buzzing of bees, of a city in constant motion.

Alma took a deep breath, as she remembered her grandmother doing.

It was important to follow Didi Aldershoff’s example to the letter.

Alma didn’t want to admit that she had never attempted to use the board on her own.

The last time she had been included in a seance was back in the 1930s when she had gone to stay with her grandmother, who was by then in her late seventies, on Rhode Island.

The countryside mansion, referred to ironically as a ‘cottage’, was an obscenely large Italianate palace facing the sea in fashionable Newport.

That, too, had eventually gone the way of the house on Fifth Avenue after Didi passed away in 1951.

It was simply a case of economics – and the death throes of that once magnificent phoenix.

But a covert fascination in the board had stayed with Alma and remained at the bottom of her consciousness, like a sleeping serpent she was afraid to awaken.

She had saved the box from the refuse collectors when her mother had gone through Didi’s possessions following her death, but had never had the confidence, or courage, to open it – until now.

Desperate times called for desperate measures!

She was now going to look the serpent dead in the eye.

‘In the name of God, Jesus Christ and the Angelic Realm.’ Alma tried to remember what her grandmother used to say.

‘Please surround us with your protection and your light as we endeavour to communicate with those in spirit. Please protect this board, this house and all the people in it. Amen.’ She sniffed self-consciously.

She was aware that she hadn’t recalled her grandmother’s exact words – she was sure there had been mention of Archangels Michael and Uriel, and something about the forces of evil, but she wasn’t certain.

It had been a long time ago and, to be fair, she hadn’t really listened.

She now wished she had. In any case, she had asked for protection and expected it to be given.

There were, after all, only so many ways to bake a cake!

The women repeated, ‘Amen,’ and then opened their eyes expectantly.

‘That should do it, shouldn’t it?’ said Bonnie eagerly. ‘No dark entities will be allowed through, right?’

‘Right,’ said Alma. ‘We’re all set. Are you ready?’