By Martin Pearson

Philomena Bucket was sitting in silence in the snuggery of The Squid and Teapot. It was an hour or so before dawn, and, except for the tiny flame of her candle, the inn was in darkness. For three nights now she had followed the same ritual, hoping to summon the ghost of Granny Bucket. So far her beloved ancestor had failed to materialise. This was ironic, for there had been times in the recent past when Granny, whose presence was always something of a mixed blessing, had flitted in and out of Philomena’s life, unbidden, on a regular basis. Where was she now, when her granddaughter most needed her advice?

Since Reggie Upton had arrived on the island, Philomena had been given much to ponder. It was not that Reggie himself was a problem; in fact, he was the very epitome of gentlemanly behaviour.  Philomena’s main concern was that Reggie’s tulpa – the thought-form he referred to as Annie – had not only become more than a little petulant, but had also managed to separate itself from him. Like most of us, Philomena had no first-hand experience of tulpa behaviour, and was unsure if this was a common occurrence, or a direct result of being brought to Hopeless, where the strangest of things were wont to happen.  Reggie had related the story of Annie’s creation in confidence to Philomena and, as far as she was aware, no one else on the island knew about it. While none of this affected Philomena personally, she could see how much it troubled her friend, who had endeared himself to many who frequented The Squid. Lately, however, he had taken to arguing publicly with Annie, an entity invisible to everyone except Philomena and himself. Soon rumours were spreading that he was either quite mad, or in an almost permanent state of inebriation. This was unfair, for while it cannot be denied that Reggie was inclined towards a degree of eccentricity and, indeed, no stranger to the occasional ‘Beaker full of the Warm South’, as Keats so aptly put it, there was much more to the man than that.  The tulpa needed to be put back into Reggie’s head, heart, mind, psyche – or whichever bit of him it had lived previously – as soon as was possible. That was why Philomena needed Granny’s assistance.

The fact that she could see Annie came as no great surprise to Philomena. She had always had the dubious gift of ‘The Sight’, and had lately been assured by several who, in her opinion, should know better, that she was the last, and most powerful, of a long line of witches. This revelation was something of a bone of contention between her and Granny, who maintained that it was Philomena’s duty to produce at least one daughter to carry on the tradition. Here was another reason to get Annie safely back into Reggie with some haste, for Philomena and the notorious Durosimi O’Stoat were descended from a common ancestor. If Philomena could see the tulpa, then it was certain that Durosimi would be able to. Assuredly, the old villain would not be able to resist the temptation of ensnaring Annie and using it for all sorts of mischief.

It was on the fourth night that Granny eventually chose to manifest herself. She did not appear, as was expected, in the flickering candlelight of the snug, but went to quite another area of The Squid and Teapot. To all intents and purposes, Granny had not come to see Philomena, but to call in on her old friend, Lady Margaret D’Avening, the ghostly White Lady, who carried her head in her hands and haunted the inn’s flushing indoor privy. It was only by chance that Philomena knew the she was there, having volunteered to work late and wield a mop and bucket, following a rather over-enthusiastic birthday celebration by Egbert Washwell and his six brothers (and that is as much as you need to know regarding that particular event, believe me!).

The two ghosts were complaining about the lamentable behaviour of modern youth (which included anyone born during the last two centuries) and Drury’s annoying habit of trying to run away with Lady Margaret’s head.

“Philomena, me darlin’, I hear that you’ve been trying to get hold of me,” said Granny, when her granddaughter entered the privy to empty her mop-bucket.

“Ah, so there you are, at last!” said Philomena testily. “I’ve been trying to contact you for days.”

When Granny asked what the urgency was, Philomena related the problem of Reggie’s tulpa. Lady Margaret looked down her nose (which is easy if you are holding your head in your hands at the time).

“Thought forms!” she spat the words out with venom. “Such horrid, common things. I can’t stand them.”

Lady Margaret was one of those people who would invariably start a sentence with the words “I’m not a snob, but…” then go out of her way to prove that she was.

“Oh, they’re alright,” said Granny. “It’s just that they’ve got no experience of life like me and you have had, Maggie.”

Lady Margaret hated being called Maggie almost as much as she loathed sloppy English, but, out of deference to Granny, she let both offences pass.

“Well, I think they’re ghastly,” she said primly, which was rich coming from a three-hundred-year old spectre, with a severed head and a diaphanous nightgown splattered in gore. With that she turned abruptly and disappeared into the wall.

“But can they be banished, back into the original host?” asked Philomena, thankful that she could now talk to Granny without Lady Margaret butting in.

“Usually thought forms evaporate into thin air after a while,” said Granny, “but, as I see it, this one has been conjured from somewhere deep in Reggie’s mind, and is altogether different. So, in answer to your question, yes, anything can be banished, providing you know the right spell and aren’t fussy if something gets damaged along the way.”

“Damaged?” asked Philomena, nervously.

“Your chum Reggie,” said Granny. “might not come out of it so well if this toupee of his…”

“Tulpa,” corrected Philomena.

“If this thingy of his puts up a fight.”

Knowing what she did of Annie, Philomena thought that this would be more than likely.

“Is there anything we can do?” Philomena asked.

“Much as I should be singing the praises of pocheen and porter, when it comes to things like this I have great faith in the power of The Green Fairy. You wouldn’t be having any absinthe handy, by any chance?”

Philomena smiled.

“It’s funny that you should say that,” she said.

To be continued…