It was generally agreed that Neville Moore had recovered remarkably well. His English had returned to normal, he no longer attempted to decline nouns in extinct dialects over breakfast, and Lenore, although still inclined to say “Nevermore” at inappropriate moments, had finally accepted that the hatstand in The Squid and Teapot was not her natural habitat.
“You’re thinking of going home then?” asked Philomena, as she polished a row of glasses.
“I believe we should,” Neville replied. “Ghastly Green has been unattended for rather longer than I intended.”
Lenore cocked her head.
“Nevermore.”
“Quite,” said Neville.
Philomena smiled.
“I shall miss you both.”
“So shall I,” admitted Reggie Upton. “The place will seem almost… ordinary.”
Nobody contradicted him.
The mausoleum that Neville called home stood where it always had, beneath the old yew trees on Ghastly Green.
It was less gloomy than people imagined.
True, ivy covered most of the stonework, and the windows admitted little more than the suggestion of light, but Neville had always maintained that the building possessed “a certain melancholy charm.”
Visitors generally settled for “damp.”
The front door protested loudly as Neville unlocked it.
“I don’t remember leaving it like that.”
Lenore fluttered inside ahead of him.
Silence greeted them. It was the sort of silence that has become comfortable through long acquaintance.
Neville smiled.
“I think we’re home.”
“Nevermore.”
“Yes… exactly.”
Back at The Squid and Teapot, Philomena noticed something.
“It’s very quiet.”
Rhys looked around.
“It is.”
“I hadn’t realised how much space they filled.”
“Lenore only weighs a few pounds.”
“I wasn’t talking about weight.”
Neither of them mentioned it again.
The following day Reggie decided they ought to pay a visit.
“It seems the neighbourly thing to do,” he said.
Leaving Tenzin to look after Caitlin and Little Oswald, Philomena, Rhys and Reggie set off. Philomena had packed a freshly baked loaf, and a small fruit cake.
“I don’t suppose they’ll need it,” she said, knowing full well that Neville would never turn down fresh bread and fruit cake.
“One never knows,” said Reggie, quietly hoping that the hermit would insist on sharing the cake.
Neville answered the door looking remarkably pleased.
“My dear friends!”
“You’ve settled back in without mishap?” asked Philomena
“Very comfortably, thank you,” replied Neville.
Reggie peered past him.
The interior looked exactly as he remembered. Books occupied every available surface, and dust occupied everything else.
Lenore sat upon an elaborately carved stone angel that had somehow found its way into the sitting room years before.
“Nevermore,” she croaked.
“And a good afternoon to you too,” said Reggie.
Neville poured tea into mismatched china cups.
“I had forgotten how peaceful it is here.”
Philomena glanced towards the staircase.
“I always feel there ought to be someone else living here.”
Neville looked puzzled.
“There is.”
“There is?” It was Philomena’s turn to be puzzled.
“Almost certainly,” said Neville, somewhat unhelpfully.
“I’ve never seen anyone.”
“No, neither have I,” agreed Neville.
This was becoming confusing, to say the least.
“Who is it?”
“I’m not quite sure,” admitted Neville, “though it might be Annabel.”
“Annabel?” asked Rhys.
“Yes. She was a child and I was a child…” .
“Ah, another lost love?”suggested Reggie.
“Well, it was many and many a year ago,” said Neville sadly.
Nobody spoke.
Finally Reggie buttered a slice of bread.
“I think,” he said carefully, “that may be one of the most Hopeless things I’ve ever heard.”
Neville looked genuinely surprised.
“Is it?”
As dusk settled over Ghastly Green, Philomena and the others walked back towards the inn. Halfway across the green she glanced over her shoulder. A lamp now glowed warmly behind one of the mausoleum windows. For just a moment she thought she saw another figure standing beside Neville.
Tall and still, watching them leave.
She blinked. This time the room contained only Neville, reading quietly in his armchair.
Beside him, Lenore ruffled her feathers.
“Nevermore.”
Philomena smiled to herself.
“It must have been the light.”
She hoped so.
Behind Neville, unnoticed by anyone at all, the unseen occupant quietly smiled, and drifted up the stairs.