Page 79 of The Hanging Tree

‘It was a lovely service. She’s in the graveyard when you’re ready to visit. I’ve been taking care of John’s grave and hers and your brother’s too.’

‘Thank you, Graham. I’m sorry about Stephen.’

Graham looks ahead at the now-rising sun, its yellow and orange hues cascading across the sky. ‘Thank you. He’s back in Cherry Hollow next to his girlfriend, Rachel. The coroner said it wasn’t the loss of oxygen that killed him. It was his brain tumour. I wrongly assumed that it was all in his head, especially since he’d been seeing things that weren’t reallythere. I suppose I wasn’t ready to accept that I was going to lose another friend, so I believed it was something else that was causing him to see things.’

‘I’ve read about Cherry Hollow. I’ve had a lot of time to read while I’ve been recovering. It sounds like an interesting town.’

‘That’s one way of describing it.’

‘There wasn’t anything you could have done,’ says Sophia. She’s carried a shoulder bag up with her and has put it on the ground. Shifting Barney ever so slightly, she reaches down and fetches a sketchpad and a pencil.

‘No, I suppose there wasn’t,’ replies Graham. ‘I think Stephen knew his time had come. He was never going to be able to outrun death. It’s one of those inevitable things we all have to come to terms with eventually, but I like to think he’s at peace now.’

Graham and Sophia share a smile. ‘I think he is,’ says Sophia. ‘He was a writer?’ She nods at the notebook in Graham’s hands.

‘Yes, a fine journalist. Rather skilled at finding out the truth behind a story.’

‘Is that what you’re doing now?’

Graham sighs. ‘It doesn’t happen every day, but I’m sure he’ll make an appearance when he’s ready. I feel like he has one more article left to write before he says goodbye.’

‘It freaked me out the first time it happened to me too,’ says Sophia, taking the pencil and pressing the tip against a blank page. She holds it there a moment, then, slowly, she begins to draw.

The sunrise is brightening the sky all around them now, warming the air. Graham closes his eyes, breathes in deep and exhales slowly, until his lungs are empty. He looks down at the writing pad, picks up his pen and begins to write.

Graham and Sophia sit in silence, channelling the spirits of the dead.

‘Nice of you to join me again, old friend,’ he says into the breeze as the light of a new day draws closer with everypassing minute.