Henry Neville- The Geist Therapist

7. Interlude One

Mr Dibbs And His Persistent Mother

Eight days had passed since the incident at the docks and the rescue of the sixteen children. In that time, the therapist had helped seven lost spirits find their way to the world beyond with his new assistant, Polly. They were becoming quite a team.

The day started like any ordinary morning. Henry had promised to make tea but then got so lost in his studies that the task was picked up by Polly. In the late afternoon, a knock like any other brought Henry's attention and he opened the door to the next potential client on his doorstep. A gentleman of middle class status shuffled uneasily in his presence. "Yes, sir," Henry started.

"May I talk, Mr Neville?" The man said.

"You may come in first, Mr?"

The man cleared his throat. "Dibbs, sir. Mr Dibbs."

Henry ushered Mr Dibbs into the living room.

"Mr Neville, I require your time to attend my address in Richmond," Mr Dibbs tapped his bowler hat as he entered the host's living room.

"For what do I owe this attendance?"

Mr Dibbs sat in the armchair closest to the fireplace and admired the decorating, "I see you went for the scheele's green." He eyed the floral wallpaper carefully.

"Temporary, given the latest findings it is due to come down by weeks end."

Mr Dibbs nodded, "Very well."

Henry sat opposite his guest, "So what service can I offer you?"

"My mother is currently sat in my living room. She's taken to reading my morning newspapers."

"Women are very adept at reading, Mr Dibbs. What of it?"

Mr Dibbs gave a ghoulish look into Henry's eyes. He let out a scoff as he did not know how to approach the subject, or even how to become accepting of it, "She died seven years ago. She was buried several miles away north of Watford."

Henry waited a moment before replying, "She's not supposed to be there."

"Do you not think I know that, Mr Neville?"

Henry's guest was clearly disturbed. He decided he should be more cautious, "So is Mrs Dibbs no longer welcome in the family house?"

"It's queer, Mr Neville. My mother barely looks our way, she does not speak and moves items to her pleasing," he scoffed again, "We are awaken to all sorts of frolicking and bangs. It is most unusual."

"What does your wife say of the matter?"

"She is most frightfully scared. We barely sleep a wink at night."

Henry stood back up and reached for the glass cupboard, pulling out two small glasses and a bottle of brandy. He poured two shots and handed one to his guest, "Most people find comfort in a loved one returning to them, why are you not comforted?"

Mr Dibbs swallowed, "I love my mother, God rest her soul, but we have said our goodbyes and she has departed. I am not comfortable having her spirit, or whatever it is, haunting our estate now."

Henry knocked back his shot of brandy and poured another one before speaking again, "What is it you would like me to achieve for you?"

"Come and do whatever it is you do. Catch the spirit, send it on its way. Just get rid of it."

"That's not how I work, good sir, but you can consider me employed."

Mr Dibbs spoke as if a heavy strain had been lifted, "Thank you so much, Mr Neville. I will pay what will be due.