Chapter 13
Sleep was elusive that night. Esme was too on edge to do anything but lie there, weighed down with thoughts of her mother’s plight. In amongst her fears the ghosts’ voices echoed, grieving for their lost lives, resigned to their half-existence. At dawn, Esme gave up any hope of rest, got dressed, and stumbled like a sleep-walker to the Anais clinic.
As Esme slipped through the city’s still-slumbering corridors, she couldn’t help but imagine her mother’s dazed, spectral figure haunting them. The Past Made Present: The Ghosts of Esperance was tucked under Esme’s arm, feeling as heavy as if she was carrying ten books, rather than one.
Esme caught Augustine on the steps of the Anais. He’d just finished his morning rounds. ‘You’re here early,’ he said with surprise.
‘I found some
