Creepy . . . develops a sense of palpable evil . . . well worth the time of readers who prefer slyly civilized British ghost stories - Kirkus Reviews
Fiendishly clever, spine-tingling short fiction - Publishers Weekly
Marvelous M. R. Jamesian-style ghost stories - Michael Dirda, Washington Post
Dealers are undertakers of a sort. When a man dies, the undertaker comes for the body, and the dealer comes for the rest. I deal in dead mens clocks, pipes and swords. Passing through my hands, they give off joy, loneliness, fear . . . I have known more...
Creepy . . . develops a sense of palpable evil . . . well worth the time of readers who prefer slyly civilized British ghost stories - Kirkus Revie...
There's a legend about the Watch House... Scrape beneath the whitewash and you'll find terror. You'll find him.
Tynemouth, late 1970s. Christmas is coming and Front Street's swinging. But Anne, dumped here while her parents sort their divorce, isn't in the mood. She escapes to the castle, the Priory the beaches. Best of all, the Watch House. The old coastguard's place is packed with weird treasures and no one bothers her. Until lights start to flicker and something stirs in the dark nights...
Buried deep in the past is a secret which now threatens everything. Only Anne can stop it....
There's a legend about the Watch House... Scrape beneath the whitewash and you'll find terror. You'll find him.
