I adjusted my bag and walked forward. Shadows were not permitted in this realm of science.

This was more like it.

The hall was crowded, but my eyes moved, constantly seeking the missing ghost. I clenched my gloved fist as he failed to materialise.

In case I’d missed him I circled the energy section twice more, growing familiar with the locomotives, cars and planes surrounding me. He wasn’t there.

On the way towards the exit, shoulders sagging, I passed Stephenson’s Rocket and hesitated. The first of its kind, it looked utterly out of place in front of the shiny engines that had superceded it.

I took a tiny step forward. My hand lifted as if to touch the huge wooden wheels, but I couldn’t reach past the stand. Rocket was to look at, not to touch.

Without Rocket there would have been no Apollo. I shook my head and willed my feet to move, but they didn’t. The metal barrel of its body led my eye to the black chimney… and Justin dropped out of the bottom.

I gasped and relief almost knocked me to the floor. I had found him. Nervously I exhaled, if he ran off again I was in deep trouble. Somehow I had to keep him calm.

I watched in anxious silence as Justin stepped backwards out of Rocket, wiping his hands as though he’d been doing maintenance on the locomotive’s innards. He didn’t turn his head to acknowledge me, but he knew I was there. He froze and put one hand on a wheel that was almost as big as he was.

“Did you know Stephenson was basically uneducated?” His voice was loud in the hall. All the suspended technology invited a church-like silence but Justin’s voice boomed.

I blinked at his words and he carried on, still refusing to look at me.

“When he was seventeen he went to night school so he could read and write. He learned all about engines in the collieries and invented a safety lamp that would burn without exploding. Then this ‘educated’ scientist accused him of nicking his idea.”

I swallowed, unable to bridge the gap between us. “I didn’t know that.”

“Then did you know that Rocket killed a man?”

I shook my head, but he talked on, as if I hadn’t moved. “William Huskisson, Member of Parliament for Liverpool. He was attending the opening of the Liverpool and Manchester Railway. He was the first ever guy under a train.” He hesitated and his fingers stroked the killer engine. “Bet you’ve seen a few of those.”

I shuffled my feet. “Not really.” He didn’t show that he’d heard me. “Are you coming out of there?”

“Rocket changed the world.” Justin still didn’t look at me. “Did you know they’re testing a network of personal driverless pods at Heathrow? They could be all over the world by the time we’re… you’re fifty.”

“Justin…”

“I was going to change the world.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Now he looked at me and I took a step back, almost tripping over the wheels of a pram. I weathered a glare from the mother and turned back to Justin.

He finally moved his hands from Rocket and spread them wide. “I know people say that, but I had ideas. We could have made them happen, Dad and me, just like Robert and his son.”

I gestured to the train he’d dropped from. “You get it then? You’re dead.”

He put his hand through the engine then pulled it free and nodded. “It’s been nearly a week and I don’t need to eat or sleep. I haven’t even been able to touch anyone since you.” His eyes met mine.

“Well, you aren’t touching me again.” I wrapped my hands around my elbows. “Tell me who killed you and you can move on.”

Justin shook his head slowly. “I don’t get this. I don’t get why you can see me when no one else can.”

A Japanese family moved towards me and I pressed my lips together. Then I gestured curtly for Justin to follow me and headed towards the lift.

We stood in silence as we rose towards the fifth floor. Justin said nothing more about engineering, Stephenson, or his Dad and every time he moved, I moved too – away from him, as though we were opposing magnets.

Finally the lift doors opened onto a white corridor with two exits. In one I could see a plastic replica of a skinned cow. I shuddered and turned the other way.

“The Science and Art of Medicine?” Justin frowned.

“I’m betting it’ll be quiet.” I paused with my hand on the door. A security guard glared at me through the glass but I was thinking about the dim lighting. I considered changing my mind and heading for the skinned cow, but apart from the guard, the room was empty; we’d be able to talk.

I opened the door and went in.

The air was cooler and drier here and the low lighting gave the impression, not of age or mustiness, but of importance. The displays were sedately lit and invited long, slow examination.

The security guard lounged on his stool by the door and barely glanced at me as I walked past.

On our left there was an Egyptian display. Perfect. Immediately I led Justin towards the mummified corpse that formed the centrepiece. We were shielded from the guard by a wall and there were no other visitors.

“I thought there’d be a picture of Anubis in here,” I frowned. “There isn’t one. That’s strange.”

“Who’s Anubis?” Justin stood next to me, so close the hairs on my arms stood up.

“Egyptian God of embalming and mummification.”

Justin eyed the mummy in the sarcophagus. “I can see why you thought there’d be something about him round here. Why, does it matter? You aren’t Egyptian are you?”

“I’m half Chinese, Hargreaves.”

“On your Mum’s side, right?”

“Right.”

He hesitated briefly. “Then… why’re you called Taylor Oh?”

“Huh?”

“Shouldn’t you be Taylor Smith, or something, whatever your Dad’s name is?”

“Not everyone takes their husband’s name,” I snapped. Then I looked at the ceiling and took a breath. “If we all keep the same name it helps us keep track.”

“Keep track?”

“Of who carries the curse.” I cracked my knuckles, hardly able to believe that I was about to speak the words. But Justin was dead; he had no one to tell. If he thought I was crazy or didn’t believe me, what would it matter? Suddenly I was desperate to talk and the words tumbled from me like sand through an hourglass.

“Anubis is meant to be the reason for all this. My ancestor was a member of an expedition of... I suppose you'd call them tomb robbers. They found Nefertiti's tomb but it wasn't empty.” I looked at the mummified Egyptian, my memory taking me back to my mother's book. Scattered lanterns illuminated the bodies.

For a moment the mummy had looked as if it were bathed in blood. I caught a skeptical twitch of Justin’s eyebrows.

“Oh-Fa was the last survivor of the slaughter. Anubis offered him life in exchange for his service. Oh-Fa agreed and now, at a certain age, unlucky members of my family start to see ghosts – murder victims. I was ten.”

“Ten.” Disbelief vibrated in Justin's voice.

I sighed and focused on the bandaged corpse. “It was your first day at school.”

“Oh, please...”

“Really. It was my birthday, remember?” I closed my eyes, allowing the memories to wash over me. “I'd been seeing this clown all day. At first I thought Dad might have hired him – you know, like a really cruddy birthday treat. But it was creepy the way he was hanging around the school. I kept seeing his balloons, but no one else noticed anything.”

Justin shook his head. “You're making this up.”

I pushed my hair from my face. “Why would I?”

He leaned close to the glass case, close enough for his breath to have fogged the glass, but no fog appeared. Then he leaned back. “So then what?”

“I started hearing the flap-slap of his giant shoes. Clown shoes, you know?”