When Mathew Hansen first heard the disembodied voice of a woman through the wall of his new London flat, he thought he imagined it. Mind playing tricks, in a flat that settled and creaked like an old woman. Or maybe too much booze fuelling his nightmares.
The voice couldn’t be real; just the wind, moving around the old Victorian house.
Besides, his bangable neighbour Amanda couldn’t hear the strange chanting sounds. She was just messing with him when she said she did. A little payback for sleeping with her and never calling her back.
It must be his imagination.
Right?