The First Lady of the Paranormal, also known as the Queen of the Night, is waiting for me at Crewe railway station in a bright red vintage Mini. I just about fold myself into the front seat. She cackles, performs a miraculous U-turn and puts her foot to the floor. She talks as she drives, 19 to the dozen: the car is from 1969, when the Beatles were still together. She loves the Beatles – and the Mini. Sometimes, she’ll just beep the horn at someone, for a laugh, like this, beep beep, ay oop … A man walking on the pavement looks startled, then waves back.
“Hold on to your hat – we’re going to break through,” she says, turning right off the main road in front of a lorry. Perfectly safely, to be fair – I just feel quite small and vulnerable.
