I walk around London at midnight – with my father's ghost for company | Barbara Nadel

The crime writer travels the City’s historic and deserted streets alone, but memories of her father are always there to guide her

The magic takes hold as soon as I step into All Hallows by the Tower churchyard. It’s gone midnight and at first I look right towards one of the City of London’s oldest churches. Then I turn left, with a coldness trickling down my spine as I stare deep into my own past.

My father, nearly 20 years dead now, used to take me on both day and nighttime jaunts through London. A thin, stylish East Ender, he was the sort of man who could produce a coin from your ear, magic away sickness and reveal the weird glories of London. Dad found the miraculous in everything, which is why I always carry him in my head when I go on these midnight yomps through the City.