Haunted (12 page)

Ash knelt to examine the fine powder at the top of the stairs. Too many footsteps had disturbed it, either last night or that morning – probably both – for it to reveal anything of use. He scooped up some, then stood. He let the powder drift to the floor again, looking for signs of draughts; there were no diversions in its floating descent. He checked the thermometer nearby. A low reading, but certainly not as low as the previous night’s, and quite normal for a morning at that time of year.

Ash went downstairs and followed the murmur of voices into the breakfast room. Christina was giggling at something that Simon was saying, while Robert Mariell, at the head of the table, was smiling at them both. Conversation ceased when the investigator entered the room.

‘Mr Ash,’ Robert welcomed, indicating a seat next to Nanny Tess and opposite his younger brother and sister. ‘I hope you managed to sleep after your nasty little accident last night.’

Ash pulled back the chair and sat. ‘Uh, yes . . . I slept,’ he replied. ‘I still don’t understand what happened though. I’m sure – I’m
positive
– I saw a girl outside.’

They regarded him in silence.

‘All right,’ he admitted, ‘maybe it was the dog who knocked me into the pond – I’m too confused about that to insist otherwise. But I know I followed the figure of a person from the house and I’m sure it was a girl.’ He looked across the table. ‘I thought it was you, Christina.’

She returned his gaze, but said nothing.

It was Simon who broke the silence. ‘I really do think it’s time we told our investigator what’s been going on here at Edbrook.’

After a moment’s hesitation, Robert agreed. ‘Yes, of course. We refrained from doing so last night because you were somewhat distraught, and because your own instructions were that we should give nothing away for the present. However, I feel it’s time we spoke of our haunting.’

Ash nodded. ‘It’s time.’

‘Well then, it’s fair that Nanny should start. She was the first to be confronted by our ghost.’

All eyes turned towards the aunt, who had left the table to fetch Ash’s breakfast. She laid the plate before him (a meagre portion of scrambled eggs, bacon, and mushrooms), and sat, casting her eyes down at her own half-eaten breakfast as if reluctant to speak.

‘Come along, Nanny, don’t be shy,’ Simon encouraged. ‘Mr Ash is here to help us.’

Ash’s urging was more gentle. ‘Tell me what you experienced, Miss Webb. I won’t be surprised at anything you say.’

Still she was reluctant, her voice faltering. ‘I . . . I’ve seen . . . the ghost a few times.’

‘In the same place?’ he asked.

‘No. In various parts of the house. And . . . and in the garden.’

‘By the pond?’

She avoided his eyes. ‘Yes. Once.’

Ash glanced around at the others, his face grim. ‘What form does it take?’ he asked, his attention returning to the aunt. ‘What does this apparition – this ghost – look like?’

‘It’s a girl,’ she answered. ‘A young girl.’

Ash caught the secretive smile that passed between Simon and Christina. He hid his annoyance. ‘Dressed in a white flowing gown of some sort, possibly a nightgown,’ he said, not as a question.

Nanny Tess nodded, her discomfort apparent.

‘Over what period of time?’

She looked up at him. ‘I’m sorry?’

‘How long have you been witnessing the phenomenon?’

‘Ghost, surely, Mr Ash,’ Robert Mariell interrupted.

‘That hasn’t been established yet,’ Ash replied curtly. ‘How long, Miss Webb?’

‘Years,’ she said. ‘It must be years.’

‘Then why is it only now that you want the matter investigated?’

Robert spoke up for her again. ‘Ah, because until recently it was only Nanny who bore witness to the, uh, “phenomenon”. Now we all have.’

Simon’s hand went to his mouth as he tried to suppress a giggle.

Ash stared at him. ‘Is this some kind of joke?’

‘You must forgive my brother,’ apologized Robert. ‘He tends to find humour in most situations.’

‘I’m not alone in that,’ Simon quickly responded.

The older Mariell ignored him.

‘You’re being extremely rude to our guest,’ Nanny Tess scolded.

‘You’re quite right, of course, Nanny,’ Robert said, smiling. He turned to the investigator. ‘I’m afraid Nanny Tess has suffered our juvenile humour since we were children. I often wonder why she’s put up with us for so long.’

Quietly, almost to herself, the aunt said, ‘Somebody had to. Somebody . . .’ Once again her head bowed as if she were studying the plate before her, the food there hardly touched.

Ash made an attempt to begin his own breakfast, though he had scant appetite. ‘You said you’ve all now seen what you believe to be the ghost of a girl.’

Robert answered for them. ‘More than once. And each of us in different parts of the house. But only Nanny has seen this poor spirit beyond the walls of Edbrook.’

‘What makes you say “poor” spirit?’

‘Isn’t that what these apparitions are – the desolate souls of those unfortunates who have left their earthly bodies in traumatic, or perhaps even tragic circumstances? I’m sure I read that somewhere.’

‘It’s an accepted theory.’

For the first time that morning, Christina spoke up: ‘But not accepted by you.’

Light from the long windows behind her, as the day at last began to brighten, haloed her hair a deep glowing red. There was a hint of amusement in her eyes – something else that Ash was quickly becoming used to – and he wondered if she were mocking him. ‘I’m prepared to believe that emotions of certain distressed people can be so strong at the moment of death, whether through pain, unhappiness, or shock, that an impression is left behind. An after-image, if you like, that can take years, maybe centuries, to fade completely.’ He turned from Christina to Robert. ‘I imagine Edbrook has quite a history. Has the Mariell family always owned the property?’

‘Many, many generations of the Mariells have lived here, Mr Ash,’ Robert told him. ‘Since it was built in the sixteenth century, in fact.’

‘Then you might know—’

The other man was quick to interrupt. ‘The Mariells have always preferred to forget their misfortunes. As far as I’m aware, no Edbrook tragedies have been recorded. Our generation has its own, of course – the death of our parents when we were only children – but that was due to an accident far from here.’

‘No guests, no servants, ever died in unfortunate circumstances inside the house?’

‘Ah, those were the days when there were servants at Edbrook. Now the running of the house falls entirely on the shoulders of poor Nanny. She copes very well . . .’

The aunt, who was pouring tea for their guest, didn’t appear to appreciate the compliment. Ash thanked her when she placed the cup before him and was puzzled by her taciturnity.

‘But I’ve no knowledge,’ her nephew continued, ‘of murders or suicides of either guests or servants in Edbrook’s history.’

‘With a house this old it’d be a little unusual if there wasn’t a skeleton or two lurking in a cupboard somewhere.’ He added milk to his tea, then sipped it before saying, ‘It would help to know who the girl was.’

Christina leaned forward, her hands resting on the table. ‘Then you believe a ghost does haunt this house.’

He shrugged. ‘There may be a visual representation of someone who once lived here still lingering. Perhaps that’s what I saw last night. A manifestation of some kind.’

‘Surely that’s just a fancy term for “ghost”,’ Simon insisted somewhat scornfully.

‘No, just another word for “image”. It doesn’t have to be a ghost in the sense you mean.’ He looked around the table. ‘Later this morning, I’d like each of you—’

A small cry came from Nanny Tess. In her hand she held the pepper pot, the top of which, along with a mound of pepper, now lay on her breakfast plate. Simon and Christina burst into laughter and when their aunt started sneezing, that laughter became uproarious. Even Robert started to chuckle.

Ash looked from face to face, perplexed by the childish trick.

His eyes rested on Christina and through her laughter she noticed his study. Her merriment faded. She looked to her brothers as if for reassurance, but they did not seem to notice.

Ash continued to watch her, but she avoided his eyes. He wondered why.

Kate McCarrick pushed through the swing doors of the Psychical Research Institute and strode across to the reception desk, bidding its occupant good morning and collecting a pile of letters and packages from her. She sorted through them as she made her way upstairs to her office, murmuring hello to colleagues she passed on the way.

Once inside her own room, she dumped the correspondence on her desk, then took off scarf and coat to hang them behind the door. Settled, she flicked through her appointments diary, lifting the telephone receiver with her other hand and pressing the O button as she did so.

‘Jenny, has David Ash tried to reach me this morning?’ she asked. ‘No? Get a number for me then, will you?’ After giving the Mariell name and their home address, Kate replaced the receiver. She began opening her post.

At the same time, in the library of Edbrook, David Ash was repositioning a Polaroid camera and its tripod, careful not to dislodge the wires connected to other sensor equipment. Robert Mariell, hands clasped behind his back, watched in what might have been amused silence.

‘About here?’ asked the investigator, looking towards the observer for confirmation.

‘Yes, there at first, and then . . .’ Robert waved his hand nonchalantly around the room ‘. . . here, there . . . several places, actually.’

Ash straightened up, satisfied at least that the camera covered a good portion of the library. ‘Has she ever spoken? Have you tried to speak to her?’

Robert frowned. ‘My dear chap, I don’t make a habit of conducting conversations with ghosts. I consider just seeing the wretched thing queer enough.’ He twitched his shoulders in a shiver. ‘At any rate, your camera seems to be in a good enough position to catch anything. Tell me what all this nonsense that it’s attached to is.’

Ash pointed. ‘That’s called a capacitance change detector. Any movement in the room and it’ll trigger off the camera and the tape recorder. I’ll set it later when we’re sure none of us is likely to enter the library.’ He reached into his jacket and produced a microtape recorder. ‘I’d like you to tell me exactly what you saw. For the record.’

Robert’s eyebrows arched. ‘For the record?’

‘For the Institute’s files only. Complete confidentiality guaranteed.’ He switched on the tiny machine and placed it on the corner of a table between himself and the other man.

Robert studied it for a moment or two before speaking. ‘Very well,’ he said at last. ‘I saw a girl in this room, although she was only a hazy sort of form at first, not clear at all. Definitely a girl though, in her early twenties, I’d say. I saw her – it – again a few days – no, not days:
nights
– later, much clearer this time, almost as if her presence was growing in strength. I must admit, I felt quite weak at the sight of her.’

‘That sometimes happens. Manifestations of this kind seem to draw off psychic energy from their witnesses, using it to strengthen their own form. They’re able to sap energy from the atmosphere too – that’s why the temperature of a room may suddenly drop. Their presence has even been known to affect electricity.’