House of Shadows (23 page)

Miss Connie Spears, as we were introduced to young William's girlfriend, was tiny and dark-haired and very slender. She looked as if a puff of wind, let alone a gaggle of ghosts, would blow her over, but she had an incredibly strong voice which she demonstrated after dinner by singing a medley of songs to us.

I wondered how the ‘ghosts' were appreciating it and smiled as I thought of Beatrice covering her ears in the bedroom. I'd asked her to join us, but she'd said, ‘No –' very firmly – ‘I couldn't spoil the image the guests have of me as a ghost,' which made sense, I supposed.

I felt guilty though at leaving her out, and asked Mrs Ward to take some supper on a tray to the blue room.

She shook her head so much that her greying curls came loose from the pins and fell against her face, making her seem much younger. ‘You won't catch me going in there,' she announced, folding her arms firmly across her breasts.

‘I thought you didn't believe in ghosts!' I was amused, but she obviously wasn't.

‘I don't care about ghosts, but have you seen the state of the ceiling in there?'

‘What on earth do you mean?'

‘Well, you can see the daylight through the hole in the tiles. It must be terrible there when it's cold and raining. You couldn't expect anyone to live there, not even a ghost.'

‘But you've seen Beatrice go to and fro on the stair, surely? She seems to like it in there. She's cosy and warm, and she always has the little electric fire to heat the room. I saw to that myself.'

‘More fool you. Of course I've seen
Beatrice
, but she's nutty as a fruit cake, though I'll admit she makes herself useful in those strange clothes of hers, but if you think there are ghosts in the attic then that painting stuff is softening your brain!'

‘Don't worry then. I'll take the tray up myself.' I was irritated, but it didn't do to upset such a valuable asset as Mrs Ward.

I caught Beatrice doing some needlework; her fingers were deft, slender and skilled as she stitched away at the embroidery. I glanced up at the ceiling, and I couldn't see any holes there at all. Mrs Ward must have had too many glasses of wine – or else she was making excuses not to climb the stairs. Perhaps she was tired or getting arthritic; it was a good thing I'd brought Treasure in when I did.

‘Party going with a swing, if I'm hearing correctly,' Beatrice said dryly. ‘Nice enough voice, but we could do with lowering the volume a bit. Who on earth is singing?'

‘Young William's new lady friend. You wouldn't think it, but she's tiny and dainty and frail! I don't know where that big voice has room to hide. Anyway, she's adding to the spirit of the weekend. She's at least thirty – much older than William – but he clearly adores her.'

Beatrice raised her eyebrows. ‘Likes older women then? Perhaps even I have a chance!' She giggled, and I giggled with her, but I was wise enough not to get too close to her. Beatrice didn't like anyone close to her.

The singing began again, some jazzy tunes from the wartime, and I could hear that Miss Spears was not going to let up.

‘Do me a favour, Beatrice,' I suggested. ‘Do your bit along the corridor, cause a diversion from Miss Spears' good intentions.'

Beatrice nodded and put down her sewing, waving her hand impatiently at me. ‘Depart then, go.'

I thought of kissing her cheek, and then thought better of it and ran down the stairs. I burst into the dining room, just in time to see Colonel Fred cover his ears. ‘Ghosts,' I announced dramatically, ‘on the landing. Come quickly, all of you.'

The guests flooded into the hall, and Beatrice was doing her bit – her head raised, her hand pointing at the window. She looked so convincing that I almost believed she
was
a ghost.

Miss Spears, predictably, fainted away, her fall cushioned by the carpet. William knelt at her side to hold a bottle of smelling salts under her nose. Apparently, she was given to fainting spells. Meanwhile the ‘ghost' discreetly vanished.

‘Look at the window!' the colonel suddenly shouted.

We all stared upward and there, silhouetted in the window, was a face, a ghostly white face. The face of a bearded man! It seemed to hover there for a moment and then disappeared. Even I was shaken, as William's girlfriend fell into a decline again.

‘It's the first time we've seen the ghost of a man.' Plump Betty pulled at her corsets, a beam of sheer excitement on her face. ‘Ooh, Mr Bravage, might I stand next to you? I am just a little frightened.' She did indeed seem to be trembling.

‘Brandies all round,' Colonel Fred declared. ‘I've brought a whole casefull with me,' he added as an afterthought.

Rather subdued now, we sat in the large drawing room, quietly discussing the new phenomena. Until now the story of ghosts, of young maids, of the appearances of Beatrice, and of the noises in the night had all seemed a game. I'd been able to explain everything away to myself . . . but not this. The disembodied face of the old man, hovering in an upper window, was really spooky and frightening.

I wandered into the kitchen looking for some aspirin and heard a slight sound behind me. Frightened I'd see a disembodied face staring at me, I was relieved to see a flesh-and-blood man standing there. ‘Tom! You're here again.' I hurried towards him. ‘What are you doing trying to frighten me like that? What tricks are you playing on us and why? Do you want to ruin my weekends?'

‘I don't know what you're talking about, honey.' He sounded genuinely puzzled. ‘I've only just driven up in my old army car, so what am I supposed to have done?'

‘I don't know what's happening here!' I ran back into the drawing room, where everyone was talking together. Colonel Fred raised his voice as he held forth, and then young William rushed outside to examine the old building for signs of trickery, such as ladders. When he returned to the drawing room, his cheeks red with cold and a sprinkling of snow on his hair, he sank into a chair gasping with fright and lack of breath.

‘No sign of intruders. This is no trick, Riana. What we all saw was the ghost of a man, a desperate spirit trying to tell us something!'

‘Could it be Edwin Mansel-Atherton, the man accused of the murder of the young maids?' Colonel Fred had, evidently, been reading up on the history of Aberglasney. I shivered, suddenly cold.

I went back to the kitchen where Tom was sitting, leaving my guests to discuss the arrival of a new ghost between themselves.

‘What are you doing here?' My tone was sharp. ‘The lights of your car must have thrown up images on the window.'

‘Don't be silly, Riana. My lights are still hooded. It's an old official car, remember? The lights were kept dim for the blackout, so I don't see how I could have thrown up lights on any window.'

I was embarrassed about accusing him of something he clearly hadn't done . . . and more so about our last meeting when I had fallen into Tom's arms so readily, like a desperate wanton. And yet, even as I tried to be indignant and angry, I wanted to press myself against him and feel his mouth on mine. ‘Well, you surprised me, that's all.'

He smiled his crooked charming smile. ‘You're getting in the habit of saying that every time we meet,' he commented.

‘And we meet so often, don't we, Tom?' I knew I was being sarcastic. ‘Not bad for an engaged man with responsibilities, I suppose. Taking your new lady love back to America soon, are you?'

‘You are being foolish again,' Tom said. ‘Miss Grist is really Mrs Grist. She has a husband who is alive and well and living in the highlands of Scotland. Our “engagement” is a ruse. I can't explain things now.'

‘You never can explain! Tom, you say you love me, you
make
love to me, and then you vanish again. Talk to me, please! Just tell me the truth about what's going on.'

He took a deep breath, about to speak, but we were rudely interrupted by a thundering at the door. Tom caught me swiftly in his arms and kissed me. ‘Remember, whatever happens, I love you.'

He'd gone then, disappeared like a shadow, leaving me with more questions than answers. All right, he'd gone through a sham engagement with Miss Grist, but why?

When I returned to the drawing room, my guests were standing against the wall, hands in the air, and two men were pointing savage-looking firearms at them!

‘What's going on here?' I demanded.

A gun swivelled in my direction and I flinched, taking a step backwards. The men were dressed as soldiers, armed and threatening, but after my previous encounters with bogus police I looked at them doubtfully.

‘On the floor!' one of them snapped.

I straightened my back. ‘No!' I stated firmly. ‘I want to see some identification – if you are genuine soldiers you should have some.'

The man pointing a gun at me appeared agitated and waved his gun about wildly.

I pushed his arm aside and pulled off his mask, and he stared at me in disbelief. ‘What are you looking for? Tell me and I might be able to help,' I said calmly.

My guests began to sit down, still wary, their hands clearly visible on the table.

‘We have been informed there's an American deserter at large.' One of the soldiers came forward taking charge. ‘Has anyone been here in the last half hour?'

‘Only the ghost of an old man,' Colonel Fred declared in a roar. ‘Proof of identity, if you please, sir.' He bravely approached the man we recognized as leader, and a card was duly produced. The colonel took it, grunting like an old boar. I chuckled, amused by my own unspoken pun, and I was given a frozen look by the man whose mask I'd ripped off.

‘Careful, lady,' he said, and then the penny dropped. These men were Americans sure enough, and I could see the flash of dog tags on one soldier's shirt. Tom was an airman . . . though not a soldier, like these men. Something must have shown in my face, because I was pushed into a chair. ‘Tell us what you know, ma'am, otherwise things might get a bit nasty here.'

‘I don't know anything! I don't even know which man you are talking about, and why should I? I'm getting sick of being attacked in my own house!'

My face was slapped hard, and then all hell broke out as Beatrice came out on to the landing, joined by the misty figures of ‘the girls', as I had come to call them.

‘The ghosts!' young William shouted, while his girlfriend hid under the table as shots rang out, aimed towards the landing. They made no noticeable difference to the mist, however.

To my relief, now there was no sign of Beatrice. She must have taken cover – as had all the guests, with the exception of William, who was now on the landing trying to grasp hold of the mist with very little success. I saw his hand run clean through one of the shadowy figures, and I saw a glimpse of ghostly hair swinging over a cotton nightgown, and then the images faded and all was silent.

‘What the hell was that!' One of the soldiers, white faced and cringing against the wall, was wide-eyed and terrified, his words coming out on a sibilant whisper.

‘It's the ghosts of Aberglasney,' I said boldly. ‘That's why we're here! This is a ghost-haunting weekend, and you've messed it all up on a wild goose chase. Why would we want spies here? Don't you think we've got enough excitement as it is?'

‘I'm out of here!' The soldier without a mask edged towards the door, and I could hear him lighting up a cigarette outside, and then he began to run, his feet pounding against the drive.

The leader looked doubtful. ‘We should search the place,' he said. ‘We need to find out if that cursed airman has been here or not.'

‘To hell with all that!' The other soldiers filed out of the house at quick-march.

The leader looked at me apologetically. ‘Sorry for the trouble, ma'am.' His gaze was directed at the landing, his eyes wide with disbelief, and he continued talking – almost as if reciting a well-known speech. ‘I didn't mean to be so rough, but this man is dangerous. If you see him, keep away from him. He's quite liable to kill you; he's killed before.'

‘
Sorry!
What sort of man are you?' The colonel came forward. ‘May the ghosts of Aberglasney haunt you for all the days of your life – sir,' he added as an afterthought.

As if on cue, Mrs Ward appeared with a tray of hot drinks, apparently without knowing what had happened. ‘Sorry I've been absent for a while, Riana. I fell asleep in my room with the radio on, heard a bit of noise – some banging – and guessed the ghosts had put in an appearance, so I got up.'

‘We've been shot at and frightened to death and you didn't know?' I asked in disbelief.

‘What! What happened? I'd taken a drink, Riana. It fair knocked me out it did. I'm sorry, but when I woke up I washed my face and came straight down to help.'

‘Who gave you a drink?' I asked suspiciously.

The colonel came to rest his hand on Mrs Ward's arm. ‘It was my fault,' he said. ‘I'm afraid I gave Mrs Ward a cocktail made up of some almost empty bottles – gin, vodka, brandy. I do hope you didn't suffer any ill effects, Mrs Ward.'

She beamed. ‘No, I just had a wonderful few hours' rest that's all,' she said happily.

I relaxed.
I must be getting paranoid
, I thought.

The colonel was beaming happily down at Mrs Ward, and my eyes must have opened wide; surely not a romance in the air? Not between pragmatic Mrs Ward and the bluff old colonel?

Mrs Ward's eyes fluttered downward in what looked suspiciously like a coquettish manner. ‘I'd better get these hot drinks served,' she said. Was that a wink?

‘Let me help you dear lady.' The colonel and Mrs Ward went around the room handing out tea and coffee, and I sank into a chair, exhausted.

I heard the cars start up outside the door and guessed the soldiers had left. I had no idea what they'd really wanted, but I was angry with them – and with Tom. So far I'd behaved like a weak fool, letting him treat me so casually. He'd only given me the smallest of hints as to his life and his ‘activities', and yet my whole life was being disrupted by him. Next time he chose to come calling I'd send him away with a flea in his ear!