Jenny Telfer Chaplin (7 page)

Chapter Eighteen

Approaching Halloween, Miss Patten decided it would be as good a time as any to inaugurate the Ivylea supernatural weekends.

As she and Mary sat discussing arrangements, Elenora said: “You know, the idea of having these weekends, as opposed to the evening parties you suggested, originated in a remark made by Granny. One day after she’d finished cleaning one of the upstairs rooms she remarked: ‘It’s a right shame there’s these beautiful rooms with great views across the water and not a living soul to enjoy them.’”

“Aye, that sounds exactly like Granny,” Mary said. “She’s got a real bee in her bonnet about the unused rooms upstairs. Mind ye, and Ah hope Ah’m not being impertinent, Ah’ve often wondered why ye always use the downstairs bedroom. For that matter ye hardly ever even go to the upstairs part of the house.”

Elenora looked decidedly discomfited, as if for once she had been caught unawares.

There was a long silence before she finally said: “Fair question, Mary. And no, I don’t find it in the least impertinent ...”

She fiddled with the handsome emerald ring which she always wore on her left hand and sat with a strange far-away look on her face. Mary thought her employer was about to go into one of her trances but then shaking herself as though coming out of a dream Elenora said: “Sorry. I was miles away.
Those upstairs rooms? Not one of them but has unhappy memories for me ...”

Again Elenora sat in silence before she continued in a voice hardly above a whisper: “To understand what I am about to tell you, you must know that my father was a bully. He always had to be in full control of everything and everybody that crossed his path. Above all he was ruthless in business. My father was a well-respected figure of authority both in Dunoon and Glasgow business circles. After all, to have risen as he did to become a rich and powerful business man having come from nothing – from a hovel in Glasgow’s East End – it stands to reason he must have been a really strong character.

“One of the rooms upstairs was my father’s study, close to my bedroom, and many a time I’d hear angry words shouted as he berated someone for some real or imagined misdemeanour. Even my mother, on occasion for being too soft with the household staff.

“It was in that very room that he sent my Murdoch, the love of my life, packing. Murdoch, a newly qualified lawyer, wasn’t good enough for the daughter of Richard Baxter Patten – no one was good enough ... Father decided for me. It would be the Laird or nothing. His word was final. And in the end for me, it was nothing.”

Mary laid a comforting hand on Elenora’s arm who looked up with a sad little smile.

“What was a girl to do? When Father discovered Murdoch had given me this ring ...” Elenora indicated the emerald ring, “he took it and had me locked in my bedroom for long months until he had managed to make it impossible for Murdoch to conduct any business, or thrive in any way, in Dunoon. I heard later that Murdoch had moved to Edinburgh and was settled with a wife and family. It could have been me, with children of my own gathered round me. I found the ring in Father’s desk after he died and have worn it ever since.”

A routine was soon established: The guests, all of them from the mainland, started arriving early on Friday evening to be met pierside by Archie. Once escorted into Ivylea, Archie assuming the role of general factotum carried their bags upstairs and announced that a welcoming cup of tea would be available shortly in the drawing room

As Archie and Mary served the various courses, the guests gradually relaxed and by the time they were seated in the drawing room it was a meeting of friends rather than a roomful of strangers.

Those guests who were new to spiritual matters invariably were surprised to find that far from oppressive dark rooms presided over by regal unapproachable mediums the ambience of Ivylea was alive with laughter. Some even questioned Elenora on the jollity, shared jokes and ready laughter.

“Our spirit friends love the sound of genuine happy laughter,” Elenora would explain. “It seems to help them to come through especially when we have a trance session. For those of you who have never before witnessed trance I will point out that you will see a mask-like appearance come over my face. You will see the features of people who have passed and are known to you and others present. It is quite in order to say, hello, to any that you recognise, perhaps even to thank them for the great effort they have made in coming through.”

On one such weekend, Elenora settled herself in her throne-like chair and started off by reassuring her guests.

“Now, first of all let me calm any concerns. There is nothing to be afraid
of; there will be no harmful spirits, no headless ghosts clanking chains behind them.”

A titter of nervous energy greeted this. At once it was abundantly clear that a display of such spectres was exactly what many of the guests had been imagining, if not expecting.

Elenora gave a knowing nod.

“Yes.
Just as I thought. Perhaps I should give you a little introduction about spiritual matters before I go into a trance or we hold an actual sitting.”

There were nods of approval and even a few exhaled gasps of relief which caused amused smiles from some of the braver members of the group.

“Spirit is all round us, helping us, even though we do not always listen, or go with that first gut-feeling, they do still try to help. Take this little group here tonight. We are not here by chance – this has not come about by coincidence. We are here, at precisely the right time, in the right place in each of our lives for this weekend to be meaningful for each individual.

“In fact, there is no such thing as coincidence. I prefer to call it synchronicity, a bringing together of all essential factors at the correct time for all the people involved. There is so much I want to tell you about spirit or the so-called supernatural but I have no wish to overload your brains at this stage. One thing I will bring to your notice – everything on earth started as an idea.” She paused and pointed at a coffee table. “Even that table there started as an idea in some long-ago carpenter’s head. So we must remember the importance of positive thought, because all thoughts, be they positive or negative, eventually become reality. Am I not right in this, Mary?”

At first somewhat flustered at being singled out, Mary muttered: “Well, yes ... er ... yes ... now you mention it.”

Elenora prompted: “No need to be shy, Mary, for at some point or other we shall all be participating in events this weekend. Why not tell our friends how your own positive thoughts changed your life for good – not only for yourself, but also for your extended family and even for me.”

As Mary still hesitated, Elenora said: “Perhaps our guests would like to freshen their coffee, then we can settle down to hear your story.”

“Right, Mary, We’re ready to hear what you have to say on the subject of positive thought and your own experience of how spirit has changed your life.”

Brave as she was in so many ways in tackling life’s problems, as she looked at the expectant faces turned towards her, Mary felt she could easily take the coward’s way out and run for cover. However, she knew that spirit had been good to her and she should at least acknowledge the fact. As she started speaking the words seem to come of their own volition until almost without realising it she had told the group the extent of her own experiences.

“So, you see in all the years I was away from Ivylea, when my life was at its lowest ebb there was not a day but that I envisaged this beautiful house, Dunoon, and Argyll. I just knew that one day, when the time was right, spirit would arrange for me to return ... and that is exactly what happened.”

After a short silence a sceptic said: “A lovely story, of course, but do you mean to imply that we should let spirit lead our lives for us? I can’t say that I go along with that theory.”

“Spirit can po
int us in many directions,” Elenora said, “they can and will give warnings of pitfalls to be avoided, of hazards to be aware of, but that is where free will comes in – you, we can all go against our designated path in life if we so wish. I think now is a good time for some trance.”

In the course of Elenora’s trance state there were whispers from time to time.

“Oh, I don’t believe it. That’s my grandmother. I can even smell her lavender and moth balls.”

“Can you all see that bearded gentleman? Smell his clay pipe? It’s my Uncle Hamish.”

Later discussion brought out the fact that already people were doubting what, if anything, they had actually seen.

“A lot of rubbish, if you ask me.
We imagined it.”

“Then how did we all see the same thing?

The original sceptic had his answer. “Mass hysteria, nothing more or less. Anyway, the rest of you can do as you please, but for me I’m off to bed. First thing tomorrow I’m getting out of this mad house and I want my money back. Dead folk appearing on Miss Patten’s face! Rubbish.”

Elenora’s voice stopped his departure. “Before you go, Mr West, allow me to make one thing clear. I am not selling anything. It does not matter to me whether or not you believe and, of course, you are free to come and go as and when you choose.”

“Fine, that’s all very well, but I’ve paid good money for all this mumbo-jumbo and I want my money back.”

“Mr West, you have paid me nothing for this supernatural experience. I do not charge for what I regard as a gift. What you have paid for is your bed and
board, that is all. If you wish to leave earlier than planned, that is your prerogative and you will get a refund.”

As West dithered between his seat and the door Elenora said: “The same applies to the remainder of my guests. I am selling nothing. I have no axe to grind. The
choice is yours – stay or go, believe or refuse to believe, it’s up to you. Now if you’ll excuse me, trancing has tired me out so I’ll bid you good night.”

Next morning when the guests assembled for breakfast there was one empty place at the table.

Another guest with a laugh remarked: “So Mr West has decided to part company with us.”

However, Mary said: “Yes, that’s the way it looks, but actually Mr West had an early breakfast and has gone for a walk along the shore. He said something about clearing his head after ghostly sightings in the night. Anyway he’s going to sit out the rest of the weekend with us.”

In the evening, Mr West was very tight-lipped about his ‘ghostly sightings’ He did admit to having witnessed a variety of strange lights dancing about on the lawn but dismissed the event as the result of having imbibed perhaps too heartily in his nightcap of Napoleon brandy.

The mystery of Mr West’s ‘sightings’ in the night added to rather than detracted from the ambience of the balance of the weekend.
By the time the guests were assembling in time for the first ferry on the Monday morning they were all agreed that not only had it been a different sort of break, but it was one they would remember the rest of their lives.

Just as the guests were saying their final goodbyes Mr West, game to the last, turned to the company and said: “All right, I did see strange lights in the darkness outside, but now I come to think about them, those could only have come from the lighthouse. So the fact remains, not one single spirit manifestation did I see. Not one!”

Miss Patten smiled. “I seem to recall your mentioning the polite old servant in the hallway who greeted you on your arrival.”

Mr West nodded. “Yes, a pleasant old boy. Of course I saw him.
So what?”

There was a general murmur of agreement as to how welcoming the elderly gentleman had been.

Miss Patten glanced round her guests to make sure she had their full attention.

“Did it not surprise any of you that you never met him anywhere else in the house? You have all seen spirit. Angus was a footman in my parents’ house long before I was born. He departed this earthly plane more than fifty years ago.”

Chapter Nin
eteen

With the fame of Elenora’s mediumship having spread far beyond the confines of Dunoon and Argyll there was scarcely a day or a weekend when there was not some seeker after spiritual enlightenment knocking on Ivylea’s front door in the hope of gaining an interview with Elenora.

Much as she was pleased that she was doing good work with her spirit friends, at the same time she could not help but notice one aspect of the situation which gradually dawned on her.

“Mary, you must have noticed that very few local people come here on spiritual matters,” she said one day.

Was this the time to tell Elenora about one recent visit, Mary
wondered. As she dithered, she frowned.

“There’s something on your mind, Mary. Don’t deny it. You forget how closely attuned in thought we are. However, I have no intention of discussing anything with you out here in the hall with you clutching a vinegar-soaked chamois for the furniture. So, a pot of tea for two and a well filled plateful of your daughter’s little fairy cakes in the drawing room, if you please.”

“Yes,” Mary said, “one of those cakes is never enough.”

“Granny will have to look to her laurels or else young Elenor will soon be taking over from her in the kitchen.”

Settled in the drawing room Elenora said: “As always for the sake of all of in Ivylea please relieve your mind of whatever is troubling you.”

Before Mary could respond Elenora with a smile continued: “I take it that it’s not our own faithful-unto-death Archie who is the problem.
Not up to his old tricks of trying to steal a kiss or two?”

Mary felt herself blush, fully conscious of how often now she found herself dreaming impossible dreams about the self-same Archie.

On seeing her discomfiture, Elenora mischievously said: “Aha! So, perhaps I have hit the nail on the head. After all, Archie’s a widower and you’re a widow. What with all the work he now does for us around the house would it be any wonder if he was trying to regain some of his lost youth in the way of romantic dealings.”

“Elenora, please!
Ye are embarrassing me talking of such things. No, my present worries are nothing to do with Archie. There was a man turned up at the kitchen door one day last week. It’s all rather strange really, especially since ye mentioned the absence of any locals at yer talks or sittings.”

“So this man was a local? I knew there was something about locals in the air.”

“It was Roderick Drummond, Ted’s brother, he fell out with Ted all those years ago when Ted first started to work here. Roderick never had any time for the wonderful psychic work ye do here ...”

“I see. This man has been bad-mouthing me, ridiculing the sittings and scaring some locals off coming within an inch of Ivylea – is that it?”

“It’s even worse, Elenora. He is actually calling you a fraud, a charlatan. According to him if you were a true psychic, a true predictor of future events not known to ordinary folk then not only could you have foretold the Ibrox Disaster, you should have, by fair means or foul, prevented Ted from going to Glasgow far less from going to Ibrox that fateful day.”

“I don’t believe it! Is that what he is saying around the town?”

“He was drunk and I tried to argue with him. I told him that you had tried to warn Ted, but he said that made matters even worse. If you actually knew of the danger and did nothing to prevent it then you are nothing less than a murderer.”

“So now, half the locals think I am a fraud and the other
half think I have knowledge of future evils and don’t warn them.”

“But you did warn Ted. Ah remembered the exact words and repeated them to Ted not hours before he decided to go his own way and set off for Ibrox.”

“There you are then. That bears out what I have always told seekers after knowledge – free will always comes into play and if that means going in the face of warnings then so be it – that is the onward path chosen by that individual.”

“It really is an awesome responsibility for psychics and mediums like you to pass on messages and then see stupid people ignore such well-meaning potentially life-preserving advice from spirit.”

“But, Mary, you yourself have experienced such problems. Remember you told me about the events in your young life in Glasgow before you came to Dunoon. Anyway, let us forget the venomous Roderick Drummond. Years ahead his words will be forgotten and many will come to Ivylea not only to reunite with loved ones lost in trenches in a foreign field, but also to seek out the meaning of life on this planet earth. And as for you, middle-aged widow-woman or not, stolen kisses feature largely in your future.”

In the light of what Elenora had predicted in the way of future romance, Mary now felt self-conscious whenever she found herself in the presence of Archie Cooper. Unable to explain, or in any way, put into words her embarrassment, she adopted a rather offhand manner with him. She was quite unaware of how distant she had become with him until one day he confronted her.

“Right, Mary, Ah think it’s high time ye and me had a wee bit talk.”

Mary looked round the kitchen hoping for some moral support from Granny, but for once Granny was nowhere to be seen and their little cake maker, Elenor was at school.

“Ye’re wasting yer time, Mary looking for Granny. She’s away to the cottage, obedient old soul that she is. Ah told her Ah wanted a word with ye in private.”

Still not wishing to tackle head-on the issues Archie wanted to discuss, Mary attempted to sidestep saying: “Granny obedient! Is that meant to be some sort of a joke? Granny can be one of the most thrawn people ye’re ever likely to meet. She only does what she wishes and when she wishes.”

“Thrawn did ye say? She’s not the only one. Anyway it’s not Granny we’re talking about, is it? It’s us, ye and me.”

Mary felt hot colour rise to her cheeks.

“Us?
Did ye say us? Ah don’t know what ye’re on about – Ah didn’t know there was such a thing as us.”

“Mary! Ye’re a grown woman, ye’ve been married,
fine well ye know the facts of life – so there’s no need to play the innocent young maiden with me. Surely ye must have noticed the way Ah’ve been looking at ye, admiring ye, all this time. But just lately, whatever somebody has said to ye – it’s as if ye’ve been casting the evil eye on me. It seems Ah can do nothing right, nothing to please ye.”

“One thing about
ye, Archie Cooper, ye’ve got a vivid imagination. Evil eye apart, why should ye care whether ye please me or not?”

“Let me put this in words ye’ll understand. Ah’ve been in love with ye ever since yon time Ah tried to steal a wee cheeper – and ye got off on yer high horse that night as well.”

“Ah’ll hear no more of this. What if Granny, or wee Elenor, should come into the kitchen and hear such talk. Ah’d be black aftronted.”

“Ach, ye’re as straight-laced and prissy-mouthed now as a widow as ye were as a young lassie. It beats me how the hell ye managed to conceive a child – talk about the virgin birth ...”

Mary drew herself to her full height. “That is enough! More than enough. Ah will not stand here and listen to such vile, obscene talk. Ah’ll thank ye to get the hell out of my kitchen. Since ye think ye’re God’s gift to womankind go and try yer luck elsewhere. No doubt the ladies of the town will welcome such an upstanding, outspoken Highland gentleman.”

The words were scarcely out of her mouth before Mary realised she had gone too far.

Instead of the torrent of angry abuse Mary expected, Archie shook his head sorrowfully.

“Ah came in here today with the full knowledge of Miss Patten, Granny and even wee Elenor – she’d agreed to go straight to the cottage instead of in here for her usual milk and shortbread. Ah had arranged that so that Ah could get ye on yer own – to talk to ye in private since ye’ve been avoiding me. Ah wanted to tell ye Ah loved ye and always have and to ask ye to be my bride.”

He strode to the door out to the yard, paused and said over his shoulder: “Ye’ve ordered me out of yer kitchen – the last Ah heard it was still Miss Patten’s kitchen.”

The door closed behind him, gently, not slammed as Mary half expected, and Mary sank onto a chair at the kitchen table and rested her head in her hands.

Oh, what have I done? Mary thought, they were all in on it: Elenora, Granny and wee Elenor. Why was I so stupid?

The bell for the drawing room rang. Mary gathered herself together, splashed some cold water on her face, dried it and slowly walked along the corridor. When she entered she was surprised to see Elenora pacing backwards and forwards.

“Mary, my dear ... no, I do not wish the tea tray, or anything else. Has Archie made his declaration? It’s so romantic – especially since only recently I told you stolen kisses were to feature large in your future life ...”

Without answering, Mary slumped on to the nearest chair and began weeping as if she would never stop.

Later when Elenora had calmed Mary down and heard her story she said: “Oh, my dear, surely not? You two are so right for each other. Such a marriage is meant to be – how could I have got it so wrong?”

For the next week Mary had no sight of Archie and she went about her duties like a pale ghost, a shadow or her former vibrant self. However, she knew that miserable or not she had to pull herself together in time for the next supernatural weekend fast approaching. Aware
that Elenora depended on Archie for the event, Mary hesitantly broached the subject one morning.

“No need to worry
yourself on that score, Mary,” Elenora said. “Archie has already been in touch. He would not dream of letting me down.”

Mary felt her spirits lift. She could not repress the delighted smile that rose to her lips.

“Oh, that’s splendid. So he will be here as usual to help with your guests.”

Elenora’s lips straightened into a thin straight line.

“You are putting words in my mouth, Mary. I said Archie would not let me down. I did not say he would be here in person.”

Mary’s single involuntary, Oh, said more of her disappointment than any other words could have.

After giving Mary a searching look, Elenora went on: “Archie came to see me before he left Dunoon. He told me not to worry about the staffing for the coming weekend event. The coaching business will be in the hands of his nephew and the work required in the house will be covered by his late-wife’s sister and her husband. So, one way or another there are no worries, everything has been seen to. I’m sure you are as pleased as I am.”

Feeling anything but pleased Mary blurted out: “Archie has left Dunoon? Where has he gone? Has he gone for good?”

Elenora gave a wry smile.

“What Archie told me was in strict confidence and I must respect that. My lips are sealed.”

As Mary turned dejectedly away, Elenora added: “What I can tell is, that common gossip on the street is that he has gone to the other side to meet an old flame and seek a bride.”

For some days following Archie’s departure life became even more difficult for Mary.

Granny’s reaction to Mary’s news was: “Hmph. You gave a fine, honest, hardworking Scotsman like Archie his marching papers. How could ye have been so stupid?”

When Mary tried to argue the point and put forward her view of what had happened, Granny said: “Ah don’t want to hear another word on the subject. That’s the last ye’ll see or hear o Archie Cooper.”

After that Granny kept her silence, not only on that one subject but on most others. After her angry outburst she hardly spoke to Mary at all except in the way of essential household matters.

On one Friday afternoon Mary overheard Granny tell young Elenor: “No, Pet, your Uncle Archie will not be here on Saturday to cheer ye on at yer dance competition. In fact, he’s away out of Dunoon, so Ah don’t think we’ll be seeing him any other Saturday either.”

Mary walked into the room to find Elenor in tears and when she attempted to comfort the girl, Elenor shrugged off her mother’s arm round her shoulders and ran into the garden.

“Ah think this has gone far enough,” Mary said. “Ah’ll make us a wee cup of tea and we should sit down and talk this out.”

But Granny wasn’t about to be mollified by tea and talk.

“Aye, lassie, it’s going to take more than a cup o tea to heal this rift. And there’s something else ye haven’t taken in to consideration. With Archie not being here and ye mooning around like a sick calf Archie’s sister-in-law Jess and her man Andrew have fair worked their way into the spookie weekend. Last one they did a grand job. A few more like that and they’ll be taking over and we’ll be back on the street.”

However, gradually life settled back into its former pattern as Granny relented and if Elenor missed her ‘Uncle Archie’ she no longer spoke of him to her mother.

Granny’s eightieth birthday was approaching and there was an air of excitement as preparations began to get under way for the big event. Given that the celebrations coincided with the shortest day of the year they would bring some much needed light into Ivylea.