The Haunting of Highdown Hall (3 page)

Turning to Ness, whose winter pale, heart-shaped face was framed by black bobbed hair, most of which was still hidden beneath a woolly cap despite being indoors, Ruby said “The others should be here soon.”

Right on cue, the ‘others’ walked in – Theo and Corinna. Theo, as ever, was a sight to behold. In her late sixties and almost as wide as she was tall, she was bedecked in an assortment of colourful gossamer scarves and a purple padded coat. Her hair should have been snow-white, but instead it was pink, a soft, tasteful shade of pink, but pink nonetheless. Whenever Ruby saw her, she couldn’t help but think of a line from Clement Clarke Moore’s famous poem,
The Night Before Christmas
, the one that referred to St Nick as ‘a right jolly old elf’ But Theo was no elfin-like creature; she was actually one of the most formidable women Ruby had ever met, an old-timer in the field. Although it was Ruby’s business, they often tended to take their cue from her.

Corinna, by contrast, was the youngest of the group. Twenty-one, with a distinct penchant for black clothing, the only colourful thing about her was her long, almost Pre-Raphaelite auburn hair. Despite her preferred ‘gothic’ attire, she had a bubbly personality. Sensitive to the spirit world, she wanted to develop her psychic skills, to do her bit to ‘help’ the spirits when help was needed. Although her work at Psychic Surveys was not enough to support her financially, if Ruby’s vision came to fruition, Corinna would be employed full-time one day, something Ruby knew she was eager for.

“Tea?” said Ness, jumping immediately into action.

Ness, short for Vanessa although they never called her that, was different to the other two. Much quieter, she reminded Ruby of her mother, albeit she was a few years older than her mother, early fifties as supposed to late forties, but both wore a world-weary countenance, very much so. Ness would sometimes work with Sussex Police, on an unofficial basis of course, and Ruby often thought that this must be the reason behind her somewhat subdued nature – she got the feeling some of the cases she had worked on had been extremely gruelling. Ruby had also been approached to help Sussex Police a year or so back but Ness had warned her off. Surely, Ruby had argued, earthbound spirits who had suffered heinously at the hands of others were the most in need of help, the most deserving? “You’d think so,” Ness had replied, refusing to elaborate further. Instead, she had advised Ruby to concentrate on more domestic cases, making a very good case that they were the ones who were often overlooked. Having mulled it over for a while, Ruby had at last agreed. Maybe she’d reconsider in future, but for now, domestic cases were her forte.

“Love an Earl Grey,” boomed Theo, cutting into Ruby’s thoughts.

“Black for me,” piped up Corinna, “trying to give up milk. Read some shocking stuff about the dairy industry recently, it’s put me off completely.”

Eager to get the meeting started, Ruby pulled up her chair. “Okay, what’s to report?”

Although Theo was clearly champing at the bit to impart her own news, she let Ness, who had come straight from a house in Heathfield, go first. The couple living in the mid-terrace Edwardian house had complained of barking on their landing night after night, despite not owning a dog.

“Sounds travel, I told them. So I went to investigate, trying to ascertain who owned a dog in the local area. Well, quite a few of them do, but it’s amazing how put out owners are when you even so much as hint that their beloved canine might be making a nuisance of his or herself. Apparently none of them so much as growls, not even at the postman.”

“So?” nudged Ruby, intrigued. Animal spirits were new to her. Normally, four-footed creatures had no trouble moving into the light, even those who had experienced less than loving homes, their spirits able to remain pure and optimistic against all odds.

“So, having made sure that a real live dog was not the issue, I returned to the house and tuned in and I did sense something. And that something, this ‘dog’, seems to have one over-inflated sense of loyalty. From what I could gather, he still thinks his main function is to protect and serve the family living there. I tried to communicate with him, to impart that his work on earth is done, but to no avail. When I left, his presence seemed as strong as ever. I recommended to Miss Mills that we go back and perform a cleansing.”

“Fair enough,” said Ruby, wondering how she was going to succeed where Ness had failed. Perhaps together they would make an impact. “I’ll ring her after our meeting to make an appointment. Now, Theo, what about you?”

“Weeell,” said Theo, drawing out the word as much as possible, her blue eyes dancing. God, she loved the theatre of it all, did Theo. “I think we’ve got quite a case on our hands.”

“Oh?” said Ruby, leaning forward. Corinna too looked fascinated, only Ness held back, guarded as usual.

“There is most definitely a presence at the Hall. I felt it most strongly in the master bedroom, but other parts of the house have a feeling about them too, particularly the ballroom. And yes, I believe that the spirit grounded
is
Cynthia Hart, the actress. She lived there for five years until her death on Christmas Eve in 1958, which, coincidentally, was also her thirty-first birthday. I was so excited to realise it might be her, I was tempted to ask for an autograph!” Theo laughed, another booming sound.

“Theo!” Ruby admonished affectionately, her awe-struck reaction really quite amusing.

“Her boudoir is quite something,” Theo continued, oblivious. “It’s kept as a shrine to her. Although Cynthia died many years ago, her estate was looked after by her maid, Sally Threadgold, whom she’d left it to, apparently as much to Sally’s surprise as everyone else’s. Mr Kierney, Alan, is Sally’s nephew. She in turn left it to him upon her death, another surprise, but then Sally had no children of her own, so perhaps not so surprising after all. Cynthia’s bedroom is the grandest, so it follows Mr Kierney wants it for himself. But Cynthia, she’s having none of it. Every time he even attempts to enter, he fails – pushed out, as he describes it, by unseen hands, an impression of someone screaming in his face.
That’s usually followed by quite a bit of banging and crashing. She’s still quite the diva it seems.”

“How long has Mr Kierney lived at Highdown?” Ness asked thoughtfully.

“Only a couple of months. He sold his flat in London and moved down. After failing to gain access to the boudoir he resorted to sleeping in the bedroom next door, but the nocturnal noises proved too disconcerting. He sleeps downstairs now, in one of the living rooms, barely ventures upstairs anymore. And supremely pissed off about it he is too. He wants the whole place exorcised.”

“Exorcised?” said Ruby, stiffening. “You did tell him we are not affiliated with the church, didn’t you? That we use only holistic methods to guide spirits home?”

“Yes, of course I did,” Theo shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t think he cares either way to be honest, he just wants Highdown Hall to belong to him and him alone.”

“Okay,” replied Ruby, relieved. “Do you really think it’s her, this actress, Cynthia Hart?”

“Definitely. I got an impression of a movie screen, an absolutely stunning dress, fuchsia in colour, silk if I’m not mistaken, and gleaming red curls – that’s her alright. I was also given to understand she won’t go easily. She seems... how can I put it? Very territorial.”

“What caused her death?” asked Corinna. “She was so young.”

“A heart attack apparently, and yes, she was very young to have suffered such a thing. But that was the verdict recorded, no foul play suspected.” With genuine sorrow Theo added, “A terrible shame really, she was at the peak of her career too, about to star in
Atlantic.
Adele Hamilton, the actress who replaced her, was no match for Cynthia I can tell you; she just didn’t have her charisma. The film didn’t do nearly as well as expected.”

“Do you think her sudden passing is the reason she’s grounded?” asked Ruby.

“Either that or she literally can’t get over missing the boat in
Atlantic
– although considering that particular boat sank, you’d think she’d be grateful!”

Once again, Theo laughed uproariously at her own joke.

Sneaking a surreptitious glance at Ness, who looked far from amused, Ruby announced she’d ring Mr Kierney after the meeting, to organise a time to go over and get a feel for the house herself.

“Tomorrow, though,” she said, “I have to go to Brookbridge.”

“
Again?
” Corinna was incredulous.

“Yes, again.” Ruby raised her eyes skywards. “Theo, can you meet me in Hove tomorrow afternoon? We’ve got a little boy to send on his way.”

“A little boy? Oh poor lamb, yes of course I can. At your service, my dear.”

“And what about ‘Rover’?” enquired Ness.

“Ah, yes, him too, perhaps I could squeeze him in between appointments. Heathfield is close to Brookbridge isn’t it? I’ll ring Miss Mills in a moment; maybe we can meet there around eleven or so if she agrees? Is that good for you?”

“It is,” Ness nodded solemnly.

As Ruby pushed back her chair, intending to make a start on those phone calls whilst the others finished their tea, she was stopped in her tracks.

“I’ve got a feeling about Highdown Hall...” Theo’s tone had changed, her furrowed brow highlighting her concern. “I think it may take a bit more than a simple cleansing to shift Cynthia – for whatever reason, she seems thoroughly intent on staying put.”

“Hmmm...” Ruby’s normally smooth features developed a frown of their own.

After all, if Theo said they had a problem, usually, they had a problem.

Chapter Two

After the meeting, various phone calls and typing up of more surveys, Ruby knew the sensible thing to do was to go home, have a hot bath and climb into bed. But the thing was she could murder a rum and coke. She grabbed the book she was currently reading from her desk, threw it into her rucksack, locked up the office and headed for The Rights of Man pub.

Next to the Law Courts, The Rights of Man was a favourite haunt of hers, run by the uber-efficient Gracie Lawless, an amusing surname considering the pub’s location and the town’s history. The pub paid homage to its most famous resident, Thomas Paine. Paine, who had lived there for several years in the eighteenth century and even married a local girl, was a radical free thinker whose political ideas and writing were highly influential in inspiring the American Revolution. Friends with none other than Benjamin Franklin, Paine had become known as ‘The Godfather of American Independence’. One of the first places he’d expounded and developed his ideas in was The White Hart Hotel, just down the road from her office.

Ruby had always felt at home in Lewes, which is why she’d decided it was the perfect place to set up her business. She loved its anarchic side, its liberal attitudes, its highly varied history and particularly the annual bonfire processions on November 5
^th
. Every year the town boarded up its shops and closed its roads to traffic so that different bonfire societies from the town and local villages could dress up in wonderfully ornate costumes and parade through the dark streets to the sound of primitive drumming and marching bands, before eventually setting off huge firework displays around the town. All to commemorate the successful foiling of the Gunpowder Plot to blow up the king in the Houses of Parliament in 1605. It was ironic that this should be such a massive part of the town’s identity now, when the revolutionary Thomas Paine had also had his time here.

As she wandered through its historic streets and twittens, Ruby would often muse about the amazing number of interesting and influential people that had lived in this small Sussex county town: famous writers, artists, poets, musicians, physicians, scientists, even an Archbishop of Canterbury at one time. Sometimes she’d stroll through the ruins of Lewes Priory, on the outskirts of town, imagining the goings on in what had once been one of the richest monasteries in England; at others she’d take a walk up towards Offham Hill, picking up residual feelings from Lewes’s famous battle of 1264 as she went. Thankfully, most people seemed to have passed successfully now. For such an ancient place, Lewes was surprisingly spirit free. Not even the souls of the protestant martyrs (who were burnt at the stake in the town for their supposedly ‘heretical’ beliefs during Catholic Mary Tudor’s reign and whose sacrifice was also marked on Bonfire night) remained. Although again, residual feelings did – far too powerful to be erased from the atmosphere entirely, Ruby would regularly experience insights into a torturous death she could really do without.

Shuddering, and not entirely because of the chill night air, Ruby pulled her coat closer. She could rely on the pub to be warm, a log fire almost always burned in the grate during the winter months. She would sit beside it, plough through several chapters of her book, sip at her drink and then return home for that well-earned bath. A perfect evening by anybody’s standards, she decided as she stepped through the door. The globe lights that Gracie had chosen during a recent refurbishment cast a golden glow, embracing her like an old friend. The pub was virtually empty inside, but then it was Monday. Lewes barely rocked on a Friday evening let alone the beginning of the week.

“Hi, Ruby,” greeted Gracie as she walked to the bar. “The usual?”