The Haunting of Highdown Hall (31 page)

Ruby tried to take in all her grandmother was telling her. Mum had dabbled with drugs? There was a dumping ground for less than pleasant thought forms? That Jessica had looked into it, had glimpsed something terrible, a thought form made manifest?

Could it be that what waited for Cynthia in the shadows wasn’t real but rather some force that Cynthia herself had created? Rawlings’ Devil? But no, it couldn’t be. It had felt very real when it had attacked her; it had felt human. Levine, perhaps? Or even Mason? But why?

“Ruby, tell me what you’re thinking.”

Ruby duly complied, imparting all she had learnt from Esme Harris.

“If it is this film director Levine, openly identifying him should cause a reaction. It may also prompt Cynthia to remember what happened the night she passed.”

“But what if it isn’t him, Gran? What if it is...?”

“A demon?” Sarah laughed. “Darling, no demon could touch you. They wouldn’t dare. It sounds like it is Levine – their mutual deaths are too much of a coincidence to ignore. If it
is
him, remember, he’s hiding because he’s frightened, not for any other reason. So many are afraid that only retribution awaits them – it’s our job to help them understand it doesn’t. Keep the faith, Ruby. Chase away any lingering fears. Love will never let you down.”

Ruby swallowed hard.

“Thanks, Gran,” she said at last, “I needed to hear that,” and then on a laugh, “again.”

“Always happy to help. Now come on, let’s check on your mum.”

Jessica had fallen into a deep sleep. Her face, in repose at least, peaceful.

Staring at her, Ruby caught sight of the clock on the mantelpiece.

“Crikey, is that the time already? I’ve got about an hour to get back to the office. Listen, Gran, I have to go, I’ll see you on Christmas Day.”

“You will indeed, Ruby, and perhaps skip breakfast? I’ve made a mountain of food here.”

“I will,” laughed Ruby, determination spurring her forwards.

Chapter Twenty-Five

“Sorry I’m late, guys,” said Ruby, hurrying along the street towards the familiar team waiting patiently outside the entrance to her office.

“No worries,” said Corinna, ever cheerful. “We’ve only just got here ourselves.”

Retrieving her key from her bag, she chanced a glance at Cash. He was looking straight at her, a slight naughtiness to his grin she thought.

Feeling her face burn, she opened the door and stood aside. In single file they walked past her up the stairs. Ruby followed, having trouble taking her eyes of a certain part of Cash’s anatomy as he ascended before her.

“Bloody hell, I wish they’d install heating in here,” she complained on entering her office.

After briefly rubbing her hands together, she fired up the Calor Gas heater, its orange flame attracting Jed to his usual spot beside it.

“Hello, boy,” she whispered fondly.

The rest of the team settled themselves around the meeting desk, Corinna taking their requests for hot drinks this time. As she busied herself by the kettle they talked briefly about the weather, how cold it was, how miserable, everybody lamenting the lack of blue skies. Taking the mug Corinna handed to her, Ruby relished its warmth, encircling her hands around it. Once everyone else had theirs she kick-started the meeting.

“First off, thanks for coming in on a Sunday, guys.”

“Needs must,” Ness pointed out.

“You’re not wrong there,” Ruby conceded. “Okay, what have we found?”

Four pairs of eyes, five if you included Jed’s, looked hopefully at Theo.

“Well, this David Levine, there’s really not a lot on him.”

“So he wasn’t another movie star?” enquired Ness.

“On the Z-list if he was,” Corinna butted in. “I’ve never heard of him.”

“No,” said Theo, shaking her head. “He wasn’t an actor, he was a director. Not up with the big boys of his day, the projects he was involved in were far more modest. And I say director, but really he was more of an assistant director. The highlight of his career seems to have been working on a film called
Later in the Day
, in which Cynthia starred.”

“Before or after
The Phoenix
?” asked Ruby.

“It was after
The Phoenix
, between
Intruders
and
The Elitists
. It was another Rank Organisation production I think, nothing to do with Hollywood. Levine is British.”

“What I find strange,” Ruby interjected, “is that all the time I was researching Cynthia Hart, I found no mention of a second death at Highdown Hall.”

“There is some mention,” countered Theo. “I found a short newspaper article concerning his death yesterday. His car veered off the road not far from the house, apparently the night of the party. The article mentioned the party, and that it was held to celebrate Cynthia’s birthday and forthcoming move to America, and said that it wasn’t long after leaving her house that he’d crashed. So their names were linked, but only briefly and in a piece that barely merited more than a few lines. Reports concerning Cynthia’s death, as we know, were abundant at the time, but they focused on her and her alone.”

“So,” said Ruby, trying to make sense of it. “Cynthia
did
know Levine, but only in a work-related sense. There’s absolutely no information linking them together in a more personal sense?”

“None that I could find,” replied Theo.

“It’s not much to go on, is it?” Ruby was downcast again. “Perhaps Levine isn’t our man after all.”

“There’s no such thing as coincidence,” Ness muttered, echoing Sarah’s sentiment.

It seemed Cash agreed too.

“Remember what Esme Harris said, that Levine left the party looking red and flustered. He was obviously agitated, but why? Had someone said or done something to upset him? Perhaps he and Cynthia were having a clandestine affair? Maybe she teased him like she did John Sterling?”

“Maybe,” replied Ruby, “but the only way we’ll find out is through Cynthia. Talking of which...” Ruby paused as she went to fetch the newspaper article about Ron Mason, which she had slipped into her coat pocket the day before. “The box Esme gave me; I’ve left it at the flat, but I found this in it.” Nodding at Cash, she said, “Or rather
we
found it.”

“What is it?” Ness leant her head to one side.

Handing the newspaper photograph over to Theo, Ruby explained hers and Cash’s theory.

“I recognise him, a bit of a rogue Ron Mason, if I remember correctly, a ladies’ man. Have you heard of him, Ness?”

“Vaguely, but I’ve never seen any films with him in I don’t think.”

“There is a resemblance though, isn’t there?” continued Theo. “A pretty strong resemblance I’d say.”

“There is,” Ruby agreed. “I thought I’d look into his background this afternoon; see if I can find a link with him at least.”

“Good luck with that.” Theo raised a cynical eyebrow. “We’ve read just about everything there is to read on Cynthia and not once has Ron Mason been mentioned.”

“I know, and it is just speculation on our part but you never know, it’s within the realms of possibility. Cynthia’s father on her birth certificate was listed as ‘unknown’, but the very fact she kept a cutting of him suggests he was significant to her in some way.”

“Was he her brother’s father too?” Corinna enquired.

“I don’t know,” admitted Ruby. “And it’s not as if I can just pop down to the record office to check either. They’re closed until after the holidays now.”

“But it’s possible,” Ness interjected. “Mason could have hung around just long enough to get Mary pregnant again and then taken off.”

“Anything is possible,” Theo sighed, “that’s the problem. Anyway, Ruby, research what you can about this Mason character just in case, but remember you must get some rest.”

Ruby was just about to promise she would when the phone rang. She answered it quickly while Theo, Ness and Corinna started putting on their hats, gloves and coats. Only Cash remained where he was. Replacing the receiver, Ruby turned to the imminently departing crowd, wincing as she did so.

“Erm, you’ll never guess what?” she said, hoping she sounded suitably apologetic.

“What?” responded Corinna chirpily.

“We’ve got ourselves an emergency.”

***

All callers to Psychic Surveys sounded distressed to varying degrees, but on a scale of one to ten, Ruby would say the call she had just taken ranked around the nine mark. The fact the woman had felt the need to phone on a Sunday nudged it up to ten. After apologising profusely for doing so, the woman, Angela Lawrence, then went on to tell Ruby that she’d only been resident in her home for six months, but ever since moving in she had felt nervous and anxious, as though she was being watched – not just intermittently, but all the time. Then, she’d confided further, the night-time noises had started: footsteps on the stairs, when she knew damn well her husband and two teenage sons were in bed; a door banging at intervals downstairs. Often, just as she was drifting off, she’d hear a grunt-like noise in her ear, deep and guttural, inhuman. She was the only one in the house who experienced such phenomena; the others remaining blissfully unaffected, alternating between teasing her and becoming irritated whenever she mentioned it. More and more irritated in fact, she told Ruby. Normally, she hated to get out of bed at night, once beneath the covers she would remain there, her eyes stubbornly shut until morning. But last night she’d suffered a raging thirst that just wouldn’t abate.

Fed up of feeling bullied in her own home, she had eventually got up. It was pitch black outside, she told Ruby, and silent, but not an easy silence, it seemed ominous instead. Steeling herself, she had made her way downstairs and drank an entire pint of water before returning to bed. And that’s when she had seen him, an outline of a large man, solidly built, standing halfway up the stairs, blocking her route back to safety, leering at her, reaching out to her, his features fixed in a threatening grimace.

“Well, I screamed the house down, didn’t I? I just screamed and screamed. My husband rushed out of the bedroom towards me and passed straight through him, didn’t even know he was there. He thought I’d seen a spider or something. A spider? If only! I really feel I’m going out of my mind, Miss Davis. Please help. Even though it’s Christmas in a couple of days I feel like running away. Leaving them all to it. I can’t take this any longer. I simply can’t.”

Ruby knew the team should rest but there was no way she could ignore the distress in Mrs Lawrence’s voice. She sounded desperate.

After promising they would come straight away to her address in Crawley, Ruby asked how she’d heard of Psychic Surveys.

“Your website. There’s quite a few of you on the net, isn’t there? Psychics I mean. But your website stood out, no fancy nonsense, it was down-to-earth. I like that.”

Smiling at her words, Ruby resolved to tell Cash as soon as possible about Mrs Lawrence’s opinion of his handiwork.

***

Within minutes, Theo, Ness and Cash were piling into Ruby’s Ford and making their way to Lailey Way in Crawley. Corinna had offered to stay behind to research Ron Mason and Ruby had gladly accepted, it was one less thing for her to do when she got back. They agreed to discuss her findings when they returned. As they sped along the A27, Theo couldn’t resist entertaining them all with an old nursery song, the lyrics slightly tampered with.

“I saw a ghost. Where? There on the stair! Where on the stair? Right there!”

Cash openly showed his amusement but Ness remained as straight-faced as ever.

Stifling her own laughter, Ruby brought them back to the case in hand. “Seriously though, I don’t like the sound of this man ‘leering’ – no one likes to be leered at.”

“We’ll sort him out, don’t worry,” said Theo confidently, reprising the song but whistling it this time, fully realising how much she was annoying Ness.

The house in Lailey Way was a mid-terrace, ex-council house, the kind hurriedly put up after World War II. Painted cream, it may have looked smart once upon a time, but now it looked careworn, in need of some serious TLC. One window had a distinct crack in it and the grass in front was patchy in some places, overlong in others; Ruby bet to herself that even in summer no flowers graced the borders running alongside the path to the front door. It was unenticing enough even without its supernatural guest.

Cash grabbed the bag of paraphernalia from the boot of Ruby’s car and followed the rest of the team up the pathway to knock on the door.

“Mrs Lawrence?” said Ruby, stepping forward. “I’m Ruby from Psychic Surveys and this is my team. May we come in?”

The woman in front of her looked harried; her dyed black hair unkempt and her eyes somewhat wild. Although she knew they were coming, she hadn’t bothered to dress. She stood there in a night-dress and dressing gown, a cigarette hanging from one side of her mouth.