The Haunting of Highdown Hall (33 page)

“What the...!” gasped Ruby, staring at the steering wheel, disbelief and shock running through not just her but all four of her passengers.

Silence reigned for a few moments as each and every occupant of the Ford adjusted to the unexpected turn of events. Eventually Cash asked if she had breakdown cover.

“Yes,” replied Ruby, coming to.

Digging her mobile phone out of her coat pocket, she rang their number, pleased with herself that she had previously keyed it into her list of contacts. Placing the call, she was told by a very apologetic female voice that all vehicle assistants were unusually busy on account of it being the Christmas holidays, but that they would try to reach her as soon as possible and would keep her updated at regular intervals regarding timeframes.

Knowing it was going to be a damn sight longer than the hour her particular breakdown company promised in the adverts, Ruby wondered if they should get out of the car to seek safety behind the crash barrier, something she had seen numerous people do.

“Most definitely,” said Ness, hastily reaching for the door.

Once out of harm’s way, Ruby turned to Cash and said forlornly, “Any idea what it could be?”

“Sorry,” he replied, putting his arm round her and pulling her close, probably because her teeth were chattering so dramatically. “Cars really aren’t my forte.”

Despite being pissed off about the car, she couldn’t help but appreciate being back in his arms, even if it was in the freezing cold, by the side of a motorway, the day before Christmas Eve. She also couldn’t help but notice her two colleagues raised eyebrows that Cash had done such a thing. Amused, she bit down on a smile.

The rescue truck turned up just shy of two hours later, by which time it was completely dark.

“Sorry for the wait,” a grizzled looking man said, “we’re rushed off our feet.”

Securing the car bonnet on its prop and placing an industrial-looking lamp on the side, he stuck his head over the engine, oohing and ahhing dramatically whilst rubbing his chin. At last he walked over to Ruby, the look on his face a decidedly grim one.

“Dead as a dodo, darling, nothing I can do to bring it back to life, sorry. Going to have to call for a tow vehicle.”

His diagnosis was met with various groans and it was another hour before the tow vehicle came, driving them straight to Earnshaw’s Garage, a good ten minute’s walk from Ruby’s office. It being Sunday evening, Greg Earnshaw was not in residence. In fact, Ruby suspected he wouldn’t be in residence until long after Boxing Day. Hastily, she scribbled a note with her contact details on and posted it through the letterbox. She always went to Greg with car trouble; he would know who she was.

Glumly, all four turned back towards Ruby’s office, Ruby wondering how on earth she was she going to get to her Gran’s on Christmas Day. Highdown Hall she could get a lift to but Hastings was going to prove more problematic – did trains run on the big day itself? She didn’t think so.

Corinna had texted earlier to say she was heading out to the shops to finish her Christmas shopping and that she would return when they did. She had texted again to say she was back at the office and where were they? Ruby explained all as she entered.

“How did it go in Crawley?” Corinna went from being sympathetic to curious.

“Cyril was a bit of a cheeky one!” Theo answered with an amused gleam in her eye. “But he’s where he should be, that’s the main thing.”

Ness immediately set about making tea for everyone. Ruby cursed that she hadn’t had time to restock the biscuit tin; if she was hungry, Theo, Ness and Cash must be too – Cash without doubt – lunch had been missed entirely. Despite this, every one settled themselves around the table without complaint.

“So, what did you find on Mason?” Ruby asked, aware that time was ticking on.

“Quite a bit actually, I think I’d score top marks if I ever had to sit an exam on him,” Corinna joked. “And absolutely gorgeous he was too, hotter than Ryan Gosling that’s for sure.”

“Tell us about him.” Ness looked genuinely intrigued.

Tossing her long red hair over her shoulder, Corinna took a quick sip from her mug before continuing. “Oh, that’s nice,” she said, relishing its warmth. “By all accounts Mason was very gifted, he was often hailed as ‘the finest actor of his generation’. A bit of a Daniel Day Lewis type, he completely got into his roles; he lived and breathed them apparently. Unfortunately, he was also just as passionate about gambling, drink, drugs and women. Some sources say he never reached his full potential because of such distractions, but in the films he did make the critics seem to agree he was brilliant.”

Theo raised an eyebrow. “I must check to see if Sky is showing any of his films this Christmas. I do love settling down in front of a good old black and white.”

“But here’s the strange thing,” resumed Corinna. “He died young too, in 1951, roughly the same time that Cynthia shot to fame. And he died in scarily similar circumstances.”

Ruby could feel her eyes widening.

“Really? How?” she asked.

“Well, he was at a wrap party for a film he was shooting in Monaco, doing the usual thing that film stars do I suppose, carousing with starlets and admirers, having a whale of a time. One minute he was there, the centre of attention, the next he had disappeared. He was found in his hotel room the next morning by the maid, he’d been dead for hours.”

“A heart attack?” breathed Ruby.

“A heart attack,” confirmed Corinna.

Ruby’s hand flew up to her mouth. “Incredible.”

“Not really,” Ness disagreed. “Many health problems are hereditary. It explains a lot.”

“It certainly does,” added Theo. “In health terms at least, it’s important to know your heritage.”

Ruby nodded sagely too.

Focusing again on Corinna, she asked, “But did you find anything that specifically connected Mason with Cynthia?”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, and you know I searched thoroughly, but there was nothing on the net, nothing at all.”

“So, whether he
was
her father or not, we still have no idea,” Ness said.

Ruby’s shoulders slumped. “The only evidence we have that he meant anything at all to Cynthia is the fact she kept an article about him in her box.”

“You have to admit though, it does ring true...” Corinna ventured. “Like father, like daughter.”

“In more ways than one,” Cash responded wryly.

There was silence as all five contemplated the latest twist.

“It also explains where she got her drive and talent from.” Ruby said at last.

“And her wild side,” Ness added.

“But what I don’t understand,” Cash looked perplexed, “is what Mary Hart was doing hooking up with a movie star, she wasn’t an actress or anything; she was a cleaner.”

“Yes,” said Ruby, “but perhaps she was cleaning at the Theatre Royal, who knows? Mason may have been involved in a play there and that’s how they met. She got lucky.”

“Or unlucky,” Ness pointed out.

“Or unlucky,” Ruby yielded, “depending on which way you look at it.”

“So, what do we do now, do we tell Cynthia?” Cash asked.

Theo answered his question with another. “Tell her what? This is all just conjecture. We have no solid proof.”

“But it could be her father in the shadows, not Levine,” Cash persisted.

“Look, I think we’re getting distracted by all of this.” Theo looked and sounded slightly exasperated. “Yes, Mason could be Cynthia’s father, but even if he is, there is no indication at all that either one knew about the other. An article about the man in amongst clippings of herself proves nothing; all it implies is that Cynthia had an interest in him, perhaps because of his sheer brilliance as an actor, nothing more.”

“Or it could have been a subconscious attraction?” Ness offered. “She was fascinated by Mason but without really knowing why?”

“Yes, that’s true,” Theo nodded at the younger woman, “a case of like calling to like. I still think, however, our most likely candidate for the man in the shadows is David Levine and that’s how I think we should play it. A spurned lover often finds it hard to forgive.”

“John didn’t,” Corinna defended.

“John was exceptional,” Theo countered. Looking pointedly at her watch, she sighed again before adding, “It’s getting late – very late. We really do need to think about getting some rest. I think we should call it a day before we end up in knots we can’t untie.”

There were various mumbled agreements amongst the team.

“But before we go, I’ve been thinking,” said Ness quietly, “about tomorrow. To give us the best chance of being successful, don’t you think it might be an idea to go back there in the evening? If we went there at about the same time the party would have been going on it would not only give us the best chance of tuning in to all the frequencies and residual feelings, it might also help Cynthia remember too? What do you think?”

“Brilliant idea,” said Theo decisively. “That way we could all finish our Christmas shopping and get some rest. This one could take all we’ve got to give.”

Having agreed to meet at Highdown Hall at six o’clock the following evening, Ness was the first to make an exit, bundled up in thick coat, hat, scarf and gloves, a slight, somewhat harried-looking figure. She was followed swiftly by Corinna. Before Theo left she turned to Ruby with a knowing look. “You will get an early night, won’t you? It’s imperative you do.”

“I will,” said Ruby, averting her eyes.

“I mean it,” said Theo sternly. “And you, young man, you need to rest too if you’re going to insist on joining us. We must face tomorrow energised.”

“I will, I promise.”

As soon as she heard Theo descending the stairs, Ruby turned to Cash, put her arms around his waist and whispered, “Your place or mine?”

“Both,” he said, bending to kiss the tip of her nose.

“Ooh, saucy, I like it,” Ruby replied, laughing.

“Sadly, you’re not going to,” said Cash, looking as forlorn as she felt at his words.

“Why?”

“Because I’m going to my flat and you’re going to yours. I’m taking onboard what Theo just said, we’ve got a big day ahead of us tomorrow and we need to rest, especially you, Ruby Davis. I’m not having you going into battle bleary eyed after a night with me.”

“Who said I’d be bleary-eyed?”

“I do. If I come home with you now, the last thing either of us will do is sleep. You know it and I know it.”

Ecstatic tingles rushed up and down her spine. She started to giggle.

“What about a kiss? Can I have one of those to be going on with at least?” she asked, batting her eyelids coyly at him.

“You can,” he said, lowering his lips to hers, “then off home with you, you strumpet, before I lose all control.”

After extracting not one but several kisses from him, Ruby reluctantly followed Cash out of the office and down onto the street. From St Michael’s Church, just across the road, a carol concert was well underway. Ruby could make out the sound of harmonious voices rising and falling in perfect pitch,
Good King Wenceslas,
if she wasn’t mistaken.

Saying one last lingering goodbye, he turned right and she turned left – up the High Street, past the church, past the Fifteenth Century Bookshop with its timber frames and overhanging storeys, like something from the pages of a Charles Dickens book, past Lewes Old Grammar School (its inmates no doubt enjoying a festive break from lessons) and Shelley’s Hotel, gearing up for Christmas Day lunches, past St Anne’s cemetery, happy to see no souls staring balefully at her, and into Ireland’s Lane which in turn led to De Montfort Road and home, all the while feeling as though she were floating on air.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Christmas Eve

A text message, sent inconsiderately early, woke Ruby the next day.

Remember I’m returning home on Boxing Day with a party of six. I trust the house will be ready for my return.

How much restraint had it taken, she wondered, for Mr Kierney to refrain from adding ‘or else’?
Clearly he enjoyed wielding his journalistic power – using it to destroy as well as to inform. He could and would do serious damage to their hard-earned reputation if they failed to evict the spirits of Highdown Hall, she had no doubt. Failure was not an option.

Yawning, Ruby attempted to doze off again. But it was no use, sleep was long gone. After less than an hour she gave up trying, her mind too active. Christmas Eve 2012 marked the 54
^th
anniversary of Cynthia’s death – a long time to be trapped between here and there. Did it seem that long to Cynthia? Or was time only relevant in this dimension? Somehow, she suspected the latter. Sitting up to stretch, she smiled at Jed, content in his second favourite spot.

“And what about you, boy?” she said. “Are you coming with us today? Mum thinks you should.”

Jed looked up, gave one wag of his tail then curled back into a ball.