The Secrets of Ghosts (23 page)

Max had stopped reading and was listening. ‘No joy?’

Katie shook her head. ‘She wasn’t in a chatty mood.’

‘May I?’ Max said.

‘Be my guest,’ Katie said and watched as he stood up and moved away from her to make the call. ‘Ms Beaufort? Yes, I know you just heard from my colleague.’ He paused, listening, and Katie dug her fingers into her palm.

‘The truth is we need your help. We’re researching the history of the house for a story and were hoping to speak to you.’ Another pause. ‘Nothing too personal. The fee isn’t big, but it’s the economy, you know-’ he broke off, then smiled. ‘One-fifty. Yes. Full copy approval. Absolutely.’ Then, ‘Thank you.’

He turned to Katie. ‘Do you know the Little Teacup in Malmesbury?’

‘I can find it,’ Katie said.

‘Eleven-thirty,’ Max said into the phone. He grinned at Katie as he slid the phone back into his pocket.

‘How did you do that?’

‘Lies and bribery.’

‘Oh,’ Katie said, not feeling particularly guilty. ‘Excellent.’

*

Max insisted on coming with her, but she point-blank refused to let him drive her. It was a forty-five-minute drive and Katie took as many minor roads as possible. She miscalculated one and had to inch along a narrow lane, the hedgerows overgrown and brushing the sides of the car. The hedgerows were thick with cow parsley and the hawthorn trees were covered in creamy white flowers. It was as if the green hedges were covered in snowfall.

Max was browsing through her iPod. ‘Why don’t you have any music?’

‘I have music,’ Katie said.

‘You have twenty audio books, lots of comedy — which I applaud—’

‘Thank you,’ Katie said with as much sarcasm as she could muster. Max didn’t seem to notice.

‘But hardly any music.’

‘I’ve got plenty.’

‘Best-of compilations don’t count. Where are your albums?’

‘Albums? How old are you?’

‘Twenty-five. How old are you? Seventy-five?’

‘Rude,’ Katie said, suppressing a smile. Bickering with Max was more fun than she’d ever had in bed.

Malmesbury was another pretty Wiltshire town. Nice architecture, honey-coloured stone, traffic-choked streets. Katie found parking behind the ancient abbey, and she and Max walked up through the town until they found the Little Teacup. It had bunting in the window and the tea was served in mismatched vintage china. There was also a generously sized children’s corner with beanbags, a play kitchen, garage, and low bookcase.

Max sat at a corner table, his back to the wall, and leaned his head against the lilac-painted wall. He looked completely out of place. Like the devil at a teddy bear’s picnic.

A waitress came over and took their order. As she turned away the door opened and a petite blonde woman walked in. She was holding the hand of a little girl, who tugged free as soon as she saw the toys. The woman was looking around so Katie stood up and did a half-wave.

The woman came over to their table. ‘I’m Michelle Beaufort.’

‘Katie,’ Katie said, ‘and this is Max.’

Michelle gave Max an appreciative look and sat down. She was wearing an elegant slash-neck top that had to be silk and skinny jeans. She had lightly tanned skin and perfectly highlighted and styled hair. As far as Katie could tell, she could’ve been aged anything from thirty to fifty. But then, she’d been married back in eighty-seven. Katie’s insides clenched. What if Max’s information was wrong? What if this was the wrong woman?

Michelle was gazing at Max. ‘Where’s your camera?’ she said. ‘No photos of Rosie, mind. She’s not part of the deal.’

Max nodded as if he’d expected as much. ‘Payment is dependent on satisfactory information, as per usual NUJ guidelines.’

Michelle turned to Katie. ‘What do you want to know?’

Katie flipped open the notebook she’d brought. ‘You lived in the Beaufort house?’

‘For a short while. I married Thomas when I was nineteen—’

The waitress brought drinks for Max and Katie, and Michelle paused to order hot water with a slice of lemon and a gluten-free muffin.

‘It must’ve been amazing,’ Katie said. ‘The house is—’

‘That’s one word for it,’ Michelle said. ‘I used to get lost getting from one end of that pile to the other. I hope they’ve modernised it.’

‘Yes, they’ve—’ Katie began.

‘That’s a lie,’ Michelle interrupted. ‘I wish they’d bulldozed the whole place.’ She gave Katie an apologetic smile. ‘Not the happiest time of my life.’

‘Ah. I’m sorry—’

‘Not your fault. I shouldn’t have married Thomas and I shouldn’t have stayed in that mausoleum after the first night.’

‘What happened on the first night?’

‘I’d been in the house lots beforehand, of course, but I’d never stayed the night. Old-fashioned values and all that. First night was after we’d come back from honeymoon. We were in the east wing, for privacy, you know, and old man Beaufort was being less of a drunken—’ Michelle glanced at Rosie, who was cooking with a plastic saucepan; she lowered her voice. ‘Thomas’s father was not a nice man. Neither was Thomas as it turned out, but I didn’t realise at the time.’

‘At least you married rich,’ Max said cheerfully and Katie kicked him under the table.

Michelle smiled thinly. ‘That’s what everyone says but I had to sign a pre-nuptial agreement. I didn’t come away loaded, whatever anyone says. In fact, it would be helpful if you could put that in the piece. I mean, half my family are after money I don’t even have.’

‘You weren’t left penniless, surely.’

‘Not entirely,’ Michelle said. ‘But that’s why I kept the name. I was damn well going to have something of value. Not that it’s done me much good.’

‘So, the first night,’ Katie prompted.

‘Right.’ Michelle looked suddenly nervous. ‘I don’t want to make me sound like a loony. I was really young and the house was creepy and old and I think I just got spooked.’

‘Fair enough,’ Katie said, containing her impatience as best she could. ‘What did you see?’

‘I didn’t see anything. I heard voices, though, and music playing.’

‘Could it have been other people in the house?’ Max said.

‘Thomas’s father was passed out in his study in the other wing of the house. Everybody else was away. The staff had gone home.’

‘They didn’t live in?’

‘He couldn’t keep live in staff. Nobody stayed very long so he gave up trying and just hired day staff.’

Katie shot a look at Max.

Rosie toddled over, clutching a plastic bowl with a wooden tomato and a yellow plastic blob that could have been scrambled eggs. She plonked it in front of Michelle and said, triumphantly, ‘Eat!’

‘Ooh, thank you,’ Michelle said in the exaggerated sing-song voice people used with small children. ‘Yummy, tomato and eggs.’

Rosie’s face clouded over. ‘No. It’s soup.’

‘Silly me,’ Michelle said, taking the plastic spoon and pretending to eat some. ‘Mmm. Lovely soup.’

‘Silly, Mummy,’ Rosie said and marched off to her corner.

Michelle watched her go with a soppy expression. ‘She’s my little angel. My miracle.’ Michelle leaned in and lowered her voice. ‘I was forty-three when I had her. Can you believe it? I’d almost given up hope.’

‘Wow,’ Katie said. She couldn’t imagine wanting a mini dictator in her life any more than she could imagine being forty-three.

‘IVF. Four rounds. It was hell.’

Katie nodded politely and then took a sip of her tea so that she wouldn’t have to say anything.

Max was looking intently at the menu.

‘But so, so worth it. You don’t really know love until you become a mother.’

‘So you heard voices.’

‘And music. It was creepy but I kind of got used to it. I avoided the back stairs — they were always cold — and I used earplugs at night.’

‘You were brave,’ Katie said.

Michelle gave her a tight smile. ‘I was distracted. Being married to Thomas was scarier than anything else. I didn’t really have time to worry about it. I told myself it was an old house, settling sounds. Radiators. I really wasn’t scared. Not after the first night. That’s why it was such a surprise.’

‘What was?’ Max was looking at Michelle.

‘Thomas going that way. I mean, he’d been acting strangely for ages, but I put it down to eccentricity. He also was a bit odd.’

‘Why did you marry him?’ Katie couldn’t stop herself from asking.

Michelle gave her a pitying look. ‘When Thomas Beaufort asks you to marry him you say yes.’ She hesitated. ‘Don’t write that down. Write that I was young and in love.’

‘What?’ Katie said just as Max said, ‘No problem.’

Katie could see Rosie approaching, her tongue stuck out in concentration as she carried two plastic bowls, piled high with plastic fruit. ‘Why did the family move out of the house?’

Michelle closed her eyes. ‘Thomas was convinced it was haunted.’

‘Was it?’

Michelle opened her eyes. ‘Of course not. Ghosts don’t exist.’

‘But Thomas believed in them?’

‘He was very spiritual anyway, believed in all kinds of crackpot theories. His great-grandfather or someone had been interested in all that stuff, too. He had a really freaky collection of books and weird objects. Like, there was this horrible shrunken head from Peru and Neolithic axe heads. I told him that stuff should’ve been in a museum, but between you and me I think it should’ve been sent to landfill. I didn’t like it being in the house but by then I’d realised that my opinion meant exactly nothing.’

Rosie placed a bowl of fruit in front of Max. ‘Banana surprise!’

‘Thank you, madam,’ Max said, his voice completely serious, and Rosie giggled delightedly.

She put the other bowl down a little shakily and a plastic orange skittered across the table. ‘Is that for me, darling?’ Michelle said, reaching for it.

‘No!’ Rosie pushed the bowl to Katie. ‘Eat.’

‘So Thomas was predisposed to believing odd things, but what made him desert the estate? I mean, it had to be something big—’

‘Pinocchio died.’

‘Dog?’ Max said, before Katie could ask.

Michelle nodded. ‘Thomas thought it was an evil spirit. Said he wasn’t waiting around for the same thing to happen to him.’

‘Did he say who the spirit was?’

Michelle looked thoughtful. ‘He thought it was his great-grandfather at first, but later he decided it was an archaeologist. A friend of the family back in the thirties. Kept going on about digging up the corpse and burning it, if you can believe that. I used it in the divorce. Unreasonable behaviour.’

Katie tried to look sympathetic, even while her mind was jumping with excitement. Violet had died in 1937. It couldn’t be a coincidence. ‘Did he actually do it? Burn the body?’

‘Ew. Don’t be disgusting.’

‘Are you sure?’

Michelle gave her a look that was borderline frightened. She glanced over to where Rosie was playing, then began to get up. ‘I think I might’ve changed my mind.’

‘Please,’ Katie said. ‘I know it’s a weird question—’

‘His great-grandfather had been cremated,’ Michelle said. ‘It was in his will. He was very specific about it. Why do you want to know? What kind of article are you writing, anyway?’

‘Actually, I’m not—’ Katie began, but Max cut across her.

‘Thank you so much for your time. We really appreciate it.’ He held out his hand and Michelle shook it quickly. She picked up her handbag and, with one last alarmed look, grabbed her daughter’s hand and left.

‘Well, that was interesting,’ Max said after the café door closed behind Michelle. ‘I’m starting to think you’re onto something with this ghost business.’

‘Thank you,’ Katie said, surprised. ‘Have you decided I’m not a weirdo, after all?’

‘I wouldn’t say that,’ Max said. Outside he took Katie’s hand and held it as they walked back to the car. ‘But I’ve got a high tolerance for weirdos.’

‘Is that supposed to be nice?’

‘I’m being romantic,’ Max said. ‘Shush. Let me tell you about my dad. He thinks the number four is evil. Like, properly, evil. He thinks it’s out to get him.’

Katie laughed. ‘You can’t outweird me with family stories. Trust me, I’ll win.’

‘Is that a challenge?’ Max said, and all the way back to Pendleford they swapped stories. He matched every Harper-family fact with one of his own. Like the fact that his father’s best friend had an imaginary dog, who he insisted on giving a bowl of water to at poker games. Katie dropped Max back at The Grange and watched him walk away.

Chapter 17

Katie looked around the hotel for Henry. She checked the living room where she’d first seen him and all of the unoccupied bedrooms. He wasn’t in the kitchen, although Jo was experimenting with a new sweet fruit tart for the next day’s menu and Katie snagged a freebie for her elevenses.

Katie had given up her search and decided to find a sunny spot on the lawn and rest until her shift started when she saw a figure by the ornamental pond. As she got nearer she saw it was Henry. He was standing motionless and staring out over the water.

‘Hello,’ Katie said. ‘Am I disturbing you?’

Henry turned and although Katie had prepared herself for his image to do that shimmery-shuddery thing, it didn’t seem as bad. Maybe it was the sunlight, but Henry definitely seemed more solid than last time she’d seen him. ‘Not at all,’ Henry said. ‘I’m delighted to meet you again.’

Katie tamped down on the lift that gave her. The man was just being polite. Plus, he was dead.

‘I didn’t realise you could come out here.’ Katie indicated the gardens.

‘I’ve tested my boundaries and I can get halfway down the driveway to the front and just beyond the ha-ha at the back.’

‘Why do they call them ha-has?’ Katie said. ‘It’s always seemed rude. As if the landscaper is laughing at you for being fooled.’

Henry frowned at her. After a moment, he said, ‘You have a singular mind.’

‘Thank you.’

Henry looked briefly annoyed. Then he smiled thinly. ‘I’ve been thinking about you since we last spoke and I have questions. May I ask them?’

‘Fire away.’ Katie sat down on the stone bench overlooking the pond.

‘Have you met many like me?’

‘A few. Lots can’t talk, though. They’re very thin. They just seem to repeat something. It’s like they’re not really here but I’m looking through a special glass and seeing into somewhere else.’