Chapter 22

Eyrie Farm,

Shipton Abbey,

Norfolk,

England

February 1st 1954

Dear Caroline,

Here we are again, another St Brigid’s Day and another birthday for me. I can scarcely believe that I am eighteen today and that a full year has passed since first we arrived at Shipton Abbey, for we are still here.

So much has changed, and so much has not changed since last I wrote down our tale. Not only are Marion and I still here in the countryside, but little baby Henry, now six months old, is still with us. We are still sure that he is to go to a loving home. Mrs Collins said that he is not too old to be adopted yet but that we should continue to take care of him.

We would be lost without the advice of Mrs Collins. She has taken the place of Mammy, Lord rest her, in being the person to tell us what to do. I say us, but Marion, to be truthful, isn’t as interested in Henry as she should be.

Now, Henry eats little bits of the food that we eat – I mash potatoes and carrots together for him and he eats it and smacks his lips. And if I am stewing apples for myself and Marion, I give him a little as well and he smiles at me and holds his mouth open wide for more! It won’t be long before he asks for a knife and fork, I think!

He still sleeps in my room with me. I put him on his tummy every night with a little bear the Mountfords gave him, which I have called Ted, for company, and I sing him a little lullaby before he drifts off to sleep. He is very good and only cries once or twice in the night and once I rub his little back and sing a little song to him he settles off back to sleep, to be ready for another day’s adventures.

We still have not heard from Daddy, but that is only to be expected, I suppose, with my mother’s loss so recent. There isn’t a day goes by, Caroline, that I don’t think of her and wish that she could just see Henry – Daddy too, for he would fall in love with him in an instant and bring us all home to be together as a family.

Mr Mountford calls to us every now and again which is good. He always brings us a little gift, some butter, or some fresh eggs from the hens at his farm. The extra food is helpful for us now that Henry is eating more than just his bottles.

I know that rationing must be nearly over, thank God, but sometimes Daddy hasn’t remembered to send us money and I have to keep a very tight fist on our budget. I have to hide what little money we have because Marion would have it spent on stockings or material to make dresses – or sweets. She is a devil for the sweets all the same and has got very fat since Henry came along. I have had to let out her skirts and I fear I will have to ask Daddy for money soon to make her some new ones.

Of course with no word of Henry’s adoption, there is also no word of us going home so I fear we are living day to day here in England. We had Christmas here of course, just the three of us. Mr Mountford very kindly made us a present of a chicken which I cooked here for us, and we had some of the vegetables that I sowed last spring – to think that I thought we would never be here to harvest them!

I managed to put enough money by to give Marion a gift of some hair-ribbons, and I made Henry a rattle toy with some buttons and a little box that Mrs Collins brought me. Marion didn’t have gifts for us but, after all that she went through to have Henry and her long and difficult recovery, I don’t suppose she had the time to sort something out for us. She did buy herself some pretty hairpins though, when she went to the village after New Year’s. I suppose she deserved to treat herself after months in Granny Flynn’s cast-offs.

Of course, New Year! I almost forgot to tell you that Marion and I went to a party for New Year – my first one ever! Robert Mountford came to call one day before Christmas in a brand-new motor car (it seems all the Mountford children have their own, save for Charles who will get one at his next birthday, Robert tells me) with proper invitations for us. Of course I said first that I could not go but that Marion should go and I would stay behind to take care of Henry. When I showed him to the door, however, Robert said that he was especially concerned that I should attend the party and that he had already arranged that Mrs Collins should watch little Henry so that we could celebrate 1954. Well, I was shocked and pleased, Caroline, I can tell you. And what’s more, Robert then handed me an envelope of money that he said Daddy had sent to Mr Mountford so that we could have new party dresses. I thought this odd, I must confess, that Daddy had not sent the money direct to us as he does with our housekeeping, but I didn’t question it. I also put a little aside for a rainy day for there was an awful lot of money there, but I didn’t tell Marion of course.

To make it even better, Robert then promised to come back in his motor car for us the very next day to take us to Bickford, which is a big town nearby, so that we could buy our dresses. I then did a very devious thing and didn’t tell Marion where I was going. If she had come with us, then she would have spent every penny and more on herself and I was determined to have a new party dress – is that wrong of me? – for my first ever proper party. Instead of waiting at the door for Robert, I wrapped Henry up warm and left Marion with strict instructions to feed him and change his nappy, and then I went out onto the road to meet Robert where she could not see me. Oh, Caroline, what a lovely day we had! I bought two bolts of cloth for us, one in red for Marion and one in green for me, with matching ribbons, and there was even enough money for us to get some new shoes. I have become better at sewing, I must admit, and with Mrs Collins’ help I was sure I could make us beautiful party dresses in time for New Year’s Eve!

Then Robert took me to a little café for tea and cakes – I could scarcely contain my excitement at the delicious cream tea that we shared – that’s what you call tea and scones with jam and cream in England, it would appear. I ate so much that I was stuffed and Robert thought it very funny that for such a skinny thing as I am, I could manage three scones to myself, and four cups of tea. It was dark when he dropped me back at Eyrie Farm but what a wonderful day it had been – what laughs we had – I hadn’t laughed so much since you and I were together, Caroline, a lifetime ago.

I asked Robert to drop me in the lane outside – did I mention I had hidden the bike in some bushes so that Marion would think I was gone to the village on it? I have grown devious living with my sister! I also wanted to make sure that she didn’t forget about Henry and get up on the bike and cycle off to Shipton Abbey or anywhere else as she is wont to do. Anyway, Robert dropped me at the lane, and helped me take the bike from the bushes. I was embarrassed at first admitting my deceit but he roared with laughter and said I was a rock of sense, if a devious one at that, and then he looked me right in the eye and said that he couldn’t wait until New Year’s Eve. I, too, was very excited about the party. I told Marion that the bolts of cloth had been sent from Daddy in Dublin and she didn’t question me. She never writes to Daddy, I do all that, so she will never mention it to him till it is too late and then my defence for my deception is purely one of sound housekeeping which is something my father admires.

Of course when I arrived home, poor Henry hadn’t been fed and had dirtied his nappy. The poor little mite was screaming blue murder and Marion had put him in his cot and shut the door of my room so as to read her book in peace. I despair of her sometimes and wonder if her lack of interest in her son is purely as a defence so that she isn’t too sad when he is taken away. It must be an awful burden for a mother to bear, but sometimes I see a coldness in her eyes when she sees me feed him or play with him that leads me to believe she doesn’t care. Is that possible? God knows I thought that she would get sense the minute he arrived but I think I was wrong on that front as well – she spends so much time on that bike, gallivanting and disappearing for hours. Then she won’t tell me where she’s been . . .

Mrs Collins helped me no end with the dresses and I gave Marion hers the day of the party itself (I was afraid she’d wear it if I gave it to her beforehand and she’d be sure to spill something on it or snag it). We both looked beautiful in the end. Of course Marion thought that her dress was too big for her when she saw it and she gave out to me for half an hour solid, saying that I thought her fat and who did I think I was, being a skinny bag of bones that no man would ever marry. I thought of her disgrace and wanted to say that no one would want to marry her either if they knew she was soiled goods but I held my tongue for fear of what she might do.

Mrs Collins came at seven o’clock and bade us enjoy ourselves but to be home by one o’clock at the very latest. I was shocked. Daddy would never have let us stay out so late, but Mrs Collins said that it was New Year’s Eve and what good was it if we didn‘t see in the New Year and have a little dance for ourselves after the clock chimed midnight? Mr Mountford sent a driver for us then – can you believe it? Marion and Lily Flynn being chauffeured to a party on New Year’s Eve! I felt like Audrey Hepburn!

The party was the best time I have ever had in my life, without comparison. There was punch which I didn’t drink, as I think there was wine in it and I didn’t want to break my Confirmation Pledge. There was party food – delicious little pastry cases filled with a sort of mushroom soup – I have never tasted anything like it in my life. And how we danced – it was just young people at the party, Caroline, no Mr and Mrs Mountford at all, although they did pop their heads in at one point to make sure we weren‘t doing anything wrong! The room was decorated with balloons and a banner that said ‘Welcome 1954’ and we danced to records by Eddie Cochrane and Tony Bennett and Frank Sinatra – my feet scarcely left the dance floor all night. And then they played a Doris Day song – ‘Secret Love’ – Robert tells me it’s from a film where she’s a cowgirl called Calamity Jane and that he’ll bring me to the pictures in Bickford some time soon – and he danced with me in front of everyone. Marion made a show of herself as usual by trying to butt in and get him to dance with her. Then she disappeared for a while in a temper when Robert wouldn’t dance with her. He wouldn’t let me go find her though and made me finish the dance with him all the way through. It was wonderful!

I save the best till last though, Caroline. Robert drove us home at half past midnight exactly, after we had sung ‘Auld Lang Syne’ and had a final dance to a very funny song about Constantinople. He made Marion sit in the back seat which didn’t suit her at all until he said that movie stars and princesses always sat in the back seat and sure then you couldn’t stop her getting in there at all!

That meant that I could sit in the front seat with him and wasn’t it like a long leather couch – all the one seat, all the way across. Anyway, we were driving through the village when Robert reached out and took my bag off my knee and dropped it on the ground. I had no idea what he was doing and had opened my mouth to give out to him, when he made a face at me to shush, so I did. Sure didn’t he have a plan all along? When we got to Eyrie Farm he pulled up outside and when I bent to pick up my bag he stopped me and made a face that I should go on inside. It was like a spy film, Caroline. Anyway, myself and Marion made to go into the house, and wasn’t Mrs Collins at the front door waiting for us. And then I heard Robert start up the car, and just when I was about to go into the house, he stepped out of the car and shouted at me to come back and waved my bag at me. I did what he wanted and went back to him and whispered what was he doing at all but he bade me shush again and then said, “Lily, you are as beautiful as a real lily and the most beautiful girl at that party tonight and I think I love you and will you marry me?” as quick as that! Sure all I could do was laugh and I went red from my toes to my cheeks. And Robert looked awful hurt and said he was serious and for me to think about it, and then do you know what he did? He kissed me, Caroline. Square on the lips, when Mrs Collins wasn’t looking! And then he got into his motor car and drove away and me looking after him. I was floating on air, Caroline, for he’s handsome and kind and wonderful, as I have got to know in the months since New Year’s Eve.

And yes, we are in love, Robert and I. It is a secret and we have to meet in secret when and where we can, for he cannot be seen to drive here too often and I dare not leave Henry with Marion for too long so I am tied to the house. Mr Mountford has also said that we should try to keep Henry up at the farm because if the villagers saw him then they might put two and two together and realise what our shameful secret is. I don’t know how long it can last between Robert and me, if I am to go home to Dublin any day soon, but he says he would follow me to the ends of the earth so I try not to think about parting and enjoy it while I can. He is wonderful, Caroline, and between him and Henry, my days are happy for the most part.

My one unhappiness, I fear, is my sister. I try to remain charitable and kind to her but sometimes she does things that are cruel beyond belief. Like after New Year’s she seemed to know that I had some new secret to hide and she spent her days taunting me and ridiculing me and pestering to find out what it was. I would never tell her about Robert for she would tell Daddy in an instant and then do her best to break us up and most likely have him for herself, for she has no shame any more.

She couldn’t pass me by but she would pinch me or pull my hair and one day she went wild on me and without a word of warning she slapped my face when Henry was in my arms having his bottle. She set about beating me, Caroline, knocked me to the floor and the little man was screaming and crying in my arms for it was all I could do to hold on to him so he didn’t fall and hurt himself. She called me names, all sorts of awful names, and told me that if I didn’t tell her my secret she would take her son from me – her son, after all this time denying him! – and take him by his feet and smash his skull in against the wall of the outhouse. She was slapping me all this time, and trying to grab Henry, and I lay on him to keep her away which upset him more but what else could I do to keep him safe?

She grew tired then of beating me and walked away while I watched her. Then she picked up the kitchen knife off the table and without a word of warning she slashed her arm with it and said she was going to kill herself and then I’d be sorry for they’d take Henry from me for sure. And I’m sure it was evil of me but I didn’t care. I just took Henry and ran away and put him in his cot and locked the door to keep her away from him. And when I returned, the poor little boy crying his heart out upstairs, she had cut her arm five or six times and there were trails of blood everywhere. I knew the cuts weren’t deep enough to kill her and I went to get a bandage for her. Then nothing would do her but to take her bloody arm and smear it all along the wall of the kitchen. I fear I am living with a madwoman, Caroline. She has these episodes and then she seems to forget about them and goes off and does something else that she fancies like reading a book or eating sweets and I am left to clean up after her. I dare not tell Robert about her madness for I am sure he would leave me and tell his father and that would be the end of us here in Shipton Abbey.

How I wish you could write to me, Caroline! It helps so much to write to you even if I can’t send the letters – I fear I should go mad myself otherwise.

Your ever loving friend,

Lily

Chapter 23

Will had been right – the Breakaway Inn just outside Bickford was completely without character, just four bright clean walls and brand-new furniture and carpets and wood and chrome like every other budget hotel in the world. Martha didn’t think she had ever felt so reassured.

Once settled in – she made a ritual of making up the travel cot, unpacking their clothes and toiletries – she drove to Bickford and she and Ruby mooched around the shops for a while. They even went to a fast food joint for the first time since she could remember. The food was bad and it was completely out of character for her. It felt wonderful.

She passed the police station as she wandered about and thought about doing what she had actually come to Bickford to do. But why bother? She knew it was the right thing to do, to try to prevent this person breaking into other people’s houses but, much as she told herself that, she couldn’t bring herself to go inside. It would mean having to go back to the house, fill out forms, answer questions – long hours wasted in the police station when she could just go home. Plus, there was the delay between being broken into last night and what she had done until now. Why had she left it so long? Why not ring them immediately she was sure that the intruder was gone? Why hadn’t she gone straight there? The questions could get awkward, she thought. She pushed the stroller on past the building. They were safe now, she reasoned, and that was all that mattered.

Back at the hotel she enjoyed a long bath while Ruby played in her cot and, once she was asleep, Martha lay on the bed in her pyjamas with the TV on low and watched a romantic comedy while enjoying a hot chocolate she ordered from room service.

This was exactly what she needed, she thought. No spooky old house, weird landlord, creaky floors, flying spoons . . . then she blocked the thoughts of the cottage from her mind and read a few pages of her book before dropping off into a deep, blissful sleep.

Chapter 24

July 13th

The following morning Ruby woke early and Martha lifted her into bed beside her where the two of them dozed, heads together, Ruby’s leg entwined around Martha’s right arm. Then Martha was awoken fully by her phone vibrating on the bedside table. It was a text from Will – she groaned when she saw his name at the top of the screen. It brought reality into her temporary wonderland and she realised that soon enough she was going to have to get up and sort out her complicated situation.

“Gtng sm kip. Meet u @ htl @ 1,” the text read.

Martha snuggled back into Ruby. At least she could block it all out for another short while. As she lay there feeling totally relaxed for the first time in ages, she decided to go ahead and book herself in for another night. It wasn’t the Ritz, but one more night would help her to regroup, formulate a plan, move on to the next stage. One thing had become abundantly clear to her and that was that she had no intention of spending any more time at the cottage. As of tomorrow, she was gone back to London. It had beaten her, for sure, exactly what she hadn’t wanted to happen, but she didn’t care. Better be defeated in London than assaulted – or worse – in the creepy countryside.

She booked the room under her own name for that night and she and Ruby enjoyed breakfast in the bustling dining area, overlooking reception. By one she was back there, dressed and made up and feeling a sight better than she had the day before. She could scarcely believe that it was roughly twenty-four hours only since she arrived at the hotel. Will arrived bang on time, carrying a laptop. He paused in reception and caught sight of Martha who had positioned herself so that she could see the entrance doors, Ruby in a high chair beside her. She noticed he had changed his T-shirt but his hair was tousled and another day’s stubble was added to that which already covered his chin.

“Hello, Ruby Dooby Doo!” he said and tickled Ruby’s bare foot.

She gave a beam of delight which surprised Martha. Usually it took the baby a while to fully check out new faces before they were deemed worthy of smiles. Will beamed back.

“You ladies look refreshed,” he said, sitting down opposite Martha.

She noticed his eyes were slightly bloodshot. “You don’t,” she said and immediately wished she hadn’t. It implied she was interested in how Will had got on, and she wasn’t. One more night in the hotel and she was gone forever. She could hire packers, she thought, who could just come and sort out her stuff. She need never even set foot inside Eyrie Farm again.

“Oh, I’m fine. Got a couple of hours sleep this morning and had a change of clothes. I’ll be right as rain after a toasted sandwich and some coffee.” He caught the eye of a waitress who indicated that she’d be with him in a minute. He turned his attention back to Ruby and stuck his tongue out at her. She responded by reaching out a chubby paw to grab at it.

“You’re popular today,” smiled Martha. Will couldn’t be a totally bad guy, she thought, if he was prepared to allow yoghurt-covered hands up to his face.

Will grinned. “She’s cool,” he said, shaking his head from side to side and laughing as Ruby adopted a serious face and did the same.

“Did you sleep okay?” asked Martha. “The spare bed didn’t feel damp or anything, did it?”

“I didn’t sleep in the cottage. Oh, your keys – I locked up everything once I’d tidied the equipment away – here you go.” He handed Martha back her keys.

She took them, surprised. “Where did you sleep then?”

Will nodded at the window and Martha looked out to see the dark blue Volvo parked outside.

“You slept in your car?” she said in disbelief.

Will nodded. “Wouldn’t dream of sleeping in your house without asking. Investigating it is one thing . . . oh, hi, yes, I’d like a toasted cheese and ham, please, and a black coffee.” He gave the waitress a dazzling smile as he placed his order.

Martha took the keys and put them in her handbag which was slung over the back of her chair, bewildered that a man who was willing to drag her around the place by her ankles one day wouldn’t doze on her spare bed without permission the next.

“Aren’t you having anything?” asked Will.

Martha realised that he and the waitress were staring at her. “Just a sparkling mineral water. Thanks.”

Once the waitress had gone, Will went back to playing the head-shaking game with Ruby.

Martha leaned across the table. “You know, I assumed sleeping at the house was part of the deal,” she said awkwardly.

“Don’t worry about it,” Will shrugged. “In any case, it’s sometimes useful to give the ghosts a free gaff and then spy on what they get up to!”

“And did they get up to anything?” she asked.

“You’re very keen to know for a woman who doesn’t believe there’s anything paranormal going on,” he observed.

Martha sat back. He was right. She didn’t want to know. She just wanted to get gone.

“As it happens, no, nothing happened at all, at least while I was in the house,” said Will, playing with a sachet of sugar. “I was up all night monitoring everything, cameras in all the rooms, a couple of controlled experiments, trigger objects, heat sensors – not a thing. Not even high EMF readings which could lead to feelings of unease and paranoia.”

Martha didn’t understand a lot of what he was saying but she realised that she almost felt disappointed. That was rubbish – it was good that he hadn’t found anything. It meant she could get under the radar and leave without a fuss.

“That’s when I was there,” said Will. “I have to go back through the footage and recordings in case something registered when I was out in the car but I’m fairly confident it’s all quiet. Oh – there was one thing. An EVP – do you know what that is?”

Martha shook her head, trying to hide her natural curiosity.

“Electronic Voice Phenomenon,” explained Will. “Basically I use digital recorders to pick up anything that can’t be heard by the human ear. There was one in Ruby’s room but it’s very difficult to make out so I’ve mailed it to a buddy of mine to try to sharpen it up for me.” Will noted Martha’s worried face. “It’s probably nothing,” he said reassuringly and sat back as the waitress returned with his food and set it in front of him.

Will took a large bite of his sandwich and studied Martha’s face as he ate. “You have told me everything, Martha, haven’t you?” he asked.

Martha blinked and busied herself adjusting Ruby’s socks. “Of course,” she said. Part of her thought about telling him what had happened in the kitchen the previous morning. She decided against it. Let’s just let this whole thing go away, she thought. She unclipped a placid Ruby from the high chair and sat her on her knee. She saw Will study the action with interest. “I’m sure I’ve told you everything about the intruder,” she said. That, at least, was the truth.

“Okay,” Will said quietly.

“Listen, Will, the thing is, I’m actually moving out this week so I’m really not all that bothered with this investigation business. I mean I’m happy to let you put up your cameras and your voice thingies and what not, but the results aren’t really any of my concern. It’s not my house after all.”

Will continued to look at her as he ate his sandwich. “You never mentioned you were moving out before,” he said.

Martha turned Ruby’s sleeves up. “Well, I didn’t think things were going to get so . . . involved,” she said awkwardly. “It’s all gone a bit . . . too far. And it’s really none of my concern.”

“Sue said you were determined to last six months here,” said Will bluntly, finishing off half of the sandwich.

Damn him, thought Martha. Why can’t he just bloody drop it? “Well, I’ve had an unexpected opportunity come up back in London,” she lied.

“That’s good,” said Will.

She could hear disbelief in his voice.

“I suppose then I should get in touch with your landlord about any results,” said Will. “Of course, you believe he was your intruder, don’t you?”

“Oh. On that, it turns out he’s abroad so he couldn’t have let himself in. It’s best to just leave it to the police, I think.”

“What did they say? When you went to them yesterday?”

Martha couldn’t think what to say. “Well, I . . .” she began, running out of words then.

Will was relentless. “Only, if it’s a police matter, then you won’t really be able to leave the area for a while and I assume if you have to stick around you’ll stay at the cottage. And if you’re staying there then it might be worth your while knowing the results of my investigation once I’ve had a chance to go through all the evidence.”

Martha was growing frustrated. Why couldn’t he just leave it, say goodbye, go back to Edinburgh and just leave her alone? Why was he so intent on quizzing her? It wasn’t any of his business if she stayed or went. “Look, Will,” she said in a gentle voice, “I really don’t know what you want from me. You say you found nothing at the cottage so hanging about here isn’t going to get you a very interesting case for your paper, now is it? Like I said, there’s nothing paranormal as you call it up at Eyrie Farm and I’ll be able to deal with the police from London. It’s very kind of you but, really, there’s no need for you to hang around. I do appreciate you taking an interest though – and the hotel swap was a great idea. You’re a student, though, so what say I pay for the room for last night and we’re all done and dusted here then.”

Martha smiled sweetly and Will mirrored the smile. Result, she thought.

“Really,” he said, “there’s no need for that. I can well afford the room – consider it a gift.” He turned his attention to the crisps on his plate and popped one in his mouth. “You see, Martha, I think there’s every need for you to stick around.” He looked directly in Martha’s face, the smile gone. “You say you had an intruder. But this intruder managed to get in and out through locked doors and appears to have floated soundlessly around your house faster than the speed of light and had the strength to drag a grown woman half out of bed. Not to mention our prime suspect is overseas. It may not be paranormal but it doesn’t sound normal to me.” He returned his attention to the plate. “On top of all that, I think you’re lying. I think this isn’t the first funny thing that’s happened to you at that house and I think you’re getting out of it because you’re scared.”

Martha was speechless for a moment. “You shouldn’t believe local gossip,” she said and began to gather up the toys Ruby had been playing with and put them in her changing-bag.

“I didn’t get that from the locals. I’m getting it from you.”

Martha stopped what she was doing and looked at him.

“Before I studied parapsychology, I did a degree in psychology,” he went on. “However, even a fifteen-year-old with a book on the subject could spot a mile off that you’re lying. Sitting Ruby on your knee to use as a physical shield against me? Hardly fair because she’s only wee.” He leaned over and rubbed Ruby’s cheek, running his hand under her chin across to the other cheek. Ruby scrunched up her face and batted at Will’s hand. “I won’t go into the details – but your body language alone is telling me there’s something fishy going on. Not to mention all the signs you left at that house – what did you call it, Eyrie Farm? – the signs of someone who scarpered at speed. I think you’re really scared, Martha, and I’d like to help.”

Martha began to rearrange the items in the bag furiously. “I’m moving out, remember?” she snapped. “So I don’t need help but it’s clear that you need your paper done and I’m the lemon you’re going to try to build your case around with your ghostly nonsense, is that it? I have a little girl here who needs a snooze and I’ve got a lot to do to get moved – I have to get back to the cottage and pack for starters . . .” She just wanted to get back to the hotel room to hide. She had no intention of going anywhere near the cottage but she was determined to make Will believe she wasn’t scared. Hopefully then he’d take his psychology and leave her alone.

“So you’re heading back to the house?” said Will.

Martha nodded. Surely she could lose him now.

Will glanced under the table. “Did you leave your bags at reception or are they in your car already? I could have helped you carry them, you know.”

Martha looked blankly at him. “What bags?” she asked, as if Will had said something ridiculous. Too late she realised that she had walked herself into having to make another explanation.

“Checkout time was twelve,” said Will. “I assume, if you’re heading home again, that you checked out?”

Martha could have kicked herself. “I’ve actually booked in for tonight as well,” she said, trying to make it look as though it were the most natural thing in the world to do. To have a two-night break in a budget hotel five and a half miles from where she lived.

“Oh really?”

“Really.”

“Because you’re not scared to go back to the cottage,” continued Will, signalling for the bill.

“Not at all,” said Martha, affecting nonchalance.

“So you’re staying another night but you’re going back to the cottage now?” he continued. “In that case, would you mind awfully if I popped back with you? I think I’ve left a notebook behind me.”

“No!” said Martha, too quickly.

Will was regarding her with a supercilious grin.

Dammit, she thought. “Oh, okay, no problem,” she said. “Let’s go then.” He could pick up his damned notebook and then surely he’d go back to Edinburgh. There was no need for him to stay here, was there?

Will waited in reception while Martha picked up some toys for Ruby from her room. She reluctantly admitted to herself that a trip back to the cottage might be a good idea. She could actually pick up some purées for Ruby instead of buying jars. And she could do with some more clothes for both of them.

This time Martha followed Will in her car and pulled in behind him outside the front door of the cottage. She felt detachment when she looked at it – as though with her decision made to return to London she had cut any connection whatsoever with this building. It was sad in one way, considering the haven this had once been but Martha’s overwhelming emotion was relief at never having to sit there anticipating creaky floorboards or strange scratchings ever again.

She opened the front door with her key but, instead of going first, stood back to let Will go before her. Ruby was grizzling with tiredness in her arms, but Martha had no intention of letting her sleep while they were there. She went into the study and laid her down on the sofa, wedging her in with some cushions. Then she went to the kitchen to take some purées from the freezer.

Will went upstairs, to get his notebook, she presumed. She noticed that he must have cleared up the mess on the kitchen floor and all the chairs were neatly in place at the table. She was grateful for that. The kitchen felt almost normal again.

She was busy chipping cubes of frozen mango out of an ice-cube tray when her doorbell rang. It made her jump – she didn’t think that anyone, save for Rob Mountford eventually and Sam, had ever rung her doorbell. “Dammit,” she said. She didn’t want to be there any longer than she had to, but she knew that Will was upstairs and if she left the door unanswered he’d probably think she was a right antisocial cow. Although why should she care what he thought?

She hurriedly popped another frozen cube into a Tupperware container and slid the tray back into the freezer. The bell rang again as Martha scurried down the hall, wondering who on earth it could be. After all, it seemed none of the locals would come near the place and Rob was still away. Sam, maybe? She hoped so . . . she had a few questions for him.

She opened the door to find a big man standing outside. He had thinning reddish hair, gelled into carefully feathered spikes, and wore a peach-coloured silk shirt loose over black linen trousers and Birkenstock sandals. He had his back to her but turned as she opened the door. She spotted at least two rings on each hand and a shiny gold chain around his neck. His features were small, his face slightly pudgy, and he had the beginnings of a reddish beard.

“I’m looking for Will,” he said in a strong Scottish accent with a slightly camp affectation.

Martha was about to ask him for his name when Will came cantering down the stairs behind her.

“Gabriel! You found your way here.”

The huge man stepped into the hallway, brushing past Martha as though she wasn’t there. “Got a taxi,” he said. “Bloody bugger wouldn’t come up the driveway and I had to walk. In this heat – can you imagine?”

“This is Martha,” said Will.

The man called Gabriel looked around him until he saw Martha, as if he were discovering her under his foot. “Charmed,” he said, insincerely, and turned back to Will. “This place is pretty godforsaken, isn’t it?”

The two men made their way down the hall leaving Martha at the open door, wondering what was going on.

“Excuse me,” she said. They ignored her and kept walking. “Excuse me,” she repeated, more loudly this time. Will turned back toward her, beckoning her toward the study. Gabriel carried on into the kitchen, studying the walls and floor.

Martha was irked. What the hell was this guy up to now? She closed the kitchen door, and followed Will into the study. “Can you explain to me what’s going on?” she said loudly.

Will indicated that she should be quiet and closed the study door over behind her. “I hope you don’t mind,” he said in a low voice. “Gabriel’s done some work with me in Edinburgh and I asked him to pop down and take a look around.”

“Why? You said yourself that you didn’t find anything – why do you need a second opinion?”

“It’s not so much a second opinion as a different opinion. Gabriel’s a sensitive.”

Martha snorted. “He doesn’t seem very sensitive to me!”

Will put his finger in front of his lips and made a shushing sound. “He’s a medium. A spirit medium.”

“Someone who pretends to communicate with dead people?” Martha couldn’t believe what she was hearing. What on earth was Will playing at? “How bloody long is this going to take?” she hissed.

“He doesn’t pretend, Martha. At least I don’t think he does. We’ve had a very high hit rate on some other cases we’ve looked at and I wanted to see how he’d do here. He’s actually part of my casework.”

“On a case where there’s nothing there?”

Will looked at her. “Now you know, and I know, that I don’t believe that and neither do you. It won’t take long and, besides which, it would be a shame to disturb Her Majesty over there.” He pointed at the sofa where Ruby had fallen asleep.

“Oh dammit!” said Martha. “I hadn’t intended being here long enough for that to bloody well happen.”

Will sensed a note of panic in her voice. “I won’t leave till you’re ready to go,” he offered. “How about that?”

The two made their way quietly out of the room into the hall. “Why would you stay with me when there’s nothing here?” she snarled, desperate for Will and his psychic friend to just drop it.

“Oh, there’s something bloody here alright,” a voiced boomed behind her.

Martha jumped for the second time in the space of five minutes.

“A whole lot of something, in fact,” said Gabriel. “William – will you accompany me upstairs? I think there’s a whole world of surprise up there.” He swept past Martha and stood at the bottom of the stairs, a worried expression on his face.

Will looked at Martha and then followed him silently. Slowly, the two men began their ascent, leaving Martha watching from the hall, the familiar sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

She sat in the study, absentmindedly stroking Ruby’s foot as she slept, listening to the progress of the two men upstairs. The room was bright and comforting in the sunshine and Martha found it difficult to believe that the last time she had been in this room she had been crouched against the door, in abject terror.

She heard Will and Gabriel make their way around the upper floor. They were mostly silent – only occasional muffled words came down through the floorboards. They visited Martha’s room, then the bathroom, stopped for a while on the landing, then the box-room and finally Ruby’s room where what sounded like a heated exchange took place in hushed tones, followed by a very long silence.

The quietness ended abruptly as a heavy pair of feet stamped from the room and down the stairs and then she heard the opening and slamming shut of the front door. She heard the gravel outside crunch and then a car door slam. Ruby stirred and her eyelids flickered but she simply turned her head toward the back of the sofa and returned to sleep. Martha suddenly felt very tired.

A second pair of feet, quieter, came down the stairs and along the hall. Will poked his head around the door. “Sorry about that,” he said quietly. “Gabriel wants to go for a drink – he can be a bit drained after a walkabout like that.”

Martha smiled weakly. “It’s okay. He didn’t wake her up. Does that mean you’re leaving?” She was aware that there was a tinge of desperation and panic to her voice but she didn’t care. Half an hour ago she’d felt fine, couldn’t wait to get rid of Will. Now the arrival of a medium made things a little different. She realised that the prospect of Will leaving her alone was making her very anxious.

“I’ll wait until you’re ready to leave,” said Will kindly, no trace showing of the man who had tried to catch her out when they spoke earlier.

“What about Gabriel?”

“Don’t worry about him. He can wait in the car and cool off a little – he’s, um, a little miffed with me about something.”

“I should be too,” said Martha. “You set me up to be here this afternoon, didn’t you? So that you could meet Gabriel? It’s not a coincidence that he arrived when we were here.”

“I’m sorry. Again,” said Will, looking genuinely remorseful. “I didn’t want to bring him here without you knowing but I knew you’d never agree to meet him so I kind of decided to – well – serve him up, as it were. I phoned him from reception when you went to get Ruby’s things. He’d come down from Edinburgh this morning.”

“It’s alright. I feel too bloody tired to care and if this casework is so important to you then you can bring whoever you like in here so long as it really doesn’t involve me.”

“Come with us to the pub,” suggested Will. “Let me buy you a drink to say sorry.”

Martha shook her head. “No, ta. You and Gabriel carry on there without me.”

“Please,” begged Will. “He’s awfully cross with me actually and I could really do with a bit of moral support. Call it repayment for the hotel room – which I have no intention of letting you pay for, by the way. Just the one. You’d really be giving me a dig-out . . .”

Martha looked at her watch. It was nearly Ruby’s dinnertime. Poor child, she thought. Being fed on the trot again. “Alright,” she said. “I have to feed Ruby anyway. She shouldn’t sleep for too much longer. Tell you what – give me a hand gathering up a few bits and we can go then, alright?”

Will beamed. “Deal! Now what do you want me to do?”

Martha mainly wanted Will to be in the same room as her while she gathered up Ruby’s food into a small portable cooler and packed a bag with more clothes for both of them. She felt fine in the study but nervy at being alone in all the other rooms.

By the time she had finished, the baby had woken and Martha settled her into her car seat while Will locked the house and waited for her to drive onto the road first.

She was very grateful for his consideration. Even though she’d been trying to show him she wasn’t frightened, she was. Very much so. But this time he hadn’t tried to get her to admit anything which made her even more grateful.

The two cars parked side by side at the Abbot’s Rest. The car park was beginning to empty out as the busy Sunday lunch trade dried up. Martha watched as families drifted out to their cars – mums, dads, grandparents, babies, toddlers. All normal people going to their normal homes, able to protect and provide for their children, happily married.

Will helped her take the stroller from the boot and she thought that they must look like another happy family heading to the pub on a Sunday afternoon. Apart, of course, from the really big, cross psychic medium, that is. Gabriel had stormed out of Will’s car and across the car park into the pub. Will saw her watch him go and caught her eye, pretending to quake in terror and then rolling his eyes heavenward. Martha smiled.

Gabriel had secured a table in a dark corner of the pub and when Martha and Will walked in he was frantically trying to attract the attention of a waitress.

Martha looked around at the setting. “Can we not sit outside? It’s a lovely –”

“No!” bellowed Gabriel, and she sat down on a stool, shocked. “Look at my skin, woman! Do you think I can take that outside in that sun?” He swung his head around, desperately seeking service. “Besides, what I have to say can not be shared with all and sundry in a beer garden.”

“Hang on,” Martha interjected. “If you boys are going to talk about whatever you did at the cottage then I’m going outside to sit by myself. I’m moving out of there – none of it concerns me.” She stood up to leave.

“Sit down!” commanded Gabriel.

She obeyed again out of shock.

“That’s where you’re very wrong, dearie,” said Gabriel. “Very wrong indeed. This concerns you bigtime. You and your bairn.”

Martha looked from Gabriel to Will and back again. Will shrugged as he caught her eye – obviously Gabriel had shared nothing with him on the drive from the cottage.

Gabriel at last caught the eye of a waitress. “I want the biggest glass of sauv-blanc you can come up with,” he said, pronouncing it ‘sov-blonk’. “And whatever these two nellies are having.” He pointed a disdainful finger at Martha and Will and sat back in the armed chair that he had commandeered, rubbing his temples with his beringed hands.

Will ordered a bottle of beer and Martha a mineral water. She would have given anything to join Gabriel in a glass of wine but she knew she had to drive back to Bickford. And possibly as far away from this place as she could.

“Right,” said Gabriel in a low voice. He sat forward and leaned on the table, his bulky frame almost making it topple over. “As you well know, William, I don’t do bairns.” He pointed at Ruby and Martha frowned. “You have never seen me take a case where there was a bairn involved and I am ripping with you that you never told me there was one here.”

Martha immediately felt defensive. She leaned forward and took the finger that Gabriel pointed at her daughter and pushed it back in line with the others clenched to his palm. Will went from looking apologetic to alarmed but Martha didn’t notice.

“Her name is Ruby,” she said firmly. “And she’s my daughter.”

Gabriel turned to her in an exaggerated move and sneered. “I don’t care if her name is Shirley-Bloody-Bassey-the-Third and she shits rubies in her nappy. I. Don’t. Do. Bairns.”

Martha was again taken back at his rudeness and Will cringed in his seat.

“However,” continued Gabriel, “I am unfortunately ‘in’ now, as you so like to put it, William, so I’ll tolerate it.” He re-extended his finger and pointed it from Will to Martha and back again. “But! Do not expect there to be a moment when it tugs on my beard or my heartstrings and all of a sudden I’m running round looking for an eager surrogate and snivelling.”

Martha was fuming. How dare this man be so rude! She understood that people didn’t like children but did he have to point? Refer to Ruby as ‘it’? She opened her mouth to defend her daughter but the waitress arrived with their order and the moment was lost in the dropping of beer mats, the counting of change and Gabriel taking an enormous gulp from his glass.

“Right,” he continued, “what do you know about the history of that house?”

“Not much,” replied Martha timidly. She knew she should stand up for herself – his bulk and tone made him a very intimidating presence, however, and instead of getting up and walking out like she should, she somehow felt an inexplicable urge to please him. “It belongs to my landlord, Rob Mountford. Used to be called Eyrie Farm but he changed it to Hawthorn Cottage to improve its chances of being let – that’s ‘eyrie’ as in nests, not Halloween. It belonged to his family for years apparently, and he was made a gift of it a while ago and did it up single-handedly. At least that’s what I’ve been told. Though my childminder tells me one thing and he tells me another. Apparently, some bits of it could go back to the twelfth century when the abbey was built.”

Gabriel snorted. “Pfff! Twelfth century, my arse – there’s more concrete in that place than Wembley Stadium.”

“The Romans used concrete,” said Will suddenly. “You can see it in the Colosseum.”

Gabriel gave him a withering look and turned back to Martha. “You say Mountford is the name. Do you know who actually lived there?”

Martha shook her head. “As far as I know it was derelict until a few years ago. There’s stories about it maybe being connected to the monastery. That’s all I know.”

Gabriel looked thoughtful. “No,” he said. “It wasn’t a monk.”

Martha looked at him, alarmed. Was this guy trying to tell her that someone or something had come through to him at the cottage?

Just then she caught sight of the clock and realised it was time to feed Ruby. Good. A distraction. She busied herself getting pots of hot water from the bar, heating up the bottle and food. The small party remained silent as she fed her daughter. She was glad of it in one way because it gave her a while to collect herself. In another way, it was intimidating. She was pleased that Ruby didn’t make a fuss and emptied the tub of food enthusiastically. With her fed, Will ordered another round of drinks, switching to a coffee for himself.

“Okay,” said Gabriel, taking a swig from his fresh glass of wine. “There’s an entity up there – its name begins with ‘M’.”

Martha felt panic rise in her. An entity? A ghost? But there was no such thing – was there? Had they been living all that time with something that was dead? It didn’t help her panic how matter-of-fact Gabriel was being, as if describing an actual resident. Someone who had been there all along . . . Her eyes widened as he continued.

“That’s why it’s interesting that it’s owned by people called Mountford but I don’t think it’s exactly right,” continued Gabriel.

Martha’s eyes swivelled round to Will who had taken out a notebook and was scribbling notes with a pencil, like he was taking dictation. It seemed so – ordinary, what they were doing. “Hang on,” she said. “Are you being serious? Are you saying there’s a ghost up at my cottage?”

“Oh, well you know it, missy,” Gabriel retorted. “I got the impression it even let itself be seen by you. And maybe you’d like to tell me about breakfast-time yesterday?”

Will’s head shot up from his notebook and Martha felt herself redden from the chest up. Why had he brought this stupid psychic here, complicating things? She was going to have to tell them what had happened. Was she ever going to get away?

“Martha, is it true that something happened? That you’ve seen something?” said Will, his voice both stern and eager.

Martha nodded.

“What?” demanded Will, leaning toward her.

“I didn’t want to tell you,” she said quietly, taking a sip from her glass. “It sort of made it . . . well . . . real or something. I just want to leave . . .” She stared at her lap. Taking another sip, she began to explain quietly what had happened with the chair and the spoon, glancing around from time to time to make sure that no one else was listening. They’d think she was nuts if they heard.

Will’s face grew hard and he shook his head as he scribbled in his notebook. “This could really have helped me, Martha,” he chided. “I knew you weren’t telling me everything, knew there had to be a bloody good reason why you didn’t want to be here and why you got out in such a hurry.”

Martha was surprised to find her eyes welling up with tears. “I just didn’t want it to be true,” she said with a sob. “I just wanted to get Ruby out of there and I knew if I told you, of all people, it would turn into something huge and I’d never be able to get away.”

Will covered her hand with his for a moment.

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “‘M’, for want of another name, is very active up there. And not in a good way. It blocked me at every turn as I was trying find out who or what it is and why it’s there. All it wanted to do was tell me how much it doesn’t like you.”

Martha could feel the blood drain from her face. “How do you mean?” she asked, in a very low voice.

“I should explain that my skills involve being able to see, feel and hear spirit,” said Gabriel calmly. “The Scottish term for me is ‘fey’ – probably in more ways than one, but I prefer to think of myself as sensitive or intuitive. I could actually hear the voice of this entity in my head, giving me messages – does that make sense to you?”

Martha shook her head. “Not really. Sort of. What did it say?”

“It said it tried to get you with the pram,” said Gabriel and looked at her for an explanation.

It didn’t make sense to Martha for a moment but she gave a small cry as she remembered coming back to the empty house when she assumed that Sam had remained behind. “There were nappies all over the kitchen – and music upstairs and the buggy had been moved across the hall so that I fell over it,” she recalled, turning over her arm to see the remains of the bruise on her elbow and showing it to Will and Gabriel.

Will wrote furiously. “Explain to us from the start, Martha,” he said.

Fighting back tears, she told them exactly what she had seen and heard.

Gabriel nodded in agreement to much of the story. “It mentioned the music alright. It said that it doesn’t like that modern muck that you listen to and wanted to hear something good. The nappies thing makes sense too – it said you should wash the damn things once in a while.”

Martha was baffled. Why on earth would she wash them? Then it struck her. “Does . . . it . . . think that they’re cloth nappies?” she asked, unable to believe that she was asking a question which acknowledged the presence of a ghost. That a spirit or a poltergeist had scattered nappies all over her kitchen floor. She felt as though she were having an out-of-the-body experience.

“Must do,” said Will. “That helps with a rough timeline, to know that it’s not familiar with disposables. We must find out when they were invented . . .”

Gabriel continued. “It would also lead me to surmise that it’s a man perhaps – you know, the little lady should be doing her job around the house sort of thing? It says you nearly saw it upstairs as well but it hid on time. This entity is very strong, I have to say – its presence hit me the second I walked in the door.”

Martha shook her head, unable to believe she was playing along, but still wracking her brains to think when she could have seen what Gabriel was referring to.

“There was someone else there at the time, apparently?” he prompted. “There was wine?”

Martha’s mind flashed back to when Sue was there – no, she had seen nothing then. The only other person she’d had wine with at the house was Mary Stockwell. The shadow. Going into the bathroom. The one that she thought was Mary. Martha’s heart sank. This was all too close for comfort.

“I did see a shape once,” she said. “It was going into my bathroom. I thought it was my friend but then I went downstairs and she was there all along. I thought it was just a shadow, and we’d had a lot to drink . . .”

“Anything else, Gabriel,” asked Will, as though asking him to add an item to a shopping list. He turned a page in his notebook and looked at Gabriel who nodded, his face taking on a serious look.

Martha had no doubt that Gabriel believed one hundred per cent in what he was saying and, looking at Will, he did too. As for herself, Gabriel seemed to know too much about recent events for her to totally disbelieve him, and this scared her more than anything. Could this be true?

“It was cross with you about the feeding, it said,” stated Gabriel. “Lost its patience with you as much as the child because the little brat wouldn’t eat and it wanted you out. Those are its words, not mine.”

Martha’s face grew black with anger at the reference to Ruby as ‘the little brat’. She went from wishing he wasn’t telling the truth to thinking he had better be.

“That’s why it lost its temper and smacked the spoon from your hand – again, a very masculine action,” said Gabriel.

A thought struck Martha. “When the chair skidded back it was like someone standing up in a hurry. Was . . . it . . . in the room with me? Watching me feed Ruby?” Martha reached out and grabbed her daughter’s hand in her pushchair. Ruby had again fallen into a deep sleep and didn’t flinch.

Gabriel nodded. “Sitting right beside you most likely. Look, I know it’s scary but all I can do is report the facts. As much as it dislikes you – and, I’m sorry, Ruby too –”

Martha gasped with fear.

“I sense that it’s also fascinated with you – the concept of you being a mother. Like, it can’t understand how you can actually care about a baby. I also sense that it’s been in Ruby’s room quite a few times as well. Sort of . . . studying her.”

Martha was horrified. If he was to be believed, then all this time a dead person who hated her and wanted to do her harm had been spying on her – and Ruby.

“Why doesn’t it like us?” she demanded urgently. The more scared she felt, the more she treated this as real.

“I couldn’t quite get that,” said Gabriel shaking his head. “It blocked me. My theory would be that it’s because you’re living in its house. I’ve seen this numerous times – quite often if a spirit manifests or engages in poltergeist activity then it’s because it’s trying to get what it considers trespassers out of its home, and by trespassers I mean the living.”

Martha shuddered. She looked around her for some perspective, to see familiar surroundings in the midst of this outrageous conversation. She saw that the pub was almost empty.

“What I can’t get over,” said Gabriel, “is how strong it is. It has to be getting that energy from somewhere. Have you been feeling miserable up there?”

Martha pondered the question. “A little, I suppose. A bit melancholy – sort of negative, I guess.”

“That makes sense,” said Will. “An entity needs to get energy from somewhere to enable it to be active. Sounds like it’s been draining this energy from you. Have you had power cuts as a matter of interest?”

Martha turned to Will. “So you believe all of this, do you?” she asked.

“I do and I don’t. Technically science doesn’t accept any of this – clairvoyance, life after death etcetera. But speaking for myself, I’m always on the lookout for irrefutable evidence and, if I can find it, then maybe that will change and gradually science will come round. Gabriel is able to match so much of what he’s saying to actual events that he couldn’t possibly know about, and that it makes it very hard for me to believe it’s wrong.”

Martha sighed and turned back to Gabriel. “Was this thing actually what I thought was my intruder the other night?” There was no point in trying to avoid it any longer. There was too much weirdness going on and she had to know.

Gabriel nodded. “It wanted to give you a right old fright but it said the little brat wouldn’t shut up and it nearly drove it mad.” He looked at Ruby.

So did Martha, frightened by the prospect that this thing wanted to shut her up. Except of course Ruby had barely cried that night . . .

“I’ve more information,” said Gabriel, “but I’m exhausted.” He did look tired and Martha had noticed that there had been a distinct lack of sarcasm for a while. “Why don’t we go back to that godforsaken cube of a hotel and meet up for dinner or something? Doing a house like that always makes me feel a bit seasick and you know how it is – you’re always ravenous once you get onto dry land.” He stood up and wandered off in the direction of the gents.

“I won’t be able to leave Ruby later,” said Martha.

“Why don’t you see if the hotel could send someone to watch her?” suggested Will. “And you could have a break for a few hours – would you be comfortable with that?”

Martha hadn’t thought of it. Her face was pale as she gathered up her belongings to leave. “That’s actually a good idea,” she said. “I could really use a drink or ten!”

Will smiled at her attempt to joke. “Good. I’d suggest driving back with you but I can’t leave my car here again with all the gear in it. Nor Gabriel, unfortunately, and not only has he had about a half-bottle of wine but he can’t drive. If you like, he could go with you? Keep you company?”

“No!” said Martha, too quickly. “I appreciate the offer,” she added hastily, “but I’ll be fine, really. It’ll only take us ten minutes to get back.”

“Right then, William – take me to paradise,” announced a voice behind Martha’s ear as Gabriel returned from the toilet.

Will looked at Martha. “You’re sure then?”

She nodded. “Yeah, I am.”

“Okay,” said Will. “I’ll ring the hotel for you and see if we can’t rustle you up a couple of free hours before bedtime.”

Martha was about to thank him again when Gabriel made a loud snoring noise and tutted loudly.

“Come on then,” smiled Will, and the small party made their way out into unexpected sunshine.

The hotel baby-sitter was unavailable but a pregnant receptionist jumped at the chance of a couple of hours off her feet. She arrived at Martha’s room dead on eight o’clock and Martha left her to relax, giving Ruby a lingering kiss as she slept in her travel cot. She was exhausted, Martha thought. All that sleeping today and now no problems in getting her off. Again, she thanked her lucky stars for such a dream baby.

On returning to the hotel she had showered, changed and reapplied her make-up and, while unnerved by the earlier revelations, she felt she was ready for what Gabriel had to say.

He and Will were seated in the dining area before her, Gabriel in a turquoise version of his earlier silk shirt with a huge matching ring on his right hand, Will in a black shirt and jeans with his sleeves rolled up.

“That’s better,” said Gabriel, giving her a once-over as she arrived at the table.

Martha opened her mouth to respond but she saw the big man smirk at her playfully and tried not to look surprised. She sat down, trying also not to laugh.

They ordered a main course each and a bottle of wine between them and chatted informally about Shipton Abbey and its surrounding areas with Gabriel concluding that “The seasidey bit’s alright but that pub’s just a great hole of despair”.

“There’s a Michelin-recommended restaurant at the back of the pub, you know,” remarked Martha innocently.

Gabriel almost spluttered his food onto the table. “There is, is there?” he exclaimed. “And we’re eating tinned ravioli in a roadside caff? William?” He looked at Will in disgust.

“Learn to drive and we can go to any amount of Michelin-starred restaurants you like,” said Will, popping a spiral of pasta into his mouth. “But I fancied a drink and Martha very much needs one so for tonight we’re eating where our beds are.”

Gabriel looked dismayed. “There’s taxis!” he wailed, outraged.

Martha snorted. “How long have you two been married!” she laughed, feeling comfortable enough to join in the banter. She took a mouthful of wine and looked up to see the two men staring at her, not moving.

Gabriel, of course, was first to speak. “We. Are. Not. A Couple. Do you understand?” he said in his booming voice.

Martha swallowed hard, feeling the redness of her embarrassment start from her chest and run all the way around to her shoulders and upper back.

“Even if he were of the correct persuasion,” continued Gabriel haughtily, “I wouldn’t be interested. But that,” he pointed at Will, “is a breeder – and I wouldn’t touch him if he was lilacs, sunshine and the cure for the common cold all rolled into one.”

Will’s expression went from mildly amused to a look of outrage. “What’s wrong with me?” he demanded indignantly.

Gabriel dropped his fork in his half-eaten pasta. “I’m not even going to answer that, you hairy bloody hippy,” he said dismissively. “It wouldn’t be worth the seconds of my life I’d never get back. Now you’ve made me lose my appetite!”

Martha put her fork down. “I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to offend anyone. Not that it’s offensive to be . . . ummm . . . gay. Or to be . . . umm . . . you, Will . . . it’s just . . .” She reddened deeper as she spoke, wishing she’d never opened her mouth.

“Oh shut up, both of you!” said Gabriel. “As none of us appear to be eating, shall we retire to that feeble excuse for a bar and get to the bloody point?”

Once settled on armchairs at the far end of the modern bar area, Martha was amazed to see Gabriel almost undergo a transformation from the moody spoiled child of dinner to the deathly serious man she’d spent the afternoon with in the pub. Within moments of him starting to relay his information, she wished herself back at the dining table, embarrassing herself all over again.

“I had a very unnerving experience in the bairn’s room,” said Gabriel.

Will again took out his notebook and started to scribble. “Martha, tell me first about the noises that you hear from the chimney-breast.”

Martha didn’t want to think about them. It had to be an animal, unlikely as that seemed. There was no other possible explanation.

“It’s just scratching sometimes,” she shrugged.

The two men remained silent and looked at her.

“Please, Martha,” urged Will, “please tell us exactly what you’ve heard.”

Gabriel placed the tips of his fingers together and nodded attentively as Martha reluctantly described what she’d heard coming from the blocked-up fireplace on a regular basis. She then relayed to them what Alison Stockwell had told her on the night she had gone out with Rob Mountford.

“You say there was heavy rain that night?” asked Will.

Martha nodded, wondering what that had to do with anything. “And thunder and lightning,” she added.

“Perfect conditions,” muttered Will. “However, we’re looking at an impressionable teenage girl left alone in a strange house with a young baby.”

“Forget that,” said Gabriel, his face suddenly lighting up. “What about impressionable young mum goes on romantic date with landlord, eh? Spill!”

“Nothing happened,” Martha protested before being interrupted by Will.

“Gabriel!” he said, annoyance in his tone.

Gabriel leaned over toward Will’s chair and spoke into his face. “In a Michelin-recommended restaurant,” he said accusingly.

Will looked away from him in annoyance and back to Martha. Triumphant at staring the longest, albeit in a one-sided competition, Gabriel flopped back in his seat.

Martha couldn’t help but smile but it fell from her face as Gabriel resumed his serious tone.

“It’s consistent with what I was picking up from Ruby’s room,” he said gravely. “I don’t really know how to put this, Martha, but by my reckoning there’s a second spirit at the house. It’s a wee boy, and from what I can tell he was bricked up in the fireplace. Before he passed.”

Martha gazed at Gabriel in horror. That was what Lil Flynn had said. What she thought was a tale grown from the stories about monks walling up their victims. It had to be nonsense. No one could do that. To a child?

“No!” she found herself saying. “This is going too far now. You’ve been listening to the stories from the village. Walling people up! Rubbish!”

“Immurement is a historical fact!” growled Gabriel. “As a form of execution, torture or punishment for sin. Virgins were immured in the foundations of buildings as a form of protective sacrifice. Anchorites – sort of extreme hermits, if you like – voluntarily had themselves walled up as the ultimate act of withdrawal from the world – except in their case they lived on, with food passed through the wall to them daily. It’s fact not fiction. Oh, hark at me! I’m as bad as Will and his Interesting Facts about Concrete!”

“This isn’t the Dark Ages,” said Martha, flushing, “and all those horrors have nothing to do with my house. What’s in the chimney-breast is an animal. Sometimes they can . . . they can sound human – like cats and foxes . . .” She realised she was sounding slightly hysterical and allowed her voice to tail off.

“Martha,” said Will, “it ties in with what I heard at the pub – the rumour’s been around for years . . .”

“No!” Martha shouted. “It’s just an animal! My landlord’s going to take care of it!”

“Oh for God’s sake, woman,” said Gabriel suddenly. “How? How in the name of all that’s holy could it be an animal? That’s survived in a chimney for well over a month at least? Do you see low-flying aircraft round these parts flinging foxes and kittens round willy-nilly? Do you think Santa left it there? I know what I felt – there’s a person’s spirit in there – and it’s trapped!”

Martha and Will stared at Gabriel, seeing that there were tears forming in his eyes.

“This is why I don’t do poxy bairns,” said Gabriel, clearly upset and wiping tears as they began to roll down his cheeks. “They can’t defend themselves – living or dead – and I can’t defend them either and time after time awful stuff happens to them. I’ve seen it and I can’t take it. That’s why I don’t do bairns.” His voice had fallen to a whisper by the time he finished.

“I didn’t know that’s why you felt that strongly, mate,” Will said, and searched in his pockets for a napkin or a tissue, ostensibly to comfort Gabriel but in reality to give him himself something to do with his hands during the awkward moment.

Martha stared at Gabriel in shock. She hadn’t expected him to be so – sincere, especially as a child was involved. Her heart warmed a little to the giant man, but it couldn’t counter the sense of dread she felt.

Gabriel took a moment before he spoke again in a soft voice. “He’s petrified in there,” he said, blinking more tears down his face. “He woke up in the dark and he didn’t know where he was. His head hurt – he couldn’t find a way out and he started to call out, to try to . . . escape.” His voice fell to a whisper as the horror of what he was trying to explain became too much for him.

Martha could feel her own tears beginning to form at the backs of her eyes as she absorbed what the medium was describing.

“He tried until he passed, bless him.” Gabriel had composed himself.

“How long?” asked Martha, glad that Gabriel had spared them the details.

“Too long,” answered Gabriel, shaking his head. “He was very weak when he went in there. He was hungry. And terribly thirsty. ”

Martha’s eyes flooded with tears at this small detail. How could this have happened? She squeezed her eyes shut to try to stop the tears but it only forced them down her face.

“He couldn’t breathe,” continued Gabriel. “There was no room for him to move . . . he was crying out for help, trying to scratch his way out . . . no one came for him. No one until you, Martha.”

Martha sobbed as she thought over all the nights of the scratching noises and the annoyance she felt at them. Was this true? Had she been sharing her home with the soul of a little boy that someone had done this to? Was it really the cause of the crying and the scraping? A sob escaped her and she raised her hand to her mouth as she remembered how awful the noises had been on the night when she thought she had her intruder.

“I shouted at him!” she whispered, aghast. “Told him to shut up . . . I just couldn’t bear the noise . . .”

“Since you’ve been there he’s found some comfort,” said Gabriel. “I felt that he likes it when you sing to the baby – he thinks you’re singing to him. Oh – and he likes the moons and stars – does that make sense?”

Martha nodded. “Ruby’s nightlight,” she explained. She couldn’t get the picture of herself happily dancing and laughing with Ruby, while she changed and dressed and played with her – with a little boy there as well.

“The funny thing about him, Will,” said Gabriel, “is that now he can actually get out of the wall if he wants to, but he’s so scared of whoever put him there that he never – or rarely – does it.” He turned back to Martha. “He said he sometimes gets the comfort and brings it back in with him – does that make any sense to you, Martha?”

Martha wiped tears from her cheeks, again confused by what Gabriel was saying. It suddenly hit her. “The soothers! Ruby’s pacifiers – they keep going missing and I keep finding them over by the chimney-breast – could that be him?”

Gabriel nodded. “That’s it. Sometimes he says he can’t reach them and that makes him cry.”

It made sense to Martha. “They only go missing when I put them on the bedside table, which is low. If I put them on the changing unit then they stay put but that’s higher up. I never realised that before now.”

Will coughed. “Gabriel, I can understand how an alleged entity can supposedly move a physical object but how are these soothers actually giving him comfort? He can’t bring them through a brick wall.” His voice was calm and rational in the midst of the high emotion.

“You’ll probably think this is wishy-washy,” said Gabriel, “but I sensed from him that while the plastic bits obviously can’t go through a wall, the comfort attached to them can. He picks up what Ruby gets from them – they soothe her – and he can take that with him. I know it doesn’t make sense but . . .”

Will shook his head. “I believe you because it’s you, Gabriel,” he said.

“But this isn’t enough evidence.” Martha was amazed that Will could profess belief so easily. She had found herself impressed by his professionalism, envious of his detachment. A thought struck her and she swung her head around to Will. “I’ve heard him actually,” she said, recalling suddenly the little footsteps that she’d tried to ignore, the plop as the pacifier hit the floor near the wall. “I’ve heard his little feet run across the room and pick up a dummy and then it drops on the floor by the chimney-breast. Is that evidence?” Suddenly, remembering those little footsteps, Martha realised that she couldn’t fight it any longer. She believed.

Will jotted the information down but didn’t make eye contact. “Do we think he’s connected with ‘M’ in any way?”

Martha turned to Gabriel – she had all but forgotten the other spirit as she heard about the poor little boy.

Gabriel nodded. “It blocked me when I was trying to connect with the boy, so I feel it can connect with him as well. They’re on the same plane – I don’t think I’d be putting two and two together and making ten to say that M had something to do with putting him there in the first place. Again, it all leads me to his being a man . . . physically bricking up his body . . . and, I mean, it’s not usual for women to murder children.”

“But not unheard of,” said Will. “Myra Hindley, Rose West . . .”

Martha felt a sudden jolt through her body. The words of Lil Flynn again: “Mother did it.” Everything tied up with what she had said . . .

“Right,” said Will, putting down the notebook. “I think we’ve got a lot here. Is there anything else that’s important, Gabriel?”

The medium nodded and looked down at his feet. “Just a couple of things,” he said. “The boy’s name is Henry. And he’s nearly four.”

There was complete silence for a good three or four minutes. None of them knew what to say. Gabriel eventually broke it by standing up and walking off to the lift. He was crying too hard to even say goodnight and the others watched him go sympathetically.

“He feels a lot of what they feel, apparently,” Will said once the lift doors had closed.

Martha lifted her tear-stained face from her hands and sniffed. She nodded in response, drained, unable to think of anything to say.

“I think I’ll head to bed myself,” she said eventually, her voice thick with tears.

Will nodded. “I’m going to stay up a while. Have a stiff drink.”

“Goodnight then,” said Martha. There was no point in even trying to talk about what Gabriel had just told them. It was too huge. She stood up and walked a couple of yards, then hesitated and turned back to Will. “I’m sorry,” she said.

Will’s BlackBerry which he had placed on the table earlier beeped and he was momentarily distracted. “For what?” he asked, picking it up and checking the message.

“For lying. For trying to pretend there was nothing going on. I’ve felt weird in that place for ages, but I just wanted to ignore it and get away. I guess I was in denial . . . especially about the . . . noises I heard from the chimney . . .”

Will nodded acknowledgement. “I understand why you wanted to stay out of it,” he said. “It sounds like some pretty scary stuff was going on up there.”

Martha stared into the distance and nodded slightly herself. “And thanks, Will,” she continued, looking back at him. “For going through doors first, and waiting for me – and stuff . . .” Her voice trailed off and she felt a little silly.

Will smiled. “That’s nothing. Just what I do. Now I have to figure out what to do next.”

Martha nodded and turned for the lift. She silently wished him well with what he had to do. For her, however, it was over. She couldn’t bear to know any more.

Chapter 25

Eyrie Farm,

Shipton Abbey,

Norfolk,

England

February 1st, 1955

Dear Caroline,

“May Brigid bless the house wherein you dwell.” Do you still sing that hymn in the convent on this special day? The first day of spring?

I am nineteen today, as I am sure you know, and my life continues here at Shipton Abbey, sometimes with great happiness but more often with sadness and a sense of longing. I will tell of our last year here in this letter, and explain why.

As I have said, we are still here in Norfolk, and there is no sign of us ever going back to Dublin. That makes a part of my heart sing, more of which later, but another part of it aches for our familiar places which I haven’t seen in so long. To walk on the strand at Dollymount, sit in the sun in St Stephen’s Green, take a picnic to the Hill of Howth for a day out. I am now old enough to do all of these things for myself but instead I am trapped here in a tiny village in an alien land. I know nothing of England, just this tiny piece of land where this cottage and this village are. I am in a sort of prison but with enough freedom to make me long for more, and even as I am a prisoner I am a keeper of sorts as I am still Marion’s keeper.

Daddy no longer writes, or telephones the Mountfords. I fear he has forgotten us, which makes me fear for him, wondering just how badly the shock of Mammy’s death has affected him. I write to him every Monday without fail and tell him of our progress, but there is never an answer.

To my joy, Henry is still with us, now a boy of eighteen months, walking and talking a little and bringing such happiness to my heart but also such a dread that he should be taken from us now. I am, to all intents and purposes, his mother. Marion has never shown interest in him and couldn’t care if the boy were dressed or naked, fed or starving, indeed, alive or dead, God forgive me. But, to me, Henry is the sun, moon and stars, my greatest joy. To see the sunlight reflected in his brown hair as he potters about outside (when I can risk letting him out), the curiosity in the eyes so like my mother’s, his little winter coat that Robert gave him, from a chest at his house, buttoned up to his neck and the little red scarf and gloves that I knitted him keeping him warm.

He is a slight small child, skinny for his age, Mrs Collins tells me, but he has plenty to eat and an abundance of love from me. He is still a good sleeper and nowadays I put him in his little crib – he will soon have to sleep in the bed with me, I fear! – and tell him a story. I tell him about Brer Rabbit and Brer Fox, and about Snow White and the Seven Dwarves and such tales as I can remember from when I was little and my mother, Lord rest her, did the same.

Henry is such a loving child. He is generous with hugs and little kisses and when he smiles it’s as if the heavens have opened up their glory, such is the effect he has on me. And Robert loves him as well – last summer when he was smaller we took him as far as the seaside on an excursion, Henry hidden on the floor of Robert’s motor car while we drove through the village. We are in a Limbo of sorts. Henry must remain a secret until he is taken away but there is no talk of that yet. How cruel can my father be to leave him with me so long, the threat of losing him always hanging over me like a curse? Every night I say goodnight as though it is the last night I will do so, every kiss may be our last, every game perhaps our final one. I live still from day to day, totally in love with this child and fearful to the core that I will lose him.

And what of his mother? The woman who carried and bore him? I fear she is a lost cause, Caroline. She gads about day and night, most of the time I don’t know where she is. I fear she may bring more shame upon us for sometimes she is gone all night and returns in the morning looking the worse for wear. She smokes cigarettes and drinks whiskey, she tells me, and goes gambling and dancing with boys.

I don’t know how much of it is true but I fear for her life as well as her soul. She treats this house like a doss house, and me as her servant. I am expected always to cook and clean and most of the time is it easier to obey as her rages have grown more violent in nature. Last August for instance, I was late back from meeting Robert and I came home to find her hiding in a doorway. She jumped out at me before I saw her and punched my face as hard as she could with her fist, like a cowboy might in the pictures. I was stunned and bleeding and with that she grabbed my hair and drove me into the kitchen. I was fearful for my life and for that of Henry, for I knew that she would harm him but still I left him with her for just half an hour. She had tied him to a chair, Caroline, and I don’t know what else she did to him but he was crying his little heart out and had soiled himself all over and she had bruised his face and pinched his little cheeks. Indeed she cannot walk past him without inflicting some tiny little punishment upon him – a pinch here, a smack there, a tug of his darling curly hair. If I told her off for doing so then she would just scream at me that she is his mother after all. Some mother she is! I pray sometimes that God will just take him away to some lovely people who crave the comfort of a child and who have a warm home with plenty to eat and shiny toys. And then no sooner have I wished this happiness for him than I clutch him to my chest and cry and pray that no one will ever separate me from this darling, darling boy.

There is one advantage to Marion’s carefree lifestyle and that is that Robert is free to come visit me at the cottage and spend time with myself and Henry, like a proper little family. Oh, you should see how Robert is with him, Caroline, dandling him on his knee, bringing him little presents like the little carved train and the spinning top he gave him for his first birthday last August. I had to tell him to stop bringing so many gifts for when Marion sees them she flies into a rage and has already smashed some of them – a little wooden soldier and skittles that Robert gave him so he would learn to knock them down with a ball. She hates for Henry to have new things and her not.

The love between Robert and me has grown more over the year, and not less. I can scarce believe that I should be so fortunate as to experience the love of this good man. Our ‘Secret Love’ as we call it, for he doesn’t tell his father about me any more than I tell Marion. His father still visits from time to time and I have heard him express his disappointment that Robert has chosen to remain at home to learn the family business of building rather than go to Oxford or Cambridge, and how he wishes for Robert and Charles to make matches like Iris has, with wealthy people who can extend their family fortunes but that at nineteen Robert is still too young. Iris was married last year to one Frederick Forbes – Freddie, Robert calls him – and Robert told me such tales of the wedding.

Robert has said that he is serious about me and that he wishes to love no one else and that when we are both twenty-one, in two years’ time, then come hell or high water we will be married. He says he will talk his father round to realising what a good match we are, and it is not as if I am without a penny or two to bring to the family from Daddy’s business, and sure aren’t Daddy and Mr Mountford friends these many years? Robert feels it isn’t the right time now and I agree. Best for us to wait until we are old enough to do as we see fit and no one else. In the meantime we content ourselves with our snatched visits, and I listen over and over to our song, ‘Secret Love’, on the record player that Robert gave us for Christmas. Marion complained and said to Mr Mountford himself that she should prefer a transistor radio. I saw him smile when she did that, and she pouted her lips as is her latest habit. I think he finds her funny.

If only he knew. If only he saw the scars on her arms under her cardigan where she cuts herself time and time again and threatens to cut Henry and me too. If only he saw the state of her room when she refuses to clean the sheets that she has soiled in many ways. To the village, for she spends much of her time there now, and Bickford too, Marion Flynn is the fun-loving Irish girl of mystery – she tells the villagers nothing. I am too shy to make friends and know only Mrs Collins, Dr Baker and the grocer to say hello to. Daddy said we should keep our heads low and so I must continue to do that, even if Marion won’t, and by doing so we have the village wondering about the girls up at Eyrie Farm. If only they knew that it was three of us and not two, for we have done such a good job of hiding my little Henry with the help of Mrs Collins. Were it up to me I would shout Henry’s name to the world and my love for him also.

And so another year has passed, Caroline. I wonder by my birthday and St Brigid’s Feast Day next year what life will bring us all in our sorry tale?

Your friend,

Lily

Chapter 26

July 14th

Will and Gabriel were already seated at a table, deep in conversation, when Martha entered the dining area the following morning. It was considerably emptier than it had been the previous morning, the weekend trade over for another four or five days. Just another ordinary Monday morning.

Martha busied herself by thinking about what she might do when she returned to London later that day. She knew that Sue would put her up for a while until she could find a place of her own. She could continue with her writing back in the city. Of course things would be much more expensive there so her nest egg mightn’t stretch as far. There would be higher rent, a higher cost of living, more expensive childcare. Worrying as these financial thoughts were, however, Martha was excited to be thinking them. Things were going to return to normal.

“Good morning,” she said quietly as she reached the table.

Will and Gabriel looked up in surprise – they had been so engrossed in something on Will’s BlackBerry that they hadn’t seen her approach.

“Oh, morning,” said Will. Gabriel nodded at her.

A waiter appeared out of nowhere carrying a high chair for Ruby and Martha smiled gratefully and lowered her into the seat.

“How did everyone sleep?” she asked. She was aware that her imminent escape was filling her with optimism but she couldn’t forget the subdued atmosphere of the night before. She glanced at the white faces and puffy eyes of both men and realised that she didn’t need to wait for an answer to her question. She began to sort out Ruby’s breakfast.

“Looks like another scorcher out,” said Will, playing with Ruby’s hand as Martha fed her some bottle.

She glanced out into the car park where already a heat haze rose off the parked cars. “Mmm,” she agreed. She looked at Will and Gabriel who were not speaking and felt uncomfortable, like she had interrupted something. She itched to get away. Not long now and she’d be relaxing in Sue’s apartment which was bright and modern, safe, imagining across the miles to where dark, scary Eyrie Farm would be once again deserted. Good riddance, she thought.

A waitress arrived with scrambled eggs for both Will and Gabriel and they ate in silence. Martha decided to have some fruit from the buffet once Ruby was fed. With any luck, the others might have finished by then and she would be left in peace. She wanted to find out what the other two had planned for the day – when she could reasonably expect to get on the road – so she could give Sue a ring with an ETA. There was still a lingering atmosphere of the night before in the air, however, and she didn’t really know how to bring it up. The three sat in silence until the men had finished eating and Ruby had turned her face away from the last spoonful of porridge and fruit. Martha knew someone would have to speak so she broached the subject casually.

“So, Will, what time did you finish up last night?”

“Hmm? Oh, not long after you,” he said, still preoccupied with his BlackBerry.

Martha sighed and stood up to head to the buffet for her breakfast.

When she returned she caught Gabriel making a face at Will as though urging him to do something. Will, in turn, glared at Gabriel and Martha detected a barely discernible shake of his head. She continued to look at them both as she began to eat, aware now that she had definitely interrupted something.

“Spit it out,” she said eventually, growing annoyed at the awkward silence and how the two men were avoiding eye contact.

Will sighed. “We’ve got the –” he began, but was cut off by Gabriel.

“You and the bairn need to spend another night at the cottage,” he blurted out.

Martha swung her head from Will to Gabriel and her mouth opened in disbelief. “What?” she demanded, outraged.

Will looked at Gabriel in exasperation while the big man continued to avoid eye contact with either of them.

“Are you out of your mind?” said Martha. “No! I will most certainly not be spending another night at that place. Tell him, Will.”

He looked down at the table to avoid her gaze.

Martha went red. “So, this big idea is down to both of you?” she said, staring at Will. “Why on earth would you think I’d even want to set foot in that place, much less stay a night in it?”

“Look, Martha,” he began in a calm voice. “In order for us to investigate properly –”

“Us?” interrupted Martha, her breakfast forgotten. “Us? You mean you, don’t you, Will? You alone and your bloody paper or whatever it is you’re working on for Spooky School! This isn’t about ‘us’ at all – it’s about you!”

Gabriel butted in. “In all fairness, Martha –”

It was her turn to look ferocious. She spun around in her seat to look at him and stopped him in his tracks. “Oh, you’re poking an oar in now, are you?”

Gabriel made to speak again but he was silenced by Martha snapping at him, “Why should you help him out? He lied to you about there being a child involved. And he’s investigating you as well, or didn’t you know that? Probably trying to prove you’re a total fraud like all these scientists. Can’t you see it, Gabriel? There’s no point in being on his side – he’s using us both for his studies. Freaks like us with the haunted house and the ability to see dead people!”

“Steady on, Martha,” said Will, sternly. “I’m not using anyone and if you remember correctly you weren’t entirely honest with me from the start which is why the investigation has to take place again.”

“So it’s my fault?” Martha’s voice grew high-pitched with incredulity. “You’re telling me that somehow it’s my – my – obligation to go back in there when I didn’t even want to be involved in the first place! You’ve a bloody cheek, asking me to do that. I owe you nothing – absolutely nothing – and I think you’ve a nerve asking me to go back in there for your own ends. The answer’s no.”

She made to stand up but was stopped in her tracks by a hiss from Gabriel.

“Sit down,” he snarled, looking her directly in the eye with a face more ferocious than her own.

Despite herself, she sank back slowly onto her chair.

“That’s better,” continued Gabriel. “Now you listen to me, madam, and put that temper of yours back in its box. You’re like an alley cat and all we want to do is explain. For starters – I am perfectly aware that I am a case study of Will’s. Do you think I answer his call just because I love and adore him? Will’s investigation – or case study of my gift, if you will – is as much for my benefit, and that of mediumship in general, as his own – but that is not any of your business.”

Martha felt uncomfortable. She couldn’t understand why this man intimidated her so much. But he was right. She was wrong to assume that Will was investigating Gabriel in secret. And it was none of her business.

“Secondly,” continued Gabriel, “I think you’re forgetting that, investigation or not, there’s the spirit of a wee child in that house who needs help. That, ultimately, is what I do. It is for that reason – for him – that I am telling you, not asking you, that you need to spend one night of your tiny life in that house in order to put an end to an eternity of misery for a small boy.”

Martha snorted, anger flooding over her again. The situation was ridiculous. This guy, who didn’t know her from Adam, ordering her about, telling her to be somewhere she didn’t want to be and somewhere that she had no obligation to be. Here he was talking about spirits and spooks and outside the sun was blazing and she had a real life to get back to at the other end of a motorway. She leaned toward Gabriel.

“You don’t tell me anything, do you get that?” she said calmly. “What you and he –” she indicated an uneasy-looking Will, “want to do is between yourselves. You want to go up there and move in – feel free.” She rummaged in her bag, then slammed the housekeys down on the table. “But for the millionth time this is nothing to do with me. In fact, if this haunting palaver is true, then I am putting myself and my daughter in danger by merely sticking a key in the door, it would seem, so I’ll pass, thank you very much. I’m going back to London as soon as I can get my car packed up but you two – well –” she indicated the keys on the table, “knock yourselves out!”

Martha turned to the high chair and began loading the feeding equipment from Ruby’s high chair into her bag.

“You selfish bitch!” hissed Gabriel. “Imagine if that were your wee girl up there trapped in that fireplace? Wouldn’t you want someone to help her? Or do you only care about yourself and to hell with everyone else? That poor kiddie – that four-year-old boy – was alive once, just like your child there. With all the cutesy-pie little gestures and faces, all the promise for the future and some – some bastard put an end to that by sealing him up with bricks! How can you call yourself a mother?”

Martha was stunned into silence. She stared at Gabriel, frozen in the act of filling the bag with the empty bottle and spoons. The air crackled with tension. Will held his breath as Gabriel’s eyes burned into Martha’s, his face red, his breathing laboured.

Martha responded by taking the changing bag and flinging it onto the table. She then stood up and stormed away from the table. Cups clattered as they fell, a stream of coffee poured over the edge of the table causing Will to slide his chair back suddenly to avoid a soaking. Martha’s own bowl was upended, the contents draining slowly out onto the tablecloth. A pile of salt was forming where the bag had knocked over the cellar.

Ruby watched her mother storm across reception and push the swinging door open to the car park before disappearing out of sight. The little girl’s lower lip began to wobble and she let out a long wail of anguish.

Martha was blinded by the sunshine as she stepped outside, her heart pounding, her hands and legs trembling. How dare he say that to her? A total stranger speaking to her that way? She was livid – who on earth did he think he was? She was doing just fine as a mum – what right had he to question something he had no knowledge of? And as for his demands? Telling her to do things she had no intention of doing? Calling her names? Who was this person?

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She stood in the middle of the car park, her hands on her hips, her face turned toward the sky. Against her better nature she knew that part of what Gabriel had said was right. She couldn’t pretend there was nothing there at the cottage. All the logic in the world couldn’t explain what she had felt and seen and heard. Again in her head she replayed the little footsteps padding across the floor of Ruby’s room, heard the little clatter as the soother hit the floor. A vision formed, unbidden, in her head of the skinny bare legs of a child climbing into the wall and vanishing. Martha shook her head to get it out. Is that what it must look like? It was too much to take in.

She had thought ahead a thousand times to what Ruby might look like at four years old, what it might sound like when her little legs ran across floorboards. How would she cope if someone hurt her? Martha’s heart contracted – if anything were to happen to Ruby she’d die herself. It was unthinkable that harm should come to her – surely every mother felt that way?

She was roused by the sound of someone approaching and her stomach tightened as she turned, expecting another tongue-lashing from Gabriel. Instead, she saw the tear-streaked face of her own daughter holding out her chubby arms as Will carried her toward her.

“Oh Ruby, I’m so sorry,” said Martha, sweeping her into her arms and pulling her tight against her body. What a hypocrite she was, standing here worrying about how she’d feel if someone else hurt Ruby at the very same time as storming off and deserting her with two completely strange men. A sudden jolt of guilt hit Martha so strongly that she felt her knees might buckle underneath her. She pressed her baby tighter to her. “I’m sorry, little girl,” she whispered into her hair and stroked the back of her head.

Will looked down and shuffled his feet awkwardly. “Look, I’m sorry about Gabriel,” he began.

Martha turned her back on him and walked a few steps away.

Will was about to turn and walk back into the hotel when Martha spoke.

“What would I have to do?” she asked.

“Oh, Martha!”

She swung around as he walked toward her, his face alight.

“I’m not promising a damn thing,” she said, wiping tear trails from Ruby’s face.

Will stopped. “I understand. All we’d need you to do is to stay one night – just do exactly what you’d normally do – put Ruby to bed, watch TV, go to bed yourself.”

“But I’d be alone?”

Will shook his head. “Yes and no. I’d be outside monitoring everything that happens. The house would be rigged up with cameras and audio equipment and I’d be with you in a couple of seconds if needs be.”

Martha thought about it for a moment. “And what about him,” she said, a contemptuous tone to her voice as she nodded toward the big glass frontage of the hotel.

“Gabriel will stay nearby but he couldn’t be in the house all night.”

“Why not?”

“The ‘M’ entity is what we’d call an intelligent haunting. We need to record evidence of it doing just that . . .”

“Intelligent haunting?” said Martha.

Will nodded. “It can interact with people if it wants to, move objects around and block Gabriel from finding out anything about it. Similarly, we’ve seen that if I’m there on my own then it doesn’t seem interested in responding, if my own investigation is anything to go by. That’s why we need things to go back to exactly how they were the last time we had activity.”

“You keep saying ‘we’ again, Will. I’m the one who’s being terrorised by this so-called ghost, and an unfriendly one at that. You are the one who is benefiting from the experience with evidence to put in your paper. There isn’t a ‘we’ here.”

Will looked at his feet. “I know,” he admitted. “This is the case I’ve been the most excited about since starting my course – I’ll be honest, this paper is very important to me – as is everything I’ve learned about Gabriel. I won’t deny that it will benefit me.”

Martha shifted Ruby to her other hip. “And what about Gabriel – what’s in it for him?”

“He wants to help the spirits. Like I said, he’d be nearby – we’d move operations to the B&B at the Abbot’s Rest so he’d be moments away if he’s needed. If there’s activity, or a manifestation, or if both spirits are strong, then he might be able to help them move on. That’s all he’s concerned about.”

“You’ve certainly got this all planned out – logistics and everything. Just waiting for me to obediently fall into line and get these spirits all nicely riled up for your cameras. What exactly is in it for me, Will?”

He looked directly at her, seeing that she was physically uncomfortable as she moved the heavy baby back to her original hip. “It’s a word I’m reluctant to use, but I think what’s in it for you is closure.”

Martha snorted. “Closure!”

“Think about it. You can get in your car and drive back to London today – I can’t stop you. But you know what you’ve experienced at that house better than anyone – and don’t say it hasn’t disturbed you. You know what you’ve seen and heard, and all the stuff that you thought you could explain but you couldn’t. If you just go and never come back, you’ll always be thinking about it – wondering was it real, or were you going mad. Wondering what the whole story was. Like why didn’t the spirit like you?” Will held out his arms to take Ruby from an increasingly tired Martha. She slid her into his arms, glad of the relief on her back and hips. “And I’m not trying to tug on your heartstrings here but if Gabriel’s to be believed then something awful happened to a child up there. Someone didn’t just wake up one day and brick him into a fireplace – there had to have been more to that little boy’s story, more to his little life – don’t you want to know what happened? And could you spend your life thinking that you could have helped but you didn’t? I don’t think you could – I don’t think you’re that sort of person deep down. And even if you don’t believe a word of all this, it surely couldn’t do any harm.”

She hadn’t thought about anything that Will had said – hadn’t thought beyond just getting back to London and sinking into Sue’s spare bed. Will had a point. She was haunted literally in Shipton Abbey but he was right – she’d be haunted forever more if she didn’t see this through. Still, the thought of being alone in that house – particularly now that she knew what was there – terrified her to the core.

“You’d be outside?” she asked.

He nodded. “In my car, directly outside the front door.”

“If this haunting is so intelligent, as you call it, won’t it know you’re there though? Know we’re setting it up, as it were?”

Will shrugged, dancing absentmindedly from side to side to keep Ruby amused in his arms. “It could well do. We don’t really know. All we can really do is try to recreate as best we can the normal circumstances in the house and take it from there.”

Martha watched as her daughter smiled contentedly at the constant motion. “Surely I could leave Ruby with Mary overnight, where she’s safe,” she said, her heart aching with love and terror simultaneously.

Will shook his head. “I’m really sorry, Martha, but Gabriel feels that Ruby’s somehow key to all of this. I swear to you that she’ll be my main priority and I’ll keep her monitored literally every second of the way. Look at it this way – think of all the nights and days in that house that absolutely nothing has happened. Tonight might be no different and, whatever the outcome, I promise I’ll pack up my things and help you pack up yours if you like and we’ll head away from Eyrie Farm tomorrow regardless.”

Martha reached out and stroked her daughter’s cheek. “Why night-time though? A lot of stuff has happened during the day.”

“Fair point. Evidence suggests, however, that there is a greater chance of paranormal activity at night-time. Ghosts seem to prefer the dark!” He gave a weak smile at his simplistic explanation. He simply couldn’t think of another way to put it. “And if we had a thunderstorm like your baby-sitter – then ding dong! That would be even better!” He grinned, noticing that Martha’s face was beginning to soften.

“Let’s not have a thunderstorm, eh?” she smiled.

She looked up at the cloudless sky and back at her daughter, by now contentedly playing with a button on Will’s shirt pocket. She was obviously completely relaxed in his company and trusted him. Martha decided that maybe she should, too.

“Alright,” she said. “One night only and for my peace of mind, like you say.” She looked Will in the eye, almost passing her trust over to him.

“Good,” he said simply. “And don’t worry, I’ll keep you both safe.”

Martha nodded and began to walk back to the hotel door. “You’d better,” she said.

They walked back toward reception side by side, Martha unusually calm about what she had just agreed to do, emboldened by the heat of the sun on her bones. When they reached their table, Gabriel was gone and the table uncleared, but Ruby’s changing bag was neatly packed with her breakfast things, cups and bowls were straightened and a napkin lay in the centre having been used to wipe yogurt from the side of the bag.

“Gabriel must have done this,” observed Will. “He’s full of surprises. He’s really upset by this case for some reason. That’s no excuse for calling you names, by the way.”

“Oh, we both lost our tempers,” said Martha, feeling embarrassed about the way she had stormed out of the restaurant. “It’s obviously something he feels passionate about – if the shoe were on the other foot I’m sure I could bandy some insults around as well.”

“Still though, it wasn’t called for, how he spoke to you.”

Martha shrugged and picked Will’s BlackBerry out of the side pocket of the changing bag. “Don’t forget this. He must have put it there for safe keeping.”

“Oh God, yes, I nearly forgot! My friend sent back the cleaned-up EVP – have a listen.” There were headphones attached to the device and Will held them out to Martha.

“No thanks,” she said, shaking her head.

Will looked crestfallen. “Oh. Okay. I was hoping you would, though. I’d be interested in hearing what you think.”

Martha looked at his disappointed face and felt guilty again. “Oh, give it here,” she said and took the headphones, placing them in her ears.

Will smiled and held the BlackBerry out of Ruby’s reach while he called up the email with the audio file. When it began to play, Martha’s ears were filled with a loud crackle and she jumped at the unexpected noise, but then realised it was just the crackle that silence made when recorded.

For a few seconds there was nothing and then she was sure that she heard it. A tiny voice saying something briefly. Martha gave a start and looked at Will as it fell silent again. She took the earphones out. “I couldn’t make it out,” she said.

“Listen again,” he replied.

This time, Martha was ready for the little voice. This time, she made out two distinct words: “Go ’way . . .”. The exact way that a child would say it. Martha felt her blood run cold. This wasn’t just a sound in the silence. This was an actual voice. A child’s voice. A dead child’s voice. She thought she’d be terrified but instead found herself intrigued. There was a third word and she wanted to find out what it was. “Again,” she mouthed to Will. She made him play it three more times before removing the headphones. “I can make out the first two words, I think,” she said.

Will looked at her, excited. “What do you think they are?”

“Go ’way?” she said, hesitantly.

Will nodded.

“Like a child would say it,” added Martha.

He nodded again. “What about the last one?”

Martha shook her head. “That one I’m not so sure of.”

“Have a go,” urged Will.

Martha could see that her response was of urgent interest to him. “Well, it sounds a bit like ‘Manny-un’,” she said, realising how stupid it sounded when spoken out loud.

“Exactly!” cried Will, making both Martha and Ruby jump. “That’s what we thought as well – ‘Mannion’. It’s a name.”

Martha nodded.

“It gives us something to go on,” said Will. “We don’t know the gender but it’s usual that a surname alone would be used to refer to a man rather than a woman. We think that Mannion is the ‘M’ that Gabriel’s been picking up. I think we’ve got our man!”

“Oh good,” said Martha, taking Ruby back from Will, filled with renewed dread at what the night held for her.

Chapter 27

Eyrie Farm. Martha had all but given up using the name Hawthorn Cottage. It was just wrong for the place – too twee, too sanitised. The original name was more suited to a place where some unspeakable act seemed to have happened.

The place had started to look different too, she thought. She tried to remember what it felt like to look at the house and long to go inside, to be embraced by the cosy building and feel safe within its walls.

Will was there alre·dy when she arrived back in the afternoon, the front door open, cables trailing from the rear of the Volvo through to the hallway. Martha was glad of his presence and the bustle of activity.

“Welcome home,” he said ironically as she stepped out of her driver’s seat and looked up the house as if seeing it for the first time.

Martha gave a weak grin and rolled her eyes before stepping around the car to retrieve Ruby from her car seat.

Will helped her to carry her cases into the hallway and Martha stepped in behind him, slowly and deliberately. The place felt different now, as though it were alive. The interior was completely unchanged from the last time Martha had seen it. Why shouldn’t it be, she thought. What did she expect? That the ghost liked Changing Rooms and would have rearranged everything while she’d been away?

She peered in each door along the hallway and finally reached the kitchen and placed Ruby on her playmat. Will was working in there, fixing small cameras to the fridge and the top of the cupboards. She felt safest where he was.

“Now before you get a shock,” he said – Martha noticed that he didn’t say ‘fright’ – “Gabriel’s upstairs just giving me a hand. He’s going to go back to the B&B shortly and let us get on with things.”

“Oh,” replied Martha, surprised. “I thought he wasn’t coming over today?”

“He helped me set up some of the equipment just now and then said he had one little thing to do before calling a cab and heading back,” said Will, struggling with some masking tape as the small camera slipped sideways.

The floorboards upstairs gave a familiar creak and Martha had never been so grateful to Will that he had warned her of Gabriel’s presence. It was bad enough being here, without thinking that things were going to kick off within five minutes of her walking in the door. She decided that now was as good a time as any to bring her case upstairs, with another person up there, even if it was Gabriel.

“You alright if I leave Ruby here for a minute?” she asked Will.

He grunted in assent, a screwdriver between his teeth.

Martha made her way cautiously up the stairs, not sure what to expect. Knowing that there were two other adults in the house made her feel braver and gave the cottage something of a less-threatening feel than normal. She thought about how long she’d lived in her house in London – it had never made her feel nervous or edgy. When she was in a room she was in it – not thinking about being in it, not thinking about the other rooms and what might be happening in them, not anticipating noises of any sort. She realised that she’d been living on edge for the past month, almost without realising it.

As she mounted the stairs she heard Gabriel cough from Ruby’s room and wondered had he done it deliberately to let her know he was there. She was grateful that he did, and that Will had warned her of his presence, because when she reached the top of the stairs she caught the shape of his huge bulk, dressed in black, leaning over Ruby’s cot. Had she not known he was there she might have died of fright.

She coughed herself and Gabriel looked up to see her standing in the doorway.

“Gabriel,” she said.

“Hello, Martha,” he replied quietly. “I’m just finishing up a couple of things and I promise then I’ll be out of your hair.”

Martha watched him and thought she saw him slip something under Ruby’s mattress. She’d ask him about that later. “No rush,” she said. “Just leaving my cases in my room.” She turned to cross the corridor, hesitated, and then turned back. “I’m sorry about earlier, Gabriel.”

The big man shook his head. “I was totally out of line. I had no right to say what I did at all. I just get – very – worked up sometimes . . .”

“Enough said.” Martha held up a hand to stop his apology. “Let’s just forget about it and move on, eh?” She smiled at Gabriel’s sheepish face.

“Gladly,” he said and smiled gratefully in return. He took a final look at Ruby’s cot and smoothed the sheet down with his hand. “Right,” he said. “That’s me done. Have you got the number of a taxi firm handy by any chance? So they can make me walk all the way out to that road again?”

“Let me take you – it’s just the Abbott’s, isn’t it?”

Gabriel nodded. “Unfortunately,” he groaned.

Martha grinned. He just couldn’t help himself.

“Room there hasn’t seen a lick of paint since Diana was wearing see-through skirts,” he continued, rolling his eyes to heaven.

“Come on. You’ll just have to drown your sorrows in the cheery bar to get over it!”

Gabriel groaned and followed her out of the room, pausing for a second to look toward the chimney-breast as he left. Martha looked away. She didn’t want to have to think about all that yet.

Having ascertained that Will wouldn’t let Ruby out of his sight while she was gone, Martha led the way to her car and unlocked it, allowing Gabriel to fold himself into the passenger seat.

“My God!” he exclaimed, searching awkwardly for the handle to move the seat backwards. “Where did you get your bloody car – Toytown Motors?” He grunted as the seat shot backward and jolted to a halt.

“Only half a mile thataway, Gabriel!” grinned Martha, engaging reverse and turning the wheel to manoeuvre the car around.

“Point taken,” he said and tugged at the seatbelt.

Martha made her way down the drive and turned right for the village. As she picked up speed, she settled back in her seat and glanced across at her companion. “Just out of curiosity, what exactly were you doing in Ruby’s room?” she asked.

Gabriel searched for the button to close the window as he felt his carefully-styled hair ruffling in the wind. “Just a few words of protection for the wee thing,” he said.

Martha was taken aback to hear this, and hugely touched. “Oh,” she said, aware that she hadn’t kept the tone of surprise from her voice.

Gabriel smirked. “You didn’t think I’d care enough, did you?”

Martha tried to backtrack. “No, it’s not that . . . it’s just . . . well, Ruby doesn’t sort of seem on your radar, I guess.”

Gabriel stared out of the window in silence for a moment. “Both of you are very much on my radar, Martha. When there’s a child involved . . .” The big man sighed. “I had a wee brother. Well, I say he’s my wee brother but he was actually older than me. Died before I was born.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Gabriel!”

The medium shook his head. “First I knew of him was when I met his spirit on the landing of my parents’ house.”

A chill ran through Martha.

“I was twenty-eight and in the army,” he went on.

Martha swerved slightly as she turned to look at his face, to see if he were joking.

Gabriel grinned. “Steady there – don’t be fooled – I can be very butch when I need to be!”

“Blimey! I wasn’t expecting that!”

“Anyway, there he was – this wee boy in short trousers and a side parting, on the landing looking as real as you or me, and he just said ‘Hello Gabriel, I’m your big brother’, and vanished on me. Scared the living wits out of me, I can tell you. Anyhow, I said nothing for a while – trying to take it all in. I didn’t know if I was seeing things, never mind if I’d actually had a brother. I started to see him every time I was on leave. Sometimes he’d just smile and vanish, other times I’d spot him watching me and he’d actually run away. Bit pointless, I always thought – why run when you can vanish? Eventually I asked my mother if I’d had a brother and the colour her face went told me everything I needed to know. His name was Laurence and he was drowned when he was nine. He just used to come back to see his baby brother.”

Martha was fascinated. She couldn’t believe how matter-of-fact Gabriel was being. “And what happened?” she asked, eager to know the rest. “Did you help him pass on or whatever the correct terminology is?”

“Och, no. I see him all the time – he’s my spirit guide. In fact he’s sitting in the back seat right now.”

“Fucking hell!” exclaimed Martha and jammed on the brakes in shock, fixing her eyes to the rearview mirror, expecting to see a nine-year-old boy in the back seat. Luckily there were no cars behind her as she ground to a halt in the middle of the road. There was nothing reflected in the mirror.

Gabriel roared with laughter.

“Jesus, Gabriel! Don’t say stuff like that!”

He continued to laugh and Martha couldn’t help but join in as she put the car into first and set off again.

“Oh, your face was priceless!” he giggled, wiping the corner of his eyes with the backs of his hands. “He’s not there now but please don’t be scared when I tell you he was there a while back.”

Martha’s eyes grew wide and she glanced again in the rearview mirror. She found herself unable to stop swearing. “Fuck off, Gabriel, you’re kidding me! There’s been a real live ghost in my car?”

“Language, missy,” he chided. “Probably not the first time either! You see, the dead are all around us, just getting on with things, and most folk can’t see them. Some of them are aware of us and they try to interact, some are just carrying on doing their thing with no idea they’ve passed over and some of them are troubled and need our help. That’s what I try to do.”

They had reached the entrance to the Abbot’s Rest car park and Martha pulled into a spot and switched off the ignition.

She turned to face Gabriel, riveted by what he had to say. “So they’re in a whole different parallel existence then?”

Gabriel thought for a moment. “Sort of. Some of them are on different planes to each other but what they all have in common is that they were once alive. They were people with jobs and relationships and worries and they needed to pay the bills and they fell in love and out of love and had families and – and – hobbies! They were accountants and knights and postmen,” Gabriel nodded toward the pub, “and monks.”

“Did you just see one?” asked Martha, staring at the exterior of the building.

Gabriel shook his head. “I don’t see one every time I open my eyes and look out the window, you know,” he said with a smile. “Laurence was my first one and after him I began seeing others occasionally. The first bad experience I had was a colleague who was blown up in Northern Ireland. He was presenting as he looked when he died – not pretty – and he was as confused to see me as I was to see him. He didn’t actually know he was dead. I hadn’t a clue what to do of course, so I couldn’t help him but he made me want to work on my – skills, I suppose you’d call them. I did some training – started going to a spiritualist church. Did a lot of practice.”

Martha was again gobsmacked. “You make it sound like Grade Five Piano.”

“Well, no one’s just given a skill that they’re instantly brilliant at, are they?” retorted Gabriel. “You have to work at it – which I did – still do. I left the army a year later. I couldn’t focus on it because my gift was getting stronger but I couldn‘t really figure out what to do with it. I kept getting bombarded at inopportune moments with old dears who wanted to say goodbye, and worse still, more soldiers but from all points in history – and let me tell you, people do horrible things to each other in war. And out of it, I guess.” Gabriel trailed off, looking pensive. “The army was just the wrong place to be till I knew what to do with myself so I just worked on the gift, I suppose. Went on the dole for a few years while I learned how to handle it all.”

“So is Laurence the reason that you don’t do children?” asked Martha.

“Oh no – Laurence is the reason I do this in the first place. It’s just that since I learned how to use this gift better – I’ll never use the word ‘mastered’, mind – I’ve seen a lot and because children are defenceless, awful things happen to them sometimes. People treat them as though they’re not human – they often treat their animals better. I’ve seen dreadful things, Martha. I’m not going to tell you about them because I don’t want to burden you but where I can I try to avoid cases with children. I don’t walk away if they come to me – it’s just that I’m not very strong around wee ones. But I’m trying.”

Gabriel’s eyes were sincere and tinged with pain. Martha was more sure now than ever that he was genuine, that he wasn’t making any of this up. And still unnerved that a ghost had been in her car. Funnily, she didn’t feel frightened, but almost honoured. Weird, she thought, for someone who hadn’t been entirely sure ghosts existed at all until the last day or two.

“You’ve got your own spirits, you know,” said Gabriel. “With you all the time, looking out for you.”

“What?”

“Oh yes. They’re like arseholes and mobile phones.”

Martha furrowed her brow – had Gabriel finally lost it?

He tutted. “Oh keep up, woman – everybody’s got one is what I mean.”

“Oh,” replied Martha, only slightly the wiser.

“Your Ruby, for example – she’s got a host of grannies. There’s a skinny old thing with wonky glasses – connected to your . . . husband?”

“Oh God, Granny Goodwin!” exclaimed Martha nervously. “My husband’s grandmother.”

“You have a husband?” It was Gabriel’s turn to be taken aback.

Martha rolled her eyes. “Ex. Very much ex. Trust Ruby to have a minder from his bloody side after he ran out on her.”

Gabriel’s eyes widened. “Bloody hell, you have a history?”

“Another time,” said Martha.

Gabriel nodded, seeing her reluctance to speak, her face carrying an expression like she had just tasted something unpleasant. “Fair enough,” he said. “But fear not – there’s a second one – a tubby lady, beautiful face and shiny black hair – wasn’t too old when she passed. Was her name Ruby as well?”

Martha felt tears at the back of her eyes. “That’s my own grandmother. I never knew her because – you’re right – she died young, but she was an amazing woman.”

“Well, there you go. She looks after you as well sometimes. There’s another woman too – thin and small but she’s not very well from what I can tell?”

Martha knew instantly that he meant her own mother but she couldn’t go there with him. “I know who that is,” she said, the tone of her voice suggesting that it was all that needed to be said.

Gabriel barely took any notice. “Right then. So now you know. When it comes to spirits, you have to remember that they’re just people. Sometimes it’s startling when they try to communicate but look at it from the point of view that they’re just doing what they can to get their point across – like we might in a country where they speak a different language. But maybe we’d do it with less flinging stuff and moaning!”

Martha smiled. “That’s for sure!”

“I know it’s not that simple, nor that cut and dried, but tonight – when you’re . . . on your own –”

A shadow flickered across Martha’s face.

“Just maybe remember what I’ve told you and remember there’s folk looking out for you.”

Martha nodded, processing the words, but distracted by the thought that the evening was wearing on. “Thanks, Gabriel.”

“No worries. Now let’s get this done and dusted, eh?” he said, searching for the door handle to no avail. “This bloody car!” he roared in frustration and Martha leaned across and gently pulled on the handle to open the door.

“How did you spend time in the army without being able to drive, by the way?” she asked.

Gabriel leaned toward her and spoke in a low voice. “Big difference between ‘can’t drive’ and ‘won’t drive’, my darling. But don’t tell William – he’d have me carting equipment round for him from John O’Groats etcetera. And besides which, it would interfere with the pleasures in life . . .” He mimed drinking a glass of something and rubbed his belly.

Martha burst out laughing. “Gabriel! You’re such a liar!”

She shook her head and turned on the ignition, putting the car into reverse. Gabriel began to climb out but then she stopped him.

“By the way again – what did you put under Ruby’s mattress when you were up there?”

Gabriel smiled. “Contrary to popular belief that I am the spawn of the devil, I am, in fact, by birth and baptism a . . .” He made the sign of the cross across his chest and mouthed the word ‘Catholic’.

Martha opened her mouth wide in surprise, only half in jest.

“Proper Catholics, of course, think I am the antichrist itself,” continued Gabriel, “but when you’re brought up Holy Roman then it’s very difficult to shake so I’ve just left the babe a loan of some extra protection – a trinket of mine if you will. It can’t do any harm anyway, no matter what God, if any, you choose to worship. If all else fails, my sweet, then do as St George of Michael bids us and have a little faith. Now begone, woman! And good luck!”

Gabriel stepped from the car with little ceremony and without a look back, and flounced into the doorway of the Abbot’s Rest, leaving the car door wide open so that Martha had to get out and close it before clambering back in and reversing out of the parking spot.

She arrived back at the cottage to find Will on his hands and knees in the hallway taping cables to the floor while Ruby lay beside him, red-faced and fascinated. The smell from her nappy hit Martha the second she reached the doorway.

“Oh Ruby!” she exclaimed in disgust, stepping around Will as he reversed toward her, and picking her up. “Sorry, Will!” she said, wrinkling her nose at feeling a damp stain on the baby’s jeans.

“S’alright. Happened a while ago though so I can’t smell it any more. I was going to have a go at changing it once I’d finished this.” He sat back on his ankles. “How did it go with Gabriel?”

“Oh, we got chatting,” replied Martha.

“So you’ve kissed and made up then?”

“Something like that. I’m amazed he used to be in the army!”

Will shuddered in mock horror. “I’ve seen the photos! Here, if you hang on two minutes I’ll go with you upstairs. To change Ruby.”

“Oh, I’m fine to go on my own,” said Martha, suddenly realising that she was – she didn’t feel at all nervous about going upstairs by herself.

“You sure?”

Martha figured that Gabriel’s pep talk had worked. “Yeah – I’ll be fine. If I need you I’ll shout.”

Ruby’s room felt cool with the window open but otherwise just like any other room. This is fine, thought Martha as she changed her daughter and selected some clean clothes for her. She dropped the used nappy into the nappy bin and rotated the dial on the lid to seal it inside in plastic. Better empty that before we leave, she thought, reminded suddenly that tomorrow she’d be leaving for good. The thought cheered her immensely.

Strapping Ruby onto her changing mat, Martha turned to the cot and reached in under the mattress where she had earlier seen Gabriel do the same thing. Her fingers instantly found what they sought and she took the object out to have a better look. She smiled as the delicate silver rosary beads glinted in the sunlight coming from the window. You old softie, Gabriel, she thought. She was touched that he had left an object so beautiful and probably personal here to give Ruby the extra protection that he believed she might need.

Martha slid the beads back under the mattress and turned to retrieve her daughter. She must make sure to get them back to him tomorrow. Chances were, anyway, that everything would be fine. She kissed her daughter’s chubby cheek and went downstairs to rejoin Will.