by Helen Goltz
Damien nodded and glanced in through the bathroom door and then quickly around the rooms.
So nervous, the Sergeant noted, poor young Damien.
‘We’ve had it up for weekend and holiday rentals for a few years now so you’ve got to offer all the mod cons. Prior to that, I don’t think it had had a facelift since the Sixties!’ Damien said.
And what a rocking time that was, the Sergeant thought, amusing himself.
The agent continued talking as he led her down the hallway. ‘Not that we got many holiday rentals… you know, word of mouth about the g-h-o-s-t.’ He spelled the word out.
‘Speaking of which,’ she said and looked around, ‘are we likely to see the Sergeant, or do we only feel or hear his presence?’
The Sergeant’s mouth fell open, and he abruptly closed it. What a cheek. She’s heard of me and is here for a show. Sorry to disappoint you, love, but I don’t perform on cue.
‘He’s totally unpredictable,’ the agent was saying. ‘I’ve never seen him, thank God,’ he said, lowering his voice. ‘But I’ve heard him groan a few times and once I heard him say “Get out”. I was terrified, so was my client – she didn’t take the place after that.’
‘I’d be freaked out, too,’ Holly said. ‘So you’ve never seen him in bodily form?’
‘No,’ Damien shook his head, ‘but as we left – and we left in a big hurry, I can tell you – he wasn’t in his frame… it was just black.’
The Sergeant saw the woman shudder, and he felt it, too – she was genuinely nervous. Odd, he thought, that connection – why did I feel that? The Sergeant didn’t like surprises and she apparently was one.
If you are scared by that, then why are you here? The Sergeant studied her with more interest. Perhaps she’s on a dare or been sent to write a story. She didn’t look like a journalist, but then again, it was a tourist town… casual attire was in. He watched her enter the main bedroom and she gasped.
‘Wow! A balcony and what a view!’ She took in the large bed adorned in white linen, the blue suede chaise chair in the corner, and the huge bay window with a seat perfectly placed to appreciate the ocean view. She clapped her hands together.
‘I love it,’ she said. ‘I could dive in amongst the bed’s white linen and look at that ocean all day.’
Damien blushed and so did the Sergeant; he raced downstairs before them and took up his place in the portrait. He noted that they both glanced towards it as they resurfaced on the lower level.
‘This living area will make a great office for me, and it has a lovely, homely feel. I can put my desk in front of the window and enjoy the view,’ Holly said.
Homely! How did that happen? The Sergeant stood flummoxed. Homely! Well, that’s just not on.
She wandered over to the fireplace and turned to the big front window where she intended to set up her office. Then a small rectangular-shaped piece of black plastic sticking up in the carpet caught her attention. She bent to pick it up – it was a name tag with a business logo on it for none other than Damien Flat!
‘Yours?’ she asked, handing it over.
‘Wow, thanks. I lost that months ago, I didn’t know where,’ he said, taking it and pinning it on the front of his suit.
Holly shrugged. ‘Well, it is Findlater House.’
Damien scoffed. ‘So, do you know why he sticks around?’ he asked, with a glance to the portrait of the Sergeant. ‘I mean, should we tell him to go to towards the white light or invite a priest to visit? I saw that work on a few television shows… I’m just putting it out there.’
The Sergeant laughed and saw both heads turn towards the portrait. Uh-oh, he thought, did I do that out loud?
The woman frowned. ‘I was about eleven when Grandma died, so I never heard the story directly from her and we rarely came here for holidays, she came to stay with us. But Aunty Kate said it was something about him and his wife living here before he died, and he died in suspicious circumstances. Now he’s waiting for her to join him.’ She then sighed, and said, ‘so sad.’
The Sergeant felt a stab of pain. That was his story… not a soap opera to be shared. He muttered: ‘Sad? It’s bloody tragic! So, she must be Lily’s granddaughter?’ He studied her to take in her features, comparing them to what he remembered of Lily who had joined him on the other side about fifteen years earlier.
‘I wish she’d sell it,’ Damien said, cutting off the Sergeant’s thoughts. ‘Someone would buy it. It’s been hard trying to rent it out and Kate won’t remove the portrait. Sorry, I don’t mean to criticise your clan, it’s their place so they can do what they like, of course,’ he added.
You got that right… how ungrateful! the Sergeant said, but not so they could hear.
‘That’s cool, and yes, I knew some of that,’ Holly said. ‘But it will be good for your agency to have a long-term tenant… if I take it.’
‘You can say that again,’ he agreed, ‘but don’t let that sway you, we’ve got a few more to see. Besides, every now and then we get someone who wants to live with a ghost, so everyone is happy.’
‘Not everyone,’ the Sergeant muttered.
‘Mm, well, I don’t really want to live with a ghost, or anyone at the moment for that matter,’ Holly said, moving closer to look through the large window at the cliffs in the distance, seeing the waves crashing against them, the sea spray rising high in the air. ‘Thanks for showing me, through. C’mon, let’s see the other places you wanted to show me.’
Damien Flat wasted no time opening the front door and making a quick exit. The Sergeant moved away from his portrait and to the window to watch the pair depart.
Well, good riddance, I doubt you’ll be back, the Sergeant said, watching her stop again on the stairs in the front garden, turn, study the house as though she had heard his thoughts, and then depart.
Very curious indeed, that one. He turned to face the sitting room and remembered a time when the fire was lit, and his beautiful wife was brighter and warmer than the fire could ever be, and this was his home. But that would never be again.
Holly signs the rental lease
‘You know,’ Holly said, as she followed Damien up the stairs of the next potential rental property, ‘I read the reviews that Findlater House had on your holiday rental site. There’s very few who talk about the ghost.’
‘True,’ he said. ‘My folks and I have reviewed this before … Findlater House attracts three types of people,’ he said, sounding very authoritative. ‘Those who want to see the ghost, those who want to stay there and are terrified of seeing him, and guests who flat out don’t believe.’ He opened the door to the next home and Holly followed him inside. She continued to ask about Findlater House as she inspected each room.
‘I thought the Sergeant had long gone and the rumours about his presence were just the product of guests’ imagination with some added dramatics,’ she agreed, ‘but not so, according to some of the reviews. And you are right,’ she grinned, ‘it seems those who didn’t want to see the Sergeant invariably got the fright of their life.’
Damien laughed. ‘And you? Do you want to see him?’ he asked, as they reached the front door again after the tour.
‘I was glad he didn’t appear during our inspection and that I didn’t feel his presence,’ she said and shrugged. ‘At heart, I’m a scaredy-cat.’
He grinned. ‘Yeah, me too, to be honest. Next one?’ he asked, reaching for the door to lock it.
‘Yes please,’ Holly said and exited.
As she wandered back to his car she thought about the Sergeant. She didn’t want to see him, hear him or feel him, but her desire to escape the city life to Findlater House and her need to put some space between herself and her soon-to-be ex-husband outweighed the fear of the Sergeant dropping in… or so she thought in her bravest moments. Besides, she could afford Findlater House at the current rental rate.
They got back in Damien’s car and drove about one street before he stopped again.
‘We could ha
ve walked,’ he said, seeing her expression, ‘but sometimes, after you’ve seen a few places it gets a bit exhausting.’
‘I’m sure,’ she agreed. She hadn’t been swayed yet. Findlater House was still top of her list although this little one level place was cute.
‘Are you close to Kate?’ Damien asked, keeping up the small talk as they exited the car.
‘I am. I spent a lot of time with her when I was a kid especially during school holidays. Dad travelled a lot for work and Mum liked going with him. Me not so much, so I stayed with Kate. I wished I’d caught up with her.’
‘She was a twin, wasn’t she?’ he asked.
Holly looked surprised.
‘My parents told me. Everyone’s history in this joint is shared. He drowned thought, didn’t he?’
Holly nodded. ‘Yes. Sam was his name, he was ten. It was a family tragedy never spoken about again. If you check out our family tree there’s a trend of not living long lives. Anyone who got past sixty-five was bucking the trend and Grandma Lily who owned Findlater House had done just that, living to seventy-one.’
Holly was amazed she could match Damien for rambling small talk; it wasn’t her speciality.
‘What about your clan?’ she asked.
‘God no, we stick around … longer than wanted in most cases,’ he joked.
Holly laughed. She was warming to Damien Flat and he was warming up and letting his guard down. She followed him on a tour of the next house while thinking about her family line. The Hanlon name was soon to be extinguished… reproducing didn’t seem to feature highly in their genes. Aunty Kate never had children of her own, Holly’s parents had only produced her, and if Holly took a future husband’s surname, it was all over.
‘This is a nice feature,’ Damien said, pointing out the garden.
Knowing her mind was made up, she agreed and then dutifully followed Damien Flat into the remaining procession of rental houses, feigning her interest, and then into the final house he wanted to show her.
‘That’s it then,’ he declared as he locked up the fourth house and headed back to his car with Holly in tow. ‘What grabs you?’ He opened the passenger car door for her and she slid onto the seat and waited for him to come around to his side, enter, belt up and start the car.
‘Okay, I have to admit that so far the houses all have good things about them and some negatives, too,’ she said, with a glance to the fourth house as they departed. ‘This house is too far away from the beach and too close to the village traffic.’
Damien nodded. ‘It is a high traffic area, but some of our clients like that… they like the atmosphere, so that’s why I thought I’d show you. Mind you, it’s only busy in peak season – about three months of the year.’
Holly nodded. But it was on the main street of the village and walk-by traffic could look right in. She didn’t like drop-ins and the fourth house seemed to encourage that. It would be a downer in the high season, given she would be visible sitting at the front in her office window for a good deal of the day.
‘I like the third one, it would be my back-up choice,’ she said to Damien.
‘There are more properties if you’re undecided… but those four properties met your specification list more so than all the others,’ Damien said.
He drove his car back to his office, where Holly’s vehicle was parked and the paperwork waited for whichever house she decided upon.
‘Thank you for doing your homework for me,’ she told him. ‘You are absolutely right… you know your stuff. But… the second place was way too big for me. I’d feel empty there,’ she told Damien. ‘Like I should have produced kids to fill every room and there’s no sign of that happening any time soon.’
Damien gave a nervous chuckle, not sure if it was a joke or a tragedy.
‘The third place… well, it was lovely and modern, but I’m not a modern house girl. I’m a vintage girl. I like chair rails or picture rails, ornate ceilings, vintage light fittings and a cottage history. But the location was great.’
‘So?’ he asked, and Holly heard his breath hitch. She felt like she was choosing a box in a television game show, and half expected a spotlight to come on and someone to ask her if she was sure, before a beautiful woman appeared and turned the panel to reveal her choice!
‘I’d like to take the first house we saw – Findlater House – it’s me,’ she said, pronouncing the verdict.
Damien exhaled and, frowning, he asked, ‘So you’re saying you want the ghost house? Just clarifying… the ghost house for six months.’
‘Yes, please,’ she said, with a firm nod. ‘Findlater House for six months.’
‘Six months… right then. Commencing when?’
‘How about if we start the lease from today? How soon do you think I can get water and power connected?’
‘They’re connected… we keep it on for the short-term holidayers,’ Damien said.
‘Great. So, let’s sign the paperwork and you have a new tenant!’ she said and clapped her hands together. So easy, meant to be… Holly always believed in that.
Holly walked out of the agency with a set of keys and debated whether to let her aunty know that she had rented the house for six months, or let her believe she had a bit of income from a good tenant. No doubt her mum would spill the beans anyway, as soon as she knew.
Holly returned to her own car with the keys to Findlater House in her bag. She turned on the ignition but, for just a moment, she sat letting it idle.
‘I’m really going to do this,’ she said aloud. ‘I’m really going to leave the city and move here for six months.’
Long enough, she thought, for her soon-to-be-ex-husband to get his finances in order, buy her out of their home and get the divorce started. Long enough to be away from the scene of the pain. Not far enough away to feel totally isolated; it was only three hours’ drive back to London to catch up with family and friends – not like she was going into the Argentinian rainforest on a scientific mission with the possibility of no return. She was just moving down the road… a long road.
She put the car in drive and decided to celebrate with flowers as they would brighten the house. She drove to a nursery that she had spotted just a few streets from the esplanade – everything was only a few streets from everything else in this village – to grab a bunch of flowers from the buckets she saw out the front. Once upon a time, she would have felt guilty buying flowers, or, as her soon-to-be ex-husband would say, ‘wasting money on flowers.’ But now she thought, What the hell! Stop and smell the roses… or flowers!
She drove along looking for the entrance to the nursery and, spotting the sign well in advance, swung her car into the venue. It was a huge nursery, and she made a mental note to do some work on Findlater House’s garden while she was in residence… in its current state, it would scare a ghost away – most ghosts, anyway!
Narrowly missing a female driver of around her own age who was too busy looking in her rear vision mirror to look forward, Holly steered to a car park out the front and, within moments, was selecting a mixed bunch of colourful blooms. As she pulled the flowers out of the bucket of white, a glimmer caught her eye. She reached in and pulled out a chain with a heart on it. How lovely, she thought. Turning it over, she saw the heart had one word inscribed into it – Forever.
A pleasant, thin and distinguished older man came to assist her – probably the manager, she thought – and Holly showed him the delicate chain.
‘Finders keepers, I think,’ he said, introducing himself as Alfred.
‘Oh, I couldn’t,’ Holly said. ‘Someone might be pining for it. Perhaps if none of your staff owns it. You could put a FOUND notice in-store.’
He smiled. ‘Very thoughtful. We’ll do that, and if it isn’t claimed within three months, let’s declare it yours then!’
He offered his hand and they shook on it. Holly left her business card, paid for her flowers and then, returning to her car, headed to a small grocery store that she had spotted an
d picked up some fresh milk, crackers, bread and cheese – a toasted sandwich would do for the first night until she officially shopped. Next stop, Findlater House. She felt a surge of excitement as she accelerated up Findlater Lane, navigated her car into the tight carport and cut the ignition.
‘I’m home!’ she said aloud, and smiled.
Right then, get to it. Holly coaxed herself out of the car. She had arrived with survival luggage, as she called it – the bare essentials – the rest remained in a small storage garage in London. Luckily, her new abode was furnished.
Grabbing a suitcase from the boot of the car and the bouquet of flowers, Holly went to air out Findlater House and start the next chapter of her life.
Introducing Luke Mayer – horticulturist
Luke Mayer put the last of the bright blue agapanthus into the rear space of Juliet Spencer’s car and dusted off his hands. He had spent ten minutes discussing whether they were purple or blue with Juliet; he knew she was stalling. He closed her car’s rear hatch door, stepped back and gave her a wave. She started the car and headed off, glancing back more than was necessary… about six times more than was necessary.
Watch the road, he thought and winced as Juliet narrowly missed another driver coming into the nursery. He sighed. Most of his clientele were more interested in a dinner invitation than gardening advice.
Luke knew he was a bit of a rarity in the village… thirty, single, fair-haired and just hitting six feet when he stood straight, a businessman, and yes, as mentioned, single. He was eligible bachelor material for the local ladies who, like him, had not chosen to leave for the city or had since returned disillusioned and wanting to settle down to the life they knew, to marry and raise their own families. Juliet was a prime example… he can’t imagine what she did with the number of plants she bought.
Luke was always getting ribbed by his brothers and friends for never leaving the village, but he had never wanted to leave. His family had owned How Does Your Garden Grow? nursery for two generations; he was the third. With his mother deceased and his father semi-retired, the business was his. He managed four staff – several of whom had been with the business before he was born – and took commissions for special projects like a Remembrance Garden for the village botanic garden display. That’s how he preferred to spend his days.
