The House on Findlater Lane

by Helen Goltz

  Alexander nodded as she offered the milk, and added some to his cup and hers. She moved some of her library books off the table to reach the sugar pot and offered it to the Sergeant but he declined.

  ‘Crime… crime… romance,’ he said, looking at the three books and interpreting their genre.

  Holly looked embarrassed. ‘I like a good whodunnit, and as for the romance…’ she looked away as she spoke, ‘escapism is good.’ She gave a false laugh.

  For a few moments they both sat in uncomfortable silence, as Holly let the tea draw. She looked directly at him, again.

  ‘You look so real,’ she said.

  Alexander smiled. ‘You were expecting me to be in watercolour?’

  She laughed again, a nervous laugh, but stopped suddenly. ‘Maybe a bit faded,’ she agreed. ‘Did you put that record on? That particular song?’

  ‘Yes, it was a big hit the year before I died,’ he said, matter-of-factly. ‘Not one of my favourites, I assure you, but I thought you could do with some boosting up.’

  ‘Thank you. So you… um… met my husband, ex-husband?’

  ‘Hard not to.’

  ‘And you were in my room the first night when I was upset? The night you put the other song on for me with the hope message as well… the “bright, bright, beautiful day” song?’

  Alexander rolled his eyes. ‘I didn’t see anything, I’m an officer and a gentleman,’ he said, with a smirk, throwing her words back at her.

  ‘Ah,’ she waved a finger at him, ‘you were in the room that day. I thought I heard you but you wouldn’t reveal yourself.’

  ‘Didn’t want to send you screaming… actually I did and the sooner the better, but… doesn’t matter,’ he said. ‘And I honestly didn’t see anything I shouldn’t have seen. I’m an honourable ghost,’ he said.

  She softened and could help but return his smile, somewhat unwillingly.

  ‘I did hear you crying,’ he said. ‘I felt your pain tonight.’

  Holly flushed with embarrassment and, reaching for the pot, declared it drawn.

  ‘I don’t know what that means, but my grandma used to say the tea is drawn.’ She poured the tea into their two cups, started speaking, then stopped, and started again. ‘I know we’re over, but it’s still hard thinking of him with someone else, and right here in my new world.’

  ‘He’s not, he left,’ Alexander said.

  ‘He said that, but I don’t believe him. It’s just like him to pick up someone for a one-night stand.’

  ‘He’s driving back to London,’ Alexander assured her. He hoped they didn’t have to keep talking about bloody James.

  ‘How do you know?’ she said, her face brightening.

  Alexander tapped his nose. ‘There are things we ghost know and see.’

  ‘Really? Like what?’ Holly asked.

  ‘Well, I can’t tell you that. There’ll be nothing to find out when you get to the other side – my side, that is.’

  She studied him and he smiled. ‘Do you know when I will die?’ Holly asked.

  ‘I could find out, but I won’t. I do know who killed JFK and if Elvis is really alive or dead,’ he said, ‘but I can’t tell you.’

  Holly scoffed. ‘That’s so last century.’ She cleared her throat. ‘But seriously, you could watch me at night if you wanted to?’

  ‘Sure, but why would I want to? Not saying you are not interesting, but you know, I’ve got things to do, too,’ he said. He saw her unconvinced expression. ‘Haven’t we had the boundaries talk? Even if it was a bit one-way!’

  ‘Are you staying?’ she asked.

  Alexander’s mouth fell open.

  ‘Here, in this house?’ she asked again.

  ‘Of course! Where do you think I’m going to go?’ What a cheek, he thought. ‘I was here first! Are you staying?’

  ‘Yes, for six months at least,’ she said, putting her chin up with defiance.

  ‘Me, too and for longer than that!’

  Holly took a deep breath. ‘Why? I heard you had some unhappiness in your life. Is that why you are still here?’

  This time, Alexander looked away, tempted to disappear. For a moment, neither of them spoke.

  ‘You’re very direct, aren’t you?’ he said, frowning.

  Holly raised an eyebrow. ‘My husband… ex-husband, used to say that.’

  ‘Poor sod,’ Alexander said.

  She narrowed her eyes at him. ‘Trust a man to stick up for another man. And don’t think I haven’t noticed your evasion technique.’ She also noticed Alexander lifted the teacup to his lips and drank, twice, but the cup remained full.

  ‘Well, I guess we’re housemates then,’ she said.

  ‘Hmm. I’ll be sure to let you know my house rules then,’ he said. Alexander disappeared before Holly had a chance to challenge him.

  She narrowed her eyes in frustration, then couldn’t help but smile. She looked to his portrait where he stared nobly out over the room. The ghost in her haunted house wasn’t so bad, after all.

  Ghost incoming

  Luke arrived at the nursery’s office early and after turning the lights on and turning off the security and answering service, he opened the file on the garden plans for Findlater House – his father’s work. He printed two large copies and spread them on the desk to show Alfred. No sooner had he done so, Alfred arrived and Luke called him in.

  ‘Hello, son,’ Alfred addressed him as he often did. Luke was his godson, after all. ‘Ah, you’ve printed them out. Let’s have a look.’ He stood beside him, taking his glasses out of his top pocket and took in the plans.

  ‘Your father was good… really good, wasn’t he?’

  ‘Yeah. Better than I’ll ever be,’ Luke said, sentimentally.

  ‘Ah, I wouldn’t say that,’ Alfred said, ‘you both have very different skills. But wow, these are brilliant. Can you do it on a limited budget?’

  ‘Sure,’ Luke said. ‘I can substitute some of the plants for cheaper varieties and if she wants to pitch in or hire some cheap labour to help, it’ll cut the costs.’ Luke’s eyes roamed around the illustration.

  ‘You’ve given this some thought then?’ Alfred teased him. ‘Can’t believe you made the onsite appointment for Friday, though. She’s single. What if she gets snapped up before then?’

  Luke rolled his eyes. ‘Then she wasn’t meant for me. Not saying she is, anyway. Besides, how do you know she’s single?’

  Alfred took off his jacket, hung it on a hook beside Luke’s jacket and put on one of the company’s bottle-green and white striped garden aprons. ‘I have my sources,’ he said, tapping his nose.

  Luke crossed his arms across his chest and Alfred held up his hands in surrender. ‘Okay, ease up on the pressure! I play bridge with a lady who happens to be one of Holly’s first business clients. She was told firsthand by the young lady herself that she was single. So, play your cards right…’

  ‘Well, let’s just try and get the garden job first,’ Luke said, rolling up the plans, but Alfred knew him well enough to recognise there was a lightness in the young man’s demeanour; he was definitely interested in young Holly Hanlon!

  Holly jumped. ‘Seriously, do you think you could announce yourself?’ she said, glaring at Alexander and holding her hand over her heart.

  Alexander cupped his hands around his mouth and announced: ‘Ghost incoming’.

  Holly laughed and shook her head; she wanted to be cranky at him but it was impossible. ‘A cough would suffice. I was deep in concentration looking for a missing jewel,’ she said, with a nod to her laptop screen.

  It was Tuesday, mid-morning and Holly sat in her office, officially for work purposes; her laptop opened on the desk, a diet cola in front of her and view of the ocean through the window. She felt happy and strangely at peace for the first time in a long while.

  Alexander stood beside her. ‘So how does this thing work?’ he asked, nodding at the screen.

  ‘It’s the internet. You can look up anything in th
e world,’ she said.

  Alexander scoffed. Then, seeing her serious face, he leaned over further. ‘You’re not kidding?’

  ‘Nope, not kidding. I’m not saying what you will find is always correct, but you learn to sift the crap out.’

  ‘Oh, so eloquently put,’ he said.

  Holly crossed her arms across her chest. ‘What? Ladies didn’t say crap in your day?’

  Alexander conceded. ‘It was the Sixties. They said and did a lot worse than that! But you’re so…’

  Holly narrowed her eyes. ‘So?’

  He rolled his eyes. ‘Feminine and sweet,’ he said.

  Holly grinned. ‘Well, thank you, Sergeant. Be careful, I might think you like me.’

  ‘Yeah well, don’t get carried away.’ He walked around, or more accurately, suddenly appeared behind her and pointed at the screen. ‘Back to this device. So, could you look up a person on it?’

  ‘Sure. There’s also a social site called Facebook where a lot of people are registered and connect.’

  ‘Really?’ he said, and looked confused. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because… well, I don’t know what it was like in the Sixties and Seventies, but now, it’s a little harder to connect. No one writes letters anymore or goes to dances. Instead, they spend most of their time online.’ She stopped. ‘How did people meet and connect in your day?’

  ‘We met at school, and at work, at sport, in pubs and through friends, and at dinner parties, concerts… how did you meet your ex-husband?’

  ‘On an online dating site,’ she confessed.

  ‘No! You mean you found his picture on this machine and married him?’ Alexander looked appalled.

  ‘No, yes… well, no… it’s more complex than that. We dated for two years before we married! It’s not like I picked him out in a photo line-up… although I guess there was that original photo attraction,’ she said, and shrugged.

  ‘Sounds awful,’ Alexander said.

  ‘I guess so,’ she agreed. Holly turned back to the screen, took a sip of Diet Coke and, realising Alexander was very quiet, turned to see if he was there. He was, and still looked appalled. He sat down beside her.

  ‘Open up this Face site.’

  ‘I was working, but aye, aye, Sergeant,’ she said, and saluted. He gave her a smirk. He had quite a good repertoire of them, Holly realised.

  She logged into the page and her feed came up. Alexander laughed. ‘Well, look at that… it’s you and there are pictures of this house and your aunty.’ He leaned in to see the selfie of Kate and her aunt. ‘Who took that photo?’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘But you’re in it!’

  ‘It’s called a selfie,’ Holly explained. ‘You can hold the camera so you both get in the shot. If I took a photo of us, would you appear in it?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Ah, so that one is true. So much to learn,’ she said. ‘Anyway, is there anyone you want to look up?’

  ‘What do you mean? Like just put a name in and their photos will come up?’ Alexander asked. ‘Will I be there.’

  Holly smiled. ‘No, you have to create the page. But if I searched for your name, it might come up if you were ever in the news or something like that.’

  ‘Don’t do that,’ he said, quickly.

  ‘Okay.’ She studied him.

  He cleared his throat. ‘There’s something I want to talk about with you first before you start researching me.’

  ‘Right,’ she said, still watching him.

  ‘So don’t.’

  ‘I won’t.’

  ‘It’s nothing sinister,’ Alexander assured her. ‘I’m not an axe murderer or anything.’

  ‘That’s fine, no problem. So, who do you want to look up?’ Holly knew exactly who Alexander wanted to look up but she didn’t think he’d go straight there… he’d have to process that thought.

  He stood again, paced for a few moments and then sure enough, he picked a random name.

  ‘Tommy Lionel. We served together. Think he’d be on there?’ Alexander asked.

  ‘Is he still alive?’

  ‘Yeah. Well, I haven’t seen him on the other side,’ Alexander said.

  ‘He wouldn’t be down below?’ she said, with a quick glance to the floor. ‘Like in hell?’

  ‘Ah, the old heaven and hell theory,’ he smiled. ‘Yeah, might be. You better be good then.’

  ‘Don’t tease me,’ Holly said, and smiled at him. ‘How do I know what’s beyond the white light.’ She turned back to the laptop with a petulant look on her face.

  ‘Ooh, white light. That’s good, too. Well, go on then, Tommy Lionel.’

  She turned to face the screen, feeling self-conscious with a man-ghost standing behind her. Holly typed Tommy’s name into the search and found half a dozen Tommy Lionels but Alexander discounted them all.

  ‘It happens. Anyone else?’ she asked.

  ‘Hmm… how about Andy Davies? Better make it Andrew,’ Alexander said.

  Holly put the name in and Alexander corrected her spelling. Over a dozen men with the same name appeared in the search function. She clicked on several until opting for the eldest one and his Facebook photo took up the screen.

  ‘For the love of God, that’s Andy!’ Alexander said, and laughed. ‘Jesus, he’s got ugly! He was never much to look at when he was young but age hasn’t done him any favours. What’s he saying?’

  Holly laughed. ‘He doesn’t say anything. Sit!’ she pulled out a chair. ‘I’ll show you how it works, even though you’re interrupting me and I’m very busy and important.’

  ‘Sure you are.’ He smiled and sat beside her. ‘It’s cool, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yeah, I guess it is. It’s good for when you are away, because you can stay connected. And it is free.’

  ‘Yeah?’ Alexander looked confused. ‘How would you pay on this thing, anyway?’ He pointed to the laptop.

  ‘With an electronic bank transfer,’ Holly said. She saw his blank look. ‘Wow, you’ve got a hell of a lot of catching up to do, haven’t you? About four decades!’

  ‘Yeah, well, we’ve got six months, haven’t we? I’m sure you’ll have me up to speed by then.’

  ‘Depends on whether I last the distance with you,’ she said, and narrowed her eyes at him.

  ‘Are you kidding? It’ll be me that’s packing up and leaving before you. But I’ll do my best to endure flatting together,’ he said.

  Holly turned side-on to face him. ‘We’re not flatting together. I’m paying rent and legally staying here, you’re a freeloader… a trespasser, like a homeless dude.’

  ‘Ha!’ he scoffed. ‘I’ll have you know I was here long before you so, if you want to get technical, as a squatter I’ve probably got legal rights to claim the house as my own!’

  Holly studied him. ‘That’s only a pretty recent law, how do you know about that?’

  ‘I listen to the radio,’ he said.

  She grinned. ‘You’d have a hard time winning that one, though, wouldn’t you, ghost guy?’

  ‘Don’t push me, blondie.’

  They stared at each other, ready for combat, but neither took the next move.

  Holly softened. ‘So what do you want to talk to me about before I’m allowed to research you?’

  Alexander ’s expression became very serious. ‘I’ve got a job I was hoping I could hire you to do. I can pay you… I’ve just got to get my head around what I have to tell you and how much you’ll need to know. So give me a bit of time, and no sneaky research behind my back.’

  She looked to the laptop screen and then back to Alexander. This will be interesting, she thought. ‘Okay, I understand. No pressure and no hurry. Besides, you don’t have to pay me.’

  ‘I have to pay you,’ he insisted, ‘and I can pay you. If I don’t, you won’t take it seriously and it will always be on the back burner for when you get time,’ he said. ‘It has to be formal, I want to hire you.’

  She nodded. ‘I understand. And, when you are ready
to look for Meghan’s name, we can do that, too.’

  She caught him by surprise, and his breath hitched. He nodded and when she turned back, he was gone.

  For the rest of the afternoon Holly focussed on her research. Alexander hadn’t reappeared since he disappeared earlier in the day, which suited her just fine; she had some paying work to do and she didn’t want to overwhelm him with technology on his first encounter with her laptop. Plus, truth be known, she had never had the patience for teaching. She’d have to be on her best behaviour.

  Now she needed to focus on finding Esther’s piece of jewellery; the pink heart. That was the name she had given the pale pink pearl necklace with its pink diamond centrepiece. Holly had opened her diary and logged her start time for billing purposes, and was narrowing down the options that had come up in her online search. Last night, she had waded through the file that Esther left her and read the earlier proof of sale and ownership documents, but the trail had faded out decades ago.

  It had been confiscated by a Nazi who conveniently went underground post-war. There was a sale document about a decade later which showed it had been sold to a jewellery broker. He again had sold it to a private collector in Amsterdam. From there, it was left in a will to the buyer’s daughter in the late 1970s, who sold it to a buyer that seems to have disappeared off the face of the earth. Their last address was in Paris. That was the mid-eighties, and now the necklace could be anywhere.

  Holly hadn’t expected to find anything when she typed in Esther’s parents’ names, but Freida and Uri Hirschel came up in several searches. Adrenaline surged through her; Holly loved the chase. She clicked on the first link, but it was a list of survivors and victims from the Bergen-Belsen concentration camp and Freida’s name was on the victims’ list.

  Holly sighed. There was something terribly sad about seeing Esther’s mother’s name there… number 2345 of 50,598. All those names, but she now had a connection to one of them; this name, Freida Hirschel, was a real person and loved. She closed the page and clicked on the next link. It was a list of businesses in Germany pre-war and there was the name Uri Hirschel and the business, Hirschel’s Fine Jewellery and Collectables. Holly could just imagine the creative hands of Esther’s father designing and producing delicate pieces like the pink heart necklace.