“But he’s not psychic?”
“He couldn’t see what I could see in that building, or feel it, that’s for sure.”
“So you won’t be asking him to join the team?”
Again, she looked askance at him. “This isn’t an official case, I’ve told you.”
“Just asking. I’m looking forward to meeting him; checking out his goatee beard.”
“He hasn’t got one, I’ve told you that too.”
“So you have,” he replied, returning to the article on screen.
“The most prolific lobotomist in the country, and indeed the world, in the twentieth century, was the neurosurgeon Sir Ralph Gould. Based in Wimbledon, he was believed to have performed over three thousand lobotomies. Woah!” Cash paused for a minute to digest that information. “That’s impressive.”
“Impressive?” queried Ruby.
“Ghoulishly impressive,” Cash amended. “It says here that often he would travel across the south of England at weekends, performing smaller leucotomies— “
“Leuco-what?”
“Hang on, let me look to see if there’s a difference. Oh right, okay, it’s the same end result just a different way of achieving it – in one the doctor drills holes in the side or on top of the patient’s skull to get to the frontal lobes, in the other, the brain is accessed through the eye sockets.”
“Ouch,” was all Ruby could say to that.
“I wonder if this Gould ever came to Cromer?”
“As one of the biggest asylums in the south, he must have done.”
“Yeah, you’re right. His claim was that the operation had dramatic benefits for some patients,” again he paused, “note the use of the word ‘some’, Ruby. By cutting into the brain to form new patterns, it would rid the patient of delusions, obsessions and nervous tension. Apparently they seemed ‘happier’ afterwards but a psychiatrist who followed up several hundred of Gould’s patients found that only around a third benefited; a third it didn’t affect at all, they remained as they were, and another third were actually worse off. From the mid-1950s, the operation fell out of favour, partly due to these poor results, and also because psychiatric drugs were becoming more effective. According to a psychiatric nurse in this article, Margaret Mead, who later trained as a neurosurgeon, patients who’d been lobotomised – chronic schizophrenics mostly – were apathetic and slow, rendering them completely incapable of living life outside the asylum. She said, and I quote, ‘they were totally ruined as social human beings.’”
“As human beings full stop.”
“Yeah,” Cash’s voice was grave as he agreed.
Both of them lost in thought, it took a moment to register what the Sat Nav was saying: You have reached your destination.
“Shit, Cash, there’s the pub, The Red Lion.”
“And bang on one too. Do you want me to come in with you, initially I mean?”
“I would; I’d love you to, but… this is something I have to do on my own.”
Jed materialised in the back seat of the car. “You’ve got company,” she continued, “Jed’s here.”
“Have I? Oh good. Well, look, if anything goes wrong, you know where I am.”
“It won’t go wrong though, will it?”
“I don’t know, I can’t see into the future.”
Instead of getting out, Ruby slumped dejectedly on the seat.
“Hey,” Cash reached out. “What I said, it was just a figure of speech.”
“Yeah, I know, but—”
“It’ll be fine, Ruby.”
She turned to him. “So why’d you have to say it mightn’t be? When I first told you about Peter, you were hesitant then as well. I just… Oh, I wish you hadn’t said that. I’m nervous enough!” And she was, her skin was tingling with nerves.
Cash’s voice was firm. “It’s going to be fine. Take a few deep breaths, get out of the car, and get yourself into that pub. What I meant to say, what I should have said is, I’m here, okay, and so is Jed, we’re waiting for you, and we wish you a ton of luck. I know this means the world to you.”
She smiled somewhat ruefully at him. “Not the entire world, but yeah, it’s important. Thank you and sorry about my outburst.”
“This is a stressful time.”
“Stressful but happy too, I hope.”
“Go, on, Ruby. Stop prevaricating.”
“Prevaricating?”
“That’s right, scram.”
Half opening the car door, she turned to him again.
“I feel bad leaving you out here like this.”
“Will you stop worrying? I’ve got more than enough to keep me busy on the laptop. Actually,” he said, as she finally exited the car, “I know I had a big breakfast, but… you know… if there are any leftovers from lunch, don’t chuck ’em, will you?”
“You want a doggy bag?”
As Cash nodded, Jed wagged his tail too.
“You two,” she replied, tension giving way to laughter. “You’re priceless.”
Chapter Eleven
Thankfully the toilets were right by the entrance to the pub. Taking advantage of them, Ruby popped in so she could check her appearance. She looked okay, if a little like a rabbit caught in the headlights, but at least her hair was behaving itself, falling neatly past her shoulders, and her clothes weren’t too crumpled from the journey, although she still smoothed them down with her hands. Peter had appeared ordinary in his photo, a man who wouldn’t stand out from the crowd. She considered herself ordinary too. Like father, like daughter, she thought, her nerves tingling even more.
Taking a deep breath, she forced herself from the sanctuary of the ladies loo and made her way into the main bar. There were quite a few people there for Wednesday lunchtime, either propping up the dark oak of the bar or sitting at a variety of tables scattered around. The atmosphere was quite dark too, not in a preternatural sense, but because the pub was so old, with hardly anything to relieve the fading grandeur of its fixtures and fittings except for a red carpet beneath her feet and red upholstery on the chairs, and that was worn in places as well.
Where was he? Where was Peter Gregory?
“Ruby?”
On a sharp intake of breath, she turned. At her side stood a man of similar height to her, perhaps a couple of inches taller, with greyish-green eyes and with more grey in his sand-coloured hair than had been in the photograph. He was dressed smart-casual, in navy trousers and a lighter blue zip-up cardigan. He looked nervous, perhaps more than she did, his eyes searching just as her eyes were searching – looking for something; a similarity perhaps, something to latch onto.
“Peter?” she enquired and he nodded. “Oh God, it is you. Finally we meet.”
His face creased into a smile – a shy smile, tentative. He was older than her mum by quite a few years; in his late-fifties, fifty-nine to be precise. Jessica had been twenty-four when she’d had Ruby, whereas he’d already been in his thirties and was a family man; a man with two children, a son and a daughter and then… her. She was the child he hadn’t wanted to know about; the child he’d left, not enquiring about her whereabouts or wellbeing until she’d had the wherewithal to enquire about his.
Ruby, don’t let such thoughts ruin this.
It was good advice. Besides which, she wasn’t bitter – just curious. And hopeful too, that it wasn’t too late; that now could be the beginning of something.
“Let me buy you a drink,” she said, but he wouldn’t hear of it.
“It’s me who should be buying the drinks, young lady. What would you like?”
Cash had offered to drive back so she plumped for her usual rum and coke, inwardly glowing from his use once again of such a sweet endearment. He gestured towards a table and she made her way to it, already impatient for him to join her. The chair felt heavy as she pulled it out, reminding her a little of the chairs at The Waterside Inn, another ancient pub with traditional décor. Sitting down, she could barely take her eyes off Peter, who looked as if
he’d got himself a pint – Dutch Courage needed by both of them perhaps – committing to memory as much detail about him as she could. Was he a handsome man? She imagined he was when he was younger – certainly he was pleasant to look at now. His being in the police might well have impressed a young Jessica, his age and his experience too, and his worldliness. It was all such a contrast to her and how she’d been – otherworldly. Not that he had known anything about that. Having questioned Jessica on the matter, Ruby’d learnt that she’d kept her abilities hidden from him during the time they’d been together; that, rather similar to Ruby, she’d also just wanted a dose of ‘normal’.
Still staring at him, all she could establish regarding how alike they were was that they were roughly the same height. He was also quite slender of build, as she was. When he was sitting beside her, she’d be able to study him better. Maybe they shared a mannerism or two. She bit her lip sometimes when she was nervous, did he have the same habit? Perhaps they might have a similar laugh, or favoured inclining their head to the same side when listening. Just as he started walking towards her, carrying two glasses, someone else caught her eye; someone sitting a couple of tables away and who was waving. Ruby frowned. Who was he waving at? Curious, she looked around to see if anyone was waving back at the man. Nobody was; they all seemed engrossed in what they were doing – talking to friends, drinking or reading the papers. When she looked at him again, the man, maybe in his sixties or so, had moved and was sitting in another chair, albeit at the same table. He was still waving, the smile on his face containing a world of excitement. Was it she who’d grabbed his attention?
“Here you go,” said Peter, placing their drinks on the table. “I take it you’re not driving?”
Ever the policeman, thought Ruby, but not without affection.
“No, I’m not,” she replied.
“That you’re boyfriend in the Ford outside, is it? The dusky fellow?”
Dusky? “Yes, that’s Cash, he’s… driving me back.”
“Sensible thing, bringing back-up. You can’t be too careful nowadays.”
He was a cynical policeman at that, or rather ex-policeman. No big surprise really. It must go with the territory.
“Why didn’t you invite him in?” Peter continued.
“It’s fine, he’s catching up with work. Besides…” her voice trailed off.
Peter shrugged. “If you’re sure,” he said, lifting his pint glass and swigging from it.
It wasn’t quite the response she’d hoped for. She’d hoped he might want their first meeting to be just the two of them too, and perhaps he did; she mustn’t jump to conclusions. He looked pleased to see her, which was something.
The ‘waving man’ had moved closer still; he was one table away now and not waving anymore, but staring at Ruby, avidly, his body bent forwards over the table as if he was about to leap. His eyes were a little too wide for comfort. What was his problem? Another man stopped and placed a pint on the same table. A temporary gesture as it turned out, he simply needed to free his hands so he could check his phone. Once he’d done that, he retrieved his pint and carried on – seemingly not noticing the man sitting there. Realising this, Ruby felt herself go hot all over. Of course! It was a spirit sitting at the table next to hers. If she’d not been so preoccupied, she would have known that straightaway. He’d picked up on the fact she could see him. A slave to her job as she sometimes was, this was not the time.
“… I googled Psychic Surveys by the way.”
“What? Oh, sorry, you said something about Psychic Surveys?”
“I did. I googled it.”
She gulped, caught between the worry of what he was going to say next and what the spirit was going to do.
“So you’re psychic?”
What could she say? She couldn’t lie, she wouldn’t. She was proud of what she did. Hopefully he might be too – one day. She kept her gaze steady. “Yes, yes I am.”
His eyes held curiosity rather than shock. “You’ve got a good reputation by all accounts.”
“We have. We work hard at what we do. We’ve had a lot of success and we’ve been lucky. An unusual business was a risk, but it’s worked so far.”
Was that a slight smile on his face? “Who’d you get it from? Not me, that’s for sure.”
“Jessica. From Mum.”
His smile vanished, replaced by a frown instead. Mentally she kicked herself; she should have perhaps been more vague. Initially, anyway.
“Jessica never mentioned anything about being psychic.”
“She was, I mean she is; my grandmother too and my great-grandmother. In our family it seems to be passed down through the maternal line.”
He supped at his pint again. “Like, I said, you certainly don’t get it from me.”
“Peter,” she began, “is it a prob—?” Oh no, the spirit was standing now, looking hurt as well as perplexed. He didn’t like the fact that Ruby was ignoring him one little bit, and he wasn’t going to leave her alone, Ruby could sense that well enough. She didn’t know how long he’d waited for someone who could see him, but she was guessing quite a while. His clothes weren’t terribly old-fashioned but they weren’t exactly modern either – was he from the 60s or 70s? Silently she addressed him. Look, as you know, I can see you and I’ll talk to you soon; properly talk to you, I mean. But right now, I’m busy. This meeting, it’s important. Please, be patient.
“Were you going to ask if it was a problem?”
It was Peter, also looking at her in a perplexed fashion, clearly noticing she was being distracted but not realising by what, or rather by whom. This was a disaster! Why had they met here, at a pub with so much history? Why hadn’t she thought to suggest a café, somewhere more modern? This didn’t happen every time she set foot in an ancient building, far from it, but there was a higher chance in such a place.
Shooting the spirit a beseeching look, she turned to Peter and nodded.
He didn’t answer straightaway. In fact, he took what felt like an excruciatingly long time to formulate a reply. “I don’t know about it being a problem, as such. In my lifetime, I’ve been used to dealing with cold hard facts.”
“Peter, although there is guesswork in dealing with the paranormal, I can sense spirits; sometimes I can see them, they…” again she glanced at the spirit who was still staring at her, still standing, but at least he wasn’t gesturing anymore, “…talk to me. Psychic Surveys helps those who remain grounded; we encourage them to go towards the light, which we believe is home. It may sound slightly off the wall, but surely you must know that even the police themselves use psychics. In fact, one of my colleagues, Ness, did quite a bit of work for Sussex Police.”
“No cases I was involved with ever saw the need to use psychics.”
“Were you involved with murder cases?”
“Murder?” He wrinkled his nose, as though the word alone disgusted him. “I wasn’t in homicide, no.”
“What about abductions, or lost persons?”
“Not routinely.”
“Perhaps that’s why.”
There was a silence, an awkward silence in which Ruby reached for her drink and tried to refrain from necking it. The spirit had moved forwards, she was sure of it; a foot or two, maybe more. Oh Christ!
“I’m not ashamed of what I do,” Ruby said at last, defiant and subdued at the same time, if such a thing were possible.
“Good, I’m glad. A person should be proud of their profession.”
“What were you, Peter, in the Force I mean, a sergeant, or—?”
“I remained a constable, by choice.”
A constable who’d taken early retirement? She remembered him mentioning red tape as one of the reasons he’d left the police. She was again curious as to the others. Before she could question further, he’d started speaking again.
“Look, you know the history between me and your mum; that when I found out she was pregnant I walked. I want you to know that I wasn’t a man who easily su
ccumbed to affairs. My wife and I… we’d been going through some pretty hard times when I met Jessica. Your mother, she was so… free-spirited, so different.” He paused. “Although if what you say is true, she never let on how different.”
“It is true.”
At her insistence, he simply nodded. “What Jessica and I had, it was never meant to lead anywhere. I thought she was taking precautions, you know…”
“To avoid getting pregnant?”
Peter was defiant too. “That’s what she told me and I believed her, why wouldn’t I? There was no reason to lie. And to be honest, we were only together for a few months. I didn’t see her all that often during that time either. I couldn’t, what with working hours and…” he had the good grace to falter, “…family.”
“My mother said she was in love with you, surely you must have known that. Did you have feelings for her?”
“I wouldn’t have been with her if I didn’t have feelings for her. But no, I wasn’t in love. As I said, Ruby, it wasn’t meant to lead anywhere.”
There was a bang on the table, a loud thump, which made Ruby jump. The spirit had shot forward; he was now right in front of her.
“What the—”
“Ruby, are you all right?”
Glaring at the spirit as he was glaring at her, Ruby had to fight to tear her gaze away. How could she explain? How the hell could she even begin to? Peter knew about her gift, although she got the impression he was sceptical; but to utilise it now, in a busy pub, in front of a man who was her father, who she was trying to get to know, it wasn’t a good idea. But this spirit was determined. As well as thumping the table, he bent down, his face mere inches from Ruby’s. No excitement now, just anger. Shit! This had to be the most awkward situation ever.
“I’m… fine, I just thought…” Please, give me a few minutes. I can’t speak to you now, but I will, soon. I promise.
Want… speak… now!
No, I can’t.
Lonely.
I’m sorry, but this meeting is important. Please, try to understand.
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