‘Trisha,’ I said, moaning and slipping my head under my pillow, ‘please go away. I want to die…’
‘God, you can be miserable at times. Get out of bed, get a shower and I’ll fix us some lunch.’
‘Lunch?’
‘It’s way past midday,’ she said.
‘What are you doing here?’ I said, my voice muffled.
‘I came to see if you were all right. The shop’s been closed for days now. That’s not you at all.’
‘I want my key back,’ I said. ‘You can’t burst in on me like this.’
‘Tough, you’re not getting it yet.’ She came over to the bed and gave my backside a hefty slap.
‘I can’t marry you,’ I said dully. I didn’t care what I said and whether that upset her. She had to know the truth.
‘I’m not going to marry you.’
I lifted my head from under the pillow. ‘You’re not?’
She shook her head. ‘I’ve met someone else.’
‘And you were going to tell me when?’
‘I’m telling you now, aren’t I?’
I scratched my head. ‘Fine,’ I said, ‘if that’s what you want.’
‘Let’s face it, Toby, it’s what you wanted. You never really wanted to marry me, did you? And lately you’ve been so distant. Honestly, if I didn’t know better I swear you’d met someone else, too.’
‘Leave me alone, Trisha, eh? If you’ve got someone new why are you bothering with me now?’ I asked. ‘Go spend time with him.’
‘Because I still like you, and I’m worried about you.’
Trisha never said things like that normally. Trisha never got worried about anyone but herself. ‘You needn’t be,’ I assured. ‘I’m perfectly all right.’
‘So I see. Get up and I’ll fix us something to eat.’ She went into the kitchen and I heard her exclaim, ‘Toby, there’s no food here. What have you been living on, fresh air? No wonder you look so ill.’ She came back to stand at my bedroom door, hands on her hips. ‘Get dressed. I’m going across the street to buy us a couple of pasties.’
‘You ought to see a doctor,’ she said. ‘The last time I saw someone look like that he died.’
‘That’s reassuring,’ I said.
‘It was my granddad. He had pneumonia.’
‘I haven’t got pneumonia, Trisha,’ I said, staring down at the unappetising Cornish pasty sitting like a shiny brown armadillo on my plate.
‘You’ve got something real bad. I don’t have to be a nurse to know that.’
‘I’m fine,’ I said, prodding my pasty. ‘So who is he? This new man of yours.’
‘You’re not upset? I thought you’d be a least a little disappointed, jealous even.’
‘I’m happy for you,’ I said. ‘I wanted you to be happy.’ Which was the truth.
‘We are so different, Toby,’ she said. ‘I’m so full of life, while you…’ She looked at me and raised her carefully sculpted brow.
So full of life, I thought. Exactly that. Hot blood pumping through her veins, heart beating away, lungs drawing in air. And yet still not good enough for me. She was not my Madeline. My cold, dead Madeline.
‘I know,’ I said. ‘I know what I’m like.’
‘I love adventure, travel, the thrill of the new, distant horizons; and you love books. I like bright things, the sunshine, the feel of a warm summer breeze on my cheeks; and you love books.’
‘I get your point,’ I said, frowning when she went all glossy-eyed over the warm summer breeze bit. She was more enamoured of the air conditioning in a shopping mall, but I let it slide. There was some truth in what she said about me.
‘We’d have only made each other unhappy,’ she went on. ‘We each deserve to find the right partner, don’t you think?’
I nodded. ‘So who is this right partner of yours?’
‘It’s because of you that I met him.’
‘How’d you work that out?’
‘If I hadn’t been so frustrated with you, so down, I wouldn’t have gone out with my friend to drown my sorrows. We went to a club in Yeovil. My friend went off with this guy and left me alone. I didn’t mind, I was happy to sulk at the bar. Then this wonderful man came up to me and tried to cheer me up. I resisted at first, but he was so kind and understanding. I could tell he wasn’t your average man on the prowl. By the end of the evening it was as if we had known each other ages. That’s when I got to thinking about you and me, how things couldn’t go on as they were.’
‘And who exactly is he, this kind and understanding man?’
‘See, you are jealous, just a tad!’
‘I’m kind and understanding, too,’ I said, feeling more hurt than jealous.
‘John works at Westland, you know, the helicopter place.’
‘Don’t tell me he told you he was a pilot!’ I said. ‘You didn’t fall for that old line, did you?’
She creased her forehead in that way I imagined her telling her doll off as a child. ‘Of course not. He’s an engineer. They make helicopters there.’
‘That’s so exciting,’ I said.
‘He travels all over the world as part of his job. He had to go to Germany yesterday. The places he’s been! He’s been to America, Canada, Japan, the Middle East…’
‘Are you sure he’s the right one for you? Sounds like he’s going to be away an awful lot.’
‘That has its advantages,’ she said. ‘Here, take a look at him.’ She took out her phone and held it up for me to see. ‘I snapped this photo when he wasn’t looking.’
‘I hardly think it’s the right time to be showing me photos of your new boyfriend, Trisha.’ The image was a little blurred, but he was a decent looking guy, his head in profile as he paid for drinks. His nose was bigger than mine, I noticed with some satisfaction, and that shock of thin curly hair looked like it wasn’t going to last long. Mine, on the other hand, was genetically predisposed to stay there for a very long time. I took a shred of comfort from this.
‘He asked if I’d been taking his photo, and I lied and said no. I didn’t want to upset him straight away. He said he didn’t look good on photos, but that’s not true, is it?’
Just like Trisha, I thought, to brandish him like a trophy of sorts. I wondered whether she’d done the same with me. ‘I’m sure you’ll be very happy together and have lots of curly-haired kids.’
She sneered. ‘Don’t be silly,’ she said, putting her phone away. ‘The main thing is that you’re happy for me and can see the sense in why I’m doing this. I’m doing it for us. For you.’
I could see that she meant it. Or tried hard to mean it. I’d never seen her look at me with such fondness, like she was looking at a sick puppy.
‘You’re a good woman at heart, Trisha,’ I said, ‘and you deserve something better than I can give you.’
She smiled broadly. ‘I was hoping you’d say that. I was so worried you might throw a wobbly. You’re not going to throw a wobbly, are you?’
I think she really wanted me to show some emotion, but I was drained. I really couldn’t care less at the moment. ‘No wobbles,’ I said.
She looked a little disappointed, but it didn’t last long. ‘Anyhow, you and me are going out.’
‘We are? What about copter-boy John?’
‘Forget him. We’re going out for old time’s sake,’ she said. ‘You look like you could do with getting out into the fresh air so I’m taking you out into the land of the living.’
‘Maybe I don’t want to be in the land of the living.’ That was so close to the truth I had to turn away from her.
‘Well you are coming out with me whether you like it or not. John gave me a couple of tickets to see a band in Exeter. He knows someone in it and he also gave me a backstage pass.’
‘I don’t want to go see a band,’ I said. ‘I’m not in the mood…’
‘You’ve got a denim jacket, haven’t you?’
I frowned. ‘Sure.’
‘Great. Put that on, a T-shirt and
a pair of jeans and you’ll look the part.’
‘What part?’
‘The band’s called Glory Daze. They’re getting quite a following. They do a lot of 70s covers, so the club they’re playing at is having a 70s-theme night.’
‘I dunno, Trisha, I’m not in the mood for a club right now.’
‘You’re going whether you like it or not. I’m determined to pump some life into you. You’re a nice man, Toby. You might meet a nice woman there.’
‘Now you’re trying to fix me up so you don’t feel bad about dating copter-boy. You don’t have to do this, Trisha. You don’t have to feel bad about dumping me, honestly.’ Then my mind flitted back to the name of the band. ‘Glory Daze, you say?’
‘You know them? They’re saying they’re very good. They don’t play in the South West very often. Come on, it’ll be great!’ She reached into her purse and took out two tickets. ‘See? Glory Daze, plus backstage passes,’ she said, shoving them under my nose.
Managed by Starlite Promotions, the ticket declared. The very same band that Joseph Boothman managed. I was intrigued enough to nod my head and give Trisha a begrudging yes. ‘Anything to get you off my back,’ I said.
‘Pick me up on Saturday at 7.30 p.m.,’ she insisted, rising from the table. ‘And eat that pasty.’
I said OK. I wanted her out of there so I could be left alone to lick my wounds. ‘Trisha…’ I said, halting her at the door.
‘Yes?’
‘What day is it today?’
‘That’s why you need to get out!’ she said. ‘Wednesday, Toby. It’s Wednesday. Do you need the year as well?’
I told her to go away.
It struck me as I sat alone in my flat that maybe I was grieving. Grieving for a woman that was already dead when I met her. I had never really lost someone close, not to death. I understood what they meant now, about how we grieve mainly for ourselves and the fathomless hole that opens up in our lives when a loved one passes away. The dead eternally at peace, the living eternally tormented. I could see no end to my torment.
Not until I saw Madeline float silently past the table where we were sitting and out of the kitchen.
I sat there with my mouth open, my face draining of colour completely.
‘It’s a bit chilly in here all of a sudden,’ said Trisha, shuddering. She cocked her head. ‘Toby, whatever is wrong with you? You look like you’ve seen a ghost!’
Had I been imagining it? Had I really seen her again?
Two conflicting emotions hit me like hot and cold air currents in the atmosphere, creating one hell of a storm. I was overjoyed at first. Immensely so, to the point of being so effusive with Trisha about the music event in Exeter that she asked me if I was all right again and wanted to call the doctor. I said I was perfectly fine as I bundled her out of the shop and that I’d see her later.
The second emotion was a form of dismay. I knew without doubt I was sick, in mind and body, and when I had believed Madeline to be gone forever I had at least started to acknowledge that illness, albeit begrudgingly. Madeline’s totally unexpected re-emergence merely underscored that illness. I knew I could never recover while she was around.
But the thing that went through my head as I locked up the shop after Trisha had left, and I dashed around in my fruitless attempt to find Madeline, was that Steely Jacobs could not have been her murderer. Her apparition suggested strongly that the mystery of her murder had not yet been solved.
Sitting disconsolately in my flat, I was faced with a dilemma so foggy I could not see any way out of it. The only person I felt I could talk to was Gabrielle Norton.
There’s a painted wooden shelter that stands on the hill above the gardens in Lyme Regis, sitting sturdy and proud and looking out to sea. From here I could see the wide expanse of Lyme Bay, its choppy grey waters frothing every now and again with the dazzling dashes of whitecaps. Boats, looking tiny and inconsequential, were huddled together in the crowded harbour, sheltered by the strong, gently curving arm of the Cobb. A few people wandered like dark specks on the beach. The wind rattled against the shelter, repeatedly battering against it like soft fists.
‘You don’t look well, Toby,’ said Gabrielle Norton.
‘If anyone else tells me that…’ I said.
‘But it’s true.’ She folded her arms against the cold. ‘Soon we will be into December,’ she said, as if it had some kind of meaning that was completely lost on me.
I had told her everything. My obsession with Madeline, my suspicions about my friend Mark, my visit to Chester Lee Holberg and my confrontation with Steely Jacobs and how I thought I had been the cause of his suicide, for that’s what I truly believed it to be. I told her about how reluctant I was to tell the police anything, how I’d come close to ending it all myself when I thought Madeline had left me, and how ill I believed I had become. I told her Madeline was back again and I didn’t know what to do next.
‘Do you think I’m going mad?’ I asked.
She smiled. ‘I think we’ve had a similar conversation before.’
‘I think I’m going mad,’ I said.
‘You’re in love.’
‘She’s dead. My true love is dead.’
‘That is a sticking point, admittedly,’ she said. Then her face dropped serious again. ‘You are ill because of everything that’s happened to you, that much is without doubt. You cannot go on like you are. If you want my advice, you should go to the police with what you know about Madeline’s death, tell them about your meetings with Steely and Chester, come clean about everything. Let them take it from there. It’s not your job, and Madeline deserves to have her killer found, if they’re still around. As for your friend Mark, you have to talk to him and have it out. You cannot bury your head in the sand any longer.’
‘And Madeline?’
‘You cannot keep her with you forever. You really have to let her go once and for all. No pretending, no fooling yourself into thinking you are doing it. You have to do it, for your own health’s sake.’
‘How?’
‘I know a man who might be able to do that for you. He’s worked with people like you; people haunted by so-called ghosts.’
I laughed hollowly. ‘Are you serious?’
‘Absolutely. He claims quite a high success rate.’
‘He can make her pass over?’
‘He’ll try. There’s no guarantee. He’s not part of the spiritualist club – they wouldn’t let him join because their views and his clash, being of the mind that a ghost isn’t a ghost in the traditional sense. I got to know him through a member of the club.’
‘Can I trust him?’
‘He’s a decent man. Wacky but decent.’
‘I’m not being filled with confidence.’
She sighed. ‘Toby, Madeline’s hold on you has to end. You cannot go on living like you are. Can’t you see how ill you’ve become?’
‘I just need everyone to get off my back and stop telling me that!’ I said harshly, then regretted it. ‘I’m sorry. You’re only trying to help.’
‘Look how she’s affected you. You need to be free of her and she needs to be free. You were not meant to be together, Toby.’
I looked at the dashes of people in the distance going about their everyday lives. I felt so apart from them and desperately wanted to rejoin the land of the living. Yet frightened at losing Madeline again. ‘I don’t know…’ I said.
‘I know what’s going through your head, Toby. You’re resisting it, fighting it. But you have to let her go.’
I nodded. She was right. ‘So you think this will work? I mean, she’s not an evil spirit. She won’t be…’
‘Hurt in any way?’ She smiled. ‘No, she will not be hurt. It’s not an exorcism. You’re not possessed by evil spirits or demons. And my acquaintance is neither Catholic nor a priest.’
‘So what is he exactly?’
‘Someone who can help you. And Madeline, of course. In part, it’s not only Madeline’s murder keeping
her Earthbound. It’s you. You are keeping her here, too. She loves you. I’ve never heard of that kind of thing before, and I’ve never seen a haunting affect anyone as profound as it affects you.’
‘Do you think she means it?’ I asked. ‘She really loves me?’
She shrugged. ‘Who knows, Toby? Some things are bigger than you and me. Some things we can never know for certain. It would appear so, if such a thing is possible.’
I mulled things over in my mind. ‘And this man is called?’
‘Quentin Farnham.’
‘An eccentric name for an eccentric calling. Can you get him for me?’
‘I’ve already spoken to him.’ She glanced across at me. ‘I was worried about you…’
‘How soon can he do it?’
‘He says he can be ready whenever you are. Shall I arrange things?’
I agreed, staring out to sea and wishing it would come rolling right up the hill and swallow me up, drag me back to its icy depths so I didn’t have to think about things.
Would the pain of living ever go away?
But the day hadn’t finished with me yet. It would end on one final, breathtaking surprise.
I turned on the TV. I didn’t think it unnatural at all that Madeline appeared and sat down beside me to watch TV, too. On the one hand it all seemed so natural a thing to do; a couple sitting down of an evening to chill out in front of the telly. Like we’d been doing it for years. I almost picked up the phone to ring Gabrielle, to tell her to forget what we’d arranged, that I was fine. I felt fine. On top of the world. Like a toothache disappears just before going to the dentist. But Madeline had that effect on me when we were together. It was like I’d been injected with a powerful drug that gave me a tremendous high from which I knew eventually I would have to come down with a resounding crash. And each fall would take just a little bit more out of me. I was being sucked dry. Soon I’d be a shrivelled, empty husk.
She was killing me softly with her love, as the old song goes.
‘I keep dreaming about the cellar,’ she said quietly.
The D.M. Mitchell Supernatural Double bill Page 33
