The Haunting of Highdown Hall

by Shani Struthers

  “Usually? What do you mean usually? It either works or it doesn’t.”

  She rushed to reassure him.

  “I mean usually we are successful, very successful concerning the removal of spirits, as many of our former clients would testify. In fact, I remember you saying, you heard about us through a former client didn’t you?”

  “I did,” Mr Kierney agreed grudgingly.

  “A Mr Warner, from Peckham in London? A friend of yours?”

  “Look, I don’t want to talk about him. It’s my case I’m interested in.”

  Taking a deep breath, Ruby continued “I’ve made a connection with Cynthia, which is an encouraging sign. She knows who I am and who Theo is. I’ve stated our intent – which is, of course, to help her. Fear tends to make a spirit resistant. Now that she knows she’s not alone, hopefully she’ll feel less fearful next time we meet, more inclined to move on.”

  “I don’t give a damn about her feelings. Just get her out of my house.”

  My house? Only by default.

  Crossing the Grand Hall, Ruby was disappointed by Mr Kierney’s attitude. Cynthia was as scared as he was, more so, a little sympathy for her plight wouldn’t go amiss.

  Before leaving, curiosity got the better of her. “Mr Kierney, where are all Cynthia’s personal things, her clothes, things like that? The drawers and wardrobes in her bedroom are empty.”

  “Don’t look at me, I can’t get in there, remember?” Less defensively, he continued, “What I do know is that Sally sold a lot of stuff off, broke her heart according to my mother. Cynthia may have left her the house but she didn’t leave any funding to pay for it.”

  Ruby nodded in understanding. It was as she thought. No matter. Although personal possessions were handy when trying to connect with a spirit, they weren’t the be all and end all. She had connected well enough with Cynthia just being in her precious surrounds.

  Reaching the door, Ruby asked “Is Monday okay for my team to visit?”

  “Monday? You can’t do sooner?”

  She could juggle her week to fit in with his demands but she didn’t want to – she wanted instead to find out as much information about the movie star as possible before she returned. Knowledge was armour too; it would help them further, she was sure.

  “I’m sorry, Mr Kierney, Monday is our earliest slot. Would you like me to book you in?”

  “If you really can’t do better than that, I suppose so,” he replied, seething.

  Just before she and Cash stepped back into the winter sunlight, Mr Kierney spoke again.

  “What if it doesn’t work, if she refuses to budge?”

  “Then we go deeper,” Ruby replied.

  “Deeper? At what cost? Financial I mean.”

  “We can come to an agreement regarding cost. What truly matters is sending Cynthia to the light.”

  “And my peace of mind!” Mr Kierney pointed out aggressively.

  “And your peace of mind,” Ruby acknowledged.

  “I hope you’re right. I hope you can get rid of her. That you’re not just a bunch of charlatans.”

  “We’re not,” said Ruby, bristling at the accusation, “and we’ll prove it.”

  “You’d better,” Mr Kierney replied stiffly before adding, “You do know I’m a journalist, don’t you? For a much respected national newspaper?”

  “I do,” said Ruby.

  She also knew a threat when she heard one.

  Chapter Six

  Cash was proving to be very punctual, turning up on her doorstep as promised at eight the next evening, waving a DVD at her.

  “It’s The Phoenix, Cynthia’s signature film according to the woman on the till at Asda.”

  “You actually bought it?” said Ruby, motioning for him to come in.

  “Yeah, but don’t worry, it was only three quid, along with other greats from the era.”

  “Like what?” Ruby led him down the hallway to the kitchen.

  “Gone With the Wind, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, do you want me to go on?”

  “No, no, I get the picture.”

  “Literally,” he said, winking at her.

  In the kitchen, she was about to ask if he wanted red or white wine at the exact moment he proffered a bottle of red.

  “Red then,” she said, laughing.

  “Is that okay?” enquired Cash, worry crossing his face. “Or do you prefer white? If you do, I can always pop back out and get some; the off-license isn’t far.”

  “No, not at all, I like both to be honest,” she said, taking the bottle from him and examining the label. “This looks really nice.”

  The Australian Shiraz promised plenty of spice and bursting berry flavours. Extracting the cork, she poured them both a generous glass and handed one to him. The nerves she had been trying to keep under control all day suddenly getting the better of her, she took two huge gulps, wishing she’d had the foresight to have a glass of something relaxing before his arrival.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, a little too intuitively she thought.

  “Fine,” Ruby mumbled, thinking all the while: Get a grip, girl!

  Looking around, he asked, “Is, er, Jed with us?”

  “No, not right now. I haven’t seen him all day.”

  “So it’s just the two of us?”

  “It is,” she confirmed, leading him through to the living room.

  Heading for the sofa, she tried to seat herself comfortably but was amazed at how awkward she felt, her limbs behaving as though they belonged to someone else entirely. Cash, however, was clearly at ease, kicking his boots off and settling cheerfully beside her.

  How she wished she hadn’t worn her tightest pair of jeans. Flattering they may be, but the waistband was digging into her stomach, making her feel even more uncomfortable. She’d have to make an excuse later, say she was popping to the bathroom or something and swap them for a slightly looser pair. Hopefully Cash, like your typical male, would remain oblivious to such a costume change.

  “Have you got the DVD?” said Ruby, hoping her voice sounded more confident than she felt.

  “Yeah, here it is,” he said, passing it to her. As he did so, his fingers brushed hers, causing her to tremble slightly. Quickly, she focused on the blurb in front of her.

  Cynthia Hart pours her heart and soul into the determined and feisty character of Gayle Andrews, not only portraying one of literature’s most stirring heroines but becoming her in a truly effortless performance. Her first award-winning role, it is one that cements her place in the hall of fame, inspiring not just her generation but generations of women to come.

  “Wow!” said Ruby, impressed. “And all for just three pounds.”

  “I would have paid a fiver if pushed,” replied Cash, tongue in cheek.

  “And have you seen it? The Phoenix?”

  “I think so, when I was a kid. Around Christmas time probably. From what I remember, it was good. Or rather she was good. The film’s a bit corny really.”

  “Shall I put it on?” Corny or not, Ruby was intrigued.

  “Sure,” he replied, leaning further back into the sofa.

  At just under three hours, the film was good, it was excellent. Several times the harrowing story of Gayle Andrews nearly reduced Ruby to tears and she’d had to reach for a hanky to dab discreetly at her eyes and nose. Ploughing through a second bottle of red wine together, this time one she had in stock, had done nothing to help her emotional state, she was sure. Thankfully, Cash didn’t seem to mind the copious sniffing and sighing going on beside him. Glancing at him every now and then, she thought his eyes looked suspiciously misty too on occasion.

  The young and vibrant actress on screen was so different to the spirit full of dark brooding emotion she had encountered at Highdown Hall only yesterday. It was hard to reconcile the two. What had happened to Cynthia Hart during her lifetime? Why was she so frightened? Finding out ‘what’ wouldn’t be hard. There was a mountain of stuff on the internet about her. The ‘why’, howeve
r, could prove more difficult.

  At the end of the film, the credits started to roll and dramatic music befitting such an epic production blared out, almost deafening them. Reaching quickly for the remote, Ruby pressed the off button, the ensuing silence almost as loud she noticed.

  “Well, that was a bit more heart-wrenching than I thought it was going to be,” Cash admitted, looking really quite shell-shocked. “Bloody good actress, wasn’t she?”

  “Phenomenal,” Ruby said, sighing.

  Placing his empty glass on the coffee table in front of the sofa, Cash sat in repose for a few moments, as though trying to recover from the traumatic onslaught. Eventually, he started speaking again.

  “I’m not sure how it’s supposed to work, but did you feel any sort of psychic connection with Cynthia during the film?”

  “No, not psychic,” Ruby replied. “Emotional, well, as you can see...”

  Smiling at her comment, Cash continued to look at her. Having relaxed completely during the course of the film, Ruby felt flustered again. Nonetheless, she found it surprisingly hard to look away. It was as though Cash were drawing her into his very being, those molten eyes of his penetrating her. Music, she decided, that was what was needed, something contemporary and frivolous to break the spell between them. Hauling herself up from the sofa, she walked to the CD player, beside which was an alcove filled with shelves, the bottom two not home to more books like the others, but her entire music collection.

  “What do you like?” she asked, relieved to be talking about more mundane matters.

  “Surprise me,” he called from the sofa.

  Strangely, Johnny Cash’s ‘Hurt’ album came to hand. She was about to put it back and then stopped. Turning, she said, “So, you’re named after Johnny Cash, right?”

  “Right,” he answered, his gaze still intent.

  “Because your mum is a fan of his?”

  “Correct.”

  “Do you listen to his music too?”

  “Sometimes,” he said, rising and moving towards her.

  Kneeling down, he ran his fingers along the long lines of CDs, scanning them with his eyes.

  “I see we’ve got similar taste in music,” he said at last.

  “Have we?” replied Ruby, damning that squeaky note in her voice.

  “No Drive-by Truckers though or Richmond Fontaine. I’ll have to introduce you to them.”

  Will you now? His close proximity was making her feel decidedly clammy. If only Jed would come bounding in, she could use him as an excuse to tear her gaze away. In fact, she’d be grateful for any passing spirit right now, shame her flat was usually bereft of them. Instead, she stared right back, as though caught in a vice.

  Suspecting that he would, Cash reached out a hand to touch her hair. As he did so, she couldn’t help it, she started shaking, praying she was the only one to notice.

  In the silence, he leaned forward and his lips touched hers. His full, soft lips, lips that if she were honest, she had fantasised about kissing since meeting him in the pub on Monday. Was it really only four days ago? To be pressed against them now felt good and she relished the feeling, for a few seconds at least.

  Drawing back, she started to speak, but words failed her.

  “It’s okay,” he said, gently tilting her face upwards, “it was a bit forward of me I suppose. We have only just met.”

  “It’s not that,” she rushed to explain. “It’s just that... I’m not looking for a boyfriend right now. Relationships are often difficult for me.”

  “Why?” he asked, genuine curiosity in his voice.

  Such a simple question. Not such a simple answer. Where did she start? Yes, he was fascinated with her right now. But how long would it be before fascination turned into something else? Contempt, perhaps? A desire to live only in the ‘real’ world? She had seen it happen too many times; not just with Adam but with other boyfriends too, every boyfriend in fact. And not just boyfriends, men in general, she had never known her father or grandfather either – they had also bailed out from their relationships. It was widely said that celebrities tended only to date fellow celebrities, someone who could perfectly understand the pros and cons of their profession. Well, following their lead, perhaps she should find herself a psychic boyfriend. Trouble was, the only other psychics she knew were women. Psychic men didn’t happen along very often. Fanciable psychic men that is.

  Desperately she wanted to explain all this to him, felt like she owed him an explanation, but the right words simply wouldn’t come.

  Attempting to say something at least, she said, “Can we take it slowly? Be friends for a while, see how we go.”

  Cash looked disappointed but he didn’t let that expression linger.

  “Sure,” he said, just stopping himself, she knew, from touching her hair again and then, “Blimey, it’s five past one. I’d better get going. Work tomorrow.”

  Checking the clock, she couldn’t believe it either. Where had the last few hours gone?

  Cash slipped his boots on and grabbed his jacket en route to the door.

  “Haven’t you got a proper coat?” said Ruby, shivering. “It’s freezing out there.”

  Good God, she thought, now I sound like his mother.

  “I have, but this is fine for now,” he said, looking actually quite touched she was fussing over him.

  “Thanks for coming over, for bringing the movie,” she smiled shyly at him.

  Standing there in her bare feet, she felt tiny in comparison. If she kissed him now, she’d have to stand on tip toe to do so.

  “So, Monday, Highdown Hall. Can I still come?”

  “Of course,” Ruby exclaimed. “And my website, can you still help with that?”

  “I promised, didn’t I?” he replied, the timbre of his voice mesmerising to her ears. “What time shall I be there, and where?”

  “Nine thirty at my office. Is that okay?”

  “Nine thirty is perfect,” he said, walking backwards a few steps before turning, devouring her again with his eyes before allowing the night to devour him.

  Returning to the living room, Ruby noticed that he had left the DVD behind. She picked it up and considered running after him to return it but decided against it. There was no hurry. She’d see him on Monday, she could return it then. Hopefully, she’d see him a lot more after that, if she hadn’t scared him off entirely. Going through to the bedroom, she let the jeans she hadn’t bothered to change after all fall to the floor and slipped into pyjama bottoms, sighing with relief as she did so. As she was climbing into bed, Jed came hurrying in and barked a couple of times before curling up beside her.

  “Oh, so now you show up?” she said, sighing.

  Reaching for her eye mask and ear plugs, she turned off the lamp and fell asleep – the memory of Cash’s lips on hers accompanying her deep into dreamless realms.

  Chapter Seven

  “Everybody ready?”

  Three heads nodded whilst Cash simply beamed; reminding her of a little boy who’d just been told it was his birthday. Theo had been simply bemused by his presence. Ness, however, hadn’t looked best pleased. Ness took their ‘work’ very seriously, as they all did, and clearly she didn’t see the need to have some sort of enthusiast tagging along. Normally Ruby would have agreed with Ness, never before had she brought a ‘friend’ along to a cleansing, it was inappropriate. But Cash, he was different. Just as she connected with spirits, she had connected with him. She felt good when he was around, and something else, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on – safe, perhaps? As for Corinna’s reaction to Cash, she too had looked taken aback at first, but then she had started giggling, particularly whenever Cash happened to make a remark. Although she knew it was ridiculous, Ruby couldn’t help feeling slightly irritated by Corinna’s girlish, flirty behaviour. Even more annoyingly, Cash didn’t seem to mind it at all.

  Ruby had spent practically the entire weekend researching Cynthia Hart. Born in Brighton in 1927 and from appa
rently humble beginnings, she had lived with her mother and younger brother in a flat in a street that no longer existed, that had been demolished in the late 1940s, part of an eradication programme to get rid of Brighton’s worst slums. Having famously left home at fourteen, she had climbed on board the non-stop stardom express and ridden it all the way to the stars, becoming the brightest of them all, surpassing even those who had shone in Hollywood – not bad for an ordinary local girl, thought Ruby. The Phoenix had been her breakthrough film. Although there had been several theatre and film roles before that, it was the first one she’d bagged a starring role in. Still, the others were good films; her early performances often described as commendable by the critics. From ‘commendable’ to ‘spell-binding’, though, was quite a leap and one that must have stunned her as well as those in the film industry. A well-deserved award had followed for The Phoenix and then again for Intruders. It was The Elitists that had won her an Oscar – a film about a group of high society revellers involved in murder and espionage across several continents; she had co-starred in it with the delicious John Sterling. By 1958, Ms Hart was hot to trot, smokin’ – in demand the world over and then, boom! It was over. Just like that.

  The night she had passed, Christmas Eve, which was also her birthday, a party had been held at Highdown Hall. Not an unusual occurrence, it seemed. Ms Hart was quite the socialite, forever in the media, an ever-changing string of admirers on her arm, not least John Sterling. Concentrating particularly on pictures of them together, Ruby thought they made a dynamite couple, the spark between them almost tangible. It was Sterling who had found her the night of the party, collapsed in her bedroom. It was he who had held her body close as she took her last breath. Sterling had been inconsolable afterwards, according to reports in the papers, and had never returned to acting. Retiring to the South of France instead, he had passed in his mid sixties; cirrhosis of the liver.

  Throughout her research, Ruby had found absolutely no mention of anyone called Lytton. She was still none the wiser. Who was he and why was he as significant in death as he was in life – to Cynthia anyway? Or maybe his significance would fade? Once they’d explained to her how she had passed, helped her to accept the suddenness of it, maybe the hold he had on her would diminish. Be forgotten about. They’d find out soon enough.