The Haunting of Highdown Hall

by Shani Struthers

  Still David resisted. She found herself growing tired; her own energy draining. David was feeding off her too, a psychic vampire. Behind her she heard movement.

  “Cash, is that you?”

  “Yeah, everything okay?”

  “Er, soon hopefully.”

  David’s head snapped sideways, he too had noticed the newcomer.

  “Cash, quickly, hold the necklace in front of you.”

  “The necklace...?” Cash began, but then thought better about questioning her.

  “David,” Ruby tried again, as reassuringly and calmly as she could. “You are suffering and you don’t need to be. All you have to do is go to the light, there is love in the light; understanding, all the things you craved on earth but which eluded you. You endured a terrible disease for years, a disease that isolated you from public life. You felt adrift, abandoned. You still do. But, David, you haven’t been abandoned, you came from the light and the light wants you back. It is waiting for you David; it has always been waiting for you. Don’t resist it anymore.”

  As hard as Ruby tried to make David understand, she knew he wasn’t listening to her; instead he was racing between her and Cash, reminding her of a crazed dog, rabid even, trying to find a way to penetrate their shields, to devour them whole. But just as she was tiring, so was he. His movements were not as quick, his expression less fierce.

  Patiently, she waited. Cash did too; not moving a muscle, barely even breathing.

  “David,” Ruby spoke gently. “Move on.”

  Another scream, no wonder Jed had fled, the Rainbow Bridge an altogether more pleasant place to be than here at the moment.

  And then a second voice broke in, an older voice this time. Help at last?

  David, stop that.

  The voice was firm, parental. It was also effective. Immediately, David stopped screaming but his eyes remained frantic, sweeping from side to side.

  Listen to what she says.

  David turned round, the lampshade above him swaying.

  Who are you? What do you want?

  The light around the second spirit dipped.

  Have you forgotten me already?

  Although wary, David could not deny his curiosity. Tentatively, he moved closer.

  Do you see David? I haven’t changed so much.

  Col?

  Yes, David, it’s Colin.

  A shriek from David.

  You abandoned me!

  No.

  You did, you left me.

  I’ve been here all along.

  David seemed to contemplate the second spirit’s words. In him, Ruby sensed a desperate need to believe.

  Quickly she urged, “Listen to him, David, trust him.”

  David trembled. Rage, the emotion he was holding onto, the emotion that kept him grounded, was beginning to drain away, bit by bit. Distrust, however, remained.

  I couldn’t see you.

  You see me now.

  Colin closed the gap between them, the light around him no longer dim, but shining like countless stars.

  David could resist no more.

  As he staggered forwards, Ruby suddenly understood. She knew they had been lovers. Colin had perished from AIDS too, possibly even in this flat, leaving David distraught and even more heavily dependent on drugs, turning to heroin shortly afterwards in an attempt to negate the pain. As images of David’s life flicked through her mind, she realised that loss, for the large part, had characterised his life. His mother had passed when he was young, his father too. From thereon in it had been a series of foster homes, abuse, mainly physical but sexual too she gathered, alcohol, soft drugs, heroin and, finally, disease. Colin had been the only genuine source of affection David had known in life – his love amongst the ashes.

  David placed his hands in Colin’s. For a while the two men simply stared at each other. Then slowly, they began to fade.

  At their departure, the atmosphere in the room lightened. Cash, still holding the obsidian necklace obediently in front of him, said, “Are we done?”

  “We’re done,” Ruby answered.

  She turned to look at him; he didn’t look even slightly ruffled.

  “Are you okay?” she checked.

  “I’m fine,” Cash lowered the necklace.

  Questioning further, she asked, “Did you... did you see anything?”

  Cash shrugged his shoulders. “I didn’t see anything, no,” he looked disappointed. “It felt a bit lively in here though, funnily enough – the feeling ‘lively’ I mean, kind of ironic under the circumstances. It doesn’t now though, it just feels normal. Has the spirit gone?”

  “Yes, David’s gone,” Ruby replied, smiling at him.

  “Good, because I’m famished. Can we go and get something to eat?”

  Her smile widening into a grin, Ruby went in search of Mr Ashton first.

  Chapter Eleven

  Mid-morning the next day, Ruby got a call from Cash.

  “Hi, how are you?” he asked.

  Ruby stifled a yawn. “I’m fine. I was up late last night on the internet, trawling through any and every site even remotely connected to Cynthia to see if Lytton was mentioned too. I’m a bit tired today to be honest.”

  “Me too, I was working on your website ‘til gone midnight.”

  “Is it going okay?”

  “Did you find anything significant?”

  Their questions clashed.

  Laughing, she insisted he answer first.

  “It’s going very okay. I also spent a bit of time checking out a few online psychic forums with a view to you advertising on them. On one particular forum, a local one, there’s a lot of talk about a place called Tide Mills, do you know it? It’s out near Newhaven, there’s loads of psychic activity there apparently. Do you fancy a jaunt there this afternoon?”

  Ruby looked at the clock.

  “Hmm, I’m not sure. I’ve got a report that needs typing up. And no, I didn’t find anything significant; I just hope Theo and Ness have at the record office. I’ll find out tomorrow.”

  “A breather today might do you good; it might help to clear your head. I’m only talking a couple of hours. More of an extended lunch break really.”

  Ruby was tempted; some fresh air would be nice. And, she couldn’t deny it, she wanted to see Cash again. A feeling she knew was mutual. Whilst he was still on the line, she Googled the place he had mentioned. She had heard of it but only vaguely. She discovered the mill itself had closed in 1883 but a village had continued to thrive around it until the late 1930s when it was condemned as unfit for habitation. Abandoned, it had fallen into serious disrepair.

  Cash came to meet her just after lunch. As Ruby drove them to their destination, he found out more about Tide Mills via the Google app on his iPhone.

  “Hey, this place was featured in a novel by Lesley Thomson, A Kind of Vanishing it was called. Have you heard of it?”

  “No, I haven’t,” replied Ruby. “What’s it about?”

  Reading further, Cash said, “It’s about two girls playing hide and seek amongst the ruins during the late 1960s, one of the girls, Alice, goes missing and isn’t found again. It’s a kind of murder mystery I think.”

  “Sounds good, I’ll have to check it out.”

  “Do you think it’s haunted?” Cash asked after a while. “Plenty on the forum think it is.”

  “A derelict village, the ruins of which still remain?” Ruby mused. “It certainly fires the imagination, as Lesley Thomson would no doubt agree.”

  Pulling off the main road into a small parking area, they left the car behind and set off along a narrow pathway, which would lead them to the village, with hedgerows and acres of empty fields, brown in colour rather than golden, on either side. As they crossed a train track, a breeze started to blow, toying with Ruby’s hair, she pushed aside any tendrils obscuring her view. They were alone but for one or two dog walkers weaving their way, heads down, through tumbled down walls that led, ultimately, to the shingle strewn bea
ch.

  History boards were scattered throughout the crumbling stonework, some still attached to their metal frames, whilst others, unable to withstand the corrosion of the salt air, had long since become detached. Instead, they lay propped up against their stands, as forgotten as the place itself. Quickly, Ruby became engrossed in them. Before today, she had never heard of Tide Mills, never realised such history was on her doorstep. She learnt that flour was big business back in the eighteenth century and exporting it by sea was much cheaper than doing so by land, hence its location, close to a natural estuary. Cottages had been built for its workers and soon a thriving community had built up. In the late 1800s, however, the development of the railways had set the beginning of the end in motion. Stormy weather hadn’t helped either, causing some very costly damage. But the development of nearby Newhaven harbour had been the last nail in the coffin, preventing high tides entering the channel west of the mill. The mill, unable to withstand either natural disasters or man-made progress, finally closed.

  Coming up beside her, Cash’s eyes scanned the board she was reading.

  “Strange how people continued to live here long after the mill closed down.”

  “They’d made lives I suppose, forged friendships, fallen in love, reared children. Once people put down roots, normally they want to stay.”

  “In the material world as in the spirit world?” Cash wondered aloud.

  “Sometimes.”

  “Look, there’s a poem by a former resident on this board, Arthur Davis. Any relation to you?”

  “I don’t think so.” Ruby smiled at the intimation. “Read it out.”

  As he did so, Ruby relished the sound of his voice.

  Now all is quiet and so still,

  Gone forever the dear old Mill.

  Even now people speak,

  In reverence of the Old Mill Creek.

  Goodbye Tide Mill. Rest in Peace.

  Memories of you will never cease.

  “Simple words, but it sums up so much, makes it seem real.” Ruby wasn’t sure if Cash was speaking to her or himself.

  Picking her way through more ruins, only a few shingle walls still standing, built with stones that no doubt had lain only a few yards away, Ruby pointed to the remains of a ceramic toilet. Cream in colour, broken at the base, its jagged shards could quite easily cause an injury if you happened to stumble and fall upon it.

  “That makes it seem real too,” she said.

  Cash smiled wryly. “Yeah, toilets tend to have that effect.” Looking around, he continued, “Can you sense anything, anyone?”

  Ruby stared over at the station house, the only building whose structure could still be clearly identified, and tuned in for a few moments. She shook her head.

  “No, I can’t. It looks like everyone’s moved on at last.”

  “Hmmm...” Cash frowned. “Forums then, they’re not all they’re cracked up to be?”

  Ruby thought for a few moments. “Sometimes they are, depends what they’re for. In psychic matters though, they tend to whip up hysteria. That’s why I’ve avoided them in the past.” Her head to one side, she added, “And why I’ll avoid them in the future too.”

  “Fair enough,” muttered Cash, slightly downcast.

  Walking further up the path, closer to the beach, Ruby stopped abruptly.

  “What is it?” whispered Cash, stopping too.

  “A plane, flames, two officers killed.” Ruby shook her head. “Ugh, dreadful way to go.”

  “Officers, during World War I you mean? I read there was a seaplane base here during that time.”

  “It must be then, World War I or II,” Ruby nodded.

  “Are they here, the pilots?”

  “No, but evidence of the agony they suffered is. It may have been brief but it was horrific.”

  “Residual feelings?”

  “Residual feelings,” confirmed Ruby.

  “Bummer,” said Cash gravely.

  “Come on, let’s go,” said Ruby, rubbing her arms with her hands. It was only a few minutes after four o’clock but the light was fading and with it any last vestige of warmth.

  “Back to work?” Cash asked, the eagerness in his eyes telling her it was the last thing he wanted. She hesitated, but only for a moment. That report she had needed to type up she’d done in double quick time and emailed off. All else could wait. Heck, she could work into the evening again tomorrow if she had to, as could he she supposed.

  “I don’t mind,” she said at last. “Back to mine perhaps. I’ll cook?”

  On the way home, they stopped at a supermarket to stock up on ingredients, organic mince, spaghetti and bags of salad. By the time they had drawn up outside De Montfort Road, night had fallen in its entirety. Ruby let them into her flat and walked straight to the kitchen to dump the bags. Grabbing a bottle of white wine from the fridge, a Chilean Sauvignon Blanc, she gave it to Cash to open. As she chopped and fried, they talked about more earthly subjects. Or rather Cash talked, Ruby his willing audience.

  Perched on a kitchen chair, full glass in one hand, he told her about his mother. She’d brought him and Presley up single-handedly, his father having left the family home when Cash was little more than a baby. Ruby sympathised, she didn’t know her father either. Jessica, her mother, had given birth to her at twenty-four. Having had a string of lovers beforehand, her mother wasn’t even sure who Ruby’s father was. Whether that was true or not, it had effectively prevented Ruby from ever making contact, not unless she wanted to end up like the daughter in Mamma Mia, grilling several men at once to find out who the culprit was – which, she laughingly assured Cash, she didn’t.

  “I went in search of my dad,” Cash confided, both of them sitting at the table now, wine glasses refilled, spaghetti bolognese heaped on plates and accompanied by a watercress and rocket salad. “But he had re-married. Had another family, two girls this time.”

  “That must have hurt,” Ruby replied, sensitive to his reaction.

  “Not as much as I thought it would.” Cash seemed genuinely unaffected. “We’re a tight-knit family, my mum, brother and me; I don’t feel as though I’ve missed out by not having a father figure around.” Perking up he continued, “I’ll introduce you to her soon, my mum, she’s a fantastic cook too, does a brilliant jerk chicken. If you like spicy, you’ll adore it.”

  After dinner they had watched The Elitists and both thought it was every bit as good as The Phoenix, but thankfully not as heart-wrenching or as long. As he got up to go, Cash suggested working on her website in her office again the following morning. “It would be lovely to have the company,” she grinned.

  Watching him retreat once more up the pathway a few minutes later, she couldn’t help but feel disappointed at how compliant he was. She had told him she just wanted to be friends for the moment, but she had also wanted him to take the lead and kiss her again. All in good time, she reasoned as she shut the world out, all in good time.

  ***

  On Thursday, they both actually managed to do what they had supposed to do the previous day – Cash working beside her on her website, Ruby typing up another report as well as answering the phone and booking in more surveys – space clearing mostly, dispelling negative energies that had built up within domestic walls, energies that were responsible for headaches, lethargy and a general lack of wellbeing. She also had another go at finding out some information about the mysterious Lytton online but failed dismally.

  Cash had to leave just after lunch, he had a client to meet, but before he went he showed her his proposed design for her home page. Ruby hadn’t really known what to expect but she was impressed with what he’d done. Clean and crisp, it was welcoming too, and very user-friendly. ‘Psychic Surveys’, as a bold heading, and their phone number were prominently placed at the top of the page. Underneath there was some Latin text showing where her introductory blurb about the company would go, and various buttons for people to press for further information on the different services they offere
d – home consultation, business consultation, space clearing, cleansings, distance healing and, last but not least, spirit release.

  “It’s... brilliant,” she managed, thrilled.

  “It’s getting there. I’ll get the other pages knocked up soon but you’ll need to provide me with the copy for them too.”

  “Yes, of course,” nodded Ruby.

  “And forums,” he continued. “We’ll forget about them, shall we?”

  “For now,” confirmed Ruby.

  Shutting down his laptop, Cash grinned at her.

  “What?” she couldn’t help but quiz.

  “PsychicSurveys.com,” he said, drawing out the words. “It’s got a ring to it hasn’t it?”

  Reciting it a couple of times in her head, she had to agree. It did.

  ***

  Jed has just settled himself cosily beside her when Theo burst in, her larger-than-life personality immediately filling the room. Behind her came Ness, so much smaller in comparison. Moments later they heard Corinna bounding up the stairs and the team was complete once more. They squeezed themselves around the meeting table, Ness, as usual, taking on tea duty.

  Raising an eyebrow at Jed, Theo asked Ruby whether she’d managed to find out anything about Lytton.

  Faltering slightly, Ruby admitted, “Well, I’ve searched and searched, but I still can’t find anything about Lytton online that might help us. There’s no mention of him at all in connection with Cynthia Hart. Like Cash said, it would help if we had a first name.”

  “Cash?” said Theo, raising an eyebrow yet again.

  Feeling her cheeks redden, Ruby was relieved when Theo quickly continued.

  “The reason you’ve had no success – well, one of the reasons – is the man you’re looking for isn’t called Lytton at all, he’s called Rawlings, Geoffrey Rawlings.”

  “Rawlings?” Ruby was confused.

  “Yes,” continued Theo, adjusting her aqua blue gossamer scarf, a fetching contrast to her hair. “Rawlings was a man of many personas it seems, Clive Lytton being just one of them. A good name for the times I have to admit, very debonair.”

  “And?” prompted Ruby, eager to know more.

  “Liked to sniff around up and coming starlets, did Rawlings. They were a speciality of his; the younger and more naive they were, the better. He led them to believe he could help them achieve their dreams.”