44 Gilmore Street

by Shani Struthers

  “When is this appointment?”

  God, her voice sounded tight.

  “It’s this afternoon, at 3 o’ clock. If you can’t make it—”

  “I can make it.” Whatever else was in the diary could wait. “As I was trying to say earlier, I had a phone call from Samantha Gordon. Apparently we can talk to one of the neighbours who knew Ben. I’ve got an appointment for this morning. However, if you’re busy…”

  She was being petty now – offering tit for tat – even so, she couldn’t help but bask in having the upper hand on this at least.

  “I’m not busy,” Ness’s reply was immediate, not allowing her much time to bask at all. “What time is it?”

  “It’s in an hour.”

  “I’ll see you at Samantha’s.”

  On her way to Gilmore Street, driving this time, despite the parking issues, Ruby decided it was time she got a grip. She was working with Ness all day, the atmosphere that had erupted between them couldn’t continue, it would wear them both down very quickly, and to be honest, Ruby felt worn down enough already. As she drove along the A27 past Sussex University and the football stadium, she wondered why she’d allowed herself to become so agitated. Overcoming the ‘demon’ that had plagued her family for so long should have brought with it a sense of relief, but the reverse was true. She still felt drained, all of the time. And she was tetchier than before, much quicker to fly off the handle. She’d swear she was more light-hearted when the ‘demon’ had been in her life – the logic of which escaped her.

  Parking as close to Samantha’s as possible, which was not close, but several streets away, she fed the meter and hurried along. The fight was over – with the darkness and with Ness. She mustn’t let either continue. By the time she spotted Ness she’d managed to cast off any lingering ill feeling and had a smile firmly plastered on her face. Ness, who had clearly been expecting her to storm around the corner, looked almost comically surprised. The fact that she did genuinely amused Ruby, she bit on her lip to stop from laughing and then thought ‘what the hell’ – and laughed anyway.

  Relief quickly replaced surprise on Ness’s face. “You’re not angry with me?” she asked.

  “I… no. Of course not.”

  Ness wasn’t convinced. “Look, I’m sorry if you thought I was going over your head, I did try to call yesterday to discuss the appointment with Ailsa.”

  “I know you did, twice. Corinna and I were caught up on a case and by the time it ended I was so tired, I didn’t even bother to check my messages. Besides, there’s no going above me, we… work together.” Another thing she needed to keep in mind. “I’m the boss of no one.”

  “Kind of you to say so, Ruby, however, it is your business and I do realise that. I’m also sorry if you think I’m forcing the issue of Ellie—”

  “It’s an interesting case, let’s see where it leads, but…” and she wanted to be clear about this, “it really might not be something Psychic Surveys can take further. At the moment, I don’t see us diversifying too much.”

  “As you say, let’s see where it leads.”

  “Fine,” Ruby replied, bristling again at the slight dismissal in Ness’s voice. “First things first, let’s go and see Delia. Samantha said she’d show the way.”

  At the mention of her name, Samantha Gordon materialised. Opening the door of number 44, she walked to where they were standing.

  “You’re bang on time, good. Best not to keep Delia waiting.”

  Before they could say anything in response, Samantha crossed to the opposite side of the road, stopping at number 67, cream-coloured with no evidence of grime at all. It was as though the occupants could hear people approaching in this street as Delia too appeared at the door prior to knocking.

  “Come in,” she greeted enthusiastically, “come away in.”

  She had a Scottish accent, very subtle, subdued perhaps by years of living in the south. A small woman with a cloud of white hair, she ushered them down the hallway into her living room – not modernised, but more like Ruby imagined number 44 used to be, although much cleaner and very floral.

  “I’ll fetch some tea,” Delia said, winking at them.

  Hurrying from the room, she returned a few minutes later with a tray. As she poured the contents of the teapot into fine bone china cups – also floral – she wasted no time in getting to the heart of the matter.

  “Ben, he was a one, wasn’t he?”

  That’s what they were here to find out.

  Settling herself into an armchair, the arms either side well worn by elbows and hands, Delia continued talking. “Kept himself to himself he did, don’t know what he did for a job, I think it was something to do with the railways, but he was retired by the time I moved here, which was nearly eighteen years ago, would you believe? Used to see him pop out to the shops, come back clutching a wee bag with some bits and bobs in it. Always used to say hello to him. I’m from a wee village you see, a few miles outside of Inverness, I was brought up that way, to treat neighbours as friends.”

  “Did he used to say hello back?” Ness asked.

  “Aye,” replied Delia, “after a fashion. It wasn’t so much a hello as a grunt.” She laughed heartily, clearly enjoying her own joke.

  “What did he look like?” asked Ruby. She had done some digging concerning him but had found very little. There’d been a mention of his demise in the local newspaper, The South Coast Times, but no photograph. She’d also sourced his birth certificate from the national archives online but again the information given was scant. He’d been a Brighton man through and through, had lived and died here, been cremated but with no plaque or headstone up at the cemetery in memoriam – something else Ruby had checked along with a possible Facebook profile, after all you never knew your luck. She herself wasn’t on Facebook, but she realised what a lifeline it could be to some people, how it connected them with the world beyond their windows. Sadly, Ben seemed to have eschewed it too. They needed an insight into the personality of the man and that’s where Delia came in. Opening her notebook, she started to take notes as the old woman spoke.

  Benjamin Hamilton, in his latter years anyway, was not of spectacular height, rather he walked with a bit of a stoop, dressed in dark clothing – ‘drab’ Delia described it as – had a sparse head of grey hair and eyes that might have been brown but which had faded considerably. He was also a loner.

  “Never saw anyone visit him,” Delia imparted. “Such a shame isn’t it? So many forget the elderly.”

  From the myriad-framed photographs on Delia’s mantelpiece of young men and women – some clutching babies in their arms, others standing together in clusters – Ruby only hoped they didn’t forget their mother or grandmother or whoever Delia was to them. She got the feeling they were a tight bunch though. Certainly, the atmosphere in Delia’s home was a contented one.

  “Did you visit him?” Ruby asked.

  “Aye, I’d knock on his door, take a wee slice of fruit cake over and ask him if he was all right.” She shook her head at the memory. “He always took it, never refused, thanked me too, but never invited me in. Never even really looked at me, he always looked away. You know something? I think he may have had that condition that’s been in the news a lot lately.”

  “Autism?”

  “Yes, but there’s another word for it.”

  “Asperger’s?” Ness offered.

  “That’s it! That’s the one. He did eventually start to talk to me; he couldn’t not with me stood on his doorstep, but he always appeared embarrassed, used to do that shuffling thing with his feet, do you know what I mean? Nonetheless, we managed to exchange pleasantries.”

  “Pleasantries?” queried Ness, obviously remembering his less than pleasant attitude towards them. “He never seemed, erm… disgruntled?”

  “No, he kept himself to himself for certain but he was never rude, not Ben. I’d say he was more… shy.”

  “Shy?” burst out Samantha, who up until now had been listening
intently. “He’s not shy! It’s as if he’s looking at me, all the time.” She held up a finger and thumb, just a fraction apart. “Sometimes, it’s as if he’s standing this close to me, drinking in every bit of me, and I mean every bit.”

  Delia’s hand came up to her throat and she drew in a sharp intake of breath. “Dear, oh dear, you make him sound quite menacing.”

  “He is,” Samantha nodded, caught up in the drama of it all. “He doesn’t want us there, that’s for sure, he wants the house back for himself.”

  Something Ruby and Ness could confirm.

  “Sam’s explained the whole story to me,” Delia said, now looking at Ruby and Ness, “that she thinks it’s Ben haunting their house, that you’re psychics trying to move him on.” She leaned forward, “I could tell you a few haunted house stories if you like, from my time up in Scotland. Och, now there’s a mysterious place, Scotland. Have you ever been? They’re a fey bunch the Scots, although to be honest, my mother used to say I haven’t got a fey bone in my body.” Again, she laughed, clutching at her belly as she did so.

  Ruby smiled too. “It was kind of you to visit Ben regularly, Delia, it sounds to me as if he was lonely.”

  With some effort, Delia stopped laughing and wiped at her eyes instead. “Lonely? I used to think that too. One day I decided to come right out and ask him.”

  “If he’s lonely you mean?” Ruby admired her no nonsense approach.

  “That’s right. Well, there’s no point in beating about the bush is there? I’d invited him over to mine for a wee spot of lunch a couple of times but he never accepted the invite. Being as he wouldn’t let me in his house, I thought I’d entice him over but no such luck. One day he asked me why I kept coming over, not unkindly, he seemed more puzzled by it than anything.”

  “Perhaps he wasn’t used to people bothering with him,” suggested Ness.

  “It could be, it could well be. Anyhoo, I answered his question with one of my own. I said ‘you’re lonely aren’t you? I hate to see a person lonely.’ It was a candid moment between us, an honest moment, real you know? Getting down to brass tacks.”

  Ruby did know what she meant. “What was his response?”

  “He denied it,” she smiled, gave a shrug of her shoulders. “He actually looked at me, a rarity for him, and said, ‘I’m not lonely anymore’, which I thought was sweet. I used to think sometimes I was being a nuisance but perhaps not, perhaps he enjoyed my wee visits.”

  Possibly. Even so, by and large, Benjamin Hamilton seemed happy with his own company, but if he was in life, he wasn’t in spirit. He’d attacked Ruby physically, an occurrence that was very rare, the energy involved in doing so immense. What had angered him towards the end – had grounded him?

  “Delia,” Ruby asked, “when was the last time you saw Ben alive?”

  The old woman’s mood turned solemn. “I feel so guilty you know?”

  “What about?”

  “That he lay dead in that house for almost a week before I cottoned on, before any of us did.” Remembering that the new owner of the house was in residence, Delia lifted her head and issued a swift apology. “I’m sorry, wee dear, I shouldn’t have brought it up again. You don’t need reminding.”

  Samantha waved her hand in the air. “People die, it’s inevitable. We’re not worried that he died in the house, we’re worried he’s still there!”

  “Aye, aye, of course you are.” Turning to look at Ruby, Delia answered her question. “The last time I saw him was about two weeks before. I hadn’t been feeling too well, I’d had a cold and my arthritis was playing me up a treat, but I hobbled over and asked him if he was keeping well.”

  “How did he seem?” Ness too was eager to find out.

  “Tired, that’s how he seemed. To be honest, I had a feeling in my bones he wasn’t going to last much longer. Although as you do with these feelings, you tend to dismiss them don’t you. You think you’re being silly.”

  “He… didn’t seem angry?’ Ness probed.

  Delia was perplexed. “No, he wasn’t an angry man, I’ve told you.”

  “He never swore at you?”

  “No, he did not! And I wouldn’t have stood for it if he did!”

  Ness leaned back, a frown on her face. “He was a nice man, as you say.”

  “He was. He was nice enough.”

  Despite his spirit lingering, Delia clearly didn’t approve of talking ill of the dead. But the man behind the mask, who was he? Had he indeed suffered from a condition such as Asperger’s? If he had it would explain the averted gaze, the refused invitations to mingle. She wasn’t an expert on the condition, but she was well aware that symptoms included difficulty in interacting and communicating with others. Symptoms which could lead to immense inner frustration and a build-up of anger, anger he hid from Delia but which he certainly wasn’t bothering to hide from them. On the other hand, his disposition could have nothing to do with Asperger’s. It could just be the simple fact that behind closed doors people were different. Polite on the surface, amenable even, there was often no telling what simmered beneath. Ben was a loner, that much they knew. Also that he harboured hatred as well as anger. What they had to do was find out why and, the way it was looking, perhaps only Ben himself could tell them.

  Chapter Nine

  “Ellie, you know the procedure, you need to lie down, close your eyes and breathe with me, in for a count of five, out for a count of five…”

  After the meeting with Delia this morning, Ruby and Ness had made an appointment to go back to 44 Gilmore Street on Monday, the outstanding members of the team accompanying them this time and Jed too, hopefully. They had then returned to their respective cars and driven back to Lewes, to Ness’s house, where they were meeting Ellie and Ailsa. On the way over, Ruby wondered if it was worth mentioning to Ness that any future regressions with Ellie – if there were future regressions – would be better off taking place on more neutral ground; neutral to her and Ness at least. Perhaps Ailsa’s home or even Ellie’s? Yes, at Ellie’s. That would be more logical. At the moment and despite the truce with Ness, the bias seemed to weigh in her favour. In her own house, Ness called the shots.

  Once back in the house, she and Ness resumed their positions, sitting side by side, the curtains were partially closed and Ailsa’s voice was mellow and comforting. Again, Ruby had to fight to keep her eyes open, to focus.

  Ailsa wanted to take Ellie back to a ‘happier’ memory of the life that was ‘haunting’ her.

  “You think the man you’re having problems with is your husband, and certainly we know you’re married to someone because of the gold band on your finger. Well,” she reasoned, “if you married the man, hopefully you weren’t coerced to do so. At one point, perhaps you weren’t frightened of him. That’s something we can try and find out. Choose the same number on the keypad as last time – six – return to that life, but to something good in it. It could be the first time you met your husband-to-be, your wedding day, your honeymoon perhaps.”

  When Ailsa suggested this route, Ruby knew the expression on her face was one of bemusement. Ness, however, simply nodded in agreement. She clearly thought a return to ‘happier times’ was a good idea too.

  Ailsa’s monotone continued. Allowing herself the luxury of closing her eyes, Ruby stilled her mind. If she couldn’t beat them, she’d join them, and listen to what it was Ellie had to say.

  “We’re standing outside a building, not too far from the sea. I can hear seagulls circling overhead, the noise they’re making is deafening.”

  “Describe the building.”

  “Erm… it’s an imposing sort of building – red brick with stone windows. It looks… official, I suppose. Oh, there’s a couple coming out; they seem so happy. She’s younger than him, pretty. He looks like he could be somebody, he’s got that older, distinguished look about him. A crowd gathers round them. There’s confetti on the floor. People are laughing.”

  “Could it be a registry office?”

>   “A registry office, yes, of course it is. And it’s our turn next. We’re going to be married! I’m happy too, excited. I admit, when he first suggested a registry office I wasn’t that keen. I wanted a church wedding, you know, the white dress, my hair done, my make-up, the works. I wanted the fuss. But he refused outright; he’s not a church-going man. I tried to persuade him but it was no use. You can’t persuade a man like him, once he’s made his mind up, that’s it. I like that about him though – his strength of mind; his strength overall. He’s a big man, tall and broad. He makes me feel feminine. Do you know what my favourite book is?”

  “Your favourite book? I’d love to know, tell me.”

  “Wuthering Heights.”

  “By Emily Brontë?”

  “That’s it! As soon as I saw him he reminded me of that man in it, how I imagined him to be, dark and brooding. Do you know who I mean?”

  “I do, Heathcliff, the hero of the book. But what’s his name? Your husband?”

  “I… I can’t remember, not yet. Why can’t I remember? Everything’s dark.”

  “It’s not dark, it’s your wedding day, a bright day, a happy day. Tell us more about the man you’re marrying.”

  “Okay… I can see again, I can feel. There are so many different emotions in me and they’re all fighting for attention. I don’t know… it’s like I’m the chosen one, you know? He chose me. He wants to spend the rest of his life with me, this strong, dark and brooding man. It is a happy day, but you’re wrong about something, it’s not bright, the sun isn’t shining, it’s raining. I wish it wasn’t, I don’t like the rain, what bride does? He didn’t like it when I mentioned the weather. Told me to stop moaning, to be satisfied. And he’s right. What am I thinking of, complaining? I’m happy. I’m so, so happy.”