44 Gilmore Street

by Shani Struthers

  Theo came over and took hold of her hands.

  “I know. I know about the questions, they make your head hurt.”

  “It’s not just that,” Ruby tried to explain, feeling tears beginning to prick, “it was their expressions, their disbelief. And Jeff too, his attitude towards us.”

  “Ruby, this is an enlightened age, but we can’t expect everyone to believe.”

  No, they certainly didn’t all believe. Not until they encountered a problem of the paranormal kind that is, and then belief was dredged up from somewhere. She knew that. She could handle that. Setting up Psychic Surveys on the high street was her way of saying to the world that she was here to help, that she was proud of her profession, that it was as valid as any other. So why had she felt so ashamed when they’d looked at her, at the rest of them, as though there were nothing more than a bunch of cranks?

  “Because you’re tired, darling,” Ruby could hear the exasperation in Theo’s voice. “Because you need a holiday. How many times do I have to say it?”

  “You need this as well.” It was Cash, doing as instructed and handing her a generous tumbler of whisky, the pale amber of it glinting in the lamplight.

  She took it from him and did as Theo advised and downed it in one.

  “I’ll get you another.” Cash looked exasperated too.

  The commotion had taken some time to peter out, the children growing hysterical at the prospect of re-entering the house. At least they – the inhabitants – had no doubts as to what was within. Not after what they’d just experienced. Even Jeff was ashen-faced, he kept casting furtive glances back towards dark windows, as though trying to come to terms with all that had taken place, to process it. Samantha was the brave one.

  “Come on,’ she put her arm round her husband, trying to coax him, “this is our house, you said it yourself. We won’t be pushed out.”

  But it was clear they wouldn’t be returning, not that night. Despite her neighbours’ apparent concern, only Delia offered to give them shelter.

  “I’ve got plenty of room, it’ll be cosy.” And safe. It would be that too.

  It was she and Cash who’d gone back in with Samantha to collect overnight stuff. Just before re-entering number 44, a man asked if Samantha would like him to be the one to call the police, again looking accusingly at Ruby and Cash as he said it. Tall and reedy, he didn’t bother to hide the sneer on his pockmarked face.

  “This is not a police matter,” insisted Samantha. “These people will help us.” Never had Ruby appreciated a vote of confidence so much.

  Far from finished, the man reached out and laid a hand on Samantha’s arm. “You’ve had a shock, love. We’ll talk tomorrow. When you’re making more sense.”

  Beside her, Cash bristled – he was getting ready to give ‘Mr Tall and Reedy’ a rollicking or to deck him one – neither of which could be allowed to happen.

  “Samantha, shall we…” Ruby said, trying to hurry her down the hallway.

  Samantha nodded. “Yes, yes, of course, come on.”

  The tension in the house – although by no means gone – had dissipated. That was quite a display Ben had put on. It would have exhausted him. Even so, they didn’t linger, Samantha didn’t want to and nor for that matter did she. She just wanted to get what was needed for the Gordon family, deliver them safely across the road and escape the ‘rubberneckers’ who were still crowded round outside. She was amazed the police hadn’t been called. That someone other than ‘Mr Tall and Reedy’ hadn’t taken it upon themselves to dial 999. And then she heard it – the police siren. Speeding closer.

  Thank God for Ness and her police connections. Whilst the Gordon family, Cash and the Psychic Surveys team waited over at Delia’s, the police searched number 44 Gilmore Street, locked it up on the family’s behalf and then came over to interview everyone. Again and again, Samantha insisted it was the paranormal responsible, not anyone living, and, because Ness was known to the police, they were inclined to believe her – after a fashion. Still, Ruby detected a glint of disbelief in their eyes: a slight frown, a smile clamped down on. The police had left and Jeff had asked Psychic Surveys to leave too. Samantha didn’t argue with him this time but she saw them out and at the door she whispered to Ruby she’d be in touch. As they climbed back into their cars, curtains twitched and not so surreptitiously either, with Ruby almost praying Samantha wouldn’t ring, and that they’d never have to set foot in Gilmore Street again. Quickly she banished that thought – of course they’d have to, if Samantha wished it. That was their job. And Ben – the black crouching figure – his promise to skin her alive, the violence of the man, his eyes – if she never saw him again it would be too soon. But it would be soon, it would have to be – the Gordons couldn’t stay at Delia’s forever. They’d driven back to Ruby’s flat in De Montfort Road, coming together again under her roof and staying there for the next few hours, feeling the need for each other’s company, those that were different to the norm, the outcasts. Briefly, she closed her eyes.

  “What a mess,” she lamented again, despite the reassurances of her team that it was otherwise. “What a bloody mess.”

  The police had got involved, plus the neighbours. Next it would be the press. Any publicity is good publicity was the saying, but not in this case. They hadn’t been successful – far from it. That was the only thing the press would pick up on. All they’d be interested in: the negativity of it.

  Asking for a second glass of whisky, she downed that in one too.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “I can’t believe you’re doing this.”

  “It’s my job, Cash!”

  “It’s Sunday, Ruby! If you won’t take a holiday at least take a day off.”

  “But I can’t, they need me—”

  “They had no business calling you on a Sunday,” Cash interrupted. “Some people have no respect.”

  “Spirits don’t realise that it’s Sunday for God’s sake!”

  “I know, but it’s not the bloody spirit that called you!”

  “Oh, Cash!” Despite herself, she had to smile. That’s what he did for her: he lightened her, when she got too dark or too intense. Sometimes she wondered why he put up with her – the perfect boyfriend. She marvelled that such a thing even existed. But unless he was a master of illusion, it did.

  When her mobile had rung this morning, dragging her from sleep, she was tempted to reach over, turn it off and snuggle back into Cash. The warmth of his body was so inviting but whilst he slumbered on – it would take an earthquake to wake him sometimes, him and Jed – she had reached over and checked the caller ID. She recognised the name as a client, one she’d spoken to earlier in the week regarding a ‘haunting’ in a house they’d just started to rent; a house with a history. A woman had lived there before. She’d owned it; a quiet woman, who’d been well regarded by her neighbours. A woman, who’d shrugged on her coat one day, locked up the house behind her and made her way over to the village pond, whereupon she filled her coat pockets with rocks, as famous writer and perhaps the inspiration behind her actions, Virginia Woolf, had done, and drowned herself. Having been reported missing, her body had been found a few days later. The new occupant of the house – Lesley – who lived there with her partner, Steve, was convinced that the woman had made her way back to the house, in ghostly form that is. Ruby had made an appointment to go and see them this coming week but obviously they couldn’t wait – perhaps activity had ramped up in their house too. If so, she had no choice but to answer. As she whispered ‘Hello’, she pushed back the covers and tiptoed from the room.

  On the other end of the phone, Lesley whispered back, something that initially amused Ruby: there was something so infectious about whispering. But quickly she realised the woman was only doing so because she didn’t want the ‘ghostly’ occupant of her house to hear her. Such a tactic wouldn’t work; spirits tended to communicate in thought rather than words, but Ruby decided against telling her that, she didn’t want to add to
her discomfort.

  “I’m so sorry to disturb you,” Lesley continued, “but the spirit… I don’t know… she just seems so sad.”

  “If she committed suicide, sorrow would be her default emotion,” Ruby explained.

  “But it’s been awful this weekend. I feel her everywhere I go in the house. And I can’t stop crying. It’s like I’m becoming her. I know it sounds silly—”

  “No, it doesn’t. Her mood is affecting you. That’s what’s happening.” Or at least what Ruby guessed was happening.

  “I don’t think I can stand another day of it,” Lesley had started to cry now. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I’m normally a happy person. That’s my default emotion. But she’s draining that happiness from me. Even my partner’s noticed. He can’t believe the change in me since we came here.”

  The despair in her voice moved Ruby, and worried her too. Despite knowing Cash would be cross, she offered to visit Lesley’s house straightaway. As for the others in her team who also thought she needed a break, they didn’t have to know, not until their catch-up meeting later in the week. She’d go there alone. She wanted to go alone. Boost her self-confidence, which had been dented by yesterday’s events. Waking Cash to tell him, he insisted on joining her too. He hated her going to client’s houses alone, told her he didn’t think it was safe. It was part and parcel of her job though, a fact she always retaliated with. On this occasion, however, she conceded, despite how cross he was that she was going at all.

  Lesley and Steve’s house was in fact a bungalow in the village of Lindfield, a forty-minute drive or so from Lewes. It was a beautiful village, with a rich architectural heritage, many houses dated back to the fifteenth and sixteenth century, notably the Thatched House, which lay claim to having been a hunting lodge of King Henry VII. The Seears residence was not in the heart of the village, but on the outskirts and only dated back to the fifties.

  The history of the unfortunate woman – Nancy Armitage – had been relayed to Ruby during her first phone call with Lesley. She’d been planning to carry out a bit more research about Nancy before she visited but caught on the hop like this there’d be no time. What she knew would have to suffice.

  Lesley opened the door to Ruby and Cash, her tear-stained face breaking into a relieved smile at the sight of them. “Oh, I’m so glad to see you,” she exclaimed. “Thank you so much for coming today. I really do appreciate it.”

  If Cash could catch thoughts she’d shoot him one along the lines of ‘see, sometimes you have to go the extra mile, people appreciate it.’ It was good business practice and it might stand them in good stead if they were about to get a public lambasting, which she was convinced they were. Cash had argued otherwise, pointing out that she was worrying about something that hadn’t even happened yet. She didn’t court the press and amazingly none of her clients had spoken to reporters about them either but she supposed she’d been living on borrowed time. Press attention – it was coming. Reminding herself to focus on the problem at hand, Ruby introduced herself and Cash to Lesley. Steve came forward too, shook their hands. His smile also held a tinge of sadness.

  As Lesley rushed to make tea – something most clients did – Ruby tuned in. Nancy wasn’t difficult to detect, she was standing in the kitchen, just behind Lesley in fact, as she found a teapot, started to warm it, and then searched for teabags. An outline at first, Nancy became more substantial as Ruby concentrated, grateful to Cash for keeping the Seears preoccupied with chitchat so she had an opportunity to do so. Only once did Nancy glance towards Ruby, clearly becoming aware of her too. Her entire focus seemed to be on Lesley. It was as if she were shadowing her.

  Moving to the conservatory to drink their tea – a selection of candle holders and framed photos dotted artfully around – Lesley and Steve embarked again on telling her what it was like living in the bungalow. How ‘creepy’ it got.

  “It’s like she’s always with me, as though she follows me around,” Lesley explained, pushing strands of reddish hair away from her eyes. Motioning to Steve, she continued, “He feels her presence too, I think anyone would, it’s so strong but…” and here she paused. “It’s me she wants I think, but why?”

  Ruby didn’t know the reason ‘why’ – not yet – but she did know that Lesley’s instinct about Nancy’s ‘obsession’ was right. She was standing behind Lesley again, staring down at her – a look of pure longing on her face.

  What is it, Nancy? What do you want from her?

  Again, the woman’s head turned at the mention of her name, confirming to Ruby her identity at least, but it was only for the briefest of moments.

  Ruby would have preferred to be left alone with the spirit in order to connect further. Rather like Ellie’s ‘snapshots’, Ruby sometimes experienced what she described as ‘flashcards’: a series of images flashing into her mind concerning the spirit she was focusing on, depicting their life and the events in it. It wasn’t something that happened all the time, in fact, it was quite rare and it wasn’t happening with Nancy. The dead knew how to cloak themselves as much as the living. Maybe she’d be able to get further if the two of them were alone, but she guessed if Lesley left the room, Nancy would too.

  She explained the situation to Steve and Lesley and they both decided to stay whilst Ruby did her best to reason with Nancy. During this conversation, Steve reached out his hand to cover Lesley’s in a show of support that Ruby found touching.

  Although able to communicate with the spirits in thought, Ruby decided she’d look odd remaining silent and so decided to speak out loud.

  “Nancy, I can see you, you know that don’t you?”

  Nancy ignored her, so Ruby tried again, taking in her appearance as she did so, the plainness of her skirt and blouse, her flat shoes, her short, almost utilitarian haircut. Plain is how she’d felt in life and how she’d clothed herself in spirit. This was a woman who had forgotten how to have fun a long, long time ago; who’d found life anything but. There’d been no light to balance the dark, the intensity. No Cash or Steve on hand to help.

  “Nancy, what happened to make you so sad? You can tell us, we’re listening. Nobody here means you any harm. We only want to help. All of us.”

  The spirit clenched her hands, a sign of distress.

  “Nancy, please don’t get angry.” She really didn’t think she could stand another spirit throwing a full on tantrum so soon after Benjamin but quickly she realised her worry was unfounded. There was no anger in Nancy, just a feeling of being thoroughly overwhelmed.

  “What were you overwhelmed by, Nancy?”

  Life.

  At last she’d decided to communicate.

  Lesley leaned towards Ruby slightly. “Is anything happening? Are you getting anywhere?”

  Ruby nodded her head and smiled at Lesley, but quickly turned her attention back to Nancy, not wanting to interrupt the flow of communication.

  “You keep looking at Lesley—”

  “Oh my God, does she?”

  “Lesley,” Cash interjected, “it’s fine. Ruby’s got it under control.”

  His soothing voice reminded her of Theo’s. Quickly, Lesley settled and then she started crying again, big fat tears rolling down her face. “I’m so sorry,” she apologised for the umpteenth time, “please forgive me. This happens. The sadness, the grief… it comes in waves, huge waves that engulf you.”

  “Nancy’s crying too,” explained Ruby. “Looking at you both, I think you’re around the same age, in your mid-fifties, is that correct?”

  Lesley indicated it was. She actually looked much younger than her years, so did Steve, but Nancy knew better.

  “What is it about Lesley that fascinates you, Nancy? Again, it’s fine to tell us. We just want to know. We’re curious.”

  Why not me?

  Again, Nancy projected the thought but kept her gaze on Lesley steady.

  “I don’t understand, what do you mean ‘why not me?’”

  Lesley’s eyes grew wide. “Is that w
hat she said?”

  “There’s nothing to be worried about.” It was Ruby who assured Lesley this time. At least she presumed there wasn’t anything to be worried about. But she’d been wrong before. Keep your nerve, Ruby, you can do this.

  She could, of course she could. But she had to admit, it would be so much easier to be left alone with Nancy but Nancy didn’t want to play it that way. With the owners staring at her as intently as Nancy was staring at Lesley, she felt a bit like she had at Alicen and Andy’s, like a performing monkey, even though they were perfectly nice people. Her paranoia was getting the better of her again. At any rate, what she was going to say next – and Nancy’s reaction to it – would prove the turning point.

  “Nancy, you’ve passed. You left your house one morning and made your way to the pond that lies just off the Lindfield High Street. Once there, you placed heavy stones in your pocket, walked into the water and drowned. You ended your own life. And yet you haven’t moved on. Instead, you came home again, to dwell here in spirit. Nancy, do you understand what I’m saying?”

  Tears continued to roll down Nancy and Lesley’s face.

  “Nancy, why are you so fixated on Lesley? Your sadness is affecting her too. It’s frightening for her. Nancy, are you lonely?”

  Ruby could sense Nancy stiffen. A theory popped into her head concerning Nancy’s return. If she was right, Lesley and Steve being here was even more of a problem. What should she do? Voice her theory or keep quiet? She took a deep breath and continued. This was her job and results were achieved in a variety of ways. She mustn’t shy away from that.