by K E O'Connor
“Just chills,” I said. “Although it feels as if the warmth has been leached out of my bones.”
“Do you sense any trouble from the ghost?”
“No. Whoever it is, they don’t feel strong. It might be a residual energy of someone who died here.” The ghosts I met had varying degrees of abilities and energy. If a ghost had been living on their own with no humans around them and no electrical objects to feed from, they could literally be wisps of smoke in the air. I could pass them by and barely detect them, other than perhaps the occasional shiver or feeling I was being watched. Others were more powerful, particularly those who lived among humans. The ghosts fed from their energy and grew in strength, gaining the ability to move objects, change the temperature of a room, and even make noises.
The only thing I’d never been able to do was get a ghost to talk to me. It could be frustrating; we had to communicate through sounds, noise, and sometimes comical mimes and dances. The ghosts seemed to hear me just fine, so I never had to do a silly dance or mime to communicate with them.
Flipper whined once more and let out a small bark as he leaned his weight against my leg.
“It’s okay, boy. I don’t think this one means us any harm.” The ghosts I met usually wanted something, which was the reason they were still around. Sometimes it was simply to have a message passed to a loved one or complete some unfinished business. I’d even met a few ghosts who’d asked me to let people know where their last will and testament was. They'd hidden it so well, their family members hadn't been able to find it.
“Let’s keep exploring the house,” said Helen. “You never know, the ghost might decide to show itself to us at some point.”
“We could always just avoid this room. Maybe the ghost is trapped in here and can’t get out. I’d rather not have another job where I’m communicating with thin air.” And that was the problem. Flipper and I were the only ones who could detect ghosts. And in previous jobs, I’d been discovered talking to the wall by employers. I was almost dismissed from one role because they thought I’d lost my mind. It’s never easy telling people you can communicate with the dead.
“The poor ghost,” said Helen. “Maybe it’s after some company. Imagine what it must be like, nobody else can see you, you feel like you’re all alone, and then suddenly you appear. To the ghosts, you must seem like a guardian angel.”
“I just want to be a personal assistant, not a guardian angel,” I said. “Won’t that do for this job?”
Helen laughed and took hold of my arm. “No more speaking to the dead, for now. But I know you won't be able to resist for long. Let’s see what else this house has to offer.”
Two hours later, we had explored every room on the ground floor and found no other people in residence, living or dead. Lord Galbraith had vanished, and his wife was nowhere to be seen. Gladys the cleaner had obviously gone home for the day, and Karl was hiding somewhere. There was also no sign of Lord Galbraith’s cousin or his doctor friend.
“Such an enormous house, it almost seems a waste not to have it full of people,” said Helen as we stopped by the back door and peered at the well-manicured lawn, tidy kitchen garden and opulent blooming rose bushes.
“It’s a status thing,” I said. “To have all this space and not use it. It’s the same with lawns. All that grass serves no purpose.”
“What do you mean?” asked Helen.
“That’s why lawns were invented,” I said. “I read about it somewhere. It’s supposed to show how wealthy you are that you can buy a piece of land and then do nothing with it other than grow grass. It shows you have money to spare.”
“You’d be right about that,” said a deep male voice from somewhere in the garden.
“Is it a talking bush?” whispered Helen with a giggle.
“I may be an excellent gardener, but even I can’t make the trees talk to me.” From behind a high box hedge emerged a tall, dark-haired man, wearing a pair of mud-stained combat trousers and a green linen shirt. “And you’re right about the lawns. The aristocracy wanted to display their wealth in the most obvious of ways. And what better than to buy a piece of land and not build on it? Simply plant pretty flowers, instead. One good thing about the popularity of lawns; it means I’ll never be out of a job.”
“You must be Zach.” I extended my hand to him. “I’m Lorna Shadow, Lord Galbraith’s new personal assistant.”
He shook my hand, his grip warm and firm, the palm a little calloused. “Did the mud give away my occupation?” Zach glanced down at his crumpled trousers.
I smiled at him and nodded. “And this is Helen, the house’s new laundress and seamstress.”
Helen also shook Zach’s hand and she gave a little curtesy.
“And who is this fine fellow?” Zach looked down at Flipper.
“This is my companion dog, Flipper,” I said. “He’s friendly if you want to pet him.”
Zach crouched down and did just that, ruffling behind Flipper’s ears with both hands. “What sort of breed is he?”
“A mix of all sorts,” I said.
Zach stood up. “He looks like a wolf with those blue eyes.”
“He’s my best friend.” I grinned down at Flipper.
Helen coughed pointedly into her hand.
“I meant to say, my best nonhuman friend,” I said.
“Welcome to Galbraith Manor.” Zach smiled, the expression lighting up his face. “It’s a big old jumble of a place, but I like it here. Sylvester gives me the run of the garden, with instructions as to what he wants done, and leaves me to get on with things. It’s a dream job, really.”
“It looks like you do a good job with the gardens,” said Helen. “We were just admiring your roses.”
“One of Lady G’s obsessions,” said Zach. “They are hard work and a pain if I’m honest. You get two flowerings a year, and the rest of the time, you’re dealing with thorns that shred your skin and dead wood that needs pruning. And as for digging out a dying rose bush, the roots go down for metres, sometimes. Never a fun job. But our Lady loves her roses, so I have to oblige with the rose garden.” He pointed to one of the house windows. “She can look out at the roses from her bedroom, so I like to keep things nice.”
I turned and peered at the window, but could see no sign of Lady Galbraith. “Is she in residence?”
“Yes, she rarely leaves the house these days,” said Zach. “Lord Galbraith goes overseas sometimes, but they are an isolated bunch here. Have you met the cousin yet?”
“No, we’ve just been looking around, but didn’t see a soul,” I said.
“Douglas is a little on the eccentric side,” said Zach. “I blame too many first cousins marrying each other. I’m sure he’s got a screw loose. Always going on about some new business he wants to run or a new invention to invest in.”
“You’re the first member of staff we’ve met,” said Helen. “Well, if you discount the horrible, mean-faced chauffeur.”
Zach frowned. “Karl Jenkins. That’s an accurate description of him. And a word to the wise. Keep out of his way. He’s been here a long time and considers the place his domain. If he thinks you are getting in his way, he won’t hesitate in trying to get you fired. It’s why we don’t have a cook in the house. He took a liking to the last one, and she rebuffed him. So he told tales to Lord Galbraith about the cleanliness of the kitchen, and the poor woman was sacked. Ever since then, we’ve been without a cook.”
“And what about you?” I asked. “Can you be trusted not to tell Lord Galbraith tales about us?”
“That’s for you to find out.” Zach grinned, a dimple popping out on one cheek. “But I’m not here to cause any trouble. This is a good place to work, and I love the gardens. So long as you don’t go trampling over any of my prized bedding plants, we’ll get along fine.”
“I can avoid treading on your plants,” I said to him. Zach seemed like a nice guy, and I got a fluttery feeling in the pit of my stomach every time I met his blue-eyed gaze.
“Is it okay if we have a look around the gardens?” I asked.
“Be my guest,” said Zach. “Nowhere is out of bounds. There’s a lake about a mile from here and some fruit trees, so feel free to take any fruit you fancy. I have a bonfire and recycling area over by the two large sheds, so that can get a bit smoky at times. But you’re welcome to have a look around wherever you want.”
“Thanks, we’ll do that. Nice to meet you, Zach.” Helen turned towards me, a knowing smile on her face.
“And you,” said Zach. “Perhaps I’ll catch up with you later over dinner in the kitchen.”
“Not tonight,” I said. “We are dining with the family.”
“Sorry to hear that.” Zach grimaced. “They are not always the jolliest of affairs. If you fancy some company later and some food not served in tiny portions, you can try the kitchen.” He gave us a wave before turning and walking away.
“He seems nice,” said Helen, a singsong lilt to her voice.
“Yes, he does.” I narrowed my eyes at Helen. “And you can wipe that silly smile off your face.”
“My smile is never silly.” Helen’s grin only broadened. “But I was thinking how much he looks like your type of guy. You know, all that messy dark hair and blue eyes sparkling at you. I bet he’s got good muscles as well. He must have, with all the gardening he does.”
“Perhaps you can check that out for yourself,” I said. “I’m sure he won’t think it odd some woman asking him to take his clothes off so she can leer at his six-pack.”
“Do you think he has a six-pack?” Helen’s eyes widened, and she gave an exaggerated lick of her lips.
“I have no idea,” I laughed.
“You know he’s not my type,” said Helen. “But no denying he seems like a decent guy, and I think he’d be perfect for you.”
Helen had a thing for posh guys, the posher the better. And she liked their hair blond and their accents cut glass. I never saw the appeal. But it was a good thing; it meant we never clashed over potential boyfriends. I preferred my men a little rougher around the edges. And Helen was right; Zach was just my kind of guy looks-wise.
“The last thing I need is to get involved with the gardener.” I caught hold of Helen’s arm and propelled her away from the house into the main grounds. “It has too much of a Lady Chatterley’s Lover vibe to it.”
“But you’re no lady,” said Helen. “Therefore there is nothing indecent about it.”
I whacked her arm, but then pulled up short and stopped walking.
“I was only joking.” Helen looked back at me, where I stood rooted to the spot. “You can be the perfect lady when you want to be.”
“That’s not it.” I swallowed the nervous feeling creeping up my throat. Standing beneath a broad oak tree in the garden was a ghost.
Chapter 4
Flipper dashed towards the tree and circled the ghost several times before running back to me and then repeating the exercise, his agitation growing with each circuit.
“I know, I see her too,” I said to him, grabbing hold of his collar and stroking down his sides several times to keep him calm. The action also helped calm my own nerves.
The ghost was fully formed, the image of a middle-aged woman, dressed in a tweed suit, white blouse, and flat black shoes. Her hair was pulled back from her round face in a severe bun.
“What are you seeing?” asked Helen. “It’s the library ghost, isn’t it?”
“It could be, and it looks like she isn’t contained in the library after all. It’s a woman,” I said. “Sensible looking, maybe in her early fifties.”
The ghost’s image flickered, and a scowl crossed her face.
“Maybe younger than that,” I said rapidly. I didn’t want to annoy the ghost on our first proper meeting; they could be malicious if you didn’t treat them well.
“I wonder why she's here,” said Helen. “Unfinished business with the family, perhaps?”
I studied the ghost for a few seconds. “There is some family resemblance to Lord Galbraith. They have the same cheekbones and similar colored eyes. Maybe they were related.”
I took several hasty steps backwards as the ghost sped towards me. I didn't want her touching me. When a ghost passes through me, it leaves a slimy cold sensation in my bones for the rest of the day.
Flipper barked several times and pawed the ground, then ran around the ghost as if trying to keep her away from me.
“I don’t think she means me any harm, Flipper,” I said. “But she does seem agitated about something.”
“She reacted when you mentioned Lord Galbraith,” said Helen.
The ghost peered at Helen and then nodded.
“Is he your brother?” I asked the ghost.
She nodded again, wrapped her fingers around her throat and began strangling herself.
“What's she doing?” asked Helen.
“It looks like she’s choking the life out of herself,” I said. “At least she’s acting like she is.”
“Sounds like she doesn’t think much of her brother,” said Helen. “Lord Galbraith seems like a sweet man to me. I can't imagine him being mean to his sister.”
The ghost stopped choking herself and stalked over to Helen before attempting to bash her repeatedly about the head with her hands.
“I think you’re onto something.” The ghost couldn’t do Helen harm. I could sense her power and guessed that, at the most, she might be able to make the room chilly and knock over a glass. There were ghosts strong enough to hurt people, but fortunately, they were unusual.
“She’s doing something to me, isn't she?” Helen’s nose wrinkled. “I’m getting chills all over my body. Whatever she's doing, tell her to stop. I’m feeling weird.”
The ghost paused in her assault on Helen, glared at her and then began choking herself again.
Helen shook out her arms. “What's she playing at?”
“I’m not sure,” I said. “But it looks like she’s showing me someone strangled her, or that she didn’t die of natural causes.”
“You think our ghost was murdered?” Helen's gaze shot around the garden.
“It’s possible,” I said. “It isn't the first time we’ve happened upon a person who met an unfortunate end.”
“Then we should help her,” said Helen. “Maybe she needs her killer brought to justice. That’s why she won’t leave.”
“We can’t help her,” I said. “Remember that job two years ago, when a ghost convinced us he had been killed. We lost a well-paid job because he kept disturbing things. And the whole time, he was lying to us.”
“He was being spiteful,” said Helen. “He died of a heart attack.”
“He damaged some of the owner’s clothing, put an indelible stain on a piece of silk, and set fire to all the letters I’d composed. We had to take the blame for it all.”
“I haven’t forgotten,” said Helen with a sigh. “And that villa in Italy was so beautiful. I can’t believe we got chucked out. None of it was our fault.”
“Well, in a way, it was,” I said. “If we hadn’t agreed to help that lying ghost in the first place, we wouldn’t have gotten in such a mess, and we wouldn’t have lost a lovely job.”
“And the Italian men are so fine to look at,” said Helen, a wistful look on her face.
The ghost began whacking Helen around the head again with her wispy arms, and Helen shrieked and jumped out of the way.
“Stop doing that,” I ordered the ghost, marching towards them. “I am sorry for whatever may have happened to you, but we can’t help.”
The ghost turned her narrowed gaze towards me, her hands poised as if to continue hitting Helen.
“You just heard the story about our Italian ghost encounter. We will get in trouble if we interfere here,” I said. “You need to move o
n. You’re no longer alive; you cannot stay here.” I wasn’t sure where ghosts went when they passed over. There may be a heaven they drifted off to, or they may simply join the never ending loop of electrical impulses that spun around us all. I always figured that was why I could see ghosts. When I’d almost died, my brain seemed to have rewired itself differently, and I could now see things other people couldn’t. It was like I had access to something hidden.
The ghost lunged at me. Flipper jumped at her and snapped at thin air in an attempt to stop her. His reaction made her pause, and she looked down at Flipper in surprise.
“Yes, he sees you too. And he doesn’t want you trying to hurt anybody.” I encouraged Flipper back to my side.
The ghost stared at Flipper, her gaze softening.
“Looks like our ghost has a soft spot for animals,” I said.
“Then she can't be all bad,” said Helen. “Despite what she did to me. Ask her some questions, see if we can help her out.”
“If she gets us fired I'm leaving you behind on the next job.”
“No you won't,” said Helen. “It wouldn't be as much fun without me.”
I sighed and then smiled. Helen knew me too well. I focused my attention on the ghost. “Do you have a connection to this house?”
The ghost nodded vigorously and spun her hands in a circle, encouraging me to continue.
“Fine, so you have a connection to this house,” I said. “But if you have unfinished business here, we're not getting involved with that.”
“What if we’re discreet?” asked Helen, always so eager to help any ghosts I had the misfortune to stumble across. “We could ask a few questions about other residents who used to live here. Perhaps she died in the house and wants to say a few final goodbyes before she crosses over.”
The ghost frowned at Helen and folded her arms over her matronly bosom.
“She doesn’t seem impressed with that idea.” I focused my attention back on the ghost. “So you aren’t here to say goodbye. Was your attempt at strangling yourself a clue you didn’t die peacefully?”
The ghost nodded and pointed towards the house.
