Nightmare Farm

by Jack Mann

  “You think that frees Nightmare Farm of their influence?”

  “I think it renders Nightmare no more a home to them than anywhere else, leaves nothing there that would attract them. I think, too, that they’ll wander, now, seeking some congenial place—

  congenial to them, I mean—instead of centring at Nightmare, as they have done in the past, since Robert brought them to this country and planned that rendezvous for them as he undoubtedly did.”

  “Then where are they now?” Perivale asked, after an interval for thought. “What would be a congenial place for them?”

  “Where?” Gees echoed, and shook his head. “Wandering somewhere, still strong—but where? I don’t see them attempting to harm this present Hunter. They’ve maintained an affinity with the family, by what I’ve learned—very intermittently. But it appears that all the harm they’ve done has been to other than Hunters. I’ve found their home and broken it up, but don’t see what else I can do.”

  “In fact, you’ve turned them loose on the parish—on the whole country, for that matter,” Perivale broke in.

  “I’m afraid that’s just it,” Gees admitted slowly. “Weakened them, though. They must have derived a certain amount of strength from the late Robert, or else they wouldn’t have clung to him like that. If I robbed you of your bed and turned you out to wander, you wouldn’t feel as strong and comfortable as you do now.”

  “No-o,” Perivale agreed. “But where are they, now?”

  Again Gees shook his head. “I think I’ll stay round here for a few days, just in case they manifest themselves, and I may be able to do a bit more toward making them thoroughly uncomfortable.

  Though—”

  He broke off, knowing that with the theory he held as to the present source from which these beings derived their power for evil, the rector was the last man he could tell everything about them. Perivale nodded, and thought it over silently.

  “Meanwhile,” Gees remarked, “I can’t make up my mind

  whether it’s incumbent on me to go and tell Hunter how we found his ancestor and what we did with him. As it is, he can learn nothing but what Norris or I might tell him—unless he opens up that tomb you told me the family used to use, and looks in Robert’s coffin. If it’s there, that is!”

  “Opening up the tomb would mean getting a faculty, perhaps applying to the Home Office, now that it’s permanently closed,”

  Perivale said, “and that’s a long and tedious business. I doubt whether Hunter or anyone could show sufficient cause for permission to open it.”

  He put down his empty cup, and sat thoughtful awhile.

  “If you do make up your mind to tell him,” he said at last, “I might be able to assist you to a certain extent. You say he dislikes you, and I know what that means, with Hunter. So I suggest, if you decide that you ought to tell him, that you let me go with you. As I said a little while ago, he is quite friendly to me, and so—well, my presence at any interview between you might be useful.”

  “That’s very good indeed of you, sir,” Gees said as he rose to his feet. “I’ll sleep on it, and in any case let you know what I decide.”

  “And”—Perivale moved to accompany him down the stairs—”tell Miss Norris I am very glad indeed to hear this news about her, and wish her every happiness—as I do you. I’ll believe you’ll both find it too!”

  Gees bade him good night and went off. He saw a light in Phil Bird’s window, and at a thought went and knocked at the door. Bird appeared, and smiled at sight of him.

  “Come in, sir, do!” he invited. “I heard you’d got back, and I’m real glad to see you. Come in—it’s early for me.”

  “I won’t come in, thank you,” Gees told him. “I’ve had rather an eventful day, and feel more like a good night’s rest than anything. I wanted to tell you, though, there are three of the ghosts who chase women—I found ’em at Nightmare to-day and turned ’em out, so they’re wandering loose somewhere. If you hear or see anything—”

  “I’ll let you know at once, sir,” Phil promised. “Three, eh?”

  “Three. The rector told me, too, that the village as a whole feels much more comfortable about things since Miss Norris was—cured, call it. You get about a good deal, I think, Bird?”

  “I—well, how d’you mean that, sir?”

  “I mean, spoil that feeling, if you see a chance. A hint here and a word there to make people uneasy over wandering about o’ nights.”

  “I get it, sir—leave it to me. And you’re sure you won’t come in for a bit and tell me more of what you found at Nightmare?”

  “Not to-night. I’ve talked for six already to-day, and done some fairly hard work as well. No—I’ll say good night, Bird, and trust you to spread the impression that indoors is the best place after dark!”

  He went back to the inn, which was in darkness, now, and found a candle left for him on the hall stand. Having lighted it, he bolted the front door and went up to bed, to sleep dreamlessly until Churchill appeared with early-morning tea and the information that it looked like bein’ gradely weather, to-day.

  CHAPTER XVIII

  RETRIBUTION

  THE GIRL STOOD BY THE CLAW-LEGGED TABLE, hesitant, silent, doubtful, until Gees held out his arms. Then she came to him, quickly.

  “Oh, I’m so glad! I thought—in the night—perhaps you’d

  thought it over and—and found it was all a mistake—”

  “May, I shall have to think seriously about spanking you if you dare to think things like that. Three hundred and sixty-four more days to go, too. Thank heaven next year isn’t leap year!”

  She laughed. “Let’s go out in the orchard—will you? I’ve got so much to say to you, Mr. Gees. I won’t need a hat—it’s a glorious day!”

  “Glorious is right, because you’re in it, May. But”—he followed her out from the room—“you’ll say I’m always complaining, about being Mr. Green yesterday and Mr. Gees to-day. It’s—you’ve got to consider yourself engaged to me, you know—and it’s too formal.”

  “But I love it—my name for you,” she protested. “And those names you told us were yours. Gregory—George—Gordon—you

  don’t look any of them. I don’t know—they won’t shorten down to fit you. Mr. Gees does fit you, because—perhaps because I knew you by it first.”

  “I suppose you’ll have to have your way, then. But subtract the mister and make it plain Gees. It’s more—more matey.”

  She shook her head. “Not plain—too dear to me for that,” she said. “No—let go! If you try to kiss me before we get all by ourselves, I shall squeal. Well... only that one, then. We don’t know who may be looking. Dear, I’m almost too happy, and yet I’ve got so much to say to you. Things that kept me awake last night—quite happily awake. I didn’t want to miss one minute of realising the wonderful thing that’s happened to me—your love. Ooh! Mr. Gees!”

  Instead of opening the orchard gate, he took her up in his arms and lifted her over it, putting her down on her feet and then vaulting over himself to alight beside her and shake his head gravely.

  “If you persist with that mister, I’m going to say—‘I take thee, Miss Norris,’ when the all-important question is asked. Now what about it? May, darling, your eyes are lovelier than ever to-day.”

  “Gees, I don’t think—I don’t believe anyone can see us, here.”

  Minutes later, they went on between the apple trees.

  “What were the things that kept you awake, May?”

  “It was—about us,” she answered. “About—don’t” think me conceited, dear, but I wondered—perhaps you might stay here in Denlandham because of me. I don’t wish that. Not that I don’t hate the thought of your going, but—but it wouldn’t be what I meant by the year, do you see? I want you to be sure away from me, not with me. To go away and stay away—we’ll write to each other, if you wish, but—do you see?”

  “To live my ordinary life and feel
you in it, till you become a part of it in reality—yes. Who taught you to be so wise, May?”

  “I don’t think any woman needs teaching when she finds real love,” she said. “Only, some of us snatch and spoil—I thought last night of what it will mean when you come back to me with absolute certainty, and we—Oh, my dear, I shall miss you, ache for kisses like these! ... But you do understand, Mr.—no, I didn’t mean it!

  You do understand, Gees, don’t you? You don’t think me silly over it?”

  “I think I like your ‘Mr. Gees,’ after all,” he said as he released his hold on her. “It’s got a sort of quaint flavour like patches and powdered hair and sun-dials and old gardens and—and loveliness like yours. When you’re Mrs. Gees, I’m going to get you all dressed up in eighteenth-century fripperies and take you along to any old fancy-dress show that’s worth your seeing—a patch here,

  May”—he kissed her cheek—“and another here—and the wonderful violet eyes to make every other man envy me. Introducing you—‘This is Mr. Mumble, May—he can have you for one dance, but don’t hang on to him too long and make me call him out for pistols for two.’ Oh, we’ll have fun!”

  “And what will your dress be?”

  “Police uniform, of course. These hands and feet—it’d be a sin to waste ’em. My father told me once I was a throw back to a mistake of some ancestor—that was when he was thoroughly wild with me, as he generally is, though I think he’s got a soft spot down under that he wouldn’t show for the world. And that reminds me—you’ve got to make one break in this year of probation, to meet him.”

  “Mr. Gees!”

  “Darling—yes, keep the mister. It’s uniquely yours, anyhow. But you will? I know it’s going to be a horrible ordeal for you, but my father and my future wife have got to meet. I’m going to ram you down his throat, if it’s the last act and I go out with that shilling he took back when he repented of disinheriting me the last time.”

  “But—just a tenant farmer’s daughter.”

  “No! Gregory George Gordon Green’s future wife, darling. And he’s going to be as proud of his daughter-in-law as I am of my wife, or else he and I make a division of brass-rags and don’t even kiss each other good-bye. I don’t care one hoot in a coal-yard about that—it’s you who count. You’ll come along and meet him, won’t you? I’ll fix it all and make it as easy for you as I can, May. You will come along?”

  “I—yes, if you really wish it.”

  “It’s essential—seeing you may stop him from altering his will again. The amount he’s piled up in lawyer’s fees over that in the last few years would frighten you, and I would like to save him more expense if it’s at all possible. You promise to come along any time between now and the middle of August and meet him, and I’ll promise to go off to normal misdoings when I’ve finished here. Darling, do we?”

  “Since you wish it, yes. But will you tell me one thing?”

  “Anything you ask—as long as it isn’t about what your father and I did at Nightmare. On that subject I’m dumb, even to you.”

  “Not that at all, dear. Just—why would anyone want to hoot in a coal-yard? Is it—is it a usual practice?”

  He saw the laughter in her eyes. Then she closed them.

  “Oh, Mr. Gees! I love you so much! All dreams come true!”

  They went out in the Rolls-Bentley, along lanes that meandered and hills that rose behind to give place to sheltered valleys, and they stopped for tea at an old-world inn standing alone, halfway between a musical rivulet and a stark, gorse-specked ridge, from which they saw later the Welsh hills blue and mystic under the gold of the west. They came back in the twilight to Cosham’s gateway, and Gees stopped the car.

  “A good day, May?”

  “The most wonderful day I’ve ever known. Darling, what is your magic? How do you make simple things so wonderful?”

  “Just love, sweet. It’s about all I can give you.”

  “Dear, you’ve made it a perfect world. I—I don’t know how to tell you, but just perfect. And now—I don’t want you to come in—will you understand that? Not to talk to you with other people, but to keep this all to myself, keep you all to myself. My Mr. Gees.”

  “I know, May. I’d hate to tell anyone what a day we’ve had, too. I think I’m a little drunk, on your sweetness. All I want now is to go and realise all I’ve won. Yet—before you go—May?”

  She nestled into his hold, held up her lips with closed eyes.

  “All ... all my dreams come true.... Darling, good night ... and may God watch over you ... I love you, dear.”

  At last he drove on. They might have days and days like this—but then he realised that he had to be honest, play fair with her. The shapes he had rendered homeless from Nightmare might never appear again in Denlandham—where they had wandered, he could not tell. They might be hovering at séances, waiting their chance to butt in and impersonate darling Harry or lost Jim, give messages from beyond and so feel themselves in touch with humanity. Any old where, in fact, and staying here would be merely a pretext to keep near May. It would not be fair to her—he wanted to be fair to her, to live the year as she wished and prove to her that his love was no fleeting fancy, but something that could endure through separation and show itself stronger at the finish. It was late—Churchill would be wondering where he had gone and brooding over “sooper,” perhaps hot—ham and eggs!—and getting scratted by his blank in the marriage lottery. But there was a thing to be done yet: Gees swung the car close into the side of the road by the rectory gate and got out. Before he left Denlandham, he had to tell Squire Hunter what had been done with Robert’s bones, and Perivale had said he would come to Denlandham House for the telling. Best to arrange it all now—they might go along some time to-morrow and get it over. If Hunter chose to make trouble over it—but Gees did not see how he could. Even if he went to the trouble of raking those bones out of Knightsmere, they would tell nothing, were not identifiable.

  The grown moon, a good two hours yet above its setting, shone on his face as he saw Celia Perivale in the doorway.

  “Do come in, Mr. Green. What a perfect night, isn’t it? Father’s up in his study. Shall I tell him you want him?”

  Gees gave her seconds of silent scrutiny. Norris had been right: given adequate dressing, this girl rivalled May in attractiveness, and now she was wearing a summer frock that made her altogether different from the being of dowdy tweed skirt and jumper. He entered. “Please,” he said. “Not to keep him long—just to make an appointment for to-morrow or any time that suits him. I’ve just left Miss Norris, or I might have come along here earlier.”

  “Did you give her my message?” she asked.

  “I—Miss Perivale, I’m horribly sorry. I will, though.”

  She laughed. “I didn’t really expect you would. It’s all too new and engrossing, isn’t it? Just a minute and I’ll tell father you—”

  “Miss Perivale—just one second, please. How do you know

  what a wonderful day I’ve had with her?”

  Again she laughed. “That would be telling, wouldn’t it?” she retorted, and turned away to leave him standing beside the littered hall table, no tidier now than when he had first seen it. She appeared again—or rather, her head appeared—over the rail of the staircase. “Mr. Green, will you come up, please?” He went up, to face Perivale in his little study. “It seems that you are never to meet my wife, Mr. Green,” Perivale greeted him. “I do so want you to meet her—not as you did before, but really to be able to talk together. And to-night she’s gone out for one of her long walks—insomnia is her great trouble. I hope she comes in before you go, and you really get to know each other.”