by Faith Martin
‘So you are interested in looking into things for me?’ Isabel said quickly.
‘If you’re sure you’d like us to, yes,’ Corwin said. ‘Perhaps now would be a good time to discuss just what that would entail, so you can think it over. It’s important that there be no misunderstandings between us.’
‘Oh yes. Perhaps we should go back downstairs,’ Isabel said, clearly happy to leave her mother’s bedroom. ‘It was in here that I smelt the lavender so strongly,’ she added, aware that her reluctance to remain must be obvious. ‘And I have to say, of all the things that have been happening around here, that . . . er . . . unsettles me the most. I haven’t been in here since . . . well, since that time.’
‘Of course,’ Corwin agreed at once.
Back in the elegant lounge and over cups of tea, which Isabel had made herself and brought in on an enormous tray, Corwin laid out the C-Fits’ wares, as it were.
‘If it’s all right with you, Lady Cad—’
‘Isabel, please,’ she insisted again. ‘We never use Jeremy’s title. It’s so ancient, and besides, in today’s world it’s insignificant as well.’
‘Thank you, Isabel.’ Corwin smiled at her gently. ‘What we do is start off with a series of what we call vigils. Most of these will take place overnight, but not all. Contrary to popular belief,’ he paused to grin widely, ‘ghosts don’t just come out to play at night. We have all experienced some interesting phenomena in daylight hours too.’
‘And what is it that you do, exactly, on these vigils?’ Isabel asked, beginning to look both genuinely curious and excited for the first time. It was also an excellent question, Effie thought silently, because she was dying to know herself.
‘Well, first we’ll set up temperature gauges all around the house, not just in the bathroom,’ Corwin said. ‘Although we’ll concentrate more in the bathroom, the others will help provide us with an overall measurement of room temperatures. We’ll also set up recording equipment which will capture any sounds, and any EVP.’
‘EVP?’ Isabel echoed, again saving Effie the necessity of having to do so herself and thus showing up her own ignorance about such things.
‘Oh, sorry. I get so used to using the jargon, I sometimes forget that I’m doing it,’ Corwin apologized at once. ‘EVP is short for electronic voice phenomenon. Sometimes the digital recorders pick up sounds that people — that is, the human ear — can’t always detect. And by using computer-assisted enhancement technology, we can sometimes produce startling results.’
‘Oh,’ Isabel said, a shade uncertainly. And Effie couldn’t help but wonder if, like Effie herself, their client had instantly realized that anything could be faked with a computer. You only had to watch any modern sci-fi blockbuster film to know that any phenomenon could be faked with the help of technology.
Not that Effie had any reason to suppose that either Corwin or any other member of the group would actually condone or commit fraud. But then again, Effie couldn’t help but think cynically — it was very hard to take anything on trust nowadays.
But there was little point mentioning any of that just now. For one thing, she was no tech expert, and wouldn’t be able to tell whether anything had been fraudulently produced anyway. And she was hardly likely to insult those around her by pointing out her scepticism.
Still, she made a mental note to voice her misgivings about it to Duncan. That was, after all, the kind of thing he wanted to know about.
Blissfully unaware of her cynicism, Corwin carried on enthusiastically. ‘Then we’ll set up the full-spectrum cameras, which will record in ultraviolet and infrared,’ he explained, his enthusiasm so genuine and infectious that Effie was glad that he hadn’t been able to read her mind. ‘We’ll also concentrate some of these in specific areas — her favourite chair, for instance, and any other spots around the house where you think your mother would have spent most of her time. Again, sometimes the cameras pick up things the human eye misses — especially in the dark.’
In the dark? Effie wondered. We aren’t going to have any lights on at all?
‘It all sounds very technical and scientific,’ Isabel acknowledged. ‘Perhaps even Monty will be forced to admit that things are being done properly. I think he was imagining us all sitting around a table with a single candle burning, our fingers touching whilst strange knocks and bumps came down the chimney!’
‘No, we very rarely hold séances,’ Corwin said flatly, and Effie distinctly felt her heart flutter at the word ‘rarely.’
But before she had time to explore that avenue, Corwin was again speaking. ‘We also set up various other pieces of equipment, designed to pick up any other kind of energy that might be present.’
‘And what do you want me to do while you’re doing all this, exactly?’ Isabel asked, looking nervous once more.
‘Nothing at all,’ Corwin assured her instantly. ‘Just go about your usual routine. I take it you’re sleeping in one of the other bedrooms?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then just go to bed as normal. Of course, there will be no cameras or equipment in your room,’ Corwin said. ‘That would hardly be appropriate. We want to be as unobtrusive as possible.’
‘Thank you,’ Isabel said with clear relief. ‘But what will you do? Patrol the house?’
‘Oh no, in fact we’ll do the exact opposite,’ Corwin said quickly. ‘We tend to all stay put in our designated places and keep very quiet. Either Malc, Lonny or myself will monitor the equipment and camera feeds. We set it up so that it all feeds back to a set of monitors in, say, this room, which we’ll use as our main base of operations. The rest of us will split up and stay in various other rooms in the house and simply sit still and quiet to watch and listen.’
We will? Effie thought with a bit of a gulp. Alone?
When she’d agreed to go through with this, she had assumed for some reason that they’d all stick together. Or at least that she’d be partnered with someone else.
But as Corwin caught her eye, she felt her spine stiffen. She was damned if she was going to look like a chicken, so she simply smiled briefly and did her best to look unconcerned.
‘Well, that all sounds very fine and reasonable,’ Isabel said with a smile. ‘When did you want to start?’
‘Well, if you’re sure you want to go ahead . . .’
‘Oh, I do. It’ll be a relief just to know that something’s being done,’ Isabel admitted. And no doubt the older woman would be relieved to no longer be staying in the house alone.
‘How about tomorrow night then?’ Corwin asked.
And again Effie blinked. So soon?
Then she told herself firmly to get a grip. If she was going to do this thing — and it looked very much as if she was — then she couldn’t go around being such a scaredy-cat. Clearly, she was going to have to develop a calm, cool-headed detachment about the whole thing. Not to mention grow a bit more of a backbone!
But as they left Isabel with their reassurances that they’d be back promptly at seven o’clock tomorrow night, Effie had the distinct feeling that it might well be a case of easier said than done.
* * *
She knew that her old friend was eager to get her first impressions and opinions, and before today she hadn’t even considered that she might find it difficult. But now Effie wasn’t so sure. Was it really going to be so easy to adequately express her thoughts? Did she even know what they were, come to that?
Duncan was expecting an intelligent and clear report, but just how was she supposed to deliver that? How, for instance, could she adequately describe to a psychology professor her thoughts and feelings about Gisela, for instance? Did she like her? Yes, undoubtedly. She liked all the C-Fit members. And though she still found Mickey annoying, and could have done without his habit of constantly going out of his way to be provocative, then at least she was fair-minded enough to admit that he had an eager and genuinely curious mind.
But did she actually believe that Gisela was a ‘sensitive?’ D
id she think that, back at the house, the redhead had actually picked up on the character and spirit of Claudia Watkins? Or had she just made some clever and intuitive guesses, perhaps without even being consciously aware that she was doing it? Focusing on that chair by the window, for instance, seeming to ‘know’ that it had been Claudia’s favourite spot, could have been merely a lucky guess, or even a reasonable assumption on her part. The chair had clearly been in that position for some time, and old folks often liked to look out on the world through a window from the comfort and warmth of their home. It wasn’t much of a leap for the subconscious mind to make the connection, leaving a person feeling as if they’d simply ‘felt’ it.
She certainly didn’t believe for one moment that Gisela was an out-and-out fraud or charlatan, or that she was being deliberately deceitful or even disingenuous. It was perfectly feasible that Gisela herself truly believed in her ‘abilities.’ But Effie had her doubts. How could she not have? How could any reasonable person not have?
But how could she try to make Duncan adequately understand her ambivalence?
‘Penny for them,’ Corwin said, his voice bringing her rather abruptly out of her somewhat gloomy thoughts.
‘Oh, sorry. I was just thinking . . . about Isabel,’ Effie fudged, unwilling to discuss with this man, of all men, her growing sense of inadequacy. ‘She seemed very nice, didn’t she?’ she heard herself say. And instantly felt dismayed. What an inconsequential, utterly unhelpful thing to say.
‘Yes, she did. I liked her,’ Corwin said warmly. If he had noticed the inanity of her comment, at least he was too polite to draw notice to it.
He changed gear competently and accelerated a little, but Effie felt perfectly safe in the car. Like her late husband, he was clearly a very good and safe driver.
It had taken her three goes to pass her driving test, and although she’d been driving for many years now, she still felt a vague sense of relief whenever she reached her destination or arrived home.
Now Effie stirred on her seat. ‘About this vigil tomorrow,’ she said firmly, determined to address her concerns. ‘I’m slightly worried that I’ll do something . . . I don’t know . . . inappropriate. Something that might ruin your recordings, say. What if I sneeze or something?’
Corwin laughed. ‘We might all sneeze, Effie,’ he teased her gently. ‘Try not to tie yourself up in knots about it. You don’t have to sit like a statue, you know. At some point you’ll need to use the loo, just like everyone else will. We just try to keep movement to a minimum and the noise down as much as we can. Don’t worry — you’ll soon get used to the routine.’
Effie sighed a little. Right. Sure she would!
‘Look, we’re all going to go back home and get an early night, OK? If possible, sleep in really late tomorrow morning — as late as you can,’ Corwin advised. ‘Pulling an all-nighter takes it out of you, and believe me, you need to be as rested as possible.’
Effie blinked. Of course — she hadn’t even considered that aspect of things. Tomorrow night she had to stay wide awake and alert for hours at a time. Oh good grief — supposing she fell asleep in the early hours and started snoring! It would probably set off all sorts of Geiger counters or something. Did she snore? Michael had never said that she did, and she was sure that he would have mentioned it if she had.
‘Relax — you look petrified.’ Corwin’s voice, warm and amused, once again cut through her thoughts, and she forced herself to smile back at him.
‘Sorry. It’s just . . . this is all so very . . .’ She waved a hand helplessly in the air.
‘Crazy? Bonkers? Nuts? A waste of time? Ridiculous?’
‘No! None of those things,’ she reassured him with a laugh, beginning to smile in earnest now.
Then, as she was looking at him, she saw his face suddenly sober.
‘Are you scared? Is that it?’ he asked, taking his eyes off the road for a quick look at her. And in that briefest of moments, Effie could sense his concern. ‘It’s all right to admit it if you are, you know,’ he carried on gently. ‘We all have our moments. Especially in the beginning, when we’re still new to it all. Malc confessed to me, months after his first vigil, that he’d been afraid his chattering teeth would be picked up on one of the monitors.’
‘Malc did?’ Effie repeated, amazed. The builder had struck her as one of those men who were possessed of a laidback strength of will that would take some shaking.
‘Yes — even Malc,’ Corwin reassured her. ‘We’ve all felt . . . I was going to say spooked,’ he laughed, ‘but under the circumstances, perhaps I should find a better word. Let’s just say that each and every one of us can feel frightened sometimes. We don’t expect you to be a superhero, you know.’
‘Well, that’s a relief.’ Effie smiled wryly. Because a superhero she certainly was not.
‘You’ll be fine,’ Corwin predicted, slowing down as they approached the turnoff to the narrow lane that bordered their unconventional HQ. A moment later they turned into the car park. ‘Oh good, Zoe’s already here,’ he said, and Effie looked and saw a tall woman with long blonde hair, leaning against a sporty little car painted an eye-catching shade of tomato red. ‘We’re heading out to the theatre later,’ he added, as he turned off the engine and quickly checked his watch.
‘So, tomorrow night the routine’s simple,’ he said, turning his head to look at her once more. ‘We all meet up here an hour before a vigil,’ he began as Malc’s van parked alongside.
The van had a bench behind the front seats, so most of the others tended to use it as their main means of transport. No doubt come tomorrow it would be full of their equipment too.
‘I hand out the assignments,’ Corwin carried on, putting up a hand and smiling at the blonde woman who had now started walking towards them, ‘and when we’re all clear on what we’ll be doing, we’ll head on over to Adderbury. If at any time you’re not sure of anything, simply ask one of us. Oh, and be sure to bring your mobile too,’ he added, opening the door and climbing out, continuing to talk as Effie also got out of the car.
‘Then you can programme all our numbers into it. Before the vigil begins, we set our phones to vibrate, so you can send a text message if you don’t want to physically come and find one of us.’
Effie nodded and sighed, not sure if she knew how to change the settings on her phone. As for the rest of his instructions, she wasn’t sure what he meant by ‘assignments.’ It rather implied that she would have to do more than sit and watch and listen. But before she had a chance to ask, the blonde woman stepped up to Corwin, took his face firmly in her hands, and passionately kissed him.
Effie abruptly looked away.
She was still decorously inspecting her shoes when she heard Corwin’s voice again a few moments later.
‘Effie, this is my girlfriend, Zoe. Zoe Younger. Zoe, this is the latest member of our group, Mrs Effie James. You remember, I told you about her.’
‘Oh yes. The professor’s spy?’ Zoe laughed. ‘Hello. Welcome to the madhouse.’ She thrust out a hand, which had been manicured to perfection with the nails painted a demure shade of peach. A large, complex geometric ring in various shades of gold matched a bangle on her right wrist.
Effie felt herself stiffen at the reference to Duncan, and forced a smile to her face as she shook hands. ‘Hello — the spy, yes, that’s me. Just call me James Bond.’
Now where on earth had that riposte come from?
Effie blinked in surprise as behind her she heard Mickey suddenly roar with laughter. ‘Hey, that’s good, that is. Effie James — James Bond, get it? Hey, Eff, I think you’ve just earned yourself a nickname. From now on I’ll just call you double-oh-seven.’
Effie bit her tongue, hoping that she wasn’t blushing. She’d already made a fool of herself in front of the younger, attractive woman. She didn’t need her folly to be reinforced. Sometimes she wondered if Mickey was ten years old, instead of his (alleged) decade older.
‘No you won’t,’ Jean
told him smartly, coming to her rescue.
Then she added amiably, ‘Hello, Zoe. I didn’t know you were free tonight.’ To Effie, Jean turned and said, ‘You might recognize Zoe from the television?’
Effie felt herself stiffen even further. Good grief, was the woman famous? She knew that a lot of popular culture had probably passed her by, since she spent more time gardening than keeping up with things in the ‘celebrity’ world. Was Zoe Younger some famous fashion model or something? A pop singer even? She could certainly be either. In her early to mid twenties, along with the very noticeable long blonde hair she possessed a pair of big blue eyes that were set in a pretty elfin face, and a lean frame that nevertheless had curves in all the right places.
She realized that everyone was waiting for her to respond, especially Zoe, whose sharp eyes were definitely narrowing now in a show of distinct displeasure at her display of ignorance, and Effie felt a momentary sense of panic assail her.
‘I’m so sorry, but I’m afraid I don’t watch much television,’ she heard herself blurt out apologetically.
Behind her, she was sure she could hear Gisela muffle a sudden snort of laughter. But she might have been mistaken, for Zoe was now laughing and making a show of putting her at her ease.
‘Oh, there’s no reason why you should recognize me, Mrs James. I’m hardly a celebrity. Jean here tends to flatter me.’
Clearly she was waiting for Corwin to step in and fill the breach. And, not missing his cue, he smoothly did so.
‘Zoe forecasts the weather on our local station.’ He named a channel that Effie had never even heard of, let alone watched. But his voice was rich with pride as he explained, and he was clearly supportive of her career. ‘And she’s going to be doing the shows for one of the large satellite stations soon,’ he added, naming a station that she definitely had heard of, which commanded viewers in their millions.
