The Haunting of Mount Cod

by Nicky Stratton

  ‘Gladioli in a bouquet?’ Strudel huffed.

  ‘Absurd I know. But our couple were up against a whole raft of EU health and safety directives. In the end it was all too expensive so they decided on a family skiing trip to Aspen, Colorado.’

  ‘Too silly at their age,’ Strudel said. ‘Frostbite is a big problem if you are with low blood pressure and it must be treacherous keeping to the piste with macular degeneration.’

  ‘Well, I’ve had a different idea about checking out the State of the Union set up,’ Laura said. ‘How about Ancient Eros offering them a business proposition? You suggest your oldies don’t want a dinner dance when they get married. Breakfast is the way forward; so much easier on the digestion. The potential couple do the registry office in the afternoon, have dinner in a pub, then go on to stay the night at Mount Cod. The next morning, their friends join them for a jolly good fry up by way of a celebration.’

  ‘Sounds like an absolute winner,’ Jervis said.

  Strudel agreed. ‘I am seeing the invitations now. Eros in his spectacles in front of a plate of eggs sunny side up.’

  ‘I thought I’d arrange for you to meet Tam and Pom,’ Laura continued. ‘You could sell it as “Full English Union”. Put like that they couldn’t fail to see the significance. In fact they’ll probably offer to buy you out.’

  ‘This we will not be allowing,’ Strudel protested.

  ‘Steady my love, this is all a pretence isn’t it Laura?’

  ‘Oh yes, all you are going to do is meet the girls and give me your opinion on them. I’ll square the rest of it with Repton. We’ll tell them he’s agreed for you to test drive the sleeping arrangements. That way you can tell me what you think about him and the housekeeper too. Who knows what we might dig up if we are all there together.’

  ‘Staying the night at Mount Cod, but what about the ghost?’ Strudel gave a little shudder. ‘I am not so much liking this plan Laura.’

  ‘The serving wench is pure fiction, a figment of Repton’s febrile imagination, or it’s Cheryl in disguise.’

  ‘If you are sure, I suppose it will do no harm,’ Jervis conceded. ‘But don’t arrange it for midweek. Strudel and I are on a new regime; Detox Wednesday’s and I’d prefer to have a hip flask with me all the same.’

  As Laura walked back to the main house in search of Gladys she found herself vaguely disturbed by the concept of an alcohol free day of the week and wondered sadly if she should take a leaf out of their book. Luckily she didn’t have much time to dwell on it as she saw her friend sitting in the lounge.

  Gladys was poring over a large glossy book.

  ‘Come and look. It’s trees of the world,’ she said. ‘I’m thinking of a horse chestnut.’

  ‘What for?’ Laura asked.

  ‘My memorial. I’ll have to get permission of course. D’you think your grand-daughter would ask her husband if it would be possible to plant a tree?’

  ‘Victoria ask Vince?’

  ‘Yes, I thought somewhere in the parkland behind the bungalows would be good. It’s a substantial beast, the horse chestnut.’

  ‘It sounds a lovely idea Gladys, but what’s brought this on? You’re not thinking of leaving us are you?’

  ‘It comes to us all in the end. I had a conversation with Mr. Parrott that convinced me that there is no such thing as an afterlife. “Believe me Mrs Freemantle”, he said. “When the lights go out, there’s no big man with a beard up there flicking the switch of a supernatural generator ready to hot wire you to the pearly gates.” It’s not an image one forgets easily.’

  ‘Harsh, I’d say.’

  ‘I’d rather the truth.’

  ‘You mean you’ve lost your faith? Why don’t you have a word with Reverend Mulcaster?’

  ‘I haven’t time for all of that. I’ve got too much to do while I’m still here. You know what John Betjeman said was the thing he most regretted?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘That he hadn’t had enough sex in his life. Well I for one am not going to fall into that trap. I’ve got these marvellous pills…’

  ‘Don’t tell me… Pine bark?’

  ‘How did you know?’

  ‘How did you?’

  ‘I was researching the French pine tree on the computer in Woldham library and then it linked up to a site selling the pills. As it happened the French pine would have been most unsuitable. The horse chestnut is truly a more memorable specimen.’

  ‘So you’ve had positive results from the pills?’ Laura asked.

  ‘I’m on the verge of a breakthrough with a retired bank manager. He’s hot to trot. I believe I’ll have him in the sack any day now.’

  Laura was wondering how to counter this information when they heard a loud clanging noise. ‘Whatever was that?’

  ‘No idea,’ Gladys said picking up her book. She began turning the pages. ‘Fastigiate oak… Now there’s a possibility.’

  Laura walked out into the hall and watched as Reggie Hawkesmore slid down the stairs on his bottom.

  ‘Lift’s still out of order,’ he said. ‘Had to throw my Zimmer frame down.’

  ‘Excellent idea.’ Laura passed him and continued on up to her room. What was the manager up to? He should have had the lift fixed by now. She apologised to Parker for the lateness of the hour as she made his dinner then watched as he chased the last few bobbles round the dish and licked his lips before going to his water bowl. Then she went to call Sir Repton.

  She told him about the wedding breakfast plan and the added benefit of enlisting Strudel and Jervis to give their opinion on the wedding planners – she’d have to park the idea of Cheryl and Canon Frank’s involvement for the meantime.

  ‘Tam and Pom, surely not?’ There was a momentary silence. ‘But then again, why not? You are so astute Laura. Why, they could just as easily have been the impetus for Rosalind’s actions.’

  There was nothing else to do but ignore this. ‘What did Matilda think of them?’ Laura asked.

  ‘On the whole…’ There was another pause.

  ‘Exactly,’ Laura said briskly. ‘She would doubtless have agreed that the balance of power was getting out of hand. We must address the problem. I’ve a feeling there’s more to them than meets the eye.’

  ‘Are your friends detectives?’

  ‘Strudel and Jervis? Of course not. Don’t you remember you met them at Wellworth Lawns. They run Ancient Eros, the dating agency and I have a ruse that they have agreed to be party to.’ Laura explained further about the wedding breakfast package. ‘All you have to do is pretend you’ve seen a business opportunity for Ancient Eros to team up with State of the Union. Ancient Eros is high profile in the dating game. I suppose it’s no surprise that all these lonely old people want to find a mate.’ She was thinking not so much of Repton, as of her own heady romance with the Brigadier. ‘Many of their clients end up getting married.’ She remembered wistfully the moment he had got down on one knee and held open the box containing the heartfelt ring for her.

  ‘Perhaps I should join. Are you a member?’ Sir Repton said, bringing her back to reality.

  ‘Of course not.’ He was definitely looking for a replacement. ‘Now let’s get back to the bed and breakfast plan.’

  ‘Eight wild boars roasted whole…’

  Laura couldn’t be certain it was a quote but she could ascertain no significance to the mention of such a surfeit of pork. ‘I don’t think we need go that far, and I’d like Strudel and Jervis to stay the night,’ she said.

  ‘At Mount Cod?’

  ‘I think Bridlington, the room Venetia was in, could be made perfectly acceptable and the lift is handy. Then it’s straight through Grimsby – which could act as a dressing room – to the bathroom – a veritable master suite in fact. The bedsprings on Venetia’s bed seemed in good order and I don’t suppose many of Ancient Eros’ clients go in for much frisky behaviour. They’re none of them particularly agile. Who is at our age, apart from the Dalai Lama?’ Laura laughed. ‘If Che
ryl could be persuaded to do the sheets,’ she continued. ‘I think it might be a nice little bonus for the Mount Cod kitty. You could even side line those two girls, so the money for the accommodation went directly to Part of the Union. They could just provide the morning entertainment.’

  ‘You mean it might really happen?’

  ‘Who knows?’

  ‘This sounds promising. I’ve just had the bill for the repair to the ceiling… But what if Rosalind didn’t like it?’

  The irritant had returned. ‘Repton, let’s try and put this ghost business to rest, literally. I mean the séance really proved nothing, as I explained after Canon Frank’s accident. You must try to move on. That’s why I’m suggesting Ancient Eros. I will arrange a meeting for Strudel and Jervis with Tam and Pom. We must flush them out. I bet you Matilda knew the ballroom chairs were missing.’

  Chapter fifteen

  As Jervis drove them to Mount Cod one afternoon some days later – Strudel in the back and Laura with Parker on her lap in the front – they discussed Gladys Freemantle’s sexual awakening.

  ‘The bank manager won’t go near her again, I’ll tell you that much for free,’ Jervis said, swinging the old Mercedes Estate out onto the main road. Behind them a car hooted its horn and overtook. ‘That was a damn fool thing to do,’ Jervis huffed.

  ‘Please my love, you must be stopping at a T-junction. But of Gladys, I am thinking of that man we were having very bad feedback of the wandering hands; much worse than Councillor Gilman. This might put her off.’

  Laura turned to Strudel. ‘Wandering hands?’

  ‘Harvey Elgood, she means.’ Jervis tapped the automatic gear stick and inadvertently sent it into manual. ‘Sells the poppies outside Tesco for Remembrance Day.’ As their speed dropped, he realised and pushed it back.

  ‘You can’t possibly send Gladys out with him,’ Laura said. ‘He used to come round to the house rattling his tin. The old letch terrified Nanny.’ Laura was reminded of the dear little Tiggy-winklesque figure who had run the house with a rod of iron for so many years.

  ‘But it’s the only way of stopping Gladys making a complete fool of herself.’ Jervis mounted the verge as a lorry passed them in the opposite direction. ‘Now remind me again, what’s the procedure if Sir Repton’s serving wench comes corridor creeping in the middle of the night?’

  ‘You are keeping your hands to yourself,’ Strudel screeched.

  ‘Christ Strudel, only joking.’ Jervis righted the car as it veered over the double white lines and headed up the hill. ‘You nearly gave me a heart attack.’

  ‘Slow down Jervis. We’ve plenty of time before the meeting.’ Laura clutched Parker to her chest. ‘Remember, you have to be my eyes and ears with the wedding planners. I need your judgement.’

  ‘Don’t you worry Laura. I intend to take a direct approach. Ask them if they think a post-breakfast assisted suicide package might be a goer for clients who are terminally ill.’

  ‘Jervis, you are being ridiculous.’

  ‘I only said it because of what Laura told us about them euthanising their grandmother, but perhaps it is a step too far.’

  Laura watched the cyclist ahead of them crouch lower over the handlebars as the incline steepened. ‘But we should try and eliminate them from the picture as soon as possible if there’s no truth in that part of Cheryl Varley’s allegation.’ She glanced in the wing mirror. The Lycra-clad figure appeared to be unharmed as he clambered out of the ditch.

  ‘Leave it to me,’ Jervis said.

  While Strudel and Jervis had their meeting, Laura and Sir Repton waited in the sitting room. ‘I’ve had a new idea about the accommodation,’ Sir Repton said. ‘Bridligton’s no good; it doesn’t have a bell. It was fine for Matilda; you could hear her shouting all over the house if she wanted something’.

  Before Laura had a chance to ask where he meant, there was a knock on the door and a man in dirty white dungarees came in. ‘Can you come and inspect the new cistern, your lordship,’ he said.

  As Repton followed the plumber out, Laura picked up an old copy of The Thespian Times. Matilda shouting? She was flicking through the pages musing on this snippet of information when Jervis poked his head round the door.

  ‘There you are,’ he said.

  Strudel pushed past him into the room waving a brochure. ‘I am writing down some prices as they are talking.’ She handed Laura a glossy brochure with a photograph of a young couple in all their wedding finery. They were embracing on the edge of the parapet roof of Mount Cod.

  ‘How did they get up there?’ Laura asked. ‘It looks dangerous to me.’

  ‘Photoshopped I’d say. Those girls are pretty hot on safety. Said they’d been thinking about embracing an older clientele since they’d had some enquiries recently.’ Jervis nodded confidentially. ‘We didn’t get to the insurance I’m afraid. The one called Tam led the meeting. She wants to talk to someone called Robbie about the possibility of active marketing. Said this chap has a company that specialises in that sort of thing.’

  ‘Repton hasn’t mentioned anyone called Robbie.’

  ‘Well I’ve got the name of the company.’ Jervis took a scrap of paper out of his pocket. ‘It’s called “Promoco”. I’ll do a bit of digging when we get back home.’

  ‘I am asking them about Sir Repton’s dearly departed wife,’ Strudel said. ‘They are most fond of her it seems, but…’

  ‘But what?’ Laura asked.

  ‘Yes, that was a tad disturbing.’ Jervis turned back to the open doorway. ‘But shhh, here comes Sir Repton.’

  ‘All well with the new loo?’ Laura asked, as he tottered in.

  ‘It’s a splendid gadget. You merely wave your hand over the button and, whoosh. Pity about the other fitments in that room… But how was your tour, young man?’ he said, turning to Jervis.

  ‘Top rate facility you’ve got here. Those girls know what they’re doing.’ Jervis patted Sir Repton on the back.

  ‘Jervis,’ Strudel gasped, as Sir Repton lurched forward and grabbed the back of a chair with one hand.

  ‘You young’uns don’t know your own strength,’ he puffed. ‘I’ll just catch my breath and then we’ll go and inspect Flamborough Head. I think it will be most suitable for Ancient Eros guests and I’m excited to see your reaction.’

  They set off into the hall and up the stairs.

  ‘The guests can still use the lift in here if necessary.’ Sir Repton gestured into the open door of Bridlington, as Parker and Sybil Thorndike bounded along playfully growling at each other. They walked on past Grimsby down the corridor to a set of double doors at the end – the ones that Laura had assumed led to Sir Repton’s private quarters.

  He pushed the doors open to reveal a chintz suite. The shades in the floral motif were of muted browns and orange.

  ‘Most sumptuous,’ Strudel said.

  ‘Top hole,’ Jervis agreed.

  Laura was not so sure. The room had a similarity to the master bedroom on the royal yacht Britannia; slightly more comfortable, but only just. As she swung her gaze over the furnishings she pinpointed the problem. The valance on the bed was marginally too short and there had been a certain skimping on the box pleats. The headboard lacked the depth of padding that would have brought it up to scratch.

  ‘This is looking most inviting,’ Strudel said, sitting down on the low-slung bed.

  Laura continued assessing the room. Three fabric drops and interlining would have made the curtains so much better. She walked over to the window. Still, the carpet was Wilton and the view over the formal garden would divert the eye from the faded blue striped wallpaper. But weren’t there two statues either side of the yew hedge before?

  ‘It’s two singles put together,’ Sir Repton pointed out. ‘A double can be inconvenient after a certain age, but I can always get one in, if you prefer?’

  ‘Twin beds is the way forward for our clients. Would you not agree, my love?’ Jervis said.

  ‘They can still have
hanky-panky if they so desire.’ Strudel patted the bedding and winked at Jervis.

  ‘Let me show you the sanitary arrangements.’

  They followed Sir Repton into the bathroom. The solid chrome fittings of the 1950s eau de nil suite glistened in the vast space. A huge mirror in an ebony frame hung above the basin, beside which a heated rail was stocked with wellplumped towels. Laura was impressed until she noticed a rickety looking wheelchair that had been placed beside the bidet. It had obviously taken a few knocks and some of the spokes of one wheel were bent out of shape.

  ‘That will have to go,’ she said, pointing at it.

  ‘I am finding the bidet a most indispensable object for the washing of the small things.’

  ‘Strudel my love, I don’t think Sir Repton needs to know about your laundry habits.’

  ‘I didn’t mean the bidet. I meant the wheelchair,’ Laura said.

  ‘I thought it might give the impression of thoughtfulness,’ Sir Repton said.

  ‘Perhaps you could put some cushions on it,’ Jervis suggested.

  ‘I wouldn’t want to be reminded of my age or impending infirmities on my wedding night,’ Laura said. ‘Fold it up, or better, put it out of sight in a cupboard.’

  As Sir Repton wheeled it out of the room, Strudel whispered to Laura, ‘you are being something of unkindness, he is only trying to help. And anyway it is not really mattering is it?’

  ‘No, I’m with Laura,’ Jervis said. ‘We need to get the thing right.’

  ‘What?’ Strudel asked. ‘Are we really going to be bringing clients here?’

  ‘Why not?’ Laura said.

  ‘I agree. Bit of promotion on the Ancient Eros website and I’d say they’ll be flocking in. Now I’m getting pretty hungry, I don’t know about anyone else. Laura, d’you think we should find out about the catering?’

  Strudel patted her washboard stomach. ‘Oh yes, I too am starving.’ She turned to Laura. ‘Are you not also?’

  ‘But you didn’t finish what you were saying downstairs; what did Tam and Pom say about Matilda?’ Laura whispered.