The Haunting of Mount Cod

by Nicky Stratton

  ‘You could go incognito,’ Sir Repton suggested.

  ‘What a good idea.’ Venetia said. ‘Like on Undercover Boss. You could pretend to be a wedding guest.’

  ‘Infiltrate a wedding?’ Laura thought for a moment. ‘I’d never get away with it but you on the other hand…’

  ‘Count me out,’ Venetia said. ‘I’m sorry Repton, but until you’ve dealt with that ghost I’m not going near Mount Cod again.’

  Sir Repton leant across and patted Venetia’s arm. ‘But we’ve solved the problem of the ghost; it’s Tam.’

  ‘I’m not convinced. What about sending in Gladys.’

  ‘Gladys. Venetia you are a genius. We’d have to give her strict instructions. No drinking on the job. Gladys can put away a fair amount.’

  ‘Talking of putting things away,’ Venetia said. ‘I’ve been meaning to tell you, the police are threatening to put Angel away if she refuses to do her community service for letting all those dogs out in the middle of Woldham.’

  ‘The hounds?’

  ‘She’d be in with a lot of smackheads I expect. Still it might teach her a lesson.’

  ‘Smackheads?’ Sir Repton’s brow furrowed.

  ‘Heroin addicts,’ Venetia said. ‘I know all about them from Neighbourhood Blues. Urinating and leaving their faeces in people’s porches.’

  ‘What on earth induced you to watch that?’ Laura asked.

  ‘I thought it was a programme about gundogs – I was going to ring and tell you. But the spaniels were hunting for the smack. They sniffed it out behind the fireplace.’

  ‘A fireplace…’ Laura thought for a moment. ‘Now that is a possible way to prove Tam’s involvement. I wonder if Gladys could pretend to be an antique dealer?’

  Chapter twenty-six

  Laura sat in Gladys’ room watching as she tossed items of clothing out of her wardrobe into a suitcase on the floor.

  ‘Gladys will you stop and listen. You’re invited to Mount Cod for a reason. Will you take that boob tube off.’

  ‘Where have I put that sequin sheath dress?’ Gladys pushed the coat-hangers to one side. ‘Here we are.’ She pulled the pink top off over her head revealing, yet again, her ample and, not unnaturally aged chest. She grabbed the purple sparkly dress and stepped into it. ‘How’s this?’ she said, admiring herself in the mirror. ‘I think it looks just the part.’

  Laura closed her eyes. She was beginning to rue the decision to involve her friend, but Repton had been all for it.

  ‘Yes,’ Gladys continued. ‘Perfect for a disco.’

  ‘I’m sure you’re right, but you mustn’t let the wedding party cloud your judgement. You are only pretending to be a guest. Now stop and tell me, what is the main objective of you being there?’

  ‘I’m…’ Gladys skipped over to her dressing table and picked up a plastic gardenia. ‘What about this?’

  ‘No. Your main objective is?’

  Gladys sighed. ‘To try and interest Tam into selling me the fire surround in the ballroom.’

  ‘Good. And who are you?’

  ‘I’m an architectural salvage expert from Brighton and a distant cousin of the bride.’

  ‘Well done.’

  ‘But there’s no reason why Repton and I can’t have a little fun at the same time.’ Gladys picked up a lipstick from a bowl on her bedside table.

  ‘I’ve told you, Repton won’t be at the party,’ Laura said.

  ‘Of course he’ll be at the party. It’s in his house after all.’ Gladys began applying crimson to her lips.

  ‘We’ll have to go through it again once we get to Mount Cod. Now come along, put the sequin one in the suitcase if you must, but personally I think you’d be better off with the dark blue dress. It’s so much more…demure.’

  Finally they managed to get the suitcase shut and Gladys dragged it down the passage. ‘This lift business is a damn nuisance,’ she said. Laura made a mental note to find out why it still hadn’t been fixed, as Gladys bumped the case down the stairs into the hall where Sir Repton was waiting.

  ‘I’ll bring the car round,’ Laura said. ‘We’ll never get Gladys’ case across the gravel.’

  ‘Fancy your poor cook finding out her great aunt was so ill,’ Gladys said.

  ‘Unfortunate indeed.’ Sir Repton poured the tea he had brought in on a tray to the sitting room.

  ‘And having to leave before she’d done the shopping.’ Laura picked up a piece of fruitcake. ‘This is stale.’

  ‘I’m sure I could dust down my baking skills. Do you like a Victoria sponge Repton?’ Gladys leaned over and touched his hand. ‘But what will you do for supper?’

  From the direction of the ballroom they could hear voices and banging. Cheryl had informed them on her way out, that the bride and groom were mad about the Tour de France and wanted yellow painted bicycles to be hung from the walls.

  ‘I know,’ Gladys continued.’ I’ll smuggle out some food for you two while I’m at the party.’

  ‘No, you mustn’t do that,’ Laura said. ‘Repton and I will rustle something up from the store cupboard. More pilchards, I suppose.’

  ‘Perhaps we should adjourn to the public house again?’

  ‘What? And leave Gladys here? I don’t think so.’

  Gladys was admiring her nail varnish. ‘It’s called Midnight in Marrakesh,’ she said.

  ‘Most exotic, my dear.’ Sir Repton inched a little closer to her on the sofa.

  From her chair beside them, Laura frowned; this lovebird nonsense was proving tiresome.

  ‘Oh Repton, It’s wonderful to be here at Mount Cod at last,’ Gladys said. ‘I’m so looking forward to this evening. Could you really not come and join in the fun? I’m sure Laura wouldn’t mind having pilchards on her own.’

  ‘Don’t even think about it Gladys.’ Laura walked over to the window. ‘How many times have we told you? All you have to do is mingle in the crowd, then go to the bar and ask for Tam. Make an offer for the fireplace. Gauge her reaction, then come back and report to us. You shouldn’t be gone more than an hour.’

  They had seen the guests arriving. Kevin the gardener, now dressed in formal attire, had directed the cars onto the dry grass at the top of the park. As they heard the chatter of voices on the lawn, they unlocked the ballroom doors and Gladys slipped in to join the wedding party.

  ‘I hope she’ll be all right,’ Laura said, as she and Sir Repton made their way to the kitchen to fix their meagre repast.

  ‘I think she’ll do magnificently. Her gown was most becoming.’

  ‘Purple sequins? I just hope she doesn’t stand out too much.’

  Repton reached into the cupboard for a can of pilchards. ‘Oh dear,’ he said.

  ‘What is it?’ Laura joined him and together they surveyed the empty shelves. ‘But there were at least twenty – not two weeks ago.’

  ‘Cheryl and Lance must have availed themselves of them while I was at Wellworth Lawns.’ Sir Repton walked to the fridge and pulled open the door.

  He peered inside. ‘At least the hens are laying.’

  Laura nudged him out of the way. ‘I’m sure I remember how to scramble an egg,’ she said.

  As they sat down at the kitchen table to eat, they could hear the strains of the band coming from the direction of the party. Laura’s thoughts returned to Gladys’ frock. It must once have been quite soignée, but now the dress had been stretched to the limit over Gladys’ frontage. Time had also taken its toll on the garment and Laura had had to cut off several loose strands of cotton with her nail scissors.

  When they had finished washing up, they returned to the sitting room and tried watching TV, but the noise from the party was too distracting. Every so often the sound of cheering and clapping reverberated through the walls as the speeches were made. Gladys must have decided to wait for them to finish before she went on her mission.

  ‘Shall we watch a DVD?’ Sir Repton’s sallow cheeks flushed as he admitted he quite often put on an old movie of
himself and mimed the words when he was on his own. ‘I know Eyeless in Gaza backwards,’ he said.

  ‘I don’t remember there being a film of Eyeless in Gaza,’ Laura said.

  ‘It was not the success it should have been and the leading lady, whose name escapes me, was hopelessly wooden, but a fine piece of cinematography nonetheless.’ He was going through the alphabet trying to remember the actress’s name when they heard the band strike up. It was an old Frank Sinatra song.

  ‘Oh no, it’s Jez Abelson,’ Sir Repton said.

  ‘You mean Ned Stocking. I’m surprised we haven’t heard from him. He must have been busy with his auditions. But where is Gladys?’ Laura looked at the clock on the mantelpiece.

  All they could do was sit and wait. Laura could hardly stop herself from humming along when they could clearly hear the timeless classics; “Love and Marriage”, “Strangers in the Night”, “Fly Me to the Moon”. Apparently Ned knew them all.

  They could hear cheering now and then hoots of laughter. Laura sighed and looked at the clock again. To her astonishment saw that it was half past eleven.

  ‘Wherever is…’ Laura did not complete her sentence because at that moment they heard a loud knocking on the front door. Sir Repton jumped up. ‘Gate-crashers, I shouldn’t wonder. I’ll go and see them off.’

  Laura waited behind the open sitting room door and peered into the hall through a crack in the hinges. Sir Repton heaved open the front door and Tam walked in with Gladys clinging to her arm.

  ‘Yours I presume and I bet I know who’s behind this.’ Tam shoved Gladys forward. ‘Laura Boxford.’

  From behind the door Laura involuntarily held in her stomach. She could feel a hot flush rise up her neck.

  ‘First this woman tried to sell me your fireplace and then she tried to dance with Jez,’ Tam continued. ‘He misguidedly helped her up onto the stage thinking she was someone important. When the bride and groom realised she was nothing to do with either of them, they quite rightly wanted her out, but when the groom’s father tried to get her down off the stage, she tried to assault him. She’s left half her dress on the dancefloor. You can sweep it up in the morning. Here, take her away.’

  Gladys flopped into Sir Repton’s arms.

  As Tam disappeared, Laura ran out from where she was hiding and took Gladys from him while he shut and bolted the front door. Then together they dragged Gladys, trailing sequins, back into the sitting room.

  ‘Oh Reppy, he was just like you,’ she slurred and fell onto the sofa, legs apart, as the final threads covering her bosom fell to the floor exposing her sturdy brassiere.

  ‘This has been a total failure,’ Laura said.

  The next morning, Laura and Sir Repton busied themselves making breakfast in the kitchen as they waited for Gladys to appear.

  ‘Quiet night?’ Laura asked. She was feeling thoroughly jaded herself.

  ‘Nothing could be further from the truth.’ Sir Repton poured oats into a saucepan on the Aga. ‘She came into my bed while I slept.’

  ‘She can’t have done,’ Laura said. ‘I could hear her snoring in the room next to mine. She kept me awake for hours.’

  ‘Rosalind?’ He added milk and stirred the mixture

  ‘Of course not, Rosalind does not exist. It was Tam.’ Laura stopped to think about why she had been so convinced the ghost was Tam, but couldn’t remember. ‘Anyway I thought we’d got that clear,’ she continued. ‘It’s Gladys I’m talking about.’

  ‘I had believed it to be true that it was Tam but I fear you are wrong, I’m afraid. For it was definitely Rosalind. Her vile and putrid breath awoke me in the pitch black of night.’ Sir Repton spooned the porridge into two bowls and brought them to the table. ‘I was powerless to move. Somehow I found a strength deep down in the furthest recesses of my organs and beseeched her to go henceforth from my chamber and it was only then that I gained some peace of a sort.’

  Laura sprinkled on some sugar. ‘You frightened her away?’

  ‘Mercifully, yes.’

  ‘But do you really think a ghost would have been put off like that?’ Laura’s night had been disturbed, but she must have managed some sleep during which time Gladys had attempted a spot of corridor creeping. ‘No, on this occasion it was definitely Gladys. It’s hardly surprising her breath was bad after the amount of alcohol she’d consumed. I wonder how much she will remember?’ Laura couldn’t stop herself from laughing. She dug her spoon into the thick glutinous mess as Sir Repton brooded.

  They were finishing their coffee when Gladys strolled in, apparently unabashed.

  ‘Get me some of that,’ she said sniffing the air. ‘Black with plenty of sugar.’

  ‘Porridge is what you need.’ Laura opened the bottom oven of the Aga, and retrieved the saucepan. She dolloped some into a bowl and placed it in front of Gladys.

  As she was pouring the coffee, Laura heard the sound of whistling. The tune was distinctly familiar: “You Make Me Feel So Young”. There was a short knock on the back door and a voice call out, ‘Anybody here?’

  Ned Stocking walked into the kitchen. ‘Good morning,’ he said. ‘I thought it would be all right to let myself in.’ He turned to Sir Repton, ‘I’m so sorry, Father, I meant to be in touch sooner.’

  Sir Repton staggered backwards, staring open-mouthed at the young man.

  Laura almost cricked her neck, she turned so fast to see Gladys’ reaction, but Gladys was in a state of bemused adoration and the word had passed over her. ‘Now I remember, Darling Jez.’ She leapt up from her porridge and embraced Ned Stocking.

  So Gladys remembered something of the night before, Laura thought, but perhaps not all.

  ‘Steady old girl.’ Ned gently disengaged himself and Gladys sat back down.

  Laura turned her attention to him and was surprised to see that he was clean-shaven. Without the beard, there was a curious likeness between him and Sir Repton but something was not right; Laura could not put her finger on it.

  ‘I missed the last train so I stayed the night at the girl’s flat in Stow after the party,’ he was saying. ‘I came over with them just now. Pom said she thought it would be OK if I popped in and then I thought I’d better check up on your guest. Gladys made quite an impression last night.’

  They heard the back door slam and Cheryl walked in.

  ‘What’s all this then?’ She fixed her gaze on Ned.

  ‘Hi Cheryl,’ he said. ‘Well, I’d better be running along. I’ve got to get back to London and Pom’s waiting to take me to the station.’

  He certainly was in the thick of it; the twins and now Cheryl. Laura studied him. Was it the plumpness of his cheeks that made her doubt Repton’s paternity?

  ‘You couldn’t give me and Lance a lift,’ Cheryl asked.

  ‘Both of you?’ Sir Repton said.

  ‘Lance has invited me to a gig up in town and you did say we should have a day off. You should have told me earlier that you’d be here, but either way I put it in the diary.’

  ‘The diary?’

  Cheryl walked over to the windowsill. She picked up a week-at-a-glance diary and flapped it in his direction. ‘And the Land Rover’s got a flat battery,’ she continued. ‘I was going to call a taxi.’

  ‘But…’Sir Repton interjected feebly.

  ‘Don’t worry we’ll get it fixed when we get back.’

  ‘I should think there’ll be room,’ Ned said. ‘I’m sure Pom won’t mind.’

  ‘Neat.’ Cheryl took her mobile from her pocket as she headed for the back door.

  Ned turned to Sir Repton. ‘So,’ he said. ‘I’ll see you next week. I’m back here doing Abba with some mates and I might have some news on your stone eagles by then.’

  ‘My eagles?’ Sir Repton perked up. ‘How so?’

  ‘I’ve got a friend in the props department at Pinewood Studios who deals in ornamental statuary as a side line. There’s not a lot he doesn’t get to hear about. Well, cheerio for now.’ He waved and followed Cheryl out
.

  Having digested all this information and seeing that the catering at Mount Cod appeared to have run its course, Laura decided they would be better off getting back to Wellworth Lawns.

  ‘I fear I maybe putting a strain on my friendship with Edward Parrott with all my comings and goings,’ Sir Repton said.

  Gladys took a noisy slurp of coffee. ‘If he gets shirty, you can always bunk up with me.’

  Laura eyed Sir Repton and noticed that he did not seem unduly agitated by her last remark.

  There was no trouble getting Sir Repton’s old room back and once they had deposited Gladys and her less bulging suitcase in her room – the sequin dress had been consigned to the bin – Laura suggested she and Sir Repton take a walk in the garden before lunch.

  Remembering the scene of the helicopter landing, Laura directed them away from the rose garden and up the hill at the back of the house towards the old pet cemetery.

  As they ambled along the path, Laura asked him again about Ned. ‘You and he are uncannily similar,’ she said. ‘Are you sure there is nothing you are hiding from me about Jezebel Stocking?’

  ‘Splendid larch trees.’ Sir Repton carried on walking.

  ‘Are you avoiding the issue?’

  He halted. ‘There is something that has been encumbering my thoughts.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘There was a particular occasion…’

  ‘Shall we sit down?’ Laura beckoned to a fallen tree trunk. She knew it well but now wasn’t the time for memories of Tony and the head groom, Barry.

  ‘You know I’m broadminded,’ she said, as Sir Repton took his place beside her. He cleared his throat and she waited as a fat wood pigeon flapped down and began to strut about. Parker growled and he and Sybil Thorndike ran after it.

  Finally he found his voice. ‘It is not something I am able to divulge without a deal of personal humiliation.’