“Well, I think the father and I will indulge in the Fruit de la Mar pour deux! Sounds scrummy!” Jeanne closed her menu and attracted Loo’s attention from behind the bar, by madly flapping the menu high above her head. She had the habit of being to wrap most people around her little finger. Loo happily obliged and took the order.
“Any wine with your meal?” she sweetly suggested. “We have a lovely Chablis that will complement the fish beautifully.”
“We will be guided by your recommendation; thank you my dear,” Jeanne loved the attention Loo was showing her. Greta continued to look to the table, dying of embarrassment. She felt her face redden. Poor Jeanne didn’t realise Loo was very skilfully taking the rise.
“You’re very quiet this evening, Greta?” Jeanne noticed Greta’s ashen face.
“Sorry, not much fun am I? The injuries are playing up,” she lied. In truth, she couldn’t wait to escape.
“I’m just going to freshen up.” She got up from the table and walked towards the Ladies. Jonny bypassed her passage.
“How are things at Greenacres? Everything all right?” Jonny quizzed. “Heard you had a visitor the other day.”
“Wow, the news spreads like wildfire around here, doesn’t it?” Greta didn’t want to continue this particular awkward conversation.
“Heard it was a celebrity medium; the one off the TV. Having a spot of bother?” He carried on filling a pint glass with local Island ale. Loo, in the background, selected a bottle of chilled Chablis from the wine fridge, closed the door silently and listened intently.
“Yes, Nonie Spangler; she is… a friend of mine. We go back… years,” Greta lied. “It is amazing how people put two and two together and get five, isn’t it?”
“I thought it might be to do with the uh… tunnel,” Jonny filled the pint glass and placed it onto a tray.
“The what?” Greta tried to sound incredulous.
“The tunnel. I’m surprised the vicar never mentioned it before he sold Greenacres to you. There’s been talk of a tunnel linking this pub and Greenacres, for donkeys’ years. Apparently it was used as a hide by smugglers; I’m talking years and years ago, centuries even. But no-one has ever proved it exists. The vicar had a few encounters, we are led to believe; he never said anything to anyone though. All speculation if you ask me. And there is a bit of a hint of a connection, isn’t there, with the name of this place!”
“Hmm, yes. Sorry, I don’t know anything about it. Good job the smugglers didn’t know about it… if it did exist… otherwise they would have been queuing up for storage! Ha! Ha!” Greta cut the conversation with a fanatical burst of false laughter and looked towards the Ladies’ room door.
“Sorry, nature calls!” She bobbed down as she spoke and dashed towards the toilet door.
Chapter Fifteen
“Greta, can you hear me?” Willow was trying to attract her attention. “I need to speak with you.”
“Hmmmph?” Greta was in a deep sleep.
“I need to speak to you… now!” Willow was insistent.
“I’m listening,” Greta mumbled.
“That woman that came to Greenacres today… she could quite clearly see me.”
“What?” Greta tried to focus and engage her brain.
“That woman who came to the cottage, she could see me and she could see Evie as well. She didn’t tell you everything.”
Greta was still slumbering.
“What? Who’s Evie?”
“Hello, Greta. I’m Evie,” another female voice spoke through the darkness.
Greta was semi-conscious.
“Oh… okay, um, Evie. Are you with Willow?” Greta replied.
“Sometimes, yes, but other times we are in parallel worlds.”
“Right,” Greta continued, her eyes still closed. “So this woman, Nonie, saw you; did she see both of you?”
“Yes, but she didn’t tell you everything.” Willow repeated.
“What else should she have told me?” Greta propped her head on the pillow.
Willow paused. There was the faint sound of sobbing.
“Willow? You can’t leave me dangling now!” she called out.
Evie spoke instead.
“Willow is too upset to say.”
“About what? You must tell me!” Greta was getting worried.
“That woman also saw him.”
“Who?” Greta snapped.
“Him… the one who murdered Willow. The man of the same name… who also murdered me!”
Greta sat bolt upright. She ran her fingers through her hair. She glanced at the clock on the bedside cabinet; it was 2.30am. She shook her head. This was becoming an habitual time to be woken up.
“Evie, are you there?” Greta called out into the darkness.
There was no reply. Greta was alone.
Greta plunged back on to her pillow in exasperation. Her mind raced back to Nonie’s visit the day before. She sighed. It was too early to phone Max. He wouldn’t appreciate a neurotic phone call in the middle of the night from his paranoid wife, talking about ghostly encounters; nor would Nonie. She dialled Sophie’s number. At length it was answered by a croaky, sleep-wracked voice.
“Hmm… yeah? Who is this?”
“Sophie! It’s Greta! Sorry hun; I know it’s the middle of the night, but I had to ring you. I’ve had another spiritual encounter with Willow and another spirit, called Evie!”
“Wow! Are they having a ghost fest or something?” Sophie muttered. She rubbed her eyes and tried to focus on the conversation. “What time is it?”
“Early. Listen; they are both saying they were murdered, by the same guy, with the same name. They haven’t told me who, but I think it may shed some light on things. They’re saying that Nonie Spangler could see them and this other bloke as well. What shall I do?”
“I think you should give Nonie a ring, not now; tell her what has happened and get her back over again. Sounds like between you all, you are unravelling a bit of a crime scene. It also sounds like you have just as much psychic power as Ms Spangler. Anyway, from what you said, she didn’t spend much time with you, did she?”
“Oh, I don’t know about that. But I think you’re right, I’ll get Nonie back over here and, you’re right, she wasn’t here any time at all,” Greta agreed.
“Can I go back to sleep now?” Sophie sounded weary.
“Sorry, yes of course. I just needed to speak to someone; you did say, it was all right to phone… at any time.” Greta apologised.
“I certainly did and it’s okay. Night Greta. Sleep tight.”
Greta lay back on the bed and drew the duvet to her chin. She closed her eyes and thought about Willow and Evie. Was she insane? Was she awake or dreaming? She couldn’t decide. Suddenly she heard her name being called.
“Greta. Wake up! I need to talk to you!”
Greta groaned.
“Not again, surely. Now what?” she asked.
“It’s the builder on the phone; it seems like there’s a crisis at Greenacres!”
Greta opened her eyes to see her mother peering down at her. Holding the phone at arm’s length, close to Greta’s face.
“What’s wrong?” Greta sat up in bed and took the phone. “Hello, yes. Really? Okay, give me half an hour, I’ll be over.”
She handed the phone back to her mother.
“Trouble in paradise, darling?” Jeanne enquired.
“Yes, something like that.” Greta dragged herself out of bed and stumbled towards the bathroom.
“Shall I make breakfast?” Jeanne called out.
“Just toast and tea, thanks. I need to get over to Greenacres as soon as possible. Builders have found a problem,” Greta replied. Then uttered under her breath. “From all accounts, a bloody big problem!”
As she arrived at the cottage, she could see the builders congregated outside in the garden, huddled together, deep in conversation. They dispersed as Greta approached them. The head builder looked pensive.
“Morn
ing, Mrs Berkley; sorry to bother you so early, but we’ve got a bit of an issue. You see, we was trying to sort out how to do the feature on your well, when there was this almighty great banging noise coming from deep underground. Then, well, Jim here will tell you… go on Jim, say what you saw.” The gaffer indicated for Jim to speak.
“Well, Missus, I was sat at the top of the ‘ole then there was this loud noise, like thunder, underground. I could hear rocks and stuff falling; like there was an avalanche or something. Then when I turned round to speak to the gaffer, Mick’s cup came flying at me and hit me right here!” he indicated with a stubby, hardworking, dirt encrusted finger, revealing an egg shaped swelling above his left eye.
“And then, when I tried to get up, something was holding me back down; like it didn’t want me to leave. That was when the gaffer phoned you. Sorry, Missus, but I can’t work in those sort of conditions; fair give me a fright, it did. My ticker can’t take that sort of fright or assault! The boys here are worried about it too; don’t like funny things happening. Especially as the cup broke and Mick hasn’t got anything to drink his tea out of!”
The group of builders agreed by nodding and mumbling their thoughts.
“Sorry, Mrs Berkley, the boys aren’t happy to work here any more. Until you can sort things out.” The gaffer looked seriously at Greta.
“Then if the boys don’t work, the boys don’t get their pay!” Greta was fuming. “Are you trying to tell me there is something sinister in this cottage? Well, that is so absurd! I have never heard anything so preposterous!” She boomed and glared at each builder in turn.
“The boys are uncomfortable working in the kitchen. Everywhere else is fine, just there,” the gaffer tried to reason.
“That is probably because everywhere else is virtually finished!” Greta said scornfully. “I repeat, no work; no pay. Take it or leave it. It’s over to you boys! You haven’t got much more to do here! You are virtually just finishing off!”
“That isn’t fair, Mrs Berkley…” the gaffer began.
“Nor is your accusation that my cottage is haunted!” Greta fired back.
“Well, we’re sorry, but we can’t continue… but we expect to get our pay for what we have done today.” The gaffer stood his ground.
“Okay, let’s compromise. You carry on with the work and I will keep watch for any flying cups and bumps in the well and if we hear or see anything, then you can leave, immediately.”
“But what about our pay?”
“You carry on and finish the work; then you will get your pay; stop and you don’t, it’s as simple as that!” Greta felt empowered. “Come on, everybody back to work. I will find Mick another cup, so he won’t be without his tea. I will personally stand on guard at the well to ensure you will all be quite safe!”
She ushered the builders back into the cottage and into the kitchen. They reluctantly obliged, bickering amongst each other about who was going to work around the well opening.
“Chop! Chop! Kettle is about to be put on! Morning tea and coffee will shortly be served!” Greta clapped her hands loudly to encourage them back to their stations. “If you’re lucky, you can have a biscuit too!”
The builders continued to work the entire day, incident free. They completed the task of building a circular dwarf wall around the well opening and made it safe by shoring up the walls in render. Greta sighed in relief as she watched them leave in convoy of white vans at 3pm. She checked her phone for messages. There was one from Nonie Spangler. Sorry, only just got yr message from this am; will be on 3:15pm catamaran. Hope that’s ok? Can you pick me up at 3.40pm? C u then. NS
Greta punched the air; Nonie had agreed to a return visit. This time, Greta hoped it would be more productive than the previous. Greta closed her eyes and sighed; this was going to cost her a small fortune. Two ferry crossings in consecutive days, two investigations; another fifty pounds. Max wouldn’t be very pleased. But Greta needed to get to the bottom of the mystery so that they could start their new life in the country in some sort of peace and, hopefully, tranquillity.
Chapter Sixteen
Nonie Spangler shuffled along the long line of dawdling passengers who were queuing to alight from the catamaran. Greta had texted her to say she would collect her from the Ryde Pier Head at around 3.45pm. She was leaning against her car when she saw Nonie tottering along carrying a bright red leather-look oversized handbag over her shoulder. She waved to attract Nonie’s attention and Nonie duly returned the acknowledgement.
“Hello Greta! Sorry, but it’s all been a bit of a rush. The train was held up for ages and I nearly missed my connection with the ferry.” She opened the passenger door of Greta’s car and collapsed on to the seat. “I thought I’d catch the train this time. The car ferry was so expensive!”
“Thanks for coming over again at such short notice. It seems like we have a situation at Greenacres. It even caused the builders to down tools; which I couldn’t justify. Any excuse to have a break! I don’t know! Oh, and is that handbag red for danger?” She indicated at Nonie’s handbag. Nonie chose to ignore the comment and smirked.
“More activity of the paranormal variety, I take it?” Nonie wrestled with her seatbelt as Greta drove slowly up Ryde Pier, avoiding the commuters along the way and the speed ramps strategically placed upon the newly laid wooden boards. The Victorian buildings of Ryde town centre loomed closer.
“Yes. I wanted you to reinvestigate; to see what’s going on. The builders were complaining of a collapse of masonry in the tunnel and noises too, coming from underground. One of them was allegedly hit by a flying cup, but I’m not convinced.” She drove along the Esplanade through the town into the countryside.
“Well, I’ll try my best to find out who or what it was… or is,” Nonie smiled and held her handbag close to her as the car jolted over the bumpy road surface.
At length, they arrived at Greenacres. Greta turned off the ignition as Nonie looked startled.
“Oh!” she exclaimed. She was looking at the roof.
“Have you seen something?” Greta removed the key from the ignition and got out of the car.
“I’m not so sure.” Nonie was still staring at the roof.
“Up there?” Greta pointed.
“I thought I saw something by the chimney.” Nonie climbed out of the car, still clutching her handbag.
“Funny that,” Greta replied. “Rev Oli was always staring at the roof; but he never said anything to us. Whatever it was, it seemed to have him in a complete trance.”
“Hmmm.” Nonie was not giving anything away.
“Come indoors and I’ll show you the cup. You might be able to pick up something from that.” Greta ushered Nonie inside to the kitchen and then came to an abrupt halt.
“What the hell is going on here?” she exclaimed and stormed over to the well. Nonie remained planted in the doorway. “I don’t believe this!” Greta fumed.
Greta was standing by the feature wall of the well. She shook her head in disappointment.
“It is a complete mess! Look at this! It was fine when I left; now it’s ruined!”
The newly built wall of the well had been smashed to pieces. Brick and masonry littered the floor and wet cement was spattered everywhere.
“This is really awful! Who would do such a thing?” Greta held her hand to her temple and shook her head.
Nonie joined her.
“So this has only happened since you left the cottage?”
“Yes; it can’t be the builders; they wouldn’t do such a terrible thing. They spent all day working on it; there is no way they would destroy their own handiwork. It must be an intruder.”
“I take it you locked the door when you left to pick me up?” Nonie surmised.
“Course, yes. Max is a stickler for security and, having spent a lot of time living in London, that has fortunately rubbed off on me; I wouldn’t dream of leaving the door unlocked.” Greta walked around the circumference of the well. The top was exposed and a b
lack gaping hole to the tunnel beneath glared up at her.
“Could this mean that someone or something gained entry from the tunnel?” Nonie asked.
“You tell me; that’s is what you are here for, Nonie! Come on; what do you think?” Greta stood with her arms folded.
Nonie remained silent and closed her eyes. She nodded her head as though she was talking to someone. Greta stared at her. At length she spoke.
“Well?”
Nonie opened her eyes and blinked.
“From what I can tell from the spirit world, it was a human invader; not a spiritual one.”
“Fantastic!” said Greta scornfully. “So now I have a vandal to deal with as well as the spirits! Bring it on…”
“Wait!” Nonie interrupted. “I am being given fresh information; from a female… she is saying it is the man.”
“What man?” Greta placed her hands on her hips.
“The man; who has the same name…” Nonie was concentrating hard. Nonie closed her eyes again.
Greta looked at her.
“And what is the man’s name?”
Nonie shook her head.
“She won’t tell me; I think she wants me to work it out for myself… hold on! There is another voice… another female voice… she is warning me of the man… the man with the same name… wait! Don’t go, I don’t know what you mean… oh! She’s gone.”
“Damn it! Tell me exactly what they said.” Greta paced around the kitchen narrowly avoiding tripping over a pile of bricks.
“There were two spirits; both talking over each other. One was a young girl, the other an older woman. They were warning me about this man… they kept saying he had the same name. I’m not sure what they meant; whether it is the same man or two different men. They weren’t very forthcoming with the information. But they believe it to be a living being who had inflicted the damage to the wall and definitely not a spiritual one. Does that help you?” Nonie looked at Greta.
“Not really; you have basically told me everything I already knew. Didn’t they give you any indication about what went on? What about the flying cup?”
Dream Cottage Page 11
