“Not anymore,” said Jasmine, who was following along behind us.
“There’s also a downstairs bathroom.” Chris shot Jasmine a sad smile and waited for her to join him.
“Will we be using that?” asked Helen.
“No. You have access to your own private bathroom.” Chris stopped outside a door. “This is the annex the two of you will be living in.” He unlocked the door and handed me the key. “It’s completely self-contained. There are two bedrooms, a bathroom, kitchen, and living room. I hope it has everything you need to be comfortable here.”
We walked into the room. It was a neat and tidy space, with more wooden beams and white walls. There was a sofa and chair in the living room and a small log burner in one corner. The bathroom was immaculate, with white tiles and a walk-in shower, and the bedrooms were both a good size.
“It looks ideal,” I said to Chris after a quick look around.
“Why don’t the two of you get unpacked, and then we can go over your responsibilities?” suggested Chris. “And feel free to have a look around the rest of the rooms in the main house. Make sure you get a feel for the place and know where everything is.”
“Will do,” I said. We followed him back along the hallway and then went out to the car. Helen and I grabbed our suitcases and hurried inside, out of the drizzle.
I shut the door to the annex behind us and leaned against it for a few seconds. The atmosphere in the house sent a shiver down my spine. There was no sign of any ghost, but there was a strange, sad vibe as I’d walked through the hallway.
“Everything okay?” asked Helen as she emerged from the bedroom she’d chosen as her own.
“Do you sense anything odd about this place?”
“As in ghostly presence odd?” asked Helen. “No. But that’s more your line of expertise.”
“It's not a ghost,” I said. “But the whole atmosphere in the house feels unhappy. As if something bad happened in here.”
Helen lifted her nose and sniffed the air. “It’s very quiet. It feels as if the house is holding its breath and waiting for something to happen.”
“That’s it exactly,” I said. “It’s like everything’s on pause, and nothing is going forward.”
“What’s it waiting for?” asked Helen.
I pushed away from the door and carried my case into my new bedroom. “I have no idea. But maybe it’s good we're here to liven things up. I can understand why Jasmine isn’t happy if she has to stay here on her own all the time. The vibe would make me sad too.”
“Let’s hope we can cheer her up by being here,” said Helen.
We unpacked quickly and decided to have a look around the rest of the house. We left the annex and started in the kitchen. There were two pots on the stove when we entered, and Helen hurried over to inspect the contents. She pulled back, a disgusted look on her face.
“Whatever is in here, I’m not eating it.”
I leaned over the pot and inhaled. There was an unpleasant smell of overcooked cabbage and sprouts. “I hope that’s not our dinner tonight.”
“They said they have a cook.” Helen slammed the lid on the pot. “This had better not be her speciality.”
“You’ll have to do cooking by stealth if it is,” I said. “Watery green vegetables are not my idea of a good meal.”
“Nor mine.” Helen grimaced. She checked through the rest of the cupboards in the kitchen and was not impressed with the contents. “I’m going to have to do some food shopping of my own. I’ll fade away if I have to survive on tinned soup and beans.”
We checked out the downstairs bathroom and then made our way up the stairs. There were four bedrooms on this level, the other bathroom, and then a locked door.
“Wonder what’s behind here?” Helen jiggled the handle of the door.
“That’s just a storage room,” said Chris as he climbed the stairs behind us. “We use it to put things in that we have no more use for. Best you don’t try to go in there. There’s no order to the chaos in that room. And I wouldn’t want you to fall over anything and hurt yourself.”
“Fair enough,” I said. “Maybe we could leave our suitcases in there and get them out of the way.”
Chris shook his head. “No room for cases in there. Do you want to come downstairs, and we can go over your main duties?”
“Yes, that will be useful.” It must be a real mess in the room if Chris couldn’t even squeeze our small cases in there.
We followed Chris back down the stairs and into the main living room. Jasmine was sitting by the fireplace, her feet tucked underneath her. There was a tray of tea and biscuits on a low coffee table that sat in the middle of the rug. Chris handed around full cups as we sat down.
“Well, where shall we begin?” Chris gave a nervous laugh. “This is the first time we’ve had a lady’s companion. It seems like such an old-fashioned term, and I wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to advertise for.”
He was right, the role of a lady’s companion disappeared many years ago, after women got themselves out of the house and into work. But I knew of a number of more traditional families who still made use of the services of lady’s companions.
“I assumed I would provide company and conversation for Jasmine, help to entertain guests you may have, and accompany Jasmine to social events.” I glanced at Jasmine, whose attention was fixed on the window. “Does that sound about right?”
“That sounds excellent.” Chris looked over at Jasmine. “Doesn’t it, darling?”
Jasmine nodded and dragged her gaze from the window. “Although, we don’t have many guests here. And I don’t go out all that often. Short walks mainly.”
“But that can change,” said Chris. “It’s time we had more people in this house. We get plenty of invitations to dine out. And I know there are a number of charity events you’d like to go to.”
“Yes, things can change.” Jasmine looked at me and smiled. “And company will be nice in here.”
“Exactly.” Chris nodded his head vigorously. “That’s what Lorna’s here for.”
“I don’t expect you to do any domestic duties,” said Jasmine to me. “That is why we also employed Helen.”
“I’m happy to turn my hand to all manner of cleaning tasks,” said Helen. “I do enjoy keeping things neat and tidy.”
“I’m terribly messy,” said Chris. “You must scold me if I keep leaving my paperwork everywhere. I really shouldn’t; there will be all sorts of exciting accountant type secrets you mustn’t see. But I have never been able to keep a desk tidy.”
“Do you sew?” Jasmine asked me.
“That’s more Helen’s speciality.” I didn’t know one end of a needle from the other.
“I can do the sewing as well,” said Helen. “Anything you need, just ask me.”
“Very good,” said Jasmine.
“You used to like to play cards,” said Chris to Jasmine. “Do you play cards, Lorna?”
“I can play gin rummy,” I said.
The trace of a smile passed across Jasmine’s face. “That was my favorite game.”
“Then you can play again,” said Chris. “It will be good for you to have some fun.”
Jasmine rubbed her fingers across her forehead. “I’m going for a lie down. Let me know when dinner is ready.” She touched Chris’s shoulder as she left the room.
Chris watched Jasmine leave and then turned towards us. “She does tire easily.”
“Has your wife been unwell?” asked Helen.
Chris nodded. “She never has much energy anymore. And we’ve been through a stressful time. I think it’s taken its toll on her. Jasmine hides it well, but I see how weary she gets. I’m hoping having more company in the house will make things easier on her.”
“Whatever we can do to help, we’ll be happy to,” I said.
“That’s good of you,” said Chris. “She was much more of a carefree spirit not so long ago. And I want to get back to that again. Neither of us are old. And we
want to be able to enjoy life as much as possible.”
“Do you mind me asking what illness your wife had?” asked Helen. “I know some great herbal remedies. I can mix Jasmine a batch of tonic to give her a boost.”
Chris opened his mouth, but then looked out of the window onto the lane. “There’s Francis. She's our cook. You’ll want to meet her.” He jumped up out of his seat and headed into the hallway.
“Yes, I will,” muttered Helen. “I want to make sure she actually knows how to cook.”
A few seconds later, Chris re-entered the room. “Francis, meet our new employees, Lorna Shadow and Helen Holliday.” He held the door open wide to reveal a tall, skinny, pinched mouth middle-aged woman. She wore a sensible grey knee-length dress and flat black pumps. Her grey hair was tied back in a neat bun.
“Mr. Bellamy, I did say I could manage the household on my own,” said Francis. “You don’t need to go spending all of your money on hiring extra help.”
“I wanted to.” Chris smiled warmly at us all. “Lorna is to be Jasmine’s companion. And Helen is to do the cleaning.”
“I’m a good cook as well.” Helen looked at Francis. “If ever you need a hand, or inspiration for a new meal, you only have to ask.”
“I know my way around the kitchen well enough.” Francis’s hard gaze ran over Helen. “You’d be wise to stay out of the kitchen when I’m cooking. I hate an audience.”
“We were just having some tea and going over everyone’s work duties.” Chris gestured for Francis to join us.
“Don’t let me interrupt you.” Francis held her large purse in front of her like a barrier. “I have plenty of work to do.”
“Well, I think we’re done anyway.” Chris scratched his head. “Perhaps you can show Lorna and Helen the kitchen and where everything is kept?”
“Very well.” Francis moved back into the hallway. She paused and looked down in horror. “Who does this belong to?” She pointed at Flipper, who had been investigating his new home, and was currently sniffing the toe of Francis’s black pump.
“He’s my assistance dog,” I said. “He’s very friendly.”
“Keep it out of my way,” said Francis sharply. “I cannot stand dogs. And do not let it into my kitchen. Dogs carry diseases. And I bet it steals food.”
“Flipper is well-trained,” I said. “He won’t be any problem.”
“Even so, I don’t want it anywhere near me.”
I frowned as I beckoned Flipper to my side. I was instantly suspicious of anybody who didn’t like dogs. What was not to love? Their cute furry faces? The way they rested their head on your lap? Or the way they kept your feet warm in bed at night? There was not a bad thing about Flipper. But I would be sure to keep him out of Francis’s way. From the look on her face, I wouldn’t put it past her to aim one of her nasty black pumps in his direction.
“Shall we look at the kitchen?” Helen shot me a worried look, knowing how protective I was of Flipper.
“If you must,” said Francis. “Follow me.”
Chris left us to it and headed back into the living room. We hurried along behind Francis. I was biting my lip to stop from asking Francis what was wrong with her and why she didn’t like dogs. Helen had a grim expression on her face as she walked beside me. It felt as if we were about to go into battle.
“I wanted to find out what was wrong with Jasmine,” whispered Helen to me. “Sounds like she’s had something nasty.”
“So long as it isn’t contagious, I don’t mind.” I was still angry with Francis as I settled Flipper in the corner of the hallway, knowing Francis would object if he tried to come into the kitchen. Not that he’d want to eat any of her foul-smelling cooking.
Francis led us into the kitchen and placed her black purse on the table. “As I said, I don’t like people in my kitchen. I make the evening meals and the lunches. The Bellamys prepare their own breakfasts, unless they want something special. Then I come back in the mornings and make that. I live locally, so it isn’t a problem. But they’re usually happy with toast and cereal. And Mrs. Bellamy doesn’t eat much.”
“What sort of evening meals do you make?” asked Helen. “Do you have a favorite kind of cuisine you like to cook?”
“I do three courses at night,” said Francis. “And tonight, we have soup, then roasted vegetable tart, and a sponge pudding.”
“That sounds delicious.” Helen gave me an excited looking smile.
Francis gave a snort and began tying an apron round her middle.
“Can you show us where all the supplies are?” I asked.
“I don’t want you in my way,” said Francis.
“But we need to know where things are for breakfast,” I said. “Just until we find our way around our own kitchen and can get some food in of our own. And I promise you, we won’t be in here when you’re cooking.”
Francis gave an exasperated sigh and pointed to a closed pantry door. “Breakfast things in there. Milk is in the fridge. There are tinned goods in the cupboard, so you can make yourselves lunch in here if you must. But I do the dinners.”
“Fair enough,” I said.
“What soup are you making tonight?” asked Helen.
“Vegetable,” said Francis. “Everything is on the stove ready to go.”
Helen grimaced. “What sort of stock are you using in it?”
“My own recipe,” said Francis.
“Did you make that cake?” Helen pointed to a tin on the counter, in which sat a half-eaten fruit cake.
“I did,” said Francis. “Suppose you want to try some?”
“It looks delicious,” said Helen. “Perhaps we could try a small piece each? We didn’t have much to eat at lunch.”
Francis gave another sigh and grabbed a knife from the counter. She cut off two thin slivers of the cake and passed it to us.
As I bit into my slice, I got an overwhelming taste of cloves and nutmeg. I forced down the hard piece of cake, despite the spices drying my saliva to a desert like consistency. “It has an unusual taste.”
“I don’t follow recipes,” said Francis. “I put in what I think will taste good.”
Helen coughed, and I could see her eyes were watering. “Yes, it is interesting.”
“You both need to leave,” said Francis. “No more cake for either of you. If I get distracted, I might make a mistake with tonight’s meal. I like to feed the family well. They deserve to be looked after.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to help?” Helen moved reluctantly towards the door.
“Never needed any help before,” said Francis, “and I never will.” She strode to the door, pulled it open, and gestured for us to leave.
We walked out into the hallway, and the kitchen door was slammed behind us.
“I have a feeling dinner is going to be awful,” said Helen glumly. “How am I going to get myself in that kitchen and make sure we have decent food?”
“From the way Francis shut the door on us, not easily,” I said. “We’ll just have to grin and bear it and then go to the pub later for a decent feed.”
“I hope it doesn’t come to that,” said Helen.
So did I. Strange house vibes I could handle, but terrible food always put me in a bad mood.
“What are we going to do with this cake?” Helen held up her slice. “It’s disgusting. Do you think Flipper will eat it?”
I held out my piece to Flipper but then paused. By his feet was a small red ball.
“Who gave you this?” I picked the ball up and inspected it.
“Didn't know the Bellamys had a dog,” said Helen.
“They don't.” I turned the ball over in my hand. “This looks more like a child's toy.”
“Maybe Flipper found it when he was looking around his new home.”
“He is good at discovering things.” I held my piece of cake out to Flipper again. He took a lick and then whimpered. “He has good taste.”
“Come on, I need a decent cup of tea to wash the horribl
e cake away,” said Helen.
Chapter 5
Two hours later, we were sitting at the dining table with Chris and Jasmine. Francis was bustling around, serving the first course, her vegetable soup.
Helen dipped her spoon into the bowl in front of her, a worried look on her face. I watched her take a sip of the soup and then struggle to stop from spitting it out.
I tried my own, and it was as bad as I’d feared it would be. It tasted of warm soapy water and burnt sprouts.
“I’m saving my appetite for the main course.” Helen placed her spoon down and sat back, a miserable expression etched on her face.
“I don’t have much of an appetite either,” said Jasmine, who hadn’t even bothered to pick up a spoon.
Chris bravely fought through his bowl of soup, and I did the same, taking gulps of water after each mouthful to make it more palatable.
“I hope you’re settling in well.” Chris scooped up the last mouthful of green soup. “It’s not a huge house, but there are lots of interesting nooks and crannies for you to investigate.”
“It’s already feeling like home,” I said to him.
“Glad to hear it,” said Chris. “We want you to be happy here. And I hope you can stay with us for a long time.”
“We’ll stay as long as you need us to,” I said.
“That’s good news.” Chris looked over at Jasmine, who was playing with the napkin in her lap. “I think we’ve got a vegetable tart next.”
Francis walked into the room and cleared the soup bowls, before placing large mounds of soggy looking pastry and wilted vegetables in front of us.
“What sort of tart is this?” I asked Francis.
“Roasted vegetable with a maple syrup glaze,” said Francis. “My own recipe.”
“Of course, it would be,” muttered Helen as she stabbed at a sad looking carrot on her plate.
The pastry was undercooked, and the vegetables so overcooked they had no taste left in them. I forced down as much of the soggy pastry as possible, helped by several mouthfuls of fruity red wine that Chris served us.
Jasmine barely touched her food, eating only a few bites of potato and peas, before setting her fork down and looking out the window.
Ghostly Games Page 3
