by Nell Dixon
She slipped the flashlight into her pocket, reassured by the weight of the torch bumping against her hip.
"Goodness. That fair gave me a turn, it going dark like that." Mags flapped her hands in front of her face.
Fae bit her tongue. Everything gave Mags one of her turns. On the last shoot, a moth flying in her face had given her a turn that had involved her shrieking like a banshee convinced something evil had attacked her.
Tim rolled his eyes at Mags and carried on his conversation with Victor. Fae prodded the food before her with a fork and hoped John wouldn't be away too long.
****
John hurried towards the kitchen. Chances were the crew would either have returned to the relative warmth offered by the side of the stove or they would be hunched over the fuse box in the room next door.
Sure enough Bob, the middle-aged cameraman, and Gabe, the youthful production assistant were seated at the kitchen table. The elderly woman he'd encountered in the nursery was busy preparing dessert on the far side of the room.
Gabe looked bewildered. "Dunno what caused the blackout, Flash. We checked the fuse box, and nothing's out of place there."
Bob stared gloomily into his mug of tea. "Mind you, I think Noah himself wired this place, so it could have been anything."
"Let's hope it doesn't happen while we're live tonight." John had checked the electrics. There was no reason why there should have been a blackout unless the whole area had suffered a loss of power.
"We've got the outside genny as a backup, and London will cover for a few minutes with studio discussion, if needs be," Bob observed.
"I know, but it makes it hard work for Fae and Victor, plus it doesn't do Tim's blood pressure any good. He'll be popping antacids like sweeties as it is." John hoped Fae was okay back in the dining room. He didn't trust Giles. Fae had good instincts, and ever since they'd arrived, she'd been saying something felt off about Fingelly Manor. He suspected the biggest thing that was off at the manor was its owner.
Bob nodded. "Fingers crossed everything runs smoothly then."
"There'll be little chance of that." The old lady stumped across the kitchen towards them.
"Why do you think that is? Is that because of the curse you mentioned when we met you in the nursery?" John asked. The woman clearly wanted to give them information, and he was curious if it would tally with what he'd just heard from Giles.
She drew herself to her full height of barely five foot. "I've served the lairds of Fingelly since I was a bairn, I and my family before me, and all the lairds have been took by the curse. It does no good to try and change your fate."
Gabe and Bob exchanged uneasy glances.
"I'm John. You've obviously already met Bob and Gabe. My girlfriend, Fae, is the show presenter. I don't know your name?" He wanted to know what the woman thought was going to happen during the shoot. Did she know about Giles's attempt to fool the viewers or about his money problems?
"Rose, Rose McGillycuddy. My husband Frank is the handyman and general help." Her boot-button eyes surveyed him as if trying to decide how much information she should share.
"And do you and Frank live in the staff quarters in the nursery wing?" he asked.
"Aye, that we do. His Lairdship asked us to live in when it got too difficult for us to get here from the village in the bad weather." She tsked under her breath when Bob spilled a drop of his tea on the tabletop.
"Tell us about the curse and why you think something will happen during filming tonight."
Her gaze darted about the room as if to check if anyone else other than the three men might be able to hear her. "All the male heirs of Fingelly Manor are cursed to die alone before they have their fortieth birthday. They were cursed in revenge by a young maid who was defiled by one of the lairds many years ago. He had the child that resulted from the union killed — put to the sword. The lassie was thrown out of the manor with not a penny to her name. They say it's she that haunts the place, wringing her hands and sobbing for her lost bairn."
"Have you ever seen or heard her?" John asked.
Rose nodded slowly. "Aye, and the nearer it gets to His Lairdship's birthday, the more active she'll be."
A chill crept along John's back at the speculative glint in Rose's eyes. "When is Giles's birthday?"
"His Lairdship will be forty in two days’ time."
He was prevented from asking further questions by the arrival of Rose's husband depositing the dinner dishes and collecting the desserts to take back to the table.
"I believe your presence is required in the dining room, sir." Frank, Rose's husband, stepped in front of John.
Frustrated at not being able to question the old woman further, John walked back along the icy corridors toward the dining room. Behind him, further back along the corridor, came the clatter of Frank wheeling the dessert trolley. He wasn't sure if Tim or Fae had wanted him called back to the dining room or if the summons had simply been Frank's way of preventing him from asking Rose any more questions.
"Did you sort out the problem? You were gone so long you missed dinner," Fae asked as he resumed his seat at the table.
Conscious that Giles and Mags were listening to the conversation, he offered her a wry smile. "Just one of those things. We decided to recheck everything just in case." He would privately tell her what Rose had said, after dinner.
"I can get Frank to bring you some dinner," Giles offered as Frank clanked his way into the room.
"No, thank you. Dessert will be fine. I'm not actually very hungry."
****
Fae's eyebrows curved up towards her hairline. John was always hungry. He hadn't been gone all that time checking the electrics. He'd been sleuthing around, and after dessert he'd better share what he'd discovered.
They had barely finished eating the insipid dish of creamed rice that Frank had served up to them when Victor announced he was returning to his room.
"One needs to prepare. Communing with those who have gone before can be somewhat tiring."
Fae always suspected it was his way of saying he needed a quick nap before filming. Not that she blamed him. As soon as the cameras stopped rolling and the lights were switched on at the end of a shoot, she always felt completely drained.
"Coffee is ready in the drawing room," Frank announced.
Fae huddled into her sweater and hoped the fire had warmed the room up a little more than when she'd been there earlier. She followed Giles, Mags, and Tim from the room.
"Wait up." John caught hold of her arm. She listened carefully as he hurriedly told her the information he'd gleaned from Rose. They scuttled into the drawing room a little way behind the others and headed toward the fireplace. Tim stood at the side of the bay window talking on his mobile. Mags had Giles cornered in front of a particularly ugly portrait of a rather dour Victorian lady.
"Oh, I'm glad somebody has stoked this up a bit." Fae held her hands out toward the welcome heat coming from the fireplace.
John stood at her side, his brow puckered in a frown. "I wish I felt a bit easier about tonight. I'll be glad when this one's in the can and done with."
"I know what you mean. It's even worse being live. If anything kicks off, then we won't be able to do much except go with the flow." She nibbled nervously at her lower lip.
"And you think something will kick off, don't you?"
She nodded. "So do you."
Mags and Giles came over to join them. Fae tried hard not to let her gaze drift downwards to Giles's legs. The kilt and sporran were too distracting.
"Giles has been telling me about some of his ancestors. They all seem to have had such tragic lives." Mags took a seat on a rickety-legged old Chesterfield sofa.
"Doesn't it worry you, Giles? This curse business?" Fae asked.
She noticed his smile didn't reach his eyes as he responded. "Superstitious nonsense. All the same, if your chappie, Victor, did happen to lay any restless spirits trapped here at Fingelly, I would be very grateful."
/> Fae glanced at her watch. "Just over an hour till we go live. Time for a coffee, and then we'd better do a test run and see if the London link is up and working."
John poured her a coffee from the tarnished silver pot standing on the side table next to the sofa. "Tim has a monitor all ready in the old music room just down the hall. Gabe will be running, and I'll be with Bob."
"I'd better go and get Victor ready. I'll be back down in a bit to touch your lippy up, Fae." Mags bounced up from the sofa and sneezed at the small cloud of dust that was released from the tired upholstery.
"Where will you be during filming, Giles?" Fae wondered where he would go. The crew had pretty well taken over most of the downstairs with camera runs, cables, and sensors. Tim was quite particular about not allowing the hosts to feature on the programme. He always claimed they were a distraction.
"I have my own apartment on the far side of the house. I assure you I won't be in your way." Giles's gaze flickered nervously around the room as he spoke, and Fae couldn't help but wonder if there was some other reason why he planned to make himself scarce.
Chapter Five
"Fae, I need you in a minute. We're going to get some intro footage and test out the live link to the studio in London." Tim bustled about, shooing Giles off to his lair on the far side of the manor house.
While she waited for Mags to reappear and touch up her makeup, Fae took the opportunity to glance over her lines for the linking segment. Frank and Rose had vanished, presumably back to the kitchen, and John was deep in conversation with Gabe and Bob.
Someone had partly drawn the curtains across the large leaded bay window. She shivered as an icy draught cut across her back from the exposed area of glass as she read her lines.
Irritated at the disruption to her concentration, she glanced up at the offending window.
"Oh!" The cry escaped her before she could stop herself.
"What is it?" John hurried to her side.
"Outside! There was someone outside the window! A man, looking in." Only a lunatic would be outside in the swirling mist surrounding the manor. They were five miles from the village, and neither Frank or Rose would have any call to be capering about the garden.
"Did you get a good look at him?" Bob asked.
"Not really. He had one of those deerstalker type hats on. He was only there for a few seconds, and then he vanished." Fae swallowed down the lump of fear at the back of her throat.
"You sure it wasn't a trick of the light?" Bob persisted.
"I'm sure. He was as real as you or me. He had this evil, fixed expression." She shuddered.
"I'm going to check the garden. If there was someone there, he'll have left footprints on the grass in the frost." John set off toward the front door before Fae could stop him.
"Unless it was the poltergeist, of course," Gabe observed.
Fae shivered and hugged herself, trying to restore some warmth to her body while she waited for John to return.
He was back within a few seconds, bringing a swirl of crisp, cold frosty air into the room. Droplets of water sparkled on his dark blond hair, and his breath plumed in front of his face. "Fae wasn't imaging things. There are a man's footprints under the window. From what I could see by my torchlight, whoever it was walked around from the front of the house, paused by the window, and headed toward the trees on the far side of the lawn."
"Where I thought I saw someone earlier today?" Fae was sure the mystery man was someone connected to Giles. Perhaps this was the someone he'd warned away from the manor, assuring them he'd have the money for them soon.
Tim bustled up to them. "I only hope this isn't more trickery to try either to discredit the programme or to attract tourists to the manor." His plump face creased with displeasure. "Just keep your eyes and ears open. Bob, make sure you only capture things that appear genuine. Any doubts, cut to a close up of Fae or Victor, and I'll switch back to the London studio."
Bob and Gabe nodded their agreement with Tim's instructions.
Mags and Victor joined them, and Tim quickly appraised them of the latest happenings.
"Must be mad! Whoever it is will have hypothermia if they're gallivanting about in the cold out there," Mags said as she expertly touched up Fae's lip gloss and added more blusher.
Victor stood quietly to one side as everyone took their places. Fae waited whilst John wired up her microphone and hid her earpiece under her hair.
"All done. Take care and have a good one." His lips brushed hers, sending a delicious tingle of desire through her body.
"Okay, people. Fae, run through your intro piece. Gabe, check the link to studio is live, and then in ten minutes, we drop the lighting and we go live," Tim instructed.
Fae took up her position at the side of the fireplace.
Tim signalled from behind Bob. "And action."
She did her piece to camera, relieved to be doing something normal. Gabe reassured them that the London studio had received the feed and all was well. Mags retreated to the music room with Tim, while Gabe adjusted his headset so he could relay Tim's instructions to Fae, Victor, and the crew.
"Are you all set, Victor?" She knew he liked to be quiet before filming began, and while he'd worked on pre-recorded shows with them before, this was his first live shoot.
"Yes, I believe so. The atmosphere in this house is quite disturbing, don't you think?" He blinked at her.
"Yes, I do. I've felt as if something is wrong here ever since we arrived."
Victor nodded gently. "Be careful tonight, and stay close to me."
Fae's gaze locked with John's, and her pulse quickened. She appreciated his unspoken concern for her safety, but there was a fine mystery brewing, and she intended to get to the bottom of it.
"And, five, four, three, two, one." The room darkened as Gabe reached the end of the count.
Fae stood for a moment to allow her eyes to adjust to the darkness while, in her ear, she heard the feedback from the London studio.
Victor's rasping breath cut across the silence, and Fae was glad to spot the tiny blink of the red light on top of Bob's camera, reassuring her that the others were still there.
Her cue sounded through the earpiece. "And we're off now to join our colleagues at Fingelly Manor. Fae, are you there?"
Her nerves stretched out thinner than piano wire as adrenaline kicked in, and she gave her intro piece to camera. The dim murky light from the window allowed her to pick out shadowy shapes in the room as she moved forward, describing her surroundings. The night vision camera would give the viewers a full picture of the room.
"I sense a presence." Victor's breathy tones cut across the end of her speech.
The fine hairs on the nape of her neck stood to attention. "What's happening, Victor?" From working with him before, she knew he had a real gift for being able to sense things that no one else could, and when the historians in the studio checked out his facts, they were always astounded by his accuracy.
"There is someone here amongst us. A female." His clothing rustled as he moved, and Fae strained her eyes, trying to see where he was headed.
She followed carefully in his wake as he walked toward the fireplace. The flames cast a red glow onto the hearth.
"A young woman was done a great wrong," Victor intoned.
"Do you have a name for us?" Fae asked. She already knew about the maid. To convince the audience and the waiting historians, she needed facts that they could try to check.
"Hannah. Her name is Hannah."
"Hannah who?" Fae's heart bumped against her ribs in anticipation. With any luck, the historian could map any information Victor provided with records supplied by Giles.
In her ear, she could hear the presenters in the London studio talking excitedly as they waited for Victor to answer.
"Hannah Smith. She is seventeen and a kitchen maid here at Fingelly." Victor paused in front of the fireplace. The light from the flames shaded his face a dramatic shade of red, and a chill ran through Fae.
Victor's breathing became louder, harsher, as if drawing in air had become a struggle. "Around 1800. She was here then. She places a curse on the lairds of Fingelly until the wrong that was done is put right."
Fae suppressed a shiver. She recognised the signs of Victor allegedly allowing Hannah's spirit to speak through him. It was something that had happened before when they had worked together. She was never sure if what happened to Victor was genuine or not. It had scared her half to death the first time a spirit had spoken through him. Now she was more sanguine, but she still didn't like it.
"What does Hannah want us to do?" She could hear the London studio warning her a commercial break was scheduled in one minute.
"Need to be in consecrated ground. Find me; find my bairn." Victor's voice had changed. The words were a soft Scottish brogue quite unlike Victor's usual broad Mancunian tone.
"Thirty seconds."
"We'll keep trying to get more information about Hannah. Rejoin us after the interval." Fae just managed to get her words out before the studio cut to the break.
"Are you okay?" John's voice sounded soft and low in her ear. His breath blew warm on her cheek.
"I'm fine. Check on Victor. I think he's still in a trance."
The lights remained off, as there was not much time before the live feed would resume. After the break, the London end would be live, talking to viewers for a few minutes, and then they would cut back to Fingelly to pick up the feed.
"Tim wants you all to move to the dining room for the next segment." Gabe's voice sounded in her earpiece.
"Okay."
John had taken hold of Victor's arm and was talking gently to him. Fae waited until she saw Victor's features resume their usual appearance, resembling a cadaverous tortoise.
"Tim wants us to relocate to the dining room for the next part of the show," Fae told them.
