The Rarest Rose

by I Beacham

  My thoughts exactly! Kiernan liked Dot more and more.

  “Very well. What would you like to know?” It seemed they had passed Dot’s assessment.

  Ele shot a huge smile at Kiernan before asking, “Tell me anything you know about the Staffords?”

  Dot began.

  “My mother was born in eighteen ninety-three, and as soon as she could, she started work in service. In nineteen twelve, John and Harriett Stafford moved into your house, and my mother, Beatrice Lavish, went there as a housemaid. Soon after, the current housekeeper left the area, and my mother took that position. She was young for the role, but she had a steady head on her shoulders and got on very well with Mrs. Stafford, who was only a few years older than my mother.

  “John Stafford was something to do with banking, and I think he had been promoted and moved to this area. As I recall, Mother thought they had been married but a short while when they took up residence there. That was another similarity Mother had with Harriett. She had just married my father, Thomas…Tom. She and Mrs. Stafford became quite close despite their differing status. Although my father worked on the railways, he would sometimes go over to the house if any odd jobs needed doing. It was extra income, you understand.”

  Ele interrupted. “I don’t suppose you have an idea of what John Stafford looked like? Did your mother ever describe him?”

  “I can do better than that,” Dot said, rising. “I take it his appearance is of interest to you.” The statement sought no answer, and Kiernan surmised that Dot was already piecing together a large chunk of the missing element that neither she nor Ele spoke of.

  “Come and look at this,” Dot beckoned them over to an old photo on a far wall. “Tom, my father, was an amateur photographer. One of the first villagers to get a Kodak box Brownie camera. He was always taking photographs. Mother used to moan about the cost.”

  She pointed at the photo. “He took this of my mother and the Staffords one summer in the vicarage gardens, just before the war.” Dorothy’s finger moved across people in the shot. “That’s Harriett, that’s Mother, and that, of course, is John Stafford.”

  Kiernan felt the breath catch in her chest. John Stafford was their ghost.

  Ele saw Kiernan stagger back and knew she was ill. She steadied her as she guided her straight to the nearest chair. She felt her own heartbeat increase and her breathing quicken. For a moment, everything around her seemed to slow and go dull. She was afraid Kiernan was going to pass out. She didn’t, but Ele still sat on a chair arm and wrapped an arm around Kiernan’s shoulder in support. She found herself fighting to keep her own alarm in check.

  Kiernan was white. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay, Kier. Don’t talk.” Ele’s heart still pounded. She was frightened.

  Dot moved forward. “Are you all right, my dear? You’ve gone very pale.” Dot looked down at Kiernan who was slumped in an armchair panting for breath.

  Ele tried to reassure Dot that all was okay. She wasn’t sure herself. “Kier gets asthma, and I think the winter air gets to her,” she lied. Frightening though it was to hear someone gasp for breath, she knew what had brought on the attack. “It’s probably because we came in from the damp air and into the warmth.”

  Dot didn’t believe her. “It’s probably because she—and you—saw something in that photo.” She was no one’s fool.

  “I’m okay,” Kiernan wheezed, shaking an index finger in the air, and looking at Dot apologetically. “This is embarrassing.”

  “Do you have any medication?” Dot asked.

  Kiernan looked up at Ele. “Wrong car,” she wheezed.

  Ele saw her frustration and rubbed her back as she thought of the inhaler’s location—in Kiernan’s car, parked back at her place. She explained this to Dot who disappeared into the kitchen, talking about paper bags.

  Dot’s absence gave Ele the opportunity to confide in Kiernan. “Stafford is the ghost,” she whispered.

  “I know,” Kiernan spluttered. “You called me Kier…”

  Ele nodded. “Yes.” Was she treading on sacred ground?

  “No one calls me Kier. Only my mother did that.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” Ele could almost hear the blessed terrain crunching beneath her big feet.

  “It’s okay. I like it.”

  “Oh.” Ele couldn’t hide the satisfaction in her voice, but her sudden joie de vivre didn’t last long. Kiernan was coughing, and her wheezing grew louder. She could hear her continued fight for breath. Her fear for Kiernan’s wellbeing returned, as did her anxiety. It annoyed her that she never had her medication on her at the right time. “You really should carry your inhaler in your pocket. Keep it on you at all times, especially when you know this can happen.”

  “I know,” Kiernan said, resignation on her face.

  “Well, it’s no good saying that when you don’t do anything about it.”

  “I know.”

  Ele wasn’t finished. “When we get home, I’m going to tie the bloody thing around your neck.” She caught the surprise on Kier’s face as she looked up at her. Could Kiernan see how worried she was—because she was. She fought to regain her control. “Well, someone’s got to look after you.” Her discomfort was stemmed when Dot walked back in with a plain brown paper bag, which she thrust toward Kiernan.

  “Breathe in and out of that,” Dot ordered her. “Not really high-tech, but I’m told it helps. It’s probably an old wives’ tale that won’t work. If you die, we’ll know the answer,” she said wryly.

  “That’s not reassuring, Dot.” Kiernan lifted her head from the bag.

  With one commanding movement, Dot shoved her head back in the bag. “Shut up and keep breathing.”

  Ele bit her lip. The scene was classic. “What did you do before you retired, Dot?” A Royal Marine Commando?

  “I was a civil servant and ran a department in Westminster full of bureaucratic idiots who didn’t listen. They spent money like water, and now the country wonders why we’re in a recession.” She bent toward Kiernan. “You should keep your inhaler on you.”

  “I know,” Kiernan’s muffled, aggravated voice spoke into the bag.

  “It’s quite stupid when you know you’re prone to attacks,” Dot continued.

  “I know,” Kiernan repeated.

  “Only an idiot would leave it in their car.”

  Kiernan lifted her head from the bag and looked at Dot. “I know!”

  Dot weakened. “Never mind, my dear. This time I think you’re going to live.” She took the bag off Kiernan, rumpled it up, and threw it into a wicker waste paper basket. Turning to Ele, she said, “You know, you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to with regard to the Staffords, but…” She smiled conspiratorially. “If later, when you think you can trust me, I would like to hear the full story. I’m old, and so little excitement surrounds me these days. Whatever is happening at the vicarage must be very interesting.”

  Ele wasn’t sure interesting was the word.

  Minutes later, Dot resumed her story of the Staffords.

  “When the war came, John Stafford joined the army and went off to fight. I believe he was in the trenches at Flanders and also the Somme. The last year of the war, nineteen eighteen, Mrs. Stafford received a telegram that her husband was missing in action, presumed killed. You can imagine it was quite a blow for such a young woman. Mother stayed with her a few nights until Harriett’s family came down to join her. They wanted her to go home with them. To Northampton I believe, but she refused. She was convinced her husband was still alive and wanted to be at the house when he returned home.” She hesitated. “Mother always said it was a shame she hadn’t gone back with her family because of what happened next.”

  Ele’s attention was split. She was trying to take in everything that Dot was saying while focusing on Kiernan, needing to know she was okay. She glanced down at her and was relieved to see she seemed better. Her breathing was less labored. Ele’s concentration returned to the story, and s
he wondered what disaster was about to further befall the Staffords, and whether anything they heard might tell them why the vicarage grounds were now haunted.

  “During the summer of nineteen eighteen, a great influenza hit Europe and this country. It’s said that more people died of the flu at that time than those who had perished in the Great War. The influenza hit this part of England particularly hard, and Harriett Stafford contracted it. She became very ill, and her family came down again to look after her. When her condition seemed to lighten, they insisted she go home with them so she could be better cared for. But the flu often struck a person with a second wave. Just as they thought she was recovering, her condition worsened, and she died in Northampton.

  “Several months later, after the war had ended, Captain Stafford came home. He had been injured during the Somme, and for whatever reason, no word of his survival had made it home.” Dot smiled sadly. “Harriett had been right all along. He was still alive, but arrived home too late, after she died.”

  Dot ran her hand along the top of the table. “Mr. Stafford was devastated to learn of his wife’s death. They had been so very close and had such a wonderful marriage filled with love. Mother always said she wished such a marriage for all of her three children. She continued to be the housekeeper until Mr. Stafford died at the vicarage early nineteen nineteen. Everyone said he died of complications of his injuries, but Mother always said he died of a broken heart.”

  “You know a lot.” Ele wondered how Dot could know so much about someone she had never known.

  Dot nodded. “My granddaughter has been researching the family tree and interviewing us all for the record. I’m on DVD you know,” she said proudly. “I’m the last one who remembers my parents. I find the more I’m asked to think about them, the more I remember. But Mother was always talking to me about the Staffords, what they were like, and how much they loved each other. I was the only girl you see, and she never spoke to the boys about this. It was a very traumatic time in her life; she lost two people she regarded very highly. I know she always liked Mr. Stafford and thought him the most handsome gentleman she ever met. She never told my father that.” Dot laughed.

  “Where are they buried?” Ele asked.

  Dot hesitated before answering. “I don’t know. I assume John Stafford is buried in Pegmire churchyard. His wife is probably buried with family up in Northampton. I doubt they would have brought her back down here, thinking her husband was dead, his body lost on some battlefield.” She leaned back in her chair. “All a sad tale, isn’t it?”

  She and Kiernan said yes at the same time.

  “I don’t think there’s much more I can tell you.” Again, Dot rapped her fingers on the table. “Has any of this been of use to you?” She looked at Ele.

  “You’ve told us so much, Dot, and it’s been very helpful.” Ele smiled at Dot and received the warmest one back.

  “Yes, but has it answered any of your questions?” Dot probed, and Ele sensed she understood more than she was letting on.

  “I think you’ve answered some of them.” Ele hoped her answer didn’t give away her disappointment. The ghost now had a name, but his reason for haunting remained a mystery.

  “But there are more?” Dot sensed her frustration.

  “Maybe, Dot. I’m just not sure what they are yet.”

  “Such intrigue for an old woman.” Dot smiled before turning efficient. “I’m off to Bewdley tomorrow, to stay with my daughter for a week. If I remember anything else about the Staffords, I’ll let you know. And if you have any other questions, you just contact me and I’ll do my best to answer them.”

  As she and Kiernan stood to leave, Dot reached out for her hand and held it tight. “I mean it, Ele. Don’t hesitate to come to me again for help.”

  Ele thought how strange it was. You could meet some people and in the blink of a second, form a bond. As she looked at Dot, she realized this is what had happened. The old lady liked her. The feeling was mutual.

  As they drove back to the vicarage, Kiernan thought how sad the story of the Staffords had been. Such tragedy. She was grateful that Dot had known so much and also had a photo of the ghost. Seeing his picture had shocked her, enough to bring on an attack. She was feeling much better now, but she still couldn’t seem to get a full breath, and she longed to get to her inhaler. She glanced over at Ele driving and who seemed deep in thought. She saw a frown on her face, and wondered if she was trying to process all of Dot’s information, of how it would help solve the haunting.

  Kiernan was suddenly aware that the heat in the car was robbing her of valuable oxygen. She needed to get some decent air in her lungs.

  “Can you pull over, Ele? I need to get some fresh air.”

  Maybe it was the way she said it, but she saw the alarm on Ele’s face as she pulled off the road onto a verge at first opportunity.

  “You’re okay?” There was panic in Ele’s voice.

  “I’m fine.” But Kiernan hopped out of the car quickly, and immediately took the best intake of oxygen she’d had all afternoon. As she felt the satisfaction of the invisible elixir of life fill her lungs, she closed her eyes. When she opened them, Ele was stood close at her side, frantic concern etched on her face.

  “I’m okay, Ele. Really.” Kiernan tried to reassure her. “Look.” She made a point of taking a deep breath and smiling.

  Ele grabbed her, pulling her into a tight hug. “You scared me, Kier.”

  “I didn’t mean to. I’m okay,” she repeated.

  “I thought I was going to lose you.”

  Kiernan pulled back. “Hey, it’s only an asthma attack. They sound worse than they are.”

  “You went so pale.”

  Kiernan tugged her back into the hug and massaged her back, like she had done for her at Dot’s. She realized how much Ele must care for her. It felt good. She felt her body respond to Ele’s, and wondered if Ele felt the same. She must have, because Ele leaned back just enough to look into her face before kissing her. It was a deep kiss, not something done in haste, a mere meeting of lips. Kiernan felt heat explode between her legs. Too soon for Kiernan, Ele broke the kiss, and stepped back from her.

  “You’re sure you’re okay?”

  “Yes,” Kier said. She noted how Ele avoided eye contact. Not the usual behavior after a meaningful kiss.

  “You feel better?”

  “I feel better.” Dazed, Kiernan watched as Ele returned to the driver’s side of the car and got back into it. As she climbed into the vehicle, she thought she’d never felt so much better in her life. Not the usual way she was after an asthma attack.

  Chapter Thirteen

  It was late when Ele and Kiernan returned to the old vicarage.

  “Well, it helped,” Ele said as she locked her car door and they moved toward the house. “We now know who our ghost is, but we’re none the wiser for why he’s haunting the place.”

  Kiernan was also none the wiser, but not regarding the ghost. Ele had made no reference to what had happened earlier, when they had stopped the car—when she had grabbed Kiernan and kissed her. It was as if it had never happened, and it left Kiernan bewildered.

  For the remainder of the car journey, Ele had deliberately spoken about everything and anything, avoiding discussion of her sudden show of affection. Kiernan, on the other hand, had obsessed over nothing but that. She now knew there was a connection between them and that it served reciprocated, deeper, feelings. You don’t kiss someone like that that you don’t like, she thought. It’s a kiss that moves things on—and yet it didn’t appear to, and Kiernan wondered why? Her own feelings were clear. She was drawn—attracted to Ele and now, she wanted more. She just couldn’t fathom Ele’s behavior. Daring to kiss and now distant. Why?

  “Do you think he’s buried here?” Kiernan wheezed as she followed Ele into the hallway and was glad when the door closed. The house felt safe and secure. “His ashes might have been scattered or buried here. Maybe that’s what’s been disturbed.”
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br />   “Maybe.” Ele seemed pensive. She dropped her car keys into a small dish on a hall table. “The way Dot described the two of them, they doted on each other. Do you think it’s because they’re not resting together, if his wife is buried somewhere else?”

  Kiernan scratched her head. “I’ve thought of that but, if it was you, wouldn’t you have started haunting a lot earlier? Why wait till now to let the world know you’re not crazy with burial arrangements?”

  Ele gazed emotionless at Kiernan. “Yeah, I suppose so.” She fingered the car keys, moving them around mindlessly in the dish.

  Kiernan wondered if Ele’s odd behavior wasn’t staring her in the face. Had today been too much for her? She hadn’t been sleeping well of late, and who could blame her with a ruddy ghost clomping around outside? Today’s revelations had been exhausting—discovering the ghost’s identity. Her asthma attack hadn’t helped. And then that kiss? Kiernan knew Ele must be thinking of Beth. How could she not? Ele had spoken with such heartache of how she’d loved Beth, and how she still missed her so much, even after all these years. Maybe Ele was feeling remorse? Kiernan thought that natural. But hadn’t Ele dated others? She wasn’t the first.

  “You do realize we’re sitting on a goldmine here,” Ele said.

  “How so?”

  “Everything that’s happening. All these photographs with a ghost in them and one we can now name. They’ll be worth a fortune. To have actually captured something like this, and all the evidence.”

  Only once, for a trillionth of a second had Kiernan ever thought of the material value of what was happening. For her, this was never going to be about money, about making a sale and a profit. Even before she knew who the ghost was, something had reverberated deep within her. “For anyone to haunt, to be trapped in the wrong time, great suffering must be involved. Knowing who the ghost is, and all the tragedy surrounding him, this is so private and personal. I could never betray his trust, Ele.”