The Rarest Rose

by I Beacham

  Ele’s nugget of hope faded. She knew something wasn’t right. Yesterday, Kier had said she didn’t have any other commitments this side of Christmas. Ele had the strongest sense that she was being evasive. She mentally thumped herself. She was thinking like a pubescent youth with all her insecure emotional doubts. Kier had either forgotten to mention the business arrangement or was looking for some space. Ele had been leaning on her a lot. Maybe she was hypersensitive about returning home.

  They agreed on a time and parted with a hug. Kier made her promise that if anything unpleasant happened at the house, she was to ring straight away. Kier would drive over. When Ele climbed into her car, she forced the negative thoughts from her mind. She had something important to do when she got home.

  Despite the house being empty for most of the week, as Ele opened the front door, she felt her home’s warm embrace and welcome. It was like the house knew she was coming home for real this time, not a fleeting visit, and that it missed her. Feathers certainly had and ran down the stairs meowing. She was wanted.

  She walked into the kitchen and deposited a few groceries she had bought on the way home, before feeding Feathers and letting him out. Then she wrapped herself up warmly and put on a thick pair of gloves and a wool hat before walking outside to her studio—the area where she had been when she had seen the manifestation.

  Everything was quiet as she looked around her. It was so different now from the last time she had stood here. She walked over to the area where the leaves had drawn her. There she waited, expecting something to happen, but nothing did. She took a deep breath and began to talk.

  “John Stafford?” she called out. “John Stafford!” she said with more urgency. “I know you’re here.” Still nothing happened. All she could hear was the dullness of her own voice reverberating off the brick buildings surrounding her.

  “I want you to listen to me.” She was amazed at the sound of her voice. It sounded authoritative and calm, not like she felt inside. “I know who you are, and I know you lost Harriett under terrible circumstances. I know where you and your wife are buried together, and I know that you are here for a reason that I, as yet, do not understand. But you have to stop frightening me like you did the other day. It isn’t helping, and it will only make me run. Whatever it is you need, I am looking, and I am trying to understand.”

  Ele bit her lip as she stopped and listened. Still, she heard nothing. It occurred to her that if anyone was secretly watching her, besides the ghost, they would think she was barking mad, standing in the cold, talking to herself.

  “I’m open to gentle clues, John, and I do mean gentle.” She found herself exhaling heavily, nervously. “I am determined to find out what’s wrong, but you have to be patient, and you have to trust me.”

  Had she been expecting something miraculous to happen? Had she expected to hear someone unseen whispering the missing clues in her ear? Nothing awful or eerie occurred, and in the end, she walked back into the kitchen and shut the door. She just hoped John Stafford was listening.

  As she closed the door, Ele glanced back in time to see Feathers outside, playfully running round in circles near the spot where the leaves once danced.

  The next day, Ele walked the mile and a half stretch down into the village of Pegmire and beyond to the small hamlet where Roger and his wife, Joan, lived.

  Ele was in awe at the wonder of nature and how it could take her breath away. She was in a fairyland scene of white. It was not snow, but a sparkling layer of ice crystals on everything. Every treetop, every twig, the gates and gateposts, the blades of grass—everything was glistening silvery white.

  Hoarfrosts were rare, but when they came, you reached for the camera. This picturesque vista was the scene of many a beautiful Christmas card, but it came at a price. Though pretty, a hoarfrost was dangerous and lethal for motorists and pedestrians. When they arrived, they were usually accompanied by freezing fog and black ice. Under normal circumstances, Ele would not have ventured out, but she had a promise to keep.

  Her complimentary copies of her book on British woodpeckers had arrived from the publisher. After running her hands proudly over its cover and feeling fit to burst at the fruits of her labor, she knew she wanted to take a copy to Joan today. She penned a few heartfelt words inside the cover, and after wrapping up warm, walked into the village to see her instead of driving. Though the foot journey would take her a good hour, she thought it safer than the car, and cherished the benefit of exercise.

  It was also a way to keep her mind from doing overtime. She had not heard from Kier in the last twenty-four hours, and although there was no reason why she should, she had hoped to get a phone call. She couldn’t stop the little niggling sense that all was not well between them.

  The ground was frozen, and she heard it crunching beneath her feet. The air was so cold, it made her cough as she breathed, and she was forced to wrap her scarf around her face. But it was beautiful and Ele didn’t care.

  As she walked up the short pathway that led to Joan’s semidetached house, she looked at the crystallized spider webs linking a couple of small bushes. Every minute web of lace could be seen clearly, and she thought how clever the spiders were, how intricate their labor.

  Joan opened the door and welcomed her inside. Although still plump, she had lost weight and her clothes seemed too large. She looked tired and haggard.

  That morning, when Ele phoned Roger to see if a call today would be convenient, he told her that things were still no better, and if anything, Joan’s condition was getting worse. The nightmares were increasing, her sleep diminishing, and her agoraphobic behavior was worsening. She would not go outside, and now believed she was being watched by someone.

  It was one of the first things that Ele noticed as she entered Joan’s lounge. The curtains to the back window that highlighted the pretty garden with all the bird feeders, were pulled close. Joan must have caught Ele looking.

  “I don’t open them. It keeps the heat in.”

  Ele knew this wasn’t true. She lost count of the times Joan and Roger invited her to the house after Beth died. The couple had pulled her into the center of their family until she was able to stand on her feet again. It had taken some time. Ele knew that the view outside and into the garden was the most precious of things to Joan whose objectives in life were homemaker, cook, and bird watcher. When she wasn’t doing the first two, you would always find her in the garden or at this window watching the different species of birds that visited the myriad of feeders she had hanging all over.

  Ele smiled and nodded. She said nothing, for there was nothing to be said. Furtively, she noted the dust on the mantle above the fire and the thin coating on other furniture. The carpet, though clean enough, needed a vacuum. At face value, none of what she saw meant much, and yet it did. Joan’s home was normally like a show house. She and Roger did not have much, as they had chosen to spend what little they had in providing their children with the best education, and that meant university. Seeing Joan like this hurt Ele. This was not the Joan she knew and loved.

  “I’ve brought you a present.” Ele sat and pulled a wrapped package from her handbag. Joan sat opposite her, and when the small gift was thrust into her hands, Ele watched the dawning recognition fall on Joan’s wan features before she started removing the paper eagerly.

  “Is this what I think it is? Oh, my word.” Joan’s surprise and joy was genuine. “Your book. I told Roger I was going to buy it as soon as it became available.”

  “Well, now you don’t have to, Joan. I wanted you to have a copy before anyone else because I know how much you love birds.”

  Joan was overwhelmed and grasped the book to her chest, occasionally looking at the cover.

  “I’ve written something inside it for you,” Ele added and watched the interest on Joan’s face as she flicked through the first few pages.

  Joan must have read Ele’s inscription several times because it took her a while before she spoke again. Eventually, she lo
oked at her with tearful eyes. “Ele, this is beautiful and all for me. You’ve no idea how wonderful it is. This brings joy to my heart. You’re so kind. You didn’t need to.”

  “Yes, I did. You and Roger…I owe you both so much. What you did after Beth—”

  “What we did was what any good folk would do,” Joan said with the most energy Ele had seen since she’d arrived. “We were proud to be there for you and grateful that you let us.”

  Ele was humbled and took hold of Joan’s hands. “I love you both so much. You know that, don’t you?”

  “Oh, humbug.” Embarrassed, Joan rose from her chair. “Why don’t you let me put the kettle on and make you some tea?”

  It had always been tea and sympathy with Joan. She would plant a pot of tea between them, and then tell Roger to disappear and “go fix something” while the two of them would chat. In the old days, it was always Ele who talked and Joan, kind Joan, who listened.

  Now their roles were reversed, and Ele hoped the magic pot of tea might let Joan open up. But she didn’t, and Ele chose not to push. They ended up discussing all manner of things, but never anything regarding Joan’s ill health and her nightmares.

  “Will you do another book?” Joan asked.

  Ele nodded.

  Joan’s face lit up again with avid interest. “Not the kingfishers?”

  “I think so,” Ele whispered as if they were hatching a scheme not yet to be spoken of. Joan slapped her hands in front of her in delight.

  “I’m still in the research stage and haven’t written anything yet, but I’ve started the watercolors.” Ele found it so wonderful to be talking to someone who loved a hobby as much as she did.

  “Can I see them sometime?”

  The only time Joan seemed like her old self was when she was talking about birds. Ele was happy to encourage this. Maybe Joan would open up to her at another visit, after another pot of magical tea. “I’ll pop down soon, weather permitting, and show you what I’ve done.”

  As she waved good-bye to Joan, she was overwhelmed with sadness. Joan was one of those people she really cared about, one she didn’t see enough of. She would change that and start visiting again more often. She was also aware that Roger was praying she might be able to nail what was bothering Joan, and to banish his fears. Ele had not managed to do either.

  Chapter Twenty

  The Neville Arms public house sat out in the middle of the English countryside nestled between Alcester, a small ancient Roman market town, and Droitwich, once famous for its spa.

  There weren’t many houses around, and it was one of those places that never looked too busy and yet it had a healthy trade, due in no part to its location at a main road intersection and the fact it had added good pub food to increase its clientele.

  Ele sat in her car in the pub car park and waited for Kier. She studied the quaint old country building with its external floodlights on, pushing the night darkness away. It had been a while since she’d last been here, but it hadn’t changed much. It still appealed.

  She fiddled with the car keys in her lap and knew she was uptight. She had done a lot of self examination since she’d last seen Kier. It reminded her that her life was safe, but she had nothing to show for it. As things were, Beth would never let her down. Was that enough anymore? She was recognizing that safe was nice, but not good.

  Kier’s car pulled in, and Ele couldn’t stop smiling as she walked briskly over to her and linked her arm with affection in hers. She’d spoken to her once on the phone since leaving Kier’s, and though friendly, she still sensed she was holding back.

  As they moved toward the back entrance, she chattered away about the excellent food the pub served. In particular, the fish and chips that arrived on the plate wrapped in faux newspaper.

  All the time, her heart leapt. She had been looking forward to this for days, counting the hours till she saw Kier again. These last two days she had been lonely, and memories of Beth had not filled the gap.

  They sat in a corner away from the main throng of patrons. She could see Kier had missed her too and she hoped they could move on, that she could put right what she had said that dreadful night.

  A waitress arrived and took their order as Kiernan asked her how she’d discovered the place.

  “I was still doing my early morning show, and we were running a series about English towns and their heritage. Droitwich Spa was on the list, and I came here to interview historians and some locals about the place.

  “I fell in love with the town straight away. It’s nothing special to look at, but its small size appeals to me, and there are some very old medieval houses around. You can smell its history. Did you know Droitwich is sat on a massive deposit of salt?” she asked.

  “That important fact has slipped me by.”

  Kier’s feigned shock of surprise, her wide open eyes, brought Ele relief. The welcome return of Kier’s penchant for humor meant things couldn’t be too bad between them. Could they? The tension she’d felt before Kier’s arrival began to seep away, and she continued her account. “Its brine contains ten times more salt per gallon than seawater, rivaled only by the Dead Sea. Not bad going for a small town. The Romans occupied the area, as salt was their prized commodity.”

  “Clever Romans. Isn’t this fascinating?”

  “Oh, stop it.” Kier was playing with her now, talking as if Ele were describing ditch water. “I think it’s interesting, even if you don’t.”

  “I never said that.”

  “I can tell what you’re thinking.”

  “And you called me a geek!”

  They smiled. “Anyway,” Ele said, “I brought Beth here to visit, and we found this pub.”

  The minute she said that she saw a strange shadow cross Kier’s face. It was gone before she could blink, but she knew she’d seen it. Kier changed the subject.

  “Any strange happenings?” Kier seemed relaxed again as she rested her chin on one hand.

  Ele shook her head as their drinks arrived. “None at all, and I’m not complaining. I’ve needed this respite to get my nerves back in order.”

  “And are they?”

  Ele sipped her wine. “Yes, until the next John Stafford moment.” Though her answer was lighthearted and given with a smile, she couldn’t keep the apprehension out of her voice. Her nerves were finitely balanced, and she knew the slightest oddity at home would throw them out of kilter again. By nature, she was a strong-minded, independent woman not given to nervous disposition. She hated how vulnerable the haunting made her feel. She felt a warm hand cover hers.

  “I know. Maybe I shouldn’t have spoilt the evening by reminding you.”

  Intense eyes full of compassion stared at her, and the caring remark reminded Ele that her ghost, while he robbed her of calm, had brought her Kier. In some small way, perhaps she should be thankful to him. “It’s good to talk, and if I can’t talk to you about this, then who?”

  Her words resonated in her head and she knew they meant more than face value. They were true. Kier wasn’t just anybody. She was special. She was the only person Ele wanted to share her innermost thoughts with. The only other one she’d done this with in her life had been Beth. It didn’t feel so wrong now that she might want to do this with someone else—with Kier. She looked across the table and saw Kier’s eyes flicker. Ele dared to hope she understood the subtext of her message. But the moment was broken as the waitress returned with their food. Kier removed her hand. Ele missed its warmth, its quiet connection, and support.

  For the next half hour, their discussion was on the quality of the food, of what they thought of the house wine, and of the pub. Ele ordered another wine; Kier declined. Maybe it was the drink and the fact that Ele was calmer that other plaguing thoughts kept vying for her attention. Try as she might, she could not push them from her mind entirely.

  “You seem worried,” Kiernan said. “If your ghost is behaving himself, has something else happened?”

  What was it about Kier and her
ability to read her mind? She acknowledged Kier’s astuteness with a raised eyebrow and then thought about what she said next. She did not break people’s confidences, and certainly not Roger’s, but she knew she needed to talk to someone, to share her worries. She made a conscious decision to talk to Kier about Joan.

  “It’s very upsetting to see Joan like this, so unlike her usual self. She was my shoulder when Beth died and would listen to me for hours. We grew close, and still are. I was hoping she’d open up a bit and talk to me, but she didn’t.”

  “And no one knows what’s causing her problems? Doctors?”

  Ele shook her head. “Roger is convinced she’s losing her mind. I think she believes this too, and that possibility is making everything worse. She tried so hard to hide it from me, Kier, but she looked drained and lost. It would help if she could get a decent night’s sleep. When she tries, she has nightmares. Roger is beside himself with worry, and I can see why. Joan’s whole life is changing.”

  “It could be one of those winter depressions people get. You know, not enough sunshine and vitamin D. I hear it sends some people loopy. They have to sit in front of those special lights for hours a day to combat the blues,” Kier said.

  Ele appreciated her compassion. “I wish it was that simple. The awful thing is that she doesn’t have anyone she can talk to—that she wants to talk to—not like I have with you.” She paused as she saw that strange look in Kier’s eyes again. A look that said she’d spoken something she shouldn’t? “But thank you for listening.” The topic was heavy and she had said enough. “What did you think of the hoarfrost?”

  Kier’s face brightened. “Stunning. I grabbed a camera, hopped in my car, and drove around taking photos most of the day. The view from my place was incredible. I wanted to phone you and tell you to get over.”

  “Why didn’t you? I’d have come, you know.” She couldn’t hide her disappointment. For a moment, she thought Kier looked disappointed too, as though she had missed something special.