by Ian Edwards
‘And what?’ Alan asked.
Sarah pursed her lips. ‘Do you believe in ghosts?’
Alan nodded. ‘I do, although I think they’re most likely irritating lost spirits who…’ he turned to face Frankie. ‘Are destined to roam eternity making life a misery for any poor soul they decide to haunt.’
‘I’ve never seen a ghost, but I do have an open mind to the supernatural,’ Harry said.
‘Why?’ Alan asked Sarah.
‘I think that the Merton Palace Theatre is haunted.’
Alan and Frankie exchanged looks. ‘Go on,’ Alan urged.
‘My memory is a bit fuzzy, but I remember being in the cellar. There was some strange kind of mark on the ground.’
‘What kind of mark?’ Alan asked.
Sarah frowned. ‘Like a water mark, but raised off the ground. Almost like a scab. It was creepy. It kind of looked like a person.’
‘A person?’
‘An imprint of a person,’ Sarah clarified. Her voice caught and Harry helped her with her drink again.
Alan looked at Frankie who shrugged.
‘What happened after that?’ Harry asked.
‘I’m not completely sure but, and here’s the weird thing. It suddenly became very windy down there…’
‘In the cellar?’ Harry asked.
Sarah nodded. ‘Yeah, things were blowing around, tools were falling over.’ She paused for a moment. ‘I remember being pulled towards the door by one of the workmen. Hander, I think. But the door slammed shut and I was stuck the in the cellar.’ Sarah looked at Alan and Harry who were hanging on her every word.
She continued. ‘Sorry, yes. I remember the lights going out but all the time I was aware of somebody else being down there. A feeling that I wasn’t alone.’
‘You saw someone?’ Alan asked.
‘I’m not sure,’ Sarah admitted, her voice weak. ‘It’s just that the last thing I properly remember was…I think I saw a person. A man.’
Harry helped Sarah with her drink. ‘Could it have been one of the builders?’
She shook her head. ‘No, they had all left the cellar by then. It was only for a second, a flash of something. A face, a man’s face. After that I can’t remember anything.’
‘Ask her if she saw a ball,’ Frankie said to Alan. ‘A small one.’
‘Did you see anything else?’ Alan asked, shooting a puzzled look in Frankie’s direction.
‘No, not that I can remember.’ Sarah rested her head back on the pillows and closed her eyes. ‘I’m sorry I’m feeling really tired.’
Harry patted her arm. ‘You get some sleep, we’ll come back and see you tomorrow.’
‘Alan,’ Sarah said softly. ‘Can you do me a favour?’
‘Of course. What is it?’
‘No one knows I’m here. Can you let Giles know? He’s probably very worried.’
‘I doubt that,’ Alan said
‘Please.’
Alan nodded. ‘OK, I’ll let him know.’
Sarah smiled and closed her eyes. He motioned for Harry to leave and they both took a step away from the bed.
‘Alan,’ Sarah mumbled.
‘I’m still here,’ he replied, turning back. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘I had a dream about you last night.’
‘Really?’
Sarah closed her eyes again. ‘Yes, you were talking to me through the radio. It was like you were on the radio…’ she mumbled before falling asleep.
Alan nodded at Harry. ‘It was just a dream,’ he said and crept out of the ward before Sarah woke up again.
*
Alan and Harry walked in silence through the Hospital corridors. Frankie quietly followed them, his hands thrust deep into his pockets, lost in his own thoughts.
‘Are you OK?’ Harry asked Alan as they entered the hospital reception. ‘You’re very quiet. Unusually so. I don’t like it.’
Alan stopped and looked at his friend. ‘To be honest I’m not. I’m a bit annoyed.’
Harry nodded. ‘I know how you feel.’
‘You do?’
‘Of course. Sarah has gone through one hell of ordeal. It’s only natural that she would be confused. It’s frustrating that we can’t do more to help her.’
Alan frowned. ‘Oh. No, it’s not that.’
‘What is it then?’
‘I’m sorry for Sarah, what with all the injuries and everything but we did bring her grapes…’
‘Cherries.’
‘OK, yes. Cherries. We did bring her cherries, and despite all that she still wants me to speak to Giles.’
Harry stared at Alan. ‘Sorry, I’m not with you.’
‘She knows how much I get wound up just by being anywhere near him and she still wants me to speak to him.’
‘Maybe you should do it,’ Harry paused. ‘Just this once. It could be a learning experience for you. And think how grateful Sarah will be.’
Alan shook his head. ‘I can’t believe she can be so inconsiderate,’ he mumbled as the friends made their way to the exit.
Chapter 36
Alan didn’t want to go home after visiting Sarah, so he spent several minutes trying to persuade Harry they should go for a quick drink. Harry however was not interested, explaining that he was having Katherine for dinner and needed to do a spot of shopping. He did however offer to drop Alan off at the Cloven Hoof as it was on his way to the shopping centre.
Thirty minutes after leaving the hospital, Alan and Frankie were tucked into a quiet corner of the Cloven Hoof. Not that it had been difficult to find a quiet corner, seeing as they were the only customers in the pub.
‘You did well to grab us a table,’ Frankie said as he surveyed the empty pub. ‘Looks like they’ve got a rush on.’
Alan put his mobile phone on the table and slipped an ear bud into his ear. ‘We got lucky. The lunchtime crowd has probably just cleared.’
‘If you say so,’ Frankie replied, unconvinced.
‘So,’ Alan said. ‘Why have you been so quiet?’
Frankie put his arms on the table and leaned forward. ‘Well, the other night I had this strange dream.’ He lowered his voice conspiratorially, which Alan thought was a little unnecessary seeing as no one could hear him anyway. ‘I was back in the theatre, but there was something strange going on…’
‘Like what?’ Alan asked.
‘A feeling. Like there was something there. Something sinister.’
‘Sinister?’
Frankie nodded. ‘A presence. A door slammed shut for no reason and there was an atmosphere. An oppressive atmosphere.’
‘Did you see anything?’
‘Only a ball. A small ball. It rolled towards me.’
‘You’re right, that’s a weird dream.’
‘The thing is, I found this…’ Frankie dug his hand into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small ball. He placed it on the table. ‘The next day, in my pocket.’
Alan picked the ball up and rolled it round the palm of his hand. ‘Is this the same ball you saw in your dream?’
Frankie nodded. ‘I think so, and the more I think about it the more I am convinced it wasn’t a dream. I think it actually happened.’ He pursed his lips. ‘I think Sarah was right. There is something going on at the theatre.’
‘Ghosts?’ Alan asked, placing the ball back on the table.
Frankie shrugged. ‘Ghosts, or some kind of spirit manifestation. Not all ghosts are as friendly and engaging as me.’
‘Equally, some are not as annoying,’ Alan teased and downed his pint. ‘Stay there,’ he told Frankie, pulled the ear bud out of his ear and headed off to the bar.
*
‘You’re not normally one of the usual lunchtime crowd,’ Gary the landlord said as he poured Alan a pint.
‘You get a crowd at lunchtime?’
‘Of course. We’re very popular.’
Alan looked around the empty pub. ‘Really?’
Gary put an almost full pint glass on t
he bar. ‘People are getting fed-up with overpriced sandwich bars. They want real food at lunch time. Traditional pub food.’
‘What sort of food do you serve?’
‘All the usual; Smoky Bacon, Beef and Onion, Cheese and Onion and for those with special dietary requirements, Ready Salted.’
‘I don’t know what I’ve been missing,’ Alan said and handed over a five pound note.
‘Before you go can you fill this in for me?’ Gary reached under the bar and passed Alan a clipboard with a form attached to it.
‘What’s this?’
‘Application form for The Pub of The Year,’ Gary said proudly. ‘It’ll do us good to win something like this.’
Alan studied the form carefully. ‘It says here that the pub must give something back to the community.’
‘We do,’ Gary said while wiping a glass with a grubby tea towel.
‘When? What?’
‘I held Sadie’s wake here, free of charge.’
‘Sadie died in here,’ Alan turned around and pointed at a stool tucked under a table. ‘At that very stool. In fact, she had been lying there for two days before anyone realised she was dead. The other winos came in to see her and have a final drink in her honour. It wasn’t a wake, it was more like she was laying in state. Albeit face down in a bowl of nuts.’
‘If we win, free beer for a week for anyone that voted for us,’ Gary added.
‘Where do I sign?’
Gary tapped the form with his finger. ’Just there. Don’t worry about filling in the reasons, I’ll do that.’
‘Have you got another one I can give to James?’
Gary handed Alan another form and he took it and his pint back to Frankie.
*
‘You’ll never guess what?’ Alan said as he sat down at the table. ‘Gary’s only going to enter this place in the pub of year competition.’
Frankie laughed. ‘Is there a category for post war depression themed pubs?’
Alan grinned. ‘So, any thoughts about the ghost of Merton Palace Theatre?’ He paused, nodded at Frankie and added. ‘The other one?’
Frankie shrugged. ‘I suggest we stay out of it. We shouldn’t get involved. I’m not keen on meeting an angry ghost.’ He broke into a smile. ‘It’s not really our problem, is it?’
Alan raised his glass in salute. ‘My thoughts entirely.’
‘Anyway, you’ve got a bigger problem to sort out.’
‘Have I?’
‘You’ve got to call Giles Monroe.’
*
The sound of laughter alerted Alan that something wasn’t quite right when he opened the front door that evening.
‘That’s not right,’ he whispered to Frankie, who had only just stopped moaning about his aching legs and the long walk from the bus stop. ‘That’s laughter. Rosie has a rule. No laughter before 8pm and then only at weekends.’
‘I think my arches have fallen,’ Frankie groaned while sitting on the stairs and rubbing his feet.
Shaking his head, Alan pushed open the kitchen door and walked in.
‘Hi Alan,’ Dawn said.
He gave a little wave and smiled pleasantly.
Dawn and Rosie were sitting round the kitchen table, a half empty bottle of wine and two wine glasses stood on the table alongside a large box.
He pulled a chair out and dropped into it. ‘Hello Dawn. How’s things?’
‘All good thanks. I just dropped off a parcel that I took in for Rosie.’
‘It was really good of you,’ Rosie patted the box. ‘I’ve been waiting for this.’
Alan looked at the box and then at Dawn. ‘You brought the parcel to us?’
Rosie fixed Alan with a hard stare. ‘Yes, we’ve just told you.’
‘Oh, the irony,’ Frankie said entering the kitchen. ‘Be honest. You weren’t expecting that, were you?’
Alan frowned at Frankie who eased himself on to one of the kitchen chairs with a groan.
‘Rosie was telling me you’ve been visiting a friend in hospital,’ Dawn said, finishing off her wine.
‘Yeah, Sarah. She’s my agent.’ He turned to Rosie. ‘She’s regained consciousness now.’
‘That’s great news, Alan.’ Rosie said with an unexpected amount of warmth. ‘So, did you find out what happened to her?’
‘Regained consciousness,’ Dawn repeated. ‘That doesn’t sound good.’
‘Well it sounds better than still unconscious,’ Frankie pointed out, causing Alan to suppress a giggle.
‘Sarah had an accident at the theatre...’ He turned to Rosie. ‘The Merton Palace Theatre.’
‘That’s the theatre in the town centre, isn’t it?’ Dawn asked. ‘The one that’s being done up.’
‘Yes, it is,’ Rosie told her. ‘What was she doing there? Did she tell you what actually happened?’
Frankie stopped rubbing his feet and put his arms on the table. ‘Yes, what did happen? I’m looking forward to you explaining this one.’
‘There were some problems with the refurbishment of the theatre, so the builders asked her to go along so they could explain the issues…’
‘What happened?’ Rosie asked. Dawn nodded encouragement.
‘Well it was really odd. She said she was attacked by a ghost.’
‘Oh, come on Alan,’ Rosie scoffed. ‘Really? Sarah’s a sensible woman. She’s probably got amnesia or something.’
‘I know,’ Alan nodded. ‘But that’s what she said. There’s been other incidents too.’
‘I’m sorry, I just can’t believe that. There’s no such thing as ghosts,’ she paused for a moment. ‘Maybe I should speak to the doctors looking after her and suggest a brain scan.’
‘Actually, I believe you.’ Dawn said.
Alan looked at Dawn. ‘You believe me or Sarah?’
‘Both of you. You should speak to Joy. She’s really into this kind of thing.’
‘Ghosts?’ Rosie asked.
‘Ghosts, the paranormal, supernatural, the unexplained, witchcraft, anything like that.’
‘She said witchcraft. Did you hear that?’ Frankie said.
To the bemusement of both Rosie and Dawn, Alan started nodding for no particular reason, said; ‘She’s into witchcraft?’
‘Amongst other things, yes,’ Dawn smiled at him. ‘You should come round tonight and talk to her about it.’
‘I’d love to, b…’
‘Great. Joy should be home about seven-ish. Come round any time after that. You can see Mr Licky. He’s really missed you.’
‘Has he?’ Rosie asked, enjoying watching Alan squirm.
‘Oh yes. He sits at the bottom of the garden staring at the fence. He knows that you’re the other side of it. We were going to ask for a picture of you to put in his basket.’
Alan and Frankie exchanged looks.
‘You’ll come too won’t you Rosie? We can have a chat while they’re talking ghosts and ghouls.’
‘Of course, I’ll bring the wine.’
‘That’s great, I’ll see you later.’ Dawn got up and breezed out of the kitchen.
Alan waited for the door to shut before turning to Rosie. ‘Right, we’ve got an hour.’
‘What for?’
‘To move.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Move house. There’s always those adverts on TV for estate agents who say they can sell your house in record time. Let’s put them to the test. Ninety minutes. We can be halfway to Bristol by then.’
‘Alan!’ Rosie snapped. ‘What are you going on about?’
‘I can’t go next door.’
‘Why on earth not?’
He pushed the bottle of wine towards her. ‘You’re going to need this.’
Rosie filled her glass. ‘Well?’ She said.
‘You know Dawn and Joy?’
‘Yes Alan, I know Dawn and Joy.’
‘They’re witches.’
Rosie stared at him. Silent.
‘I bet that sounded so m
uch better in your head,’ Frankie grinned.
Alan took a deep breath. ‘Listen, James and I found evidence when we took the dog back. We think they’ve been stealing my mail because they’re doing voodoo. They probably want my soul.’
Rosie just continued to stare. The only sound being Frankie’s laughter.
Alan continued. ‘The dog, Mr Licky, is their familiar. Some witches have cats, but they have a dog. It’s obvious when you think about it...’
Rosie put her now empty glass down on the table. ‘I wonder if I should book you in for a brain scan instead of Sarah.’
‘James says that I’ll have to give them my soul for them to take the curse off.’
‘Alan, I’m not listening to this nonsense anymore. Anything you say that starts off with “James said” has got to be nonsense. Dawn is expecting to see you later and you will be there. No arguments.’
Rosie sighed, stood up and left the kitchen.
‘For god’s sake,’ Alan moaned. ‘How can she not see it?’
‘Anyway, facing the Witches of Eastwick isn’t the worst thing that’s going to happen to you today,’ Frankie said.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You’ve still got to call Giles Monroe.’
Chapter 37
Frankie looked up as Alan came back into the kitchen.
‘Well, did you call him?’
Alan grinned mischievously. ‘Sort of.’
‘Son,’ Frankie sighed. ‘Stop making a fuss and do it. It was a simple and reasonable request and you should have done it by now.’
‘Giles Monroe is a knob.’
‘That’s as maybe, but you’re not doing it for him, you’re doing it for Sarah.’
Alan grinned again. ‘Relax. I left a message on his voicemail. And I didn’t even swear.’
Frankie nodded and sat down at the table.
Alan pulled out a chair and sat next to him, banging gently on the table. ‘Right,’ he announced. ‘We need a plan. Just in case they try anything.’
Frankie frowned. ‘They?’
‘Yes, ‘they’ The Witches of Eastwick next door.’
‘Right.’
‘Wooden stakes,’ he said. ‘We’re going to need wooden stakes.’
Frankie frowned. ‘I’m sorry but aren’t they just for vampires?’
Alan chewed his bottom lip in thought. ‘I’m sure they’ll work on witches. I mean, having a wooden stake driven through your heart is not going to do you any good. vampire or not.’
