by Helen Goltz
‘Did Grandma Lily… well, find things?’
‘Not that I knew of. Not like you, if you are wondering if you inherited that skill. But she did find the courage to start again when Dad died – seventeen years she had without him,’ Kate said. ‘She threw herself into volunteering and making a new life… so I guess you could say she found herself.’
‘Hmm, well done, Grandma Lily!’ Holly finished off her glass of wine and then continued: ‘It’s weird that I’ve never heard of Sergeant Alexander.’
Kate shrugged. ‘Not really, when you consider the only time you saw Grandma Lily was usually when she visited you and your parents at your house, and the Sergeant would have stayed here, I imagine.’
‘True,’ Holly said, placing her hand across her glass so she didn’t get a third red wine refill. ‘When? What did he die from? How old was he?’
Kate glanced to the portrait. ‘Perhaps you should ask him. But from memory, it was sometime in the Seventies… one of the locals told me when I was visiting. They ran a small story in the local paper about him because he’d lived here for a few years with his wife. They rented this place from Grandma Lily for a while… I think he was in his late twenties when he died.’
‘Not in this house?’ Holly looked horrified. ‘He didn’t die here, did he?’
‘No. There was an incident…’
Holly shuddered. She hadn’t sensed the Sergeant or felt his emotions and she didn’t want to. Often, because of her business name, people assumed she was a clairvoyant or had the gift, but that was a gift she didn’t want. She was an investigator, not a spirit hunter.
Her aunty stood. ‘Well, I’m hungry. I know a very good little restaurant in the village we can walk to, if you like?’
‘Wonderful, let’s do it. But first I’ll show you to your room, m adame and we could put your overnight bag there,’ Holly said, with a grin.
Kate laughed and grabbed her bag. Holly led the way up the stairs to the bedrooms.
‘You take the main room, Aunty Kate,’ Lily said.
‘Absolutely not,’ Kate said, placing her bag inside the door of the second bedroom. ‘I’m the guest and I’ll go into the guest room… besides, it’s fabulous!’ She laughed. ‘Come on then.’
They made their way back downstairs and as Holly locked the front door behind them, she glanced at the Sergeant’s portrait – all was as it should be.
My kingdom for a date
It was a beautiful Saturday morning – blue skies, a crispness in the air and a good number of customers at the nursery. Luke loaded several bags of bark chips into the back of Jessie’s 4WD, assured her they would do the trick for the area she had to cover, and wiped his hands on his jeans, glancing at Alfred for rescue before the inevitable Saturday night plans discussion began.
‘Hello there, Jessie.’ Alfred gave her a nod. ‘Luke, I need your help please, son, as soon as you can.’
‘I’m on my way. Well, thanks Jess, see you again soon,’ Luke said, and started stepping backwards towards Alfred. He sighed with relief as Jessie realised her opportunity had passed, and she climbed into the driver’s seat of her vehicle and started it up.
Alfred grabbed a spade and indicated the wheelbarrow to Luke, who dutifully grabbed it and followed behind.
‘You know, we can’t afford for you to get hitched,’ Alfred said, teasing him and enjoying Luke’s discomfort. ‘Your admirers are spending a fortune.’
‘God, I hope that’s it for today. It’s nearly five, isn’t it? Let’s close up and have a beer.’
The two men locked the tools into the shed, and went through their usual evening lock-up checks and routine.
‘You don’t think you’re too fussy perhaps?’ Alfred asked. ‘I hate to see you alone. I’m not saying you’re unhappy, of course, but it would be nice to know that you’re going back to a well-lit home with a warm hearth.’
Luke grinned. ‘Well, when you paint the picture like that, I hear what you’re saying… Juliet and Jessie, they’re both good-looking, and smart, but…’ Luke shrugged.
Alfred let the subject go until they sat down overlooking the gardens with an ale. ‘What about that young lady you took out last month?’
‘Isabella,’ Luke said. ‘She blogs about shopping… that’s all she talked about. Just kill me now.’
Alfred laughed.
‘I don’t want to settle just so I’ve got company,’ he said. ‘I’ve got my work, friends,’ he said, with a nod to Alfred, ‘a TV and it might be time to get another dog soon. It’s been a few years since Rufus passed.’
Alfred nodded. ‘I understand, Luke, I really do, it’s just that – well, I guess your father and I would both like to see you as happy and settled as we were. When I met Audrey, God rest her soul, that woman had me the moment she set her blue eyes on me.’ Alfred smiled at the memory. ‘That honey hair, those blue eyes that could level you and love you in the same glance… ah, she was a grand girl. Beautiful, fun, compassionate… she taught me how to care about things, I looked at everything differently when she came into my life.’
‘And that’s exactly what I’m looking for… that is what I want.’
Alfred smiled. ‘But I was a good catch, too, of course. Goes without saying, really.’ He grinned.
‘Still are!’ Luke said, and laughed. ‘Been beating those old girls off with a daisy?’
‘Something like that,’ Alfred agreed and the men chuckled.
‘Who was that woman you sold the flowers to today? Haven’t seen her around before,’ Luke said, finishing his beer. ‘A tourist?’
‘Ah, that lovely young lady. No, she’s here for a bit. Her name is Holly and she has just rented Findlater House for six months. She wanted some flowers to make it feely homey,’ Alfred said, with a sly smile in Luke’s direction.
‘Findlater House?’ Luke set his drink down and turned to Alfred. ‘Seriously?’
‘Seriously,’ Alfred assured him.
‘Do you think she knows… you know, about its history?’ Luke asked.
‘Can’t say. We had some garden plans drawn up for that cottage once… a long time ago. If I remember rightly, Lily, or was it her daughter…’ he paused to think of her name, ‘Kate! That’s it. Anyway, one of them wanted to do something with the front garden and your dad obliged with plans. I don’t remember if they ever went ahead with it, though,’ Alfred said.
Luke shrugged. ‘I don’t know, either. Before my time, I guess. Wow, I can’t believe she’s taken a six-month lease on Findlater House,’ Luke said, still shocked by the news. ‘I hope the agent was upfront with her. It’s with the Flats’ agency, isn’t it?’ Luke asked.
‘Yes, young Damien’s running the show this week, his folks are away. Anyway, Holly said she’d be back to talk plants – whether your dad did the work or not, it needs some sprucing, apparently.’
‘Yeah, well, with the sandy soil around here, I hope she likes pot plants,’ Luke said.
‘I suspect you’ll have to visit her place and check out just what the soil’s like,’ Alfred suggested. ‘A budding garden, a budding romance!’
‘She’s bound to be swept away by my charms,’ Luke said.
Alfred nodded in agreement. ‘Especially if she likes the gruff type.’
The next evening, having bid her aunty farewell earlier that afternoon, Holly turned in for the night – the second night in her new abode and the first night on her own. Closing the bedroom door, she slipped beneath the sheets of the double bed. The room was lit by the small bedside lamp on the chest of drawers beside her. Normally, she would read for a while, but tonight, she lay staring at the ceiling, thinking.
‘Here I am,’ she whispered. ‘I’m twenty-six, separated, starting again.’
She breathed out, feeling the pain in her chest. She felt lonely; even the house felt lonely. Most of the time she didn’t miss James, especially if she kept busy and only thought of the grief he’d brought into her life. But late at night and in the early hours of the
morning when her guard was down, she missed him. She had loved him from the first moment she saw him. Before that, Holly had never believed in love at first sight. But he was strikingly handsome to her… his dark hair and green eyes, moody and private, the square jaw… they were made for each other and for the first few years they were so inclusive that, in retrospect, she suspected it wasn’t healthy.
She thought of the perfect moments, then stopped herself and filed the images away. But then Holly didn’t want to stop. She was safe here away from him and no-one was around to hear her, so she opened the file in her mind and let the images pour over her. She found herself remembering the time she lay beside him one morning as the rain fell outside and, for a small window of time, their love overwhelmed her… she felt like they were the only two people in the world. She remembered how he sent her flowers anytime he was away on business, to remind her that he missed her. She smiled at the memory of their first Christmas together when she told him how she missed the Christmas tree from her childhood, and he had bought and set up the most perfect Christmas tree she had ever seen. Then there was the time he did a deal with his chef friend to open the restaurant just for the two of them on their anniversary, and the first night she came to his house in a darkened street and he had turned all the lights on to guide her down the street to find him… it went on and on.
Holly had a thousand memories like this. And for every wonderful memory, there was a corresponding bad memory: the ex-girlfriend that was always on the scene, always meeting with him; the way he would call off their plans at a minute’s notice if he got a better offer from his mates; his inability to say the words ‘I love you’, unless she was leaving him; the late-night meetings that were not in the office like he claimed; and the cruelty he displayed with his pleasure at her miscarriage, telling her he decided that he didn’t want children anyway. The beginning of the end.
No, it was time for a new start with someone who had similar values and wanted the same things out of life, even though James once said he did. A tear rolled down her face and she breathed in deeply.
Let it go, she coached herself, let it go.
Holly took a deep breath. ‘Enough now,’ she said. ‘I’m not shedding one more tear over him. No, tomorrow is a new start and I’m in an exciting little cottage in a new village. I’m open to new work, to new love… eventually, and to my new life.’ She repeated her prepared affirmation.
‘I am a finder, and I will find love again. There, things are looking up, already,’ Holly said, and forced herself to smile.
Holly couldn’t see the Sergeant watching her from the corner of the room, or see him lower his head and fade from the room. He wouldn’t be appearing to her tonight.
The ghost was the last thing on Holly’s mind as she switched off her bedside lamp. But as soon as the room went dark, she felt a little afraid and snuggled down further into the bed, pulling the sheet up around her face and muffing her ears to avoid hearing and analysing every unusual noise. She silently prayed she would get through the night without an unwelcome visitor.
Home alone… or not quite
For a ghost, Sergeant Alexander Austen had a reasonably good baritone voice. For the last hour he had had the place to himself, which was just how he liked it. He didn’t know where Holly had gone and he didn’t care, just as long as she was out of his space. But if he had to hazard a guess, well, he did see her grab some grocery bags and she muttered something about finding a library, so he figured he had a good few hours on his own – and so, Alexander was enjoying his usual selection of vinyl records.
If he were being truthful, he was just a little peeved with the new tenant. He’d wanted to give her a good fright last night and send her packing, which up until now had worked very well with other guests, thanks very much. But there was something about her that reminded him of his Meg… she was just a bit vulnerable, clearly still in some pain, and he didn’t have the heart to do more damage. He wouldn’t want someone treating Meg like that… it was just bleeding frustrating, he thought. But he hadn’t given up on the idea of getting rid of her, it was just the right plan he needed.
He was rifling through the albums looking for another one to put on when he saw the Johnny Nash record. ‘Ah, been a while,’ he said, aloud. ‘I can see clearly now, yeah that was a big hit just a few months before I died, I remember it well.’ He read the lyrics on the album sheet… ‘Mm,’ he mused, ‘Johnny was seeing clearly now the pain was gone… good one Johnny, and not a bad message for her ladyship, either.’
He dusted the vinyl, put the album on, and moved towards the window singing the lyrics, when suddenly the door opened and Holly stepped in.
He hadn’t heard the car… Bugger! He wasn’t prepared to reveal himself right this minute… he wanted a strategy for that, or even to enjoy it. He faded and hurried to the frame to take up position before she glanced towards it.
In the background, Johnny continued to sing something about it being a bright, beautiful day.
Holly froze.
She couldn’t see him, but a record was playing in her house; an album that she had not put on. Without moving far from the doorway, she slowly put down on the floor the bag of groceries, her handbag, and two books from the library. She didn’t move; her heart was thumping.
There’s someone in the house.
Do I go back out and call the police, or do I look around?
Why would someone come into the house and put a record on?
Has the real estate agency double-booked with a holidaymaker?
Is there anything obvious missing? The furniture’s still here.
If I call the police, will they come, or just dismiss it because it’s the ghost house?
Is it the ghost, the Sergeant?
What if it is an intruder and they’ve got a knife or something?
Nothing was moving, the house was still and quiet – no bumps, no sounds of anything opening or closing, or floorboards creaking – just the record player playing an “up” song. She glanced towards the portrait and the Sergeant was there in his usual stance. She cleared her throat and waited. No one rushed down the stairs and past her out of the front door; not that she was really expecting that to happen. She just wanted to let whoever might be in the house know that they were no longer alone.
She opened the screen on her mobile phone, punched in the number for police and emergency, ready to hit the call button if needed, and slowly made her way down the hall. She stayed close to the wall, hesitated and glanced into the rooms near the stairs; nothing. Holly breathed out and, with a glance to the upstairs rooms, came around and took the stairs slowly towards the bedrooms. She glanced in each, under the bed, in the cupboards and on the balconies, finally satisfying herself no-one was in the house.
It was then that the lyrics of the song came to her.
Was this a message?
Was someone, maybe the Sergeant, telling her to buck up and hang in there?
Had he seen her crying?
Which would mean he was in my room last night, she thought. I was naked for a while… between taking off my day clothes and putting on my pyjamas! Oh my God!
Holly didn’t know whether to be violated because a man had seen her naked, or a ghost had seen her naked, or both.
Nope, it was time to lay down some ground rules! She took to the stairs and went back to the living area.
No-one, still.
Holly walked to the record player and took the record off, slipping it back in its plastic hood and then the cardboard case.
Cool and calm, she told herself. Nothing has happened, no harm has been done, except for a break-in and a record being played. Actually, there might not have been a break-in, either, technically.
She flicked through the records, and found a ‘‘classic” her mother would love… Carly Simon. Holly pulled it out and, placing it on the turntable, put the needle in place and waited for the dulcet tones of Carly to fill the room.
Perfect.
She returned to the open doorway, picked up her bag and books and settled them on her desk. She returned, closed the front door, grabbed the bags of groceries and put them away in the kitchen. Then Holly walked to the middle of the living room.
‘Ahem,’ she cleared her throat. ‘Sergeant, we need to talk.’ Holly waited.
The Sergeant didn’t move.
Holly waited. Nope, not one twitch from him in his framed portrait. She looked around for him in case he was standing behind her in some other form. No, she was alone, so continuing, she returned her gaze to the portrait and folded her arms across her chest.
‘We need to establish some boundaries, Sergeant. As we haven’t met yet, I’m not sure what areas are strictly yours, but my bedroom is out of bounds. I’m not saying you’ve been in there while I’m in there…’ she said, again glancing around.
The portrait twitched as Alexander tried not to smile.
She continued, trying to sound tough and firm. ‘… but I’m just saying that’s where I need some privacy. Not that I’m looking to… well, entertain…’ she felt herself redden and hurried on, ‘but I will be getting changed in that room. Oh, and my bathroom is out of bounds, too. The rest of the house… well, do your thing. If you want to tell me your exclusive areas or leave some signs about what you want, I’ll respect that, too.’ She looked at the record player. ‘Or you could tell me with a song, if that worked.’ She shrugged. ‘Whatever. So that’s it, talk over.’ She narrowed her eyes at him in his portrait and then returned to the kitchen and flicked the kettle on.
How coy, Alexander laughed to himself… entertain! You mean have sex, get amongst it, have a bollocking good time! Yep, good meeting, Holly!
He watched her as she prepared a mug of tea for herself and as she walked back to her desk and turned on the computer. She was a brave little thing, he thought.