by Helen Goltz
‘Yes,’ Esther said, looking at the photo fondly. ‘A rare pink diamond. My father made this for my mother as a wedding present. It was such a rare design and rare stone that it symbolised one of a kind for my father; for me, it epitomises my feminine mother and how my father truly treasured her. It holds a lot of sentimental value for me. It’s also so rare that I couldn’t put a price on it.’
‘Wow,’ Holly said, again. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it.’
‘Unfortunately, I have,’ Esther said. ‘I think it was around the neck of a socialite at the Parisian wedding of a fashion designer about a year ago.’
‘No! It’s been sold, or is in a private collection? Could the investigator for the class action not track it down?’ Holly asked.
Esther sat back and sighed. ‘I’ve used a number of investigators over the years, my dear, and without a passion or a purpose, it is just a job for them… for some of them it went on for months and months. I decided to stop looking, but I never gave up hope of seeing it again. My mother would wear it on their wedding anniversary every year. They would dress formally and go to dinner. They looked so beautiful, both of them.’ She sighed.
‘And you want me to try and find it?’ Holly said, a little daunted by the task at hand.
‘I have a genuine claim so, if you can locate it, I can get the lawyers to manage its retrieval.’
Holly nodded. ‘I don’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth, but I’m just curious as to why you would be trusting me to do this and now?’
Esther smiled. ‘It’s unfinished business for me, and I can’t tell you why, exactly, but when I heard there was a tenant here and then I saw your sign, I had a good feeling. Now, let’s talk payment.’ Esther mentioned a fee and a travel allowance and Holly gasped.
‘You’re very generous, but that’s way too much,’ Holly said, instinctively.
Esther laughed. ‘My dear, you’ll never run a business like that. I don’t think anyone has ever turned down a good rate.’
Holly blushed. ‘I’d feel terrible taking that much. What do you think about an hourly rate, a fortnightly report and set hours so we know what the budget is each week?’
Esther held out her hand. ‘Done, shall we shake on it?’
Holly smiled and reciprocated. ‘I hope I can find it for you, to give you that peace, and I’d love to see it… the real thing.’
‘So would I, my dear, so would I. And I suspect with all the new technology these days,’ she said, with a nod to Holly’s laptop on the desk in the corner, ‘it might be easier to track down than ever before.’
Late that afternoon, the day’s last light was glorious as it painted the white horses of the waves a pink and orange hue. After seeing Esther out, Holly had made notes on their discussion, read through the file and started her research journey.
Now, she changed into her track gear, runners and, grabbing her keys, went to clear her head with a beach walk. She hadn’t expected it to be so busy, but the evening beach promenade was clearly a village activity. For a new girl in town, she was already able to give a nod and a wave to the grocer and librarian. Not bad, she mused.
What a day, she thought as she looked back on it. A ghost, a client and now, hopefully, a good night’s sleep since I’ve established boundaries and won’t be waiting for a ghost to spook me. She carried her shoes and let the saltwater rush in over her feet; the water was freezing, but the salt air was wonderfully cleansing.
I could get used to this, she thought, and smiled.
As she returned home, she found a beautiful white cat sitting on her doormat.
‘Well hello, are you lost or just visiting?’ she asked. The cat rubbed against her and then leapt the small fence and ran off.
‘Just visiting then. See you again,’ Holly said. She heard a tinkling sound and thought it was a small bell on the cat’s collar, but no. The white cat had knocked the doormat askew and a set of house keys tumbled to the step below. Found – Aunty Kate’s spare house keys! Plus a visiting white cat is a good omen, she thought, happily pocketing the keys. Perhaps coming to Findlater House was the right decision after all.
Missing Meghan
The Sergeant watched her leave. Sometimes, depending on the angle of her head, or the way she walked, Holly looked like his Meg. Weird. He remembered the last time he saw Meg in this very cottage. The day he walked away from her. She had looked up at him, trying to be brave as she prepared to bid him farewell as he went off on another mission.
‘Now, remember the three rules,’ Meghan Austen had told her husband, as she stood in his embrace at the front door of Findlater House.
‘Remind me again?’ he teased, looking down on her.
‘Number one, be careful; number two, come back to me; and number three, be careful!’ she said again and leaned up to kiss him.
‘Got it, consider it done.’
Sergeant Alexander Austen hated departures and he did his best to keep them light and positive. His mission to Northern Island was not one he or Meghan felt good about. Meg had family there, and Alexander, while he didn’t have any strong views on Ireland one way or the other, was forced to develop some when he found out he was heading to Belfast.
He’d never given any thought to whether the Irish nationalists or republicans should get an independent Ireland, or whether the unionists or loyalists were right in wanting to stay part of his United Kingdom. He’d never had a leaning towards religion, nor had his parents, so he didn’t feel swayed by the Catholic side or Protestant argument – he was Switzerland… neutral. He learnt quick-smart not to have that discussion with Meg, who wasn’t short on opinion. And he knew from his own military experience that in nearly every location where different people attempted to co-exist, invariably, the shit would hit the fan.
But he was a professional soldier and his regiment was part of Operation Banner. He recalled what a weird power trip their last tour was; people were either cowering in fear or attacking him. Sometimes he could smell the fear as he passed residents on the street; they’d avert their eyes, go deadly quiet and quicken their pace. Some of the lads in his regiment got off on it and used it to terrorise the locals even more. The residents that weren’t frightened would stare and even challenge him. The Sergeant never really knew which reaction he was going to get, and the cops were spent, so he and the boys were pretty much on their own.
He sometimes wondered if he was cut out for this life… there seemed something fundamentally wrong about “lifting” people, taking sides, doing your best to protect whatever the mission of the day was, only to be balled out for it, not to mention the searches that they did on the homes of war-weary people with glazed eyes. He would never mention it to Meg, but the bombing and the shootings were getting worse. He found himself subconsciously listening for the low whistle of ammunition or flinching at the sound of a bang, be it a car backfiring or a door slamming. Maybe it was time he hung up his uniform and thought about his next career move… especially if he and Meg wanted to have kids.
A smile from Meg brought him back to the now.
‘You look so gorgeous in your uniform,’ she sighed.
‘It’s true,’ Alexander agreed, and she laughed, hitting his arm.
‘Now, you remember my three rules,’ he said, pulling her far enough away to look in her blue eyes.
Meghan frowned at him. ‘I don’t think I’ve heard these before, have I?’
He rolled his eyes with added dramatics. ‘Of course you have. Don’t open the door to anyone handsome, don’t walk on the beach after dusk unless you have Benson with you…’ Benson the Setter’s tail thumped at the mention of his name, ‘… and lastly, don’t forget me.’
He knew he’d just blown it with the last line and sure enough, tears rolled down her face.
‘I’ll be back before you know it,’ he promised.
‘You better be, Alexander Austen, or I’ll never forgive you,’ she said, and held him like it was the last time, like she did every time he w
ent away.
The Sergeant came back to the now with a thud… Meg – no, Holly – was walking up the path towards the house; it was in darkness. He turned a lamp on for her and disappeared into the frame of his portrait.
Holly came home from her dusk beach walk feeling lighter. She saw from outside that a lamp was on in the living room.
I didn’t leave that on, did I? Maybe it automatically comes on… like on a timer. Hmm. Maybe the Sergeant was being thoughtful. She felt grateful and a little scared at the same time.
Holly unlocked the door and glanced inside; the Sergeant was in his portrait. She glanced around, and he was nowhere else in sight. She wasn’t sure if he could manifest in a few places as yet. Holly didn’t call out for him; she didn’t really want to see him at night… I wonder if he is visible during the day?
Anyway, what’s the hurry? We’re going to be living together for at least six months so no need to be immediately acquainted, she thought. It reminded her of something one of her best friends, Simone, used to say – ‘beware of instant intimacy’. She didn’t know why, but clearly Simone had some experience in that area.
She whispered the words, ‘Thank you’ because she couldn’t help herself. It was thoughtful if he did it. But if the lamp came on at the same time tomorrow, she would know it was a timer system.
Tonight felt so very different from the night before, she thought. She was settled, felt a little safer in the house – she had got through one night without him appearing and she had set down ground rules – and she had things to look forward to, like an interesting job and client in Esther.
Who was she kidding? She was still frightened the Sergeant would appear at night; nobody wants to wake up to a man standing in their room. She shuddered at the thought. ‘Please don’t scare me at night, Sergeant,’ she whispered, and hoped he could hear her.
He could.
She took a deep breath and headed to the kitchen to see what she could whip up for dinner. Tomorrow, she would head down to the garden centre and have a chat with them about the front garden. It would be a nice way to say thank you to Aunty Kate for the massive rent reduction and to make the house looked just that little bit more charming.
The Sergeant heard her plea. She was frightened, and he didn’t want to do that to her… he might have in the past, but she was so like his Meg.
Just as quickly as he had this thought, he felt cranky at himself. Step up, man, you’re a ghost, he scolded himself. For the love of God, scare her off and get it over with. Soon, she’ll be having friends and boyfriends over and that will be a chronic pain in the butt.
True, he had to do it, but he didn’t have to scare her to do so.
I’ll send her packing tomorrow, he told himself with resolve and felt much better for it.
How does your garden grow?
Holly could get used to not waking to an alarm clock. For the last five years at her London home it woke her every morning at 6.15 am – in the light of summer, in the dark of winter – always too early, but necessary. She had a husband to get to work and she opened her own home office from 8 am, so there was a run to be had, followed by showers, lunches packed, breakfast eaten, and more.
But now she was up not much later than that, anyway, because the day was hers and she was an early riser. After washing her face and changing into leisure gear for her run, Holly raced down the stairs and stopped with a gasp. She looked around, frightened. This was too much.
In front of the door sat her two suitcases.
They were there, waiting… waiting to leave. She walked towards them, picked one up and tested its weight. It was heavy.
‘No way!’ Holly gasped. She laid the suitcase down flat and unzipped it. It was full of her clothes. She looked at the portrait; he was in the frame in the same position as usual.
Holly took the stairs two at a time and raced back upstairs. The wardrobe and drawers were empty. Somehow during the night, someone – the ghost – had been in her room as she slept and packed her bags. He had touched everything and then left the bags at the door. She turned again and looked around the room; no-one appeared. She was frightened now, genuinely frightened.
Holly quickly went back downstairs and moved the suitcases away from the door. She grabbed the key, left the house, locking the door after her and headed to the beach for a jog.
‘What will I do now?’ she said, aloud. Her heartbeat was accelerated long before she hit her stride. This had thoroughly unnerved her.
Holly reached the hard sand and breathed out. ‘Okay, stay calm.’ She talked it through. ‘It’s a clear sign that he’s in the house and he wants me out of it. But it’s not angry or brutal… yet. If I go now, where will I go? I could rent something else but I don’t want to. If I stay in the village, I want to live in Findlater House. It’s my family’s place. I’m meant to be in Findlater House… I’m the girl who finds things! If I don’t leave, how bad might it get? Will the Sergeant get worse?’
She ran her usual route, not seeing it or feeling the run as her mind raced over the scenario. By the end of the run, she had made a decision.
I’m going to go one more round with him, she thought. I’m not sure I’ll sleep tonight, but I’ll never die wondering. I just need to harden up. I can do this.
Holly slowed her pace as she came back to the starting point of her run and eventually stopped. She looked out across the ocean to the far horizon and drew in deep breaths. After a while, she removed her running shoes and socks, pushed her leggings above her knee and, leaving her gear on the beach, walked into the shallows of the ocean, dipping her feet in the chilly saltwater.
‘Freezing!’ She soon got used to the cold temperature and enjoyed it. There were a few people on the beach – runners, dog walkers and several people doing yoga or something similar. The dusk parade was much larger than this morning’s turnout.
She thought over the situation with the Sergeant again. Grandma Lily wouldn’t run from the challenge. ‘You can do this,’ she said aloud again, and as if on cue, she felt something grab around her toe.
Holly jumped back onto dry sand, worried she would get stung by whatever it was, and found a tiny seahorse wrapped around her toe. She had never seen a seahorse before, let alone one that was alive and clinging to her!
‘Hello little one, where’s your partner?’ Holly knew very little about seahorses but enough to know they pair for life and they usually like deep water… well, so said the documentary she once watched. ‘You’re in a bit shallow. Come then.’
Using her hands, she cupped the little creature in the water and, bracing herself for the cold, waded out to waist depth before releasing him out of the pull of the tide. He was gone within seconds.
‘Travel safe,’ she called to him and waded back to shore, cold and wet.
As she arrived, a tall man who didn’t look much older than her was walking towards her. A big brown Labrador bounced around nearby.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked. ‘It’s just that we don’t get that many swimmers this time of year, especially entering the water dressed!’ He smiled.
‘I’m fine, just an idiot,’ Holly said, and made him laugh.
‘I doubt that.’
‘I found a seahorse… first one I’ve ever seen and he appeared to be struggling to get back out, so I was giving him a hand.’
‘Ah, there’ll be good karma for that,’ he said. ‘I’m Matt, this is Buddy… or that was Buddy,’ he said watching his dog take off up the beach. He whistled him back.
‘I’m Holly.’
‘You know a seahorse is considered to be a symbol of strength and power. Or is that just a horse?’ he mused and Holly laughed.
‘Are you making this up as you go?’ she asked.
‘Maybe.’ He grinned. ‘No, my ex-girlfriend was into symbols, astrology, signs from the universe, all that stuff,’ he said, waving a hand around as though the idea was ridiculous. ‘So if you’re signing any deals today or doing business, strength and power to you!�
� he teased.
‘As a matter of fact, I fully intend to negotiate one. Thanks, Matt, you’ve made my day.’
The Sergeant felt bad for frightening her; he hated that he felt bad even more… it really bugged him that he was going soft. But he had freaked her out and now, he admitted, he felt like a cruel bastard.
He got the two suitcases and returned them upstairs. He unpacked her things quickly, as best he could… She’ll just have to suffer the socks in the wrong drawer if I’ve stuffed it up, he thought.
God, I’m pathetic.
The battleground
Holly returned all fired up. It was going to come to a head today with the Sergeant, she decided, empowered by a sign from the seahorse and Matt!
‘I am strong, and I am staying,’ she said, putting her key in the front door. ‘The battle lines have been drawn… whatever that means. And I’m freezing.’ She shivered and, leaving her shoes and socks at the front door, she had no choice but to enter in rather a wet state. She made a mental note to leave a towel near the front door in future, just in case she had to perform any future rescues or a swim was in order.
Full of bravado, she swung the front door open, and again stopped short.
What the…? The suitcases were gone. This scared her as well. I hope he hasn’t thrown my things out. Now she was angry.
Holly raced up the stairs and into her room. The suitcases were back on the top shelf of the closet and all her gear was hanging up, her shoes back where they belonged and… she pulled open a drawer… everything was back inside as before.
‘You’re doing my head in,’ she muttered. Holly wasn’t sure if this was even more creepy, or a peace offering. Was she going to come downstairs tomorrow morning and find the bags there again, waiting for her?