“After we took a few steps towards the door we heard the old woman calling back after us. I ushered Jenifer in front of me, almost as if to protect her from the shouting woman as I turned back to face her. To my astonishment the old gypsy had crept right up behind me without me even realising it, and there she stood, thrusting my money back into my face.
“I held a hand up as if to convey that she could keep the money, but she virtually forced it into my jacket pocket before she turned and shuffled back towards her upturned seat.
“Once outside Jenifer and I both looked at each other, neither quite sure what to say on the subject. It had certainly been an experience, but one that neither of us was in any great hurry to repeat. The atmosphere inside the wagon, possibly due to the cramped surroundings, had been very claustrophobic, and I believe that Jenifer was even more glad than I was to be back out in the fresh air with the rest of the crowds.
“We decided to put the experience behind us and not let it spoil the rest of our day. We ate fish and chips for lunch on the beach while we watched the various families in attendance enjoying the beach. After lunch we walked along the coast in the opposite direction to that which we had taken earlier, and finally made our way onto the pier. I waited until Jenifer had to use the toilet before I changed up a bag of pennies for her to use in the amusement arcades. This was an activity that she had enjoyed since she was old enough to see the bright lights and magical designs on the machines. Jenifer had often told me how when she was a child and her parents would take her anywhere that housed such contraptions, she would beg and plead with them to allow her to play until they finally gave in.
“Fortunately, even at a young age, Jenifer knew from the outset that she was never going to win anything, and whatever she did win always went straight back into the machine. Personally, I had never shared my wife’s unvarnished rapture at giving away hard-earned money to a metallic bandit, but when I witnessed her squealing like a kindergartener at the sight of the bag of pennies I was holding up it sort of made it all worthwhile.
“I spent the next half hour or so following Jenifer around as she decided which machines to play on, and even joined in her excitement whenever she hit a jackpot. Once the money was gone, we moved onto the fun fair at the end of the pier. This was yet another of Jenifer’s favourite pastimes, so whenever we visited one of the many seaside venues within driving distance we had to make sure first that it had a fair. Fortunately, Brighton was one of the destinations which we knew kept its fair all year round.
“Apart from all the usual rides we had experienced on previous visits, it appeared that there was a new addition in the form of something called the ‘Sky Rocket’. It was an awful-looking contraption which appeared to consist of an extremely rickety track which climbed even higher than the ‘Big Dipper’ and moved faster than the cars on the ‘Waltzer’. What made it even worse was that the organisers had elected to plant this monstrosity at the very end of the pier, so that when the cars reached their apex it appeared as if the riders were about to be launched straight out to sea.
“This, naturally, made the ride far too enticing for Jenifer to miss out on, and ignoring my pleas and protestations she dragged me excitedly towards the queue. As we waited in line I watched the cars going up and down with my heart in my mouth. The closer we grew to the front of the line, the faster I could feel my reserve ebbing away. I knew full well that there was no way that I could ever talk Jenifer out of riding on the confounded contraption, but by the time we were close enough to be part of the next group allowed on my nerve snapped and I informed Jenifer that, all joking aside, I could not face the ride.
“I could tell right away that she was disappointed by my reluctance, but realising that I was not cut from the same cloth as her she reluctantly agreed to ride alone.
“That was, until she saw the sign at the front which stated that each car had to have two riders, so no one could ride alone. Jenifer’s face dropped a full mile, and a subtle whine of despair escaped her lips before she had a chance to prevent it. She looked back at me with her bottom lip protruding, her eyes conveying a plea of longing which she had never hit me with before, as she assured me as best as she knew how that she would look after me and that we would both be back on solid ground before I knew it.
“I almost caved in, such was the passion with which she entreated me, but just then a group of young girls in front of us all turned in unison and one of them asked if Jenifer, very politely, if she would mind riding with her, as she too was without a companion to share her cart. The idea seemed to solve all our problems, and I must admit to feeling a tremendous rush of relief once I realised that my presence was no longer required.
“I moved out of the queue and stood back several paces so that I could watch Jenifer and her newfound friend from a safe distance.
“Once everyone, including Jenifer, had piled on the ride and been strapped in by the operator, I waved them off as the gigantic piece of apparatus whirred into life.
“The late afternoon sun was on its decline, and a chill wind shot through me causing me to shiver involuntarily. Just at that moment, I felt a hand tug at my jacket sleeve. I looked down, and standing there, right next to me, was the old gypsy woman from the beach. I was so taken aback by her sudden appearance that for a moment I fancied that she had sought me out to demand her fee back.
“The situation appeared quite comical to me at that moment, because within the confines of the wagon I had not realised just how short the woman was. She barely reached above my waist, and from a distance it must have looked as if a child was pestering their parent for something.
“All the same, the chill I had just experienced from the wind picking up was nothing compared to the sharp, icy-cold feeling of dread which overtook me as I stared down into her malevolent eyes. She wore a black scarf which covered her head and most of the lower portion of her face, and in the encroaching darkness the balls of her eyes appeared to be quite black.
“I had to make a distinct effort not to yank my arm away from her; such was the immediacy of the terror the old woman caused in me. Instead I took a deep breath and attempted a smile of sorts, before asking her how I could help her.
“Her tiny fist had a tight grip on my sleeve, and as small as she may have been in stature I felt that it would have been nigh on impossible to prise her away from me, even if I had been desperate to do so. As it was I leaned down so that she could hear me over the noise from the fair, but before I had a chance to speak she wagged her index finger at me.”
“Don’t go…Don’t go…You, no go!”
“She made it sound more like a command than a request, her voice rising in volume in competition with the fun fair. The entire situation seemed so surreal to me at the time that I found myself unable to stifle a smile as I tried to reply. The old gypsy obviously took my expression as an indication that I was not taking her warning seriously because the next thing I knew she began to shake me with all her might, to the extent that I was convinced that she was about to tear my jacket.
“I could see others around us starting to take notice of what was going on, and for one terrible minute I was afraid that someone would think that I was trying to mug the old woman, such was the ferocity with which she was struggling with me. I tried my best to calm her down, but my efforts were in vain. As her voice rose in volume she was almost on the verge of screaming at me, and I could not help but notice the look of sheer terror in her eyes.
“At that moment, from out of nowhere, a young girl appeared and gently pried the old gypsy away from me. She spoke to the old lady in a language I did not recognise, and I could tell by her gesticulations that the old woman was not at all happy with the girl’s interference.
“I waited until there was a lull in their conversation before I spoke up. I asked the girl what the problem was, and tried to explain what had happened at the wagon, and that I would be more than happy to reimburse the old lady for our reading if that was what was bothering her. At
first, I was not altogether convinced that the girl understood what I was saying, or in fact that I was even addressing her, as she kept her focus on the gypsy.
“The young girl finally managed to calm the old woman down, and once she had, she turned to me with a half-smile.
“Sorry,” she said, apologetically. “It’s alright, I’m sorry for my grandmother’s outburst, she has not been well”.
“I smiled back my acknowledgement and once more offered to pay the gypsy for her time, but the young girl assured me that the money was not the issue and wished me a pleasant evening as she tried to veer the old woman back in the direction she had just come from.
“Although the old woman still appeared adamant in her refusal to move away without a fuss, the young girl had definitely taken charge of the situation and eventually the old woman allowed herself to be led away.
“I stood there for a while, watching their receding figures as they began to dissolve into the crowd. My concentration was such that I did not notice Jenifer sidle up beside me until she linked her arm through mine. ‘What was all that about?’ she asked, curiously. I shrugged my shoulders and told her how the old gypsy just turned up and started chastising me for leaving the wagon, presumably because we had not paid. ‘But she insisted we take back our money,’ Jenifer reminded me, ‘did you try and give it back again?’
“I assured my wife that I had, but that the young girl had assured me that it was not necessary. ‘Odd,’ was all that Jenifer had to offer, and I concurred, absolutely.”
Five
“Odd though it might sound, especially in this day and age, but when it finally sunk in the following morning that Jenifer and I were going to be away from each other for an entire week, we both found ourselves a little tearful. The fact was that since we had been married we had not spent so much as a single night apart. Even when she was still living with her parents a full week had not gone by without us seeing each other at least two or three times. So, as it turned out, I found myself heading down the motorway with a heavy heart, when I should have been more excited at the prospect of finally viewing my inheritance.
“I had arranged an appointment for that afternoon with my benefactor’s solicitor, explaining that I was driving down and so hoped to be with him by early afternoon. As I was negotiating unchartered waters I did not want to make a firm time for our appointment, and the solicitor, a Mr Ralph Peterson, seemed perfectly satisfied with my estimated scope of arrival.
“In those days the concept of satellite navigation had not been thought of, at least not for the motorist anyway, so I had to navigate my way with the assistance of road signs and an atlas of Great Britain which I had purchased specifically for the occasion. Jenifer and I had spent the best part of an entire evening trying to plot my route, and although once we had completed the task the journey seemed fairly straightforward, on the day I still managed to lose my way. At one point I pulled over at a petrol station to check my bearings, only to discover that I had been driving in the wrong direction for over twenty miles.
“To make things worse several of the roads we had plotted were ‘A’ and ‘B’ roads, most of which had virtually no signposts whatsoever, and just to add salt to the wound, they were plagued with tractors and various other forms of farm vehicles, all of which seemed incapable of travelling at anything above ten miles per hour, and due to the narrowness of the side-roads it was virtually impossible to overtake them. The other problem, which I must admit that I had not considered prior to leaving, was that I was driving my father’s old Granada which had definitely seen better days. The car was one of my parents’ possessions which I had been reluctant to part with, due mainly to all the happy memories I had of the four of us travelling in it on days out. My father was a dab hand at motor mechanics and he was proud of the fact that he completed most of the maintenance and repairs to his car himself. I, on the other hand, knew next to nothing about cars other than where to put the petrol, and I kicked myself for my lack of enthusiasm whenever my father offered to show some of his maintenance tricks of the trade.
“Without my father’s attendance to the vehicle, I had sadly allowed it to run down to the extent that it was now long overdue a good service. I was reminded of this lack in my routine whenever I drove over a pot hole, or took a corner too swiftly on my way to the solicitors, and some of the noises the car was making made me wonder if I was actually going to be able to complete the journey in one piece.
“Fortunately, I eventually arrived in the small town of Briers Market still intact, although far later than I had initially anticipated. Mr Peterson had given me directions to his office, which were fortunately straightforward and easy to follow. I managed to find a parking space across the street from his office, and checked my watch as I crossed the road. It was now almost five o’clock and the shops and offices along the high street all had their lights on as the daylight was fading.
“Once inside I was confronted by a stern-looking middle-aged lady who, once I introduced myself, peered at me over the rim of her spectacles with a distinct look of disdain.”
“Mr Peterson was expecting you some hours ago!”
“She made no attempt to disguise the contempt in her voice, as if I had only come from the other side of town rather than having driven all the way from London. I made my apologies, although I felt that she was being unduly harsh with her criticism. Her expression softened somewhat when I confessed that my journey had taken far longer than I too had anticipated, and she gestured for me to take a seat while she informed Mr Peterson of my arrival.
“The office was rather small and cluttered if I am being honest, with bundles of papers tied together with ribbon, stacked on top of each other all over the place, including some on the floor which had been rammed into corners and alcoves so as not to become trip hazards. Having just met Mr Peterson’s secretary it surprised me that someone who appeared, on first impression, to be so punctilious, was happy to work in such haphazard surroundings.
“My train of thought was derailed by the re-appearance of the solicitor’s secretary. She did not bother to walk back over to me, but instead elected to stand at the far corner of the office, having just emerged from what I took to be Peterson’s inner sanctum, and bellow across the room in her haughtiest voice that Mr Peterson was ready to see me. She made me feel like an errant schoolboy who had been summoned to the headmaster’s office.
“As I approached Peterson’s door his secretary stayed in situ, which, by the time I reached the door, made me realise that I did not have enough room to squeeze by her in order to enter the room. I stopped once I was immediately outside the entrance and smiled at her, weakly, hoping that she would take the hint and move for me. But alas my subtle gesture was to no avail. Instead she made a point of re-announcing me to her boss before finally moving to one side to allow me to pass.
“Peterson was a good deal younger in person than he had sounded on the telephone. He jumped up from his desk as I entered his office and offered me his hand. While we were shaking he signalled for me to take the seat opposite him.”
“Could I tempt you to have a tea or coffee?’
“As he made the kind offer, he glanced over to his secretary who was still loitering in the doorway. But, when I looked over at her, I could tell immediately from her demeanour that she was in no mood to be acting the part of hostess so I politely declined his offer, although in truth I was gasping as I had not had anything since breakfast. Once his secretary had closed the door behind her I apologised to Peterson for my tardy arrival, and explained about my lack of a decent sense of direction, as well as the various hindrances I had encountered on some of the smaller roads. Peterson laughed, good-heartedly.”
“No problem, Mr Ward, I began to think that you had decided to stop off somewhere en route and complete your journey down tomorrow.”
“I agreed that in hindsight that this might have been the wiser option, but my overwhelming compulsion was to arrive sooner rather than later as I wa
s very keen to see my inheritance. As it was by the time I arrived the light was already starting to fade, so I knew by that point that I would not be able to see it in daylight until the following morning. But I was still excited by the prospect of seeing it in the flesh, so to speak, that evening.
“Over the next hour, Peterson painstakingly went through all the formalities concerning my inheritance. At my request he kept the language in layman’s terms so that I did not have to keep stopping him repeatedly mid-point to ask him to explain something. The solicitor had a large manila file containing, what appeared to me to be, several hundred documents and individual sheets of paper, some of which had started to yellow with time.
“It became apparent to me during the course of our conversation that my benefactor’s side of the family had relied upon Peterson’s family practice for generations, and some of the documents within the folder were dated from the previous century.”
“I took the liberty of sending away the deeds to your new property for re-registration; although I am quite sure that you will be looking for a buyer for the property, it is always best to keep everything up to date. I’m sure you understand.”
“I explained to Peterson that Jenifer and I would be making the final decision together, regarding what we would eventually do with the property. To this Peterson gave me a very curious look, and proceeded to explain to me that in his opinion the cost of renovating the manor house and the subsequent upkeep would far outweigh the saleable value once the work was completed.”
Ghost Song Page 5