Ghosts and Lovers

by A. J. Matthews

  Julia chuckled. “Martin, you still have that encyclopedic mind, I see. Anyway, I learned the Victorian owner of the hall, Sir George Attoe, actually ran a scam selling tickets to view the ruins to gullible tourists. He billed them as the real thing.”

  “Naughty!” Martin laughed.

  “Very. He made a tidy sum for years. He was buried there in the ruins instead of the family vault in the village church.” She grimaced and looked at Claudia. “Martin will tell you I find such things creepy. He doesn’t.” A flush colored her cheeks. “It was one of the things that caused us to separate.”

  “I see.” Claudia gave a sideways glance at her husband.

  He looked down, studying his hands. “Do go on, Julia.”

  “I arranged to have Sir George’s remains disinterred and transferred to the Attoe family vault. Tom Bailey, the local vicar, is a gem. He arranged it all with his bishop, who approved of the matter.” She smiled in recollection. “To quote Tom, ‘The Church of England doesn’t like having bodies lying about where they shouldn’t be.’” Her smile slipped. “It wasn’t long after that the trouble began.”

  “What form does the trouble take?” Martin leaned forward. Claudia sensed his growing excitement, similar to that of a hound on the scent. Her skin prickled in empathy.

  Julia blushed again, her coloring a striking contrast to her blonde hair. “I’ll…have to take things out of chronological order for a moment. Sorry. Other stuff happened first, but the most worrying thing is, I’m being groped by a ghost.” Claudia blinked in surprise. Julia’s gaze flicked to her and back to Martin. “I’m serious,” Julia went on, and Claudia saw her face grow ever redder to the point her bright blue eyes seemed even brighter.

  “I don’t doubt you,” Martin said quietly. “What, ah, happened?”

  “A few weeks ago I was taking a shower in the en suite bathroom off my bedroom. I’d just returned from a recording session in London and was feeling travel-stained. When I got out of the shower, I had the feeling of icy hands on me. Someone—or something—groped my breasts and crotch.”

  “Nasty!” Martin exclaimed.

  “No shit!” Claudia muttered. It’s bad enough to be groped by a human, but a ghost? Sheesh!

  Julia shrugged. “I freaked. I screamed and got out of the bathroom as quick as I could and ran downstairs. Paul was watching a video in here and heard me cry out. We met on the stairs. I told him what had happened.” She rolled her eyes. “I don’t think he believed me, but he returned with me to the bathroom and looked all over. We found nothing.” She looked at them. “It’s happened a couple times since, each just as bad. Once, I felt as if someone was stroking and smelling my hair. Whoever or whatever it was had horrible breath.”

  “That’s significant,” Martin muttered. Claudia nodded, remembering past cases where scent featured in a haunting.

  “Really?” Julia asked. They both nodded. “Okay then. There’ve been some mornings I’ve woken up feeling like someone had touched me in the night.” She spread her fingers and inspected them. “I’m not imagining this, Martin. I…want this fixed. It’s why I’ve come to you.”

  “We’ll do what we can.” Martin’s tone was reassuring. “You said horrible incidents occurred later on?”

  “Yes. Not long after I moved in, I had some friends up from London to stay. It was a housewarming party. The very next night some of my guests returned from a session at the village pub and told me they saw strange lights in and around the ruin. When we investigated, we found nothing. The ground was damp and muddy where the undertakers had been busy with the grave, and we couldn’t see any footprints. I checked again the next day and there was nothing untoward.”

  Martin nodded. “Okay.”

  Julia seemed to warm to her theme. She leaned forward with her hands clasped on her knees. “Everything seemed quiet for a week afterward. Then matters took a sinister turn. We—Paul and I…” she shot Martin a glance loaded with embarrassment, “were in bed when we heard a horrible scream outside. It was the early hours, around two. Paul leaped out of bed to look out the window. He said he saw something moving so he ran downstairs to get the shotgun.” Her lips twisted. “When Paul moved in he bought the shotgun for shooting game. He fancies himself as the country squire type. He’s been out at times with the local county set, but I think they just laugh at him behind his back. I don’t like guns, but at least he keeps it locked away in the old butler’s pantry.”

  Claudia thought of her own handgun which she had recently sold back home in Indiana. “Matters are very different in England. I know Marty doesn’t like firearms. Can’t say I do either, after Sandy Hook. I’m glad I substituted mine for a stun gun for his sake as well as mine. I feel safer showing a property if I’m carrying some form of defense. Some prospective buyers think it’s a great chance to make a move on a lone female…”

  Julia went on. “I followed Paul down. I worried about him using the gun on somebody and was afraid we’d wind up with a lawsuit or something. We went outside with flashlights to investigate. Again, we found nothing. Paul says it was a fox screaming in the night, but I’m not so sure.”

  Martin tipped his head thoughtfully. “Foxes do scream, and they sound a lot like humans.”

  “I know that,” Julia said a touch sharply, “but it sounded and felt human to me, if you know what I mean.”

  “Okay.”

  “I heard the scream other times, and sometimes it felt like it was inside the house.”

  Martin nodded. “Is there anyone else living in the house?”

  “My PA, Alex, stays over sometimes. She claims not to have heard or seen anything.”

  “What about staff?”

  “A couple of local ladies come in to clean once a week. I hire a maintenance company to keep the grounds tidy. Cooking and such I take care of myself.”

  Martin smiled. “You always did like to cook.”

  Julia snorted. Some of the stress left her face. “Yes. It’s not always possible when I’m on the road, but I try to cook as often as I can at home. If I’m entertaining, I’ll hire someone for the occasion.”

  Claudia looked away, feeling slightly stung at their tacit acknowledgment of past times.

  “So,” Martin went on, “is there anything else which seems out of the ordinary?”

  “I wake up sometimes with the feeling I’m being watched, that someone is in the room with me. There’s nothing and no one there.” She frowned. “Whatever it is doesn’t feel hostile. It doesn’t feel like whatever’s or whoever’s groping me, either. I can’t explain how I know this. Even so, it really creeps me out.”

  “Is Paul with you when this happens?” Claudia asked.

  “Sometimes.” Julia shrugged. “Even then he doesn’t seem to notice anything.” She looked from Claudia to Martin. “What do you think?”

  Martin reached forward to turn off the recording. “It’s too early to say, really. We’ll need to look around, if that’s okay.”

  “Yes, it’ll be fine. I’ll take these back to the kitchen then give you the tour.” She got up and took hold of the coffee tray. Claudia noticed Julia’s hands trembled and felt a stab of empathy for her. What must it be like having a groping ghost stalking you?

  “What do you think, Marty?” Claudia asked quietly, as Julia disappeared to the kitchen.

  Martin wrinkled his nose in thought. “Julia’s sincere when she says she thinks she’s being haunted. I know she’s imaginative. It’s stock in trade for a good musician-composer, and one reason she doesn’t like anything to do with the paranormal. She told me once she likes to sleep at night, not lie awake imagining ghosts all around her. It’s quite a stretch to think she’s become more attuned to paranormal events since we last met.”

  “But, seriously, a groping ghost?”

  Martin shrugged. “Physical contact with spirits isn’t unknown. Usually it just amounts to a tug on clothing, a brush with something unseen. But actual sexual contact?” He grimaced. “The term’s spectroph
ilia. It’s not as rare as you might think.”

  “Kinky!” Claudia thought this over for a moment. “So, we take a look around. Won’t we be kinda limited in what we can do without your equipment?”

  “If need be I can fetch my equipment from mum’s. We’ll take a look around now and see what we can see.” He smiled. “You know I don’t need much equipment anyway.”

  Julia returned from the kitchen and gave them a wan smile. “Ready for the tour?”

  Martin stood. “As ready as we’ll ever be.”

  “Then let’s go.” Julia exited the room.

  Chapter 2

  They reached the hall, and Julia gestured around her. “To give you some history about the place, its official name is Tennington Old Hall. It was built by General Sir Allerdyce Attoe in the 1760s from war booty he gleaned from the battlefields of the Seven Years War. It passed down through the family to Sir George, the last of the Attoes in this area. He modified the place to Victorian standards, and it hadn’t been upgraded much before I took it on.”

  The door across the hall opened onto a combined leisure room and library. A fifty-two-inch HDTV hung on one wall. Although the décor and furniture appeared modern, including a top of the range desktop PC, the room had a fine old Georgian carved marble fireplace. Julia pointed to it. “That’s one feature I was determined to keep. It’s beautiful work and would fetch thousands at auction, but it would be a crime to rip it out and replace it with some modern contrivance.”

  “I agree.” Martin crossed the room to touch the mantelpiece. He peered into the hearth. “There’s nothing like a real fire on a cold winter’s night.”

  “You always did like a real fire, Martin,” Julia said with a smile.

  Claudia felt another brief stab of jealousy at such familiarity and evidence of a time Julia shared with Martin. She walked over to the fireplace and touched the creamy-white stone but stopped as something assailed her nostrils. “Can you smell tobacco smoke?” she asked.

  Martin sniffed then shook his head. “No. Are you sure it’s not the smell of old smoke coming from the grate?”

  Claudia shook her head. “No, it really smells like tobacco.”

  Julia frowned. “I think I smell something, too. It could be tobacco.”

  Claudia quested around the area of the hearth, sniffing like a beagle on the scent and feeling faintly ridiculous for doing so. “It’s getting stronger, and there’s a kind of fruity scent to it…”

  Martin sniffed again. “I think I smell something. It could be cherry pipe tobacco.”

  As quickly as it came to her, the scent faded. “It’s going,” Claudia said. “From what I could sense it centers on the hearth.”

  “Have you smelled anything strange here before, Jules?” Martin asked.

  Claudia sighed inwardly at the familiar diminutive as Julia shook her head. “Only ordinary wood smoke.”

  Martin nodded and made a note on his tablet. “Okay, then. We’ll chalk this up as an unknown.”

  Claudia took a walk along the library bookcases, noting several older leather-bound books amongst newer titles. She wasn’t surprised to find a number of music books.

  Julia stood in the center of the room and watched as they investigated. “I have to say, this is one room where I’ve not felt troubled by what’s going on.”

  “You don’t feel threatened or frightened here?” Martin asked.

  “Not in the least.” Julia lifted a shoulder. “It’s an oasis of calm.”

  Martin glanced at Claudia and nodded. Sitting in a chair at the computer desk, he closed his eyes and tipped his head back. Julia looked quizzically at Claudia, who shook her head and put her finger to her lips. After a minute of silent contemplation, Martin opened his eyes. “Nothing presented itself; I feel something was here just after we entered the room.”

  Julia folded her arms and shifted nervously. “It creeps me out when you do that, Martin.”

  “Sorry, Jules.” He stood. “But if you want answers, it’s what I have to do.”

  Julia sighed. “Okay then. If you’ve done all you want in here, we’ll look at the rest of the house.” She left the room quickly. Claudia and Martin glanced at each other, shrugged, and followed.

  Tennington Old Hall boasted seven bedrooms, five ensuite bathrooms, a full sized kitchen, a butler’s pantry now used as a general storage space, a study, and a series of linked cellars. They looked at the latter first. It featured a wine cellar, utilities, and a home recording studio.

  “I had it installed to save me having to go to London so often for recording sessions with the group,” Julia explained. “I can do most of the preliminary work here and send it to the studio online.”

  Upstairs, Claudia and Martin found all the bedrooms to be spacious and well-furnished. All but two had Hollywood king-sized beds, the others held queen-sized ones. Julia paused at the door to her own bedroom. “This is the trouble spot,” she explained. “You’ll understand if I’m a bit reluctant to step in here.”

  “Of course,” Martin said. “Shall we go in first?”

  “If you would…” Julia stepped back.

  “It’s nice.” Claudia followed on her husband’s heels. “I like the decor.”

  Martin frowned as he looked around the room. “It’s certainly light, given it’s on the north-eastern corner, but there’s a sense of heaviness to the atmosphere here.”

  Julia hovered on the threshold and then entered. “I feel that too, sometimes. I can usually get a full night’s sleep, yet some mornings I wake feeling as if I hardly slept a wink. It’s enervating.”

  Martin looked all around the room and under the huge bed as Claudia examined the ensuite bathroom. It had a shiny new electric shower unit, something she’d come to appreciate in England, where they appeared to eschew the plumbed-in system she was used to. An array of cosmetics lined the vanity unit and shelves, mostly British varieties but including some brands she knew. She’d noticed British TV channels even had some of the same product commercials she was used to back home, one of the advantages of sharing a language. A pressing need made itself known. “I’m going to take a comfort break, guys,” she called through the door, before closing and locking it.

  She finished up and went to wash her hands. A bottle of talcum powder fell over of its own accord, spilling a fine spray of talc across the cistern top. Claudia frowned, thinking it had somehow happened through her clumsiness. She reached for a piece of toilet paper, intending to wipe up the spill. Instead she stood and stared as letters began to form in the powder.

  HEL…

  “Oh crap!” she muttered, backing away. Somehow she opened the door and backed out of the room. “Marty? You better come and look at this!”

  He came up beside her in a moment, Julia close behind. Claudia pointed mutely at the cistern top, and together they watched words form.

  HELP ME

  “Someone’s making their presence known.” Martin closed his eyes. “Who asks for help?” he addressed the space around the toilet.

  CHA

  Suddenly the powder flew into the air, borne on a rush of wind that came from nowhere. The three of them retreated, coughing and choking as the scented talc filled the air in the bathroom. Claudia got a sense of something moving through the cloud before she had to fall back.

  They stood and stared at each other. “That’s one for the record books,” Martin said quietly.

  Julia looked visibly shaken. Claudia held her hand as they retreated downstairs to the sitting room. Martin went to make more coffee while Claudia sat with Julia. “I can’t take much more of this,” Julia said, in a low, desperate voice. “I want to get out of here.”

  “You’re in safe hands.” Claudia put her arm around the other woman’s shoulders. She felt Julia trembling as she pressed against her for comfort. “You know Marty. He’ll get to the bottom of whatever’s going on and find a solution.”

  “Can you two stay here?” Julia clutched Claudia’s hand and stared into her eyes. �
��I don’t want to spend another night alone.”

  Martin returned at that moment bearing the coffee. “I don’t see why not,” he said, hearing Julia’s plea. “It’ll help us figure out what’s happening in this house.”

  “Would your boyfriend mind?” Claudia asked.

  “He’s not the owner, and he’s not here,” Julia said flatly. “Of course you can stay.”

  “It can be done.” Marty glanced at his watch. “I can go back to mum’s, pack a few things and get back here before dark. Luckily we haven’t unpacked much from our cases since we came over to England.”

  Claudia came to a decision and stood. “I’ll go,” she said. “I’ll bring some changes of clothing and your equipment. You stay here and watch over Julia in case anything else happens.”

  Julia stood too and hugged her. “It’s good of you,” she said, drawing back and holding Claudia by her arms. She managed a smile. “I’m not sure I’d have done the same in your place.”

  “I know what you mean, but you need Marty here.” Claudia smiled back. “I’ll be back soon as I can.”

  * * * *

  Even with GPS and recent experience it took Claudia longer than expected to negotiate the intricacies of the route to her mother-in-law’s house and back. Such was the organic nature of English roads. When she returned, she found a black BMW parked in front of the mansion. On entering she heard voices from the sitting room.

  Julia stood with her arm around the waist of a tall handsome man with curly dark hair and piercing black eyes. Claudia recognized him from the photo on the side table. Another stranger, a slim, androgynous person with bobbed blond hair and dressed in a semi-casual gray ensemble stood quietly to one side with Martin, who met her questioning gaze with a wink and a wry smile.

  “Oh, Claudia, you’re back.” Julia disengaged herself from the man tightly gripping her hand. “I’d like you to meet my boyfriend, Paul Moseley, and my PA, Alex Collins.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” Paul said, stepping forward to shake Claudia’s hand. His clasp felt warm and slightly damp. “Jules says you’re going to help us with the ghostly goings-on.”