44 Gilmore Street

by Shani Struthers

  “Will you be going more often?” June asked Theo.

  “I can do,” Theo replied, “if you are.” Smiling at the other woman, she added, “There’s also a rumba class being held in Lewes on a Tuesday evening, I don’t suppose you’d like to come along to that with me?”

  “Rumba?” At first June was horrified and then a glint of mischief shone in her eyes, making her look young again. “Why on earth not? What fun!”

  Leaving Theo and June to swap contact details, Ruby stood on the pavement outside with Ness, both of them taking a huge interest in anything but each other. When Theo bustled out, she suggested a trip to the pub for something to eat. Corinna was in the vicinity, so she joined them. Meeting her at The Green Man nearby, Ness and Corinna took their seats, whilst Ruby and Theo went to fetch drinks.

  “I hope June’s going to be all right,” Ruby commented.

  “She will now we’ve got rumba to look forward to.”

  “You really going to do that?”

  “Of course. It might even help me to shift a few pounds.”

  Ruby laughed. “You’re lovely just the way you are.”

  “And so are you, Ruby.” Ruby was surprised to note that Theo had turned serious all of a sudden. “And, despite our differences, Ness is too.” She paused, seemed to hesitate. “She’s a very private person, as you are well aware, and that’s annoying at times, I know, but she’s private for a good many reasons.” Ruby didn’t think for one minute Theo would divulge those reasons and she was right. “All I’m going to say is, she’s been damaged.”

  “Damaged?” Ruby queried, taking two cokes from the cheerful barman and placing them down in front of her as she waited for two more to be served.

  “That’s correct,” Theo replied, holding her gaze. “And Ellie’s been damaged too, hence their connection, their bond if you like.”

  So they were back to Ellie again. Ruby sighed.

  “Ellie keeps ringing me. Sometimes she leaves messages, other times the phone connects but she doesn’t say anything. I know it’s her though.”

  “How do you know it’s her?”

  “Who else could it be?”

  The final two cokes were placed in front of them. Theo took a sip from hers and then spoke again. “Regarding Ellie, do as you please, you don’t have to continue with her case, not if you don’t want to. But clearly the girl feels terrible that she’s upset you, perhaps text her or something, firm but kind words.” Pausing again, she took another sip. “What I’m trying to say, Ruby, is make your peace with her. But most importantly make your peace with Ness. If this rift between you is allowed to continue, that’s what’ll harm the future of Psychic Surveys, not the press. Not idiots like the Grants, not even Gilmore Street. You’ll bring about your own downfall. We’re a team, the four of us, we’re friends. We’re not always going to agree on everything, but we pull together. Ruby, in the end we either pull together or we fall apart.”

  Fall apart? Even more so than they had already, she meant. That couldn’t be allowed to happen. She feared that happening. Ness was sitting a few feet away. She had to make a decision about what she was going to do.

  “You take yours and Corinna’s drinks,” she answered finally, grabbing at two cokes. “I’ll take mine and Ness’s.”

  Taking a deep breath she strode over to where the others were waiting.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  As Ruby handed over the ‘peace offering’ Ness smiled – understanding the intent behind it. They were back on track, or as near as damn it. Making an effort at least. Ruby even asked about Ellie, whether any more sessions had taken place. Ness’s face had darkened slightly but not because of Ruby’s enquiry, rather it was because she was finding the whole case perplexing.

  “Ailsa, Ellie and I have met again, on three occasions. Ailsa’s plan is to take her forward, to beyond the terrible event that happened and I agree with her, there might be some key information there, something that might help us to solve who she is, but here’s the strange thing. We can’t get beyond her backing down the hallway. After that there’s no memory whatsoever.”

  “Because of shock?” offered Theo. “Leading to denial.”

  “Or she could have reinvented herself,” Ruby suggested. “Buried her identity along with the past.”

  Ness shrugged. “So deep even hypnosis can’t touch it? Possibly. It may also be because Ellie’s distressed – she’s had a lot to contend with recently.”

  Haven’t we all?

  The thought had formed in Ruby’s mind before she could stop it. Ness looked at Ruby – had she detected it? Would relations between them break down again just when they’d been resurrected? She held her breath.

  “Ruby, Ellie really is very sorry you know. I’ve had a word with her too, about going to the papers. It’s something she should have discussed with us, she realises that now. I think part of the problem she’s having with recall at the moment is because she feels bad about what she’s done. Maybe if you could—”

  “Ness, I’ll text her. Is that okay? I don’t want to get involved again, I’ve made my mind up on that.”

  “That’s fine,” Ness said just as their food arrived.

  Ruby didn’t tell the others about her intention to talk to a reporter, she knew they’d try and talk her out of it if she did. But she was certain she had no other choice. When Ness had dropped her back in Lewes, she had walked to her car, climbed in and finally driven to the South Coast Times offices in Brighton. She’d expected the building to be lively, tangible excitement in the atmosphere with reporters rushing here and there, constantly on the chase for the next big story but she was wrong. It was all rather soulless, subdued even, as if everyone was bored instead. Having told the receptionist who she was and what she wanted she took a seat and waited. Not for long as it turned out, a young man, good looking, around the same age as her, in his mid-twenties, came hurrying down the corridor. He looked excited at least.

  “Ruby Davis? Oh, brilliant! Thanks so much for coming in. I’m Robin King. I’ve left several messages with you. It’s great you’ve decided to talk to us at last. It’s a good idea I think, a smart move.”

  Ruby could only hope so.

  Not wanting to venture further into the offices – the mouth of Hades as she likened it to – Ruby suggested they go and grab a coffee from the café outlet at Asda and sit outside on the low wall that ran the length of the supermarket instead – that was about as neutral a ground as she could think of. Robin agreed, offering to buy not just the coffees but a blueberry muffin each too.

  An affable chap, he started firing questions at her as soon as they were seated, reminding her of a puppy dog champing at the bit. Firmly, Ruby told him to let her tell her story the way she wanted to or it was a no go.

  “So far, the reportage is all about Gilmore Street being haunted, about how frightening that haunting is, how Psychic Surveys may or may not be genuine. You’re looking for a new Enfield and you think you’ve found it.”

  Robin appeared almost nostalgic. “The Enfield case? I’ve been reading up about that lately. Wish I’d been around for it. Brilliant stuff.”

  “Not for the family going through it, it wasn’t.”

  “I suppose so.” His concern was brief. “So come on, is Gilmore Street really haunted?”

  “There is a spirit residing at Gilmore Street, yes. The family have testified to that end and phenomena has been recorded.”

  “The flying kettle you mean?”

  “That is what I mean.”

  “It’s hardly spectacular though is it, a flying kettle?”

  “What would you prefer, a body flying through the windows? That would sell more papers I suppose.”

  “God, it would wouldn’t it? How fantastic.”

  Ruby sighed and bit into her muffin.

  “So, it’s Benjamin Hamilton is it? We can’t find any background on him.”

  “We don’t know who it is,” she answered, “it might not be Ben at all. D
on’t drag his name through the mud along with mine.”

  “But who else could it be?”

  She was growing tired of his inability to listen. “If we get the chance to, I’ll find out, I’ll make sure of it. But, Robin, seriously, this whole Ghostbusters angle it’s… and pardon the pun here, it’s been done to death. You want a new angle? I’ll give it to you. As you know, I run Psychic Surveys, which is a high street business specialising in domestic spiritual clearance—”

  “Domestic what?”

  “It’s spirit rescue, Robin, and it’s really not that hard to understand. The dead interacting with the living is nothing new, it’s always happened. There’s a material world and there’s a spirit world and sometimes the veil between them is thin. It’s not weird, it’s not shocking, it’s not even remotely New Age. The methods we use, they’re ancient not modern – and often, very often, it’s not terrifying. It’s mundane in fact and the job gets boring, just like any other job.” She paused. “Although, to be fair, it does have its highlights. But, and this is my point, Robin, my main point, we help people, both the living and the dead, so that they can rest in peace, both in the true sense of the word and metaphorically. We provide a service, a much-needed service as up until recently we’ve been rushed off our feet. And we do so in a low-key, practical and professional manner. We inject the normal into paranormal if you like, which you can quote me on. And we have helped. If you look at our website, there are plenty of testimonials. I know you haven’t heard them from the horse’s mouth, but people who’ve been haunted don’t tend to like to draw attention to that fact, and I can’t blame them. They’ve moved on, the spirit has moved on – it’s over. That’s the way they want it to stay.”

  “But you charge for what you do!”

  It sounded like an accusation, causing Ruby’s temper to flare.

  “Yes, Robin, we do! We’re human beings just like you, who have to eat, buy clothes and pay the rent. Why shouldn’t we charge? We work hard enough. But we don’t charge for all cases, we have a sliding scale and believe me, we don’t earn much. Just enough to scrape by at times.”

  “I suppose—”

  “There’s no ‘suppose’ about it.”

  Robin didn’t agree but he didn’t disagree either. “So the spirit at Gilmore Street, you said it wasn’t Benjamin Hamilton.”

  “I said I don’t know who it is. Not yet.”

  “But Ben died there.”

  “I know.”

  “Has anyone else died there?”

  “Not to my knowledge.”

  “Then who is it? Who went back?”

  Who went back? That was what they all wanted to know.

  Rather than wait for an answer from her, Robin lifted a hand up in the air and ran it from left to right. “I can see it now,” he said, “the headline: ‘Who is the Ghost of Gilmore Street?’ Do you know what? It’s actually much better we don’t know. People love nothing better than a mystery.”

  Getting carried away on flights of fancy, he wasn’t listening to a word she was saying. Inwardly she sighed, she should have known. “Robin, I want this article to be about Psychic Surveys, about the work that we do.”

  Robin’s sympathy seemed genuine. “Not very helpful though if we can’t get some of those you’ve helped to come forward, to back you up.”

  “Because you’ll twist everything they say. People aren’t stupid, they know what the press is like.”

  Robin pulled a ‘what me?’ type of expression. He really did have that innocent look down pat. In a competition she’d give him ten out of ten.

  “Don’t take the piss, Robin. This is my business, my livelihood we’re talking about. Present the facts as you’ve been told for once.”

  Again Robin held his hands up. “I will, I promise.”

  Folding up the muffin wrapper into tiny squares, she asked very slowly and very deliberately, “But, Robin, does a reporter’s promise mean anything?”

  “Of course it does! Look, I get what you’re doing, the point of it. And who knows, maybe I’ll need your services one day.”

  Ruby looked at him, stared intently.

  “What,” he seemed flustered, “what is it?”

  “Where do you live, Robin?”

  “Erm… in Hove, a flat just off Sackville Road.”

  “Sackville Road? It wouldn’t happen to be Tennyson Court would it, the former site of Hove General Hospital?”

  Robin’s brown eyes grew even wider. “But… how did you know that?”

  “Because I’m psychic, Robin, I’m the real deal. That building has quite a history, a lot of people have died there and often in very sad circumstances.” She paused for effect. “Have you been experiencing anything strange lately?”

  Robin had gone the colour of milk; she’d swear he’d even started trembling.

  “No, well… not me. But my girlfriend lives in the block too. We’ve only recently started going out. She…” again he stumbled. “She hates living there to be honest, wants to move out, rent somewhere else. Says the atmosphere isn’t quite right. Sometimes she can hear crying in the night. One time I heard it too. Right outside my bedroom door it was but then I thought, no, sounds carry. It was probably one of the other residents.”

  Ruby jumped off the wall, made a show of smoothing her clothes. “It may well have been,” she said. “In fact it probably was, but not necessarily a living resident. And hearing crying, well, that could just be the start of it.”

  “The start of it?”

  “Oh yeah, things can get worse, much worse, and very quickly too. Especially if the spirit knows that you’re aware of it, that you heard it crying. They latch on you see. They latch on and sometimes they don’t let go.”

  As she walked off, Robin hurried after her. “If… if there is something, will you come round, take a look? Mates rates and all that.”

  “Mates rates?” she threw back over her shoulder. “So we’re friends?”

  Robin swallowed. “Well… we could be.”

  She stopped, turned round to face him.

  “Then do the right thing by me, Robin. I want a straightforward article, no sensationalism, nothing like that and… regarding where you live, we’ll see. There are a lot of charlatans out there, a lot of people who can’t help. I can. Remember that when things get rough.”

  “I will. You can count on me.”

  As Ruby quickened her pace she offered up silent thanks to the universe. So his address was Tennyson Court was it? You couldn’t beat a lucky guess.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Her ruse had worked. Robin the eager beaver reporter remained true to his word. The article on Psychic Surveys was without sensation; it just reported the facts as she’d told them in a clear and precise manner. Any day now she’d get a phone call from Robin to come and carry out a survey on his and his girlfriend’s flat and of course she’d go – charge a nominal rate. He’d done her a favour, so she’d do him one. The article was picked up on by other journalists, however, and skewed slightly, the emphasis placed on one line he’d written in the article, ‘Who is the Ghost of Gilmore Street?’ He might not have used it as a headline – he’d used Psychic Surveys: Putting the ‘Normal’ into the Paranormal, but others certainly had and much speculation was taking place about the past residents of Gilmore Street. If any of their relatives that were still living saw the headlines they might even come forward to shed more light on the mystery, either that or sue the media for defamation! As Theo said, you had to look for the good in everything. Another silver lining had come in the form of June. Completely off her own bat she’d rung the South Coast Times and told them how ‘honest’ Psychic Surveys were. At last someone had come forward.

  “You never know,” said Theo, “she might prompt the herd response.”

  “The herd response?” Corinna queried.

  “That’s right, one comes forward and suddenly they all do. It just takes one person to lead the way.”

  To that end everyone kept
everything crossed.

  Meanwhile, in-between working on the cases that did come in, Ruby, much like the rest of the team and Cash too, kept abreast of the almost daily reportage. Psychics were coming and going to Gilmore Street, but none of them were getting anywhere. Ruby knew she shouldn’t feel smug about that, but she did, whilst inwardly lamenting the fact that the sins of the ‘bad wolf’ were on the increase. The Gordons were also reported as getting increasingly fed up of this lack of success, a picture of Samantha and Jeff standing together catching Ruby’s eye. The expression on Samantha’s face was nothing if not pissed-off. In contrast, Jeff looked incredibly sheepish. When she’d shown Cash the picture he’d laughed.

  “Poor Jeff, I can imagine the ear-bashing he’s getting behind closed doors. Who do you think they’re going to call next, Most Haunted?”

  “I’m only surprised Yvette and Karl aren’t here already,” Ruby replied.

  Either way, the heat was off Psychic Surveys, it was on others instead and just as harshly. But it was not the ridicule that Ruby was finding satisfactory it was the fact that Psychic Surveys weren’t the only ones claiming there was something untoward at Gilmore Street. There was now proof of paranormal activity – as person after person retreated from the house, declaring what remained inside a ‘beast.’

  Ruby had winced at that – connotations linked to the devil were never helpful. Corinna had walked past Gilmore Street recently on her way to meet Presley at The Battle of Trafalgar, a nearby pub and she’d told the rest of them that already a couple of houses had gone up for sale in the street. If they started banging on about Lucifer they’d all be on the market. Again frustration surfaced, if only they could get into number 44. Would it be worth texting Samantha again? If she could explain what they knew she might be able to persuade her to give them another chance. Or get her to persuade Jeff at least. And there she stopped. But what do you know exactly? You’ve no idea who the ‘Ghost of Gilmore Street’ is. Nobody has. But someone, somewhere must know something. She’d go back to The Keep, dig deeper into the lives of past residents, the offspring of whom might still be alive. Perhaps she could contact them. It shouldn’t be too hard. Considering Ben’s length of time there, there couldn’t be many of them left.