The Lavender Lady

by Faith Martin

  ‘Oh, not much,’ Duncan assured her, smiling kindly. ‘You’ll enjoy it, I’m sure. Well, pretty sure.’

  Effie’s heart sank even further.

  ‘Duncan,’ she repeated, elongating his name warningly. ‘Come on, man, just spit it out!’

  ‘I just wondered if you would be willing to be my independent eyes and ears and sit in on a few ghost-hunting sessions, that’s all.’

  CHAPTER TWO

  ‘Ghost hunting? You’re going ghost hunting!’ Penny Harris gasped.

  Effie, fighting back the urge to blush and still feeling cross with herself for letting Duncan talk her into it, said a shade too defensively, ‘Yes, ghost hunting. And why not? What’s wrong with that?’

  But even as she said it, she knew how outlandish it must sound — especially to Penny who, having spent the last twenty years or so practising as a local GP, was one of the most practical and down-to-earth people that she knew.

  When Effie had first moved into Michael’s large, detached home in Hampton Frome upon her marriage, Penny had been one of the first villagers she’d met. And right away the two women had hit it off, although Effie had decided it would be easier if she remained with her old GP’s surgery back in Bicester.

  And this decision, as the two women had become firmer and closer friends over the years, had probably been a very good one. As Penny herself had said more than once, being someone’s doctor whilst also being their friend wasn’t always easy. And she had recited a few pert instances where such a conflict could lead to some rather uncomfortable scenarios that would definitely put a pall on any friendship!

  Now Penny turned to look at her in astonishment. And since she was, at that moment, in the process of driving her Range Rover down a rather narrow country lane, Effie pointed quickly at the road ahead. ‘Eyes front!’

  ‘Sorry,’ Penny said. And meant it. A tall, stick-thin woman with a crop of unruly black hair and dark brown eyes, she was usually a very competent and careful driver. Not surprising, since she knew all too well the devastating effects that careless driving could inflict on the human body. She was also just naturally one of those sorts of people who seemed able to do anything and everything well, with a calm, quiet and sometimes perfunctory ability that left lesser mortals, like Effie, feeling hapless and humble.

  ‘It’s all Duncan’s fault,’ Effie heard herself say petulantly, and Penny gave a long, slow sigh.

  ‘Ah. Say no more,’ she said drolly. ‘That explains everything. I didn’t think it was something you’d be likely to do off your own bat.’

  But Effie did say more, of course, and at some length, indignantly detailing not only her lunch date with Duncan but why she was now accepting Penny’s offer of a lift into town in order to meet up with a certain ‘ghost hunter.’

  ‘So Duncan’s writing about the paranormal next, is he?’ Penny laughed when she’d finally finished. ‘That’ll please all those stuffy colleagues of his at his college. You know how they like to mock stuff like that. They’ll be calling him Spooky Fergusson before long, you wait and see.’

  Effie laughed. ‘I doubt he’d care,’ she said. ‘In fact, knowing Duncan, he’d probably revel in it! And, to be fair, he’s not so much interested in the actual ghosts themselves — always supposing that they exist of course — but rather the psychology of why hunting them has become so popular. And that’s where having a so-called independent observer will come in handy — or so he says,’ Effie grumbled. ‘He knows I’ve never had strong views one way or another about that sort of thing, so in theory, I should make a fairly good, impartial witness. All he wants is to get the average person on the street’s take on things, from a social and psychological point of view, which he can then use in his book.’

  Penny nodded, indicated to pass a trundling tractor, and accelerated smoothly past it. ‘Well, that makes sense, I suppose,’ she conceded. ‘And it’s also very clever of him, because it is a subject that interests people. And nearly everyone has an opinion about it — either for or against. So he’s bound to get lots of sales.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose so,’ Effie said, beginning to grin in spite of herself. Her friend noticed and raised an eyebrow in query, making Effie shake her head helplessly.

  ‘Oh, Pen, it’s such a hoot, isn’t it?’ she finally burst out. ‘I mean, actual ghost hunting! Me! It’s so outlandish and yet so . . . I don’t know. Appealing in a way. I mean, who could resist the opportunity to do something so off the wall?’ Then she sighed heavily. ‘Trust Duncan to know what would be guaranteed to pique my interest.’

  ‘Yes. He does tend to know which buttons to press, doesn’t he,’ Penny agreed wryly. ‘And how to get his own way. And like I said, no doubt his latest opus will sell very well indeed.’

  ‘I’m sure it will,’ Effie said, a shade grimly. ‘You can always trust Duncan to come up smelling of roses.’

  Penny grinned. ‘Do I detect a hint of sour grapes in your voice?’

  Effie grunted inelegantly. ‘Just a few. Really, Pen, I don’t know how it happened. One moment I was just sitting there, innocently eating my salad and determined to absolutely not let him rope me in, and the next I was agreeing to at least meet with this ghost hunter character and see for myself what it was all about.’ She bit her lip and looked out of the side window at the passing greenery. ‘Michael would have hated the whole idea.’

  Her friend drew in a slow breath. ‘I daresay he would have,’ she said flatly, her voice carefully neutral.

  ‘And he wouldn’t have wanted me to do it,’ Effie added fretfully.

  ‘No,’ Penny said, and took a deep breath. ‘Which is why I’m glad that you are doing it,’ she said firmly. ‘It’s about time you started taking advantage of the fact that you’re free now to do more of the kind of things that please you. Which is good. And this sounds like it’ll be fun. It’s about time you bucked yourself up a bit.’

  Effie glanced at her quickly, then away again. She knew that Penny hadn’t always got on with Michael. In fact, once or twice they’d argued quite vociferously.

  ‘Well, I’m committed now,’ she said mildly. ‘At least to meeting with this Mr Fielding person anyway. He’s the one who runs these ghost investigations, or whatever you call them. If I don’t like him, or I think we can’t get on, I can always tell Duncan so. And that will be that.’

  ‘Hmmmm,’ Penny said. ‘Well, I suppose there’s no harm in trying it. I take it you just have to sit in on this ghost-hunting stuff, watch and listen, then report back what you experience to Duncan?’

  ‘That’s the general idea. If Corwin Fielding agrees to me doing it, that is. According to Duncan, he’s still considering whether or not he wants to take part in the collaboration.’

  ‘Fielding? That name sounds vaguely familiar,’ Penny mused.

  ‘Apparently he’s something of a minor local celebrity,’ Effie said, looking out of the window again as they negotiated the Kidlington roundabout and headed towards Oxford. ‘Duncan’s already approached him about the psychology book he wants to write, and what role he’d like me to play in it, but Mr Fielding is reserving judgement on whether or not to co-operate until after we meet. Which should be,’ she checked her watch, ‘in about half an hour or so.’

  ‘Corwin Fielding . . . I really feel like I know that name,’ Penny said thoughtfully. ‘He’s not a patient . . . Oh, now I’ve got it. I read one of his books once. Nothing like the kind of thing Duncan writes, obviously.’

  ‘Really? You did?’ Effie asked, amazed. ‘Was it any good?’ she added curiously.

  ‘Yes, I think it was rather, if memory serves.’ Penny nodded. ‘That is, it was well written, thoughtful, and as far as I could tell, he’d been totally scrupulous in his scientific methods and in reporting them. Well, I say scientific — it involved a lot of temperature readings from thermal sensors and camera footage in infrared and UV. Along with devices that registered electromagnetic energy and all that stuff. I’m sure that a “proper” scientist would be rath
er sniffy about it all,’ she admitted with a grin. ‘But at least his conclusions were honest and clear-cut. And he also freely admitted that something like ninety per cent of “sightings” could be explained in non-paranormal terms. So he certainly didn’t come across as a fanatic or die-hard believer. But there were also a few incidences that he went into in depth where he clearly believed something “inexplicable” had occurred.’

  Effie frowned, already feeling lost and hopelessly out of her depth. ‘It all sounds very technical,’ she murmured uneasily.

  ‘Yes. I suppose a lot of it was,’ Penny said. ‘I didn’t buy the book, needless to say, Patrick did,’ she explained, mentioning her husband with an airy wave of her hand, ‘during one of his more esoteric fads. I only read it because I was bored and I was expecting to be amused and entertained by some woolly-headed but basically harmless twit. So I was rather surprised and moderately impressed with the way he approached his research.’

  ‘Oh,’ Effie said, not sure whether to feel reassured or worried by her friend’s surprising endorsement. In truth, she had been half expecting (not to mention hoping) that her meeting with Mr Corwin Fielding would turn out to be a bit of a bust. That the man would be a harmless but obvious eccentric, that they would meet and then quickly agree that perhaps the project wasn’t for her, thus allowing her to slither free from Duncan’s manipulations. Although, she had to admit, another part of her was hoping that it would all work out well, because the prospect of doing something different and exciting was genuinely appealing.

  But from what Duncan had told her about Corwin Fielding, Effie had gained the impression that she would be meeting an enthusiastic, well-meaning but fervent believer. A sort of New Age guru who talked to the dead as a matter of course, and probably saw spirits everywhere, including the shopping aisles at Tesco. But if what Penny was saying was true, then she might need to adjust her mental image of the man.

  ‘So you didn’t get the impression that he was a bit . . . well, kooky then?’ she asked now, a shade diffidently.

  Instantly, Penny shook her head. ‘No, not at all. And I think he’s also well respected in his field, as a serious researcher, I mean. At least if the bio on the back of the book is to be believed. He’s got a degree in . . . something or other, from a respectable university. Reading, I think. And he’s been invited onto several of the more serious-minded chat shows and semi-educational programmes that go out late at night. You know the kind I mean?’

  Effie did. After a hard day’s work, Michael had often liked to watch such programmes, if only to pooh-pooh or laugh at some of the topics.

  But now she was beginning to feel more and more uneasy about her upcoming meeting — and in a way that she hadn’t previously even contemplated. When she’d set out this morning, it hadn’t occurred to her that she would have to do much more than sit and listen to some enthusiast. She hadn’t even given a thought as to what kind of an impression she should be trying to make. That she might be found wanting in some way. She hadn’t even done any preliminary reading on the topic. What if this Corwin Fielding person decided she was lacking in intelligence? Wouldn’t it be embarrassing if Duncan got his marching orders just because she failed to impress Corwin Fielding at the upcoming interview?

  ‘So, where am I dropping you off again?’ Penny asked, thankfully interrupting her now painful train of thought.

  ‘Oh, in Park Town,’ Effie said, naming a leafy and prestigious area of Summertown, one of Oxford’s more upmarket suburbs. ‘Apparently he has an apartment there.’

  ‘Very nice,’ Penny said. ‘Obviously this ghost-hunting malarkey pays well. No wonder Duncan’s so anxious to get a piece of the pie.’

  Effie sighed, her rising anxiety levels now making her feel cross and edgy. ‘I just wish he’d left me out of it,’ she muttered. ‘I’m beginning to feel hopelessly inadequate to the task.’

  Penny shot her a sharp look. ‘Stop that,’ she admonished flatly. ‘You’re forever doing yourself down. You’re as capable and competent as anyone I know. That husband of yours has a lot to answer—’

  ‘But I haven’t even done any research,’ Effie said, frantically interrupting her friend in an attempt to distract her. The last thing she wanted to do was get into an argument about Michael. ‘What if Mr Fielding asks me stuff and I don’t have a clue what to say? Oh, I could really murder Duncan right now!’

  Penny laughed, a shade callously, Effie thought. ‘So why did you agree to help him out?’ she asked.

  Effie groaned. ‘Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps because he made it sound so reasonable. And interesting. And he thought it would do me good to get out of the house more and meet new people . . .’

  She broke off as she saw Penny nodding knowingly and smiling.

  Since they were now stuck in traffic waiting at a large roundabout at the top end of Oxford’s Banbury Road, Penny felt safe in taking her hand off the wheel and reaching over to squeeze her shoulder gently.

  ‘And he’s probably right,’ she said softly. ‘Come on, you said yourself it was going to be a bit of a hoot. Don’t talk yourself out of it now! Just relax and enjoy yourself for once. You deserve it. And stepping outside of your comfort zone will probably do you the world of good.’

  Effie fought back the urge to say crossly, ‘Oh not you too!’ and instead glared out of the window. Then, after a moment or two, tried to relax. She really had to get out of the habit of making everything such a big deal. And just when had she started doing that? She was sure she didn’t do it when she was younger.

  ‘Well, we’ll just have to see what happens,’ she said philosophically. ‘Sitting in with the C-Fits for a session or two of ghost-watching probably won’t kill me, right?’ she added, her lips twisting into a genuine smile now. ‘Nobody ever actually died on one of these investigations, did they? I mean, just how ironic would that be?’ She laughed.

  After all, if you couldn’t laugh when the joke was on you, when could you? Not that poor Michael had ever really had much of a sense of humour.

  ‘The C-Fits?’ Penny asked curiously.

  ‘The Corwin Fielding Investigation Team. Well, paranormal investigation team, but apparently they couldn’t accommodate the P,’ Effie laughed. ‘Duncan assures me that they’re all very nice, well-adjusted people, strictly volunteers of course, who come from all walks of life and help Corwin out with his research. There’s a retired schoolteacher, a builder, a student and, oh, all sorts apparently. The only thing they have in common is an interest in ghosts and the paranormal.’

  ‘OK. Well, that sounds nice,’ Penny said brightly.

  ‘Yes, doesn’t it,’ she agreed blandly. ‘Care to volunteer yourself? You could always keep me company,’ she pointed out with a wicked little chuckle.

  ‘Not on your nelly!’ her pal said succinctly — if a shade inelegantly. And both women burst out laughing.

  Ten minutes later, Effie found herself walking down Park Town, admiring the avenues of leafy beech trees, the green lushness of a small park opposite and the impressive architecture of mainly Victorian and Edwardian houses that surrounded her.

  She checked the note that Duncan had given her, just to be sure that she’d found the right address, and after making sure that the number of the house was the one that she wanted, paused outside and took it all in.

  It was a mid-terrace large Edwardian house, which, like a vast number of such residences in the city, had long since been converted into flats. But only four, she noted, which meant that the apartments would be large and spacious. Large sash windows set within pale Cotswold stone looked out over the park. Walking up a flight of wide shallow steps that led to an attractively painted sage-green front door, her eyes went to the listings above a neat set of doorbells and found that Mr C Fielding had one of the flats on the top floor.

  Taking a deep breath, and telling herself not to be such a rabbit, she firmly pressed the bell. Well, she thought fatalistically, here goes nothing.

  Today, and in deference t
o yet another sunny day, she was wearing a powder blue calf-length summer dress with a full skirt under a white jacket. Low-heeled white sandals and white leather handbag completed the ensemble. At the time she’d selected it, she’d felt rather proud of herself for yet again shunning the inevitable dark trouser suit. But now she couldn’t help but wonder if she should have worn something more formal? A business suit, maybe?

  Then again, just what were you supposed to wear on an occasion like this? Even Michael, who’d always known the proper etiquette for any social or business event, might have struggled to come up with what you were supposed to wear to an interview for a ghost-hunting position!

  Perhaps . . .

  ‘Hello?’ a male voice floated at her out of the ether, and Effie abruptly lowered her mouth towards the intercom and said firmly, ‘Hello? Mrs James to see Mr Fielding. I believe Professor Duncan Fergusson told you to expect me.’

  Her voice came out reassuringly calm and assertive. Which was good. If you couldn’t feel in control of any given situation, at least you could sound as if you were. That was a lesson Michael had taught her very early on. And it was sound advice that had often served her well over the years.

  ‘Oh yes. Please, come on up. It’s up the main flight of stairs, and then turn left.’ The voice was pleasant and Oxonian — that curious blend that was not quite upper class, not quite country yokel, and not easily identifiable.

  ‘Thank you,’ Effie said, as the door was buzzed open.

  Inside, the communal hallway was painted white, with black and white floor tiles giving way to a large and impressive wooden staircase. She walked up the single flight of stairs and turned left, heading down a corridor with dark moss green carpeting and attractive Manet prints on the walls. And this was still just a communal area. As Penny had observed, clearly Mr Corwin Fielding had done very well for himself in his unorthodox career.