by David Ruffle
“Glad to see someone is willing to take the old house on again,” he said with a gravity which the situation hardly required.
Introductions all round. Question posed.
“You make the house seem like hard work, Mr Williams,” said Michael.
“Ah well, it can be hard work you see because, well, I hardly like to say, but I will...”
“Say what?”
“It’s like this, Mr Hamilton. It’s cursed.”
“Beg pardon?”
“Cursed. Has been these last three hundred years or more.”
‘The peasants are revolting’ thought Michael as he glanced at Judy who was rolling her eyes as only she can. Old Mr Williams was written off as a local eccentric who had perhaps strayed from a Hammer horror movie. Cursed indeed. The Dark Ages come to Dorset. They remained non-plussed. Their non had never been so plussed. Even when faced with the fact that the house had changed hands many more times than seemed normal.
The return journey to Earlsfield flew by even allowing for the odd wrong turn on Michael’s part. Judy had the atlas on her lap throughout the journey, but even her fearsome navigational skills could not negate Michael’s very own individual navigational skills which mostly consisted of ignoring Judy’s directions. The children, without a care in the world, just slept.
38 A beautiful church, well worth a visit.
39 I’ll explain later.
40 Written by John Fowles and set in Lyme Regis.
41 This little-known detective also features in three novels set in Lyme Regis, but the author’s name escapes me.
42 I’ll explain later.
Chapter Twenty Four
More Pre-Lyme Days
Selling the house in Vanderbilt Road proved ridiculously easy. Resigning as editor in chief of ‘The Big Brash Guide To London’ proved ridiculously easy. Life suddenly seemed ridiculously easy.
They hosted three farewell dinners. For friends. For colleagues and ex-colleagues (less Miss Roseberry, Graham Tasker, Mrs Danvers and of course Stephen ‘call me Jim’ Bailey). And for family. Yet another chance for bonding between the senior Hamilton and the equally senior Kennedys.
A June evening. Outside, a battered Land-Rover Defender and a florist’s van newly sign-written with the legend, ‘Kennedy’s Blooms...Ikebana Specialists’. Tom Kennedy, formerly something big in the city was now well and truly something big in floristry. His designs were sought after from Muswell Hill to East Grinstead, from Slough to Gravesend. His bouquets graced many an event saving those that took place at Molesey boat club or Molesey Cricket Club. Bastards.
Geoffrey Hamilton surprised his son, daughter in law and his grandchildren by the mere fact of his turning up. Since the loss of his wife he had been in limbo, life had not re-started for him and there were no immediate signs it ever would. Michael was quick to point out to Judy that his father had not let go of life, it had let go of him. He remained tortured by his own enforced solitude as life drifted by and he with it. Nothing could bring Margaret back and it was increasingly obvious that nothing now would ever bring Geoffrey back.
Elspeth Kennedy, who had returned to the ranks of the W.I. after an olive branch had been offered along with a full, frank and unreserved apology for the actions of the committee members during that time of trouble as they termed it. All the same, she was never quite the same woman within the Institute. Everyone said so.
Her flower-arranging had lost its lustre and spirit of adventure. Her jam had lost a little of its flavour and its spirit of adventure. Her Victoria sponges seldom rose to the occasion. Twice, it was said, she had been observed miming to Jerusalem. It was true of course; she no longer had the enthusiasm she once had. She was there because she liked belonging; she had a need to be a part of something. It helped define her in a way marriage to Tom never really had.
The dinner party was never going to be the easiest of evenings, farewells by their very nature never are. Geoffrey was there in body if not in spirit and to be fair to him, he made all the right noises at the right times and said all the right words just when they should have been uttered. The old Geoffrey came shining through fitfully when playing with Katy and Annabelle and reading to them from books he had brought with him as gifts; The Adventures of Bess The Foal, Champion Takes A Tumble, Point To Point Through The Years: A Pictorial Record, Peter the Poor Pit Pony, Star the Stallion Takes Control and A Layman’s Guide to Land-Rover Defenders. It was agreed the last-named book was gifted to the girls in error. Everyone said so.
The topics of conversation were limited and dominated by horses, flowers and Dorset. Invitations were issued. Warm welcomes in Lyme were assured. There was a sense of an ending rather than a sense of beginning that Michael and Judy were aiming for. Wherever you go, you never really leave your family behind even if there are times when it’s precisely what you want to do. Gifts were exchanged. Geoffrey had brought a framed (but not signed) print of Arkle.[43] Tom had prepared a lavish bouquet with summer colours abounding. It was one of his finest creations. Everyone said so.
Elspeth had created a jam using specially sourced (from Chertsey market) Dorset fruit. Unlike her recent preserves for the W.I. this one had both flavour and a spirit of adventure, not an easy thing to get into a jar of jam.
Handshakes. Hugs. Kisses. Farewells.
Three days later, Michael, Judy and the girls set off for Dorset, bidding Vanderbilt Road a fond goodbye. Judy had the atlas at the ready and navigated Michael safely to Lyme Regis in spite of himself. Friends and family left behind, but there would be new friends to be made. A new life to be forged.
Judy had applied for and had been offered a post of teaching assistant at a secondary school in Bridport. Michael had not applied for any jobs and consequently not been offered any. House-husbandry beckoned for Michael. ‘Easy’ he thought nothing to it. And time left over to write his novel. If only he could decide on a plot and a storyline it would be so much easier, but that would come...surely.
‘Welcome to Lyme Regis,’ the sign said.
“We’re here,” said Michael, who knew about these things.
And indeed they were. Home, although they did not know it...yet.
43 A famous Irish Thoroughbred racehorse of the 1960’s.
Chapter Twenty Five
Present Day
The fully-laden dining table in the spacious and fully modernised kitchen groaned under the weight of the food that had been deposited upon it. Michael had been very busy indeed in the kitchen.
“Whatever is all that, Mike?”
“Hey Jude (could be a song that), good day?”
“Decidedly average thanks. So, what is all that?”
“A finger buffet.”
“For who? The London Symphony Orchestra? The Dagenham Girl Pipers?”
“For our merry band of ghosts of course.”
“And they’ll be eating will they, these ghosts of ours?”
“You may have a point; I may not have thought this through enough.”
“Have you thought about giving them some spook-ghetti?”
“Very droll.”
“I don’t want you to score an own-ghoul with them.”
“Ah I see now, you are trying to keep my spirits up.”
“From the other side of the table yes!”
“This is all so weird though isn’t it, Jude?”
“You bet, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to get my head around it. I can’t hear the girls, Mike.”
“Out in the garden.”
“With?”
“Just by themselves. Do you want to call them? We can get started on this pile of food then.”
Katy and Annabelle responded to their mother’s call as they often, but not always did. Their eyes almost pop
ped out of their heads when they saw the amount of food that was taxing the dining table to its load-bearing limit.
“Is all that ours?” asked Katy, unable to believe her eyes.
“Most of it, darling. Daddy has made some extra treats in case we have any visitors.”
“Is it Grandad?”
“No, Katy.”
“Gramps and Nanna?”
“No, Annie.”
“Is it Aunty Fay?”
“Actually it’s for the...well, the captain and his men.”
“That’s just silly,” chimed in Annabelle.
“Why is it silly, Annie?”
“They can’t eat, Mummy,” said Katy, shaking her head at this latest outbreak of stupidity from her parents.
“Why not? I mean, do you know why not?”
“Of course we do. They’re dead, silly.”
It was the truth that their parents had been trying to keep from them. They should have known better. In fact, as far as Katy and Annabelle were concerned they saw the ‘men in the garden’ as theirs. They didn’t know why any grown-ups should be allowed to interfere.
“You know they are ghosts then?” asked Michael.
“Of course we do,” said Annabelle, and adding defiantly, “we’re not scared though.”
“That’s good, darlings,” said Judy.
An hour passed. Nothing happened. Another hour passed. Nothing happened apart from an outbreak of tummy rumbling. Then a sound. A twig snapped. There was a subtle change in the atmosphere. A silence spread over the garden Birdsong hushed. Even the seagulls were silenced.
“Hello,” called a disembodied voice.
“Captain Fox?” queried Michael, whose dodgy knees had taken to knocking once more.
“Yes, the very same, dear boy.”
The family congregated on the patch of concrete, manfully doubling as a patio once more.
“I assume you have come to talk,” ventured Michael.
“No, old boy, I have come to ask you to dance a quadrille with me. Of course I have come to talk. I fear you would not be able to dance anyway with those knees.”
“Could everyone just leave my knees out of this please?”
“If only we could,” chorused the Captain and Judy.
The disembodied voice of the Captain was becoming more bodied by the second. A figure, hazy at first, now began to take on substance until Captain Edward de Vere Fox was revealed in all his three hundred and seventy-nine year old glory.
“Can we shake hands?” asked Judy.
“You are welcome to shake your hands if you wish, dear people. I am not here to undermine or poke fun at your traditions and foibles.”
“I meant...”
“I was merely joking with you, madam.”
He thrust out his hand for Michael and Judy to grasp. Which they did. If the Captain had plunged his hand into their fridge which sometimes doubled as a freezer it could not have been colder.
“Sorry, folks, a circulation problem. Now, what can I do for you charming people?”
“What are you doing here? Why are you here? Are my daughters safe? Do you mean us harm? Are you stuck here? Do you know you are dead? Have we got to share our house and garden with you?” asked Judy in a rush.
“Whoa, slow down there. I haven’t been asked so many questions since 1937 when the charming Carruthers family came...and went.”
“Did you scare them away?” asked Michael.
“Scare them? Honestly now, dear boy, do I look scary?”
“Frankly, yes,” replied Judy
“Yes,” said Michael, who was never slow when it came to agreeing with Judy.
“No,” said the girls.
“I seem to have divided your opinions. That reminds me of the charming Grayling family. They came...and went too. As to your questions; I suppose we are stuck here, but we like it here. As to why we are here, well we are and that’s all we know about it. We mean no one any harm least of all Katy and Annabelle, we are fathers too you know.”
“And a mother...”
“Who was that?”
“Irish Meg, an unhappy lass quite frankly. She was slain as a spy, by our lot as it happens, but she holds no grudges. We’re all in this together. And of course we know we are dead; there is intelligent life in your garden you know. Well, when I say life...”
“Is there no way to bring you eternal rest?” asked Michael
“Now, don’t you start with that God stuff like your mate, holy Tim. Why would we want to rest, you tell me that?”
Michael couldn’t. Although he tried.
“Well...” It wasn’t his most auspicious effort. If everyone had been there they would have said so.
“We have a limited amount of fun, as much as you can in our state anyway. We live, well you know what I mean, by the sea. It’s not such a bad (after) life my friends.”
“Yes, but you are doing it in our bloody garden,” shouted Judy.
“I say to that what I have said before, we were here first.”
“Is that a good enough reason to scare people out of their homes? Other people have a right to be here too. Being dead does not grant you special privileges, at least I don’t think so. This is our house Captain Fox, our house not yours and your merry band of dead men...”
“And woman...”
“Sorry, Irish Meg,” apologised Judy, “no offence intended.”
“None taken...”
“I know just how you feel, my dear lady.”
“Thank you, I feel so much better for knowing that,” retorted Judy.
Captain Edward de Vere Fox with the benefit of three hundred and seventy-nine years of life (and death) was beginning to feel he had met his match in the shape of Judith Hamilton. A woman who had been browbeaten by Miss Amanda Roseberry and Mrs Marjorie Danvers and survived was not going to turn tail and run from the gallant captain...or Irish Meg for that matter. The Captain who was never previously known for his compromising now considered that very thing. He had never really cared for any of the occupants of the old house, but he was more than a little taken with this Hamilton family.
“Look,” he said, “I’m sure we can work something out that will suit all interested parties. I’ll consult with my men...”
“And woman.”
“Sorry, Irish Meg...and woman and see what we can thrash out between us.”
“Perhaps some kind of contract may be in order, legally binding between the dead and the living,” suggested Michael.
“An excellent idea, dear boy. One of our band of men...”
“And woman...”
“Apologies, Irish Meg, centuries old habits die hard as I suppose we did,” the captain said, laughing.“Anyway, one of our number was a lawyer, he can probably rustle something up. I daresay it would only cost a shilling at most.”
“We are not proposing to pay, Captain Fox,” stated Judy emphatically.
“Are you not? A wise course of action probably, Silas did defraud the owners of The Globe after all. Not to be trusted dead or alive in my opinion.”
“Regardless of what my husband suggested, we don’t need a contract for crying out loud. Just tell us what your problem is with people living here.”
“We do not have a problem as such, not really. We feel threatened when attempts are made to do something with the garden because we do not know what would happen if our bones should be disturbed. Would our lives...er...you know what I mean...come to an end again. In short, would we die?”
“But, you are dead!”
“That’s as maybe. Well, you are right, but I feel it’s more complicated than that, it’s a whole different kettle of spirits.”
“You’re telling me,” said Judy. “Look, as far I am concerned thi
s is our house and our garden and we will do exactly what we want to do with them regardless of whatever existence you and your men...”
“And woman...”
“Sorry, Irish Meg. If we want to dig the garden up and put an underground car park in it and earn a fortune in the summer then we’ll do it. If we want to build a tunnel to Uplyme to save the girls getting wet on their way to school then we’ll do it. I hope I have made myself clear.”
“Perfectly clear, my dear Mrs Hamilton.”
“Mike, where are the girls?”
“Down by the stream, see.”
“Be careful girls,” shouted Judy. “Now, Captain Fox, what have you got to say?”
“I understand your view of course. But I have my men...sorry Irish Meg...and woman to answer to.”
“For crying out loud, I don’t know why you think we should care. You’ve had your lives, we want to live ours without dead people interfering”
“That’s a bit harsh, Jude.”
Judy considered her response to this. The response when it came was simple, it was, “Aaaaaarrrrgggghhhhhhhhh.”
“Mummy,” said Annabelle, pulling at her mum’s jeans.
“Not now, Annie.”
“But, Mummy...”
“Not now I said.”
“But Katy is in the stream.”
“Oh my God, Mike, quick!
Michael’s dodgy knees sprang into action and both he and Judy ran towards the stream, Scarcely had they taken a few paces, when they saw the Captain ahead of them with Katy, a wet, bedraggled Katy in his arms.
“Get the young lady into the house and get her warmed up, she will be fine in no time,” Captain Fox said to Judy, handing his prized cargo over.
Michael rushed off with Katy to the house as fast as his knees would allow. Judy lingered a second.
“Thank you, Captain. Thank you so much,” Judy cried. “I...that is to say...we...well more me actually....would like you to forget what we...er...I said earlier. We won’t disturb the garden too much and we guarantee not to disturb you. Thank you again,” she said as she turned to follow Michael and Katy inside the house.