“I also think we ought to speak to the Reverend Oli. Try to glean some more information from him. He might be able to provide some sort of divine intervention.”
“What do you mean?” Greta frowned.
“Get him to perform an exorcism!” Max chuckled.
“So you do think there is something down there then?” Greta’s eyes widened with intrigue.
“I give up! Whatever I suggest, you just throw it back at me. I thought that it would be cheaper to have him come over and make a donation to the Church, rather than pay the price of a celebrity spook shuffler. Anyway, its late, I’m off to bed. That is, if it’s convenient with you?” Max rose from the sofa and carried his glass to the kitchen, rinsed it under the tap and placed it on the draining board with defiant thump.
Greta shook her head. She hated it when Max disagreed with her. She felt belittled that he found it great sport to scoff at her feelings and thoughts. She bent down and poked the fire with ferocity. “Errr!” she growled into the dying embers.
Max was pretending to be asleep when Greta walked into their bedroom. Her parents had long since retired and the sound of steady, muffled snoring was coming from behind their bedroom door.
“Night, Max. Pleasant dreams!” Greta hissed.
Max didn’t reply. He felt it would only spark off another hostile reaction.
It was around 2am when Greta found herself being woken up by a strange noise. It sounded like something shuffling across the ceiling. She was still half asleep when she heard a voice softly calling her.
“Greta… Greta. Please, please be very, very careful…” The voice was pleading with her.
“Wha… who is that? What are you?” Greta drew the duvet around her head.
“My name is Willow. Please be careful, Greta. I heed a warning to you,” Willow’s voice softly echoed around the room.
“Where are you from, Willow? How do you know my name?” Greta struggled to sit up right in bed.
“Shushhhh…” Willow hissed. “I am from the other world. But I used to live at Greenacres.”
Greta was alarmed.
“Greenacres? When did you live at Greenacres? And why are you here at my parents’ house?”
Willow paused.
“I lived there many, many years ago, with my mother and father. But they died and left me there alone. I was only young.”
“How did they die?” Greta was intrigued.
“Consumption; they died within hours of each other. I tried to care for them then, they left me… all alone.”
“Are you with them now, Willow?” Greta felt compelled to continue the conversation.
“I see them, sometimes, yes.”
“How did you die, Willow? Greta asked.
There was no response.
“Willow? Are you still there?”
“Yes,” sobbed the reluctant reply. “I… I… was murdered.”
Greta was horrified.
“What? Oh, you poor love! Who did it? Do you know?” Greta felt tears stinging in her eyes.
“It was him… the man,” Willow sobbed. “He killed me. I was only young. I cannot rest because he is still here! He is scaring me!”
“Do you know this man?” Greta wiped the corner of her eyes. “I will help you! I will try, I promise.”
“I must go now. I see him. He is coming for me… I must go. Greta, remember, please, be careful!”
“Willow? Willow? Come back! Come back! I need to find out more from you!” Greta yelled. She felt a hand on her arm and she shrieked.
“It’s all right. It’s me, Max. You were having a nightmare, love. Come on, give me a cuddle. It’s all right.”
Max was holding Greta in his arms and he was stroking her hair. Greta was horrified. She was shaking in fright.
“It was her, Max. It was the girl… again.” Greta clung tightly to Max.
“Who?”
“Her name is Willow. It is the same person I, we, saw last night. Here in this room. She was right here. She was telling me everything. She told me about her parents, how she died, where she lived… then she went away… said that he was after her. Max, I need to help her!” Greta was trembling.
Max held firmly on to Greta’s arms.
“You were dreaming, love. This Willow girl was only in your dream. She probably doesn’t even exist. It’s all to do with what happened yesterday, it’s played on your mind so much, you’ve dreamt about it, probably because I mentioned her as well. You’ve got yourself into a complete tizzy with this ghost thing. You mustn’t let it take over your life.”
“But it was so real, Max. She seemed so real. I was communicating with her. I could hear her, as plain as day. She was telling me again to be careful. I need to find her.”
“Well, she isn’t here in this room, is she? Look,” Max turned on the bedside lamp and indicated around the room with a sweep of his hand. It was empty.
“This is so bizarre!” Greta shook her head in despair. “But I want to get to the bottom of all this. I am going to ring Nonie Spangler in the morning and get her to come over to Greenacres. Just for my piece of mind, if nothing else.”
“Okay. Try to get some sleep. Its only 2.30 in the morning.” Max squeezed Greta’s shoulder, reached over and turned off the light. “I’m surprised your mother didn’t hear you shout!”
Greta wiped her eyes and laid her head back onto her pillows. She refused to go back to sleep just in case Willow reappeared. She was confused over the fact that Willow had appeared at her parent’s home and not at Greenacres. How did she know where Greta was? After an hour of waiting, she gave up, disappointed that Willow did not return.
Chapter Fourteen
“It was as plain as day, Sophie. She was telling me about how she was murdered, and then she just went… disappeared… into the darkness,” Greta recounted her experience over her mobile phone the following morning.
“So, now its time to bring in the cavalry,” Sophie announced.
“Yes, I phoned Nonie Spangler earlier, spoke at length to her and she has agreed to travel over later this afternoon. I have an appointment with her at 4 o’clock.”
“Lucky she could fit you into her busy schedule, with all those shows. Let’s hope you will get some answers. I think she’ll be okay. She’ll hopefully prove her worth and gift of being a medium, if she does uncover something. Remember; don’t give her any clues about Willow. Let her work everything out for herself. Then you will know if she is the real thing or not. Is Max going to be there?”
“No, he’s going back to London at lunchtime. So it’s just going to be me here at Greenacres.”
“Will it help if your mum is with you? For moral support?” Sophie proffered.
“What do you think? It will end up being the Jeanne Standing show. I won’t be able to get a word in edgeways. No, it isn’t a good idea. It such a shame you can’t come over.”
“I know, work beckons, hun. I would love to come otherwise. I like a bit of the old supernatural stuff, as you know. But please, keep me posted. I’m only at the end of the phone if you need me.”
“Thanks, Soph, you are a true friend. I’ll let you know all about it. I’ll ring you tonight.”
Greta walked into the kitchen. She glanced at her watch, it was nearly 3 o’clock. The builders were tidying up, having finished plastering the walls. The gaffer was washing his hands in an old bucket. He looked up to Greta.
“That’s us done for the day, Mrs Berkley. I think what we discussed about the well is the best solution. I’ll get a quote together and let you know the cost in the next few days. It’ll make a lovely feature. Just needs a bit of water in it!” he joked.
“Yes, right, thank you very much. I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Bright and early!” Greta walked him to the door. She was anxious to get rid of the builders before Nonie’s arrival.
“Bye!” She slammed the door behind them as they congregated outside, lighting cigarettes and adjusting their trouser waistlines to a respectable lev
el, higher up from the previous position of the crease line of their backsides.
A few minutes after 4pm, a small, unassuming car drew up outside Greenacres and an equally small and unassuming woman emerged. She clung tightly to an oversized green handbag and the car keys, with her other hand she adjusted her stringed pearls around her neck. She appeared awkward and nervous. Greta stood at the doorway to greet her.
“Hello, are you Greta?” Nonie Spangler panted. “Sorry, couldn’t find you straight away. The sat nav wasn’t much help. How do you do? I’m Nonie Spangler.” She shook Greta’s hand with enthusiasm.
“Hello, yes, I’m Greta. Please, come in. May I call you Nonie?” Greta couldn’t help but take an instant liking to this rather odd little character.
“Yes, that will be fine, dear. Now, how can I help you?” She beamed up at Greta like an expectant child and blinked several times.
“I’m not sure, but I think we might have an, erm, ghost. I’d like you to see if you can find anything.”
“Right. Not much to go on, but I will give it my best shot. Have you lived here long?” Nonie started to wander slowly around the hallway.
“We don’t actually live here yet. The cottage is still undergoing the last stages of renovation work. But we hope to move in very soon,” Greta replied, intrigued that Nonie was touching the walls with one hand on top of the other. She bit her lip. Thoughts of a Basil Fawlty sketch ran through her mind.
“Oh, I see. May I go into this room?” Nonie pointed to the drawing room.
“Yes, please do.” Greta followed at a safe distance; she was intrigued.
There was a break in the conversation. Nonie was standing in the centre of the room looking at the fireplace. She appeared to be in a trance.
“Do you…” Greta began.
“Shush, dear. I think there might be something here.” Nonie’s eyes were wide as she spoke. She started to breath heavily. She clutched at her pearl necklace.
“Okay, right,” Greta wasn’t convinced.
“Perhaps not,” Nonie walked towards the door. “Something is drawing me to the kitchen. Can I go through?” She walked around as though she knew the layout of the house.
“Be careful, there is still work being done there…” Greta called out.
“Ah, yes of course, be careful,” Nonie carried on walking, gazing at the ceilings of each room.
Nonie made a gasping sound as she walked into the kitchen. Greta was alarmed.
“Have you seen something?”
“Nothing yet, my dear. My asthma plays up from time to time.” Nonie drew a sharp intake of breath on an inhaler. “Must be all this dust!”
Greta shook her head. Perhaps Max was right and that Nonie was a complete waste of time and money.
“Oh, I say, that’s a big hole in the floor, dear,” Nonie exclaimed as she hastily replaced her inhaler into her handbag.
“Yes, we’re going to make a feature of it,” Greta sighed. She was becoming bored. She leant against the worktop and folded her arms.
“Good idea, but don’t do anything about it until you are absolutely sure,” Nonie turned and looked at her. She fiddled nervously with her pearls.
Greta’s heart beat faster.
“What do you mean?” She was intrigued.
“Before you cover it over,” Nonie replied.
“I didn’t say we would be…” Greta was puzzled.
“Not an idea, don’t cover it over, until you are absolutely sure, dear,” Nonie reiterated.
“Right, so have you found something?”
“Not exactly dear, but something has possibly found you.” Nonie stared into the hole. “I am being told for some reason, to tell you, to be careful. There is nothing more.”
“Who told you that?” Greta felt Nonie had discovered Willow.
“Not sure, my dear. I can hear voices. There is more than one voice. A girl’s voice or perhaps a woman’s voice; but they seem to be talking over one another.”
“So you can’t put names to any of the voices?” Greta felt cheated.
“No, my dear. I’m sorry. They won’t tell me anything.” Nonie began to search through her handbag and recovered her car key. “There’s no point hanging around for nothing, is there?”
“Oh, is that it? You haven’t been here for long.” Greta was surprised at the briefness of the visit. “Well, you’ve been of some help, I think. I appreciate you coming over. I thought you might have stayed a little bit longer.” Greta escorted Nonie to the back door.
“Pleasure to have met you, Greta. My fee is £50, by the way; I prefer cash. And, if you need any further assistance, ring me. I’ll be only too happy to return.” Nonie smiled as she held out her hand to collect her fee.
Greta gulped and tried not to look too shocked.
“£50? But… is that it? Oh, oh okay.” She pulled out her purse and flicked off two twenty pound and one ten pound note from a roll of notes. She felt reluctant to hand the money over. In fact, she felt cheated. She didn’t say anything as Nonie virtually snatched the notes from Greta’s hand. She decided not to offer any information on costs to Max unless he asked her. Her gullibility was shining through once more and she shook her head in annoyance at her inability to question Nonie’s extortionate fee.
“Goodbye.” Greta closed the door and sighed in disappointment. She watched Nonie tiptoe through the lengthening grass on the back lawn to her car. She turned and waved. Greta didn’t feel Nonie had contributed anything more than she already knew. In fact, Greta was one step in front of her, as Willow didn’t offer her name. Greta didn’t see Nonie staring at the roof of the cottage before she got into her car. She also didn’t notice that Nonie’s car had stopped half way up the lane where Marcus Mowbrie was stood, blocking her way.
“Good afternoon! Sorry to bother you… uh, but have you just been to see Mrs Berkley?” Mowbrie began the conversation.
“Yes,” Nonie replied, annoyed at his approach.
“I’m the local farmer; I own the fields around here, around Greenacres. You see, I recognise you from somewhere, you’re a medium aren’t you?” he continued. “I’ve seen you on the telly. I thought you were rather good,” he enthused.
Nonie smiled in appreciation without speaking.
“Mrs Berkley has a problem, does she?” he probed.
“It’s not for me to say, uh, Mr… I didn’t catch your name,” Nonie remained polite.
“Sorry, Mowbrie… Marcus Mowbrie.”
Nonie looked at him in uncertainty. “What exactly do you want, Mr Mowbrie?”
“Just a concerned neighbour. Saw you were visiting; thought something might be amiss, in the spiritual sense, so to speak. I know a lot has gone on at that place…”
“No, nothing at all. Nothing that cannot be sorted out,” Nonie replied. “If you don’t mind, Mr Mowbrie, I really do need to be getting on my way. I have a ferry to catch.” She began to wind the window up on her car. Mowbrie placed his hand on the glass, preventing her from winding up any further.
“Should I hear that there has been anything amiss, I won’t be very happy, Ms Spangler,” he hissed. “You see, we don’t want any trouble around here. Folks like a peaceful life, if you get my meaning. They don’t like interfering mediums on their patch. We don’t want to hear of you discovering something amiss. Do you get my meaning? Doesn’t look good, not if the press were to hear of it. And, from all accounts, you don’t need any more bad press, do you now?”
“Goodbye, Mr Mowbrie.” Nonie forced his hand from the window and wound it shut. She accelerated away from him in a cloud of dust.
Mowbrie stood in the lane watching the car. He smiled to himself and walked back into the neighbouring field where his quad bike was parked out of sight.
“She was okay, I suppose. Nothing earth-shattering,” Greta relayed her encounter with Nonie to Max on the phone. “I hate to say it, but you were right,” she added and pursed her lips.
“At least she did pick up on the female. But s
he said something about two voices, talking over one another?” Max fiddled with the paperweight on his desk.
“Yes, but that’s the only difference. I don’t think I will bother with her any more. I seem to be picking up more information than she did.” Greta sounded deflated.
“Well, as you know, I’ll be back at the weekend and we can perhaps have another go at getting that treasure box out of the tunnel.”
“We’ll see.” Greta didnt commit herself for fear of the consequences if they did remove the box. “I’m going back to mummy’s now. Out for dinner tonight at the Smuggler’s Hide.”
“Well this is rather nice, isn’t it? Just the three of us.” Jeanne Standing had just been seated at their reserved table by Jonny Lucas.
“You chose a good time to come; before it gets really busy.” Jonny placed three menus on the table. “Special tonight is Fruit de la Mar… seafood platter for two,” he announced, clearly chuffed with his translation.
Greta smiled at Jonny’s attempt at French and started to scan the menu. She wasn’t feeling particularly hungry. She felt nervous of her previous encounters with Willow and she was bitterly disappointed that Nonie had not given her any new information. She tried to remain level headed.
“What are you going to have, darling?” Jeanne’s voice was distant as Greta thought about Nonie.
She smiled. “Probably my favourite, scampi and chips.”
“Ah, very good choice, love,” Charles replied as he knocked his knife onto floor with the edge of his menu.
“Oh Charles, dear. You must be more careful!” Jeanne fussed as she bent down to retrieve the knife.
Greta glared at her mother.
“What did you just say?”
“That the father must be careful, why?” Jeanne looked surprised at Greta’s reaction.
“Sorry, mummy. Nothing. I’m feeling quite tired; with all the work and stress at Greenacres. I didn’t mean anything by it,” she quickly apologised and looked down at the placemat, which was a carved piece of wood fashioned into the shape of the Isle of Wight. It had its fair share of ring marks stained on its surface. It felt sticky too.
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