“Are you going out with Reggie tonight?” one of them asked.
A younger one nodded. “He’s taking me to the picture house.”
“Don’t let him take you to the back seat! You know what happens on the back seat!” the other one cackled.
“I certainly don’t know what happens on the back seat, Irene Watkins! I’m not as common as you!”
Another cackle. “That’s not what I’ve heard!”
Their voices were drowned out as Sylvester started the bidding.
Grace looked at Frankie. “Are you going to bid?”
He shook his head. “They’re too bulky for our shop and I don’t think I could sell them online, they look too old. I’m not sure if there will be anything suitable here for us today. I wanted to get a feel for it though, see what the commercial side of locker auctions is like.”
Grace turned her attention back to the ghosts inside the locker. Did any of them need her help? It had always been obvious before to her who needed help, she could tell by looking at them. She didn’t feel anything coming from these women, although she would love to talk to them, find out what their lives had been like. Were any of them still alive today?
Sylvester called out, “Sold!”
His assistant began to pull down the locker door. Grace caught the last part of the women’s conversations, they were talking about the trouble in Germany. Grace heard one of them say, “There won’t be another war, not after last time.”
The crowd moved on to the second locker. Grace felt a fluttering in her stomach, it was one of apprehension. The locker door opened.
Grace quickly took in the scene. She closed her eyes.
She couldn’t look, not at this.
She heard voices again, the same female voices from before. They weren’t chattering, they were barely talking above a whisper. Grace forced her eyes open. What if one of the ghosts needed her help? She had to look, no matter how much terror she was feeling.
Frankie said, “Look at that table, Grace. I think I’ve seen something like it before. Do you remember those war programmes that Dad made us watch? That’s like one of those tables in a munitions factory, the ones that women worked at during the war. I can see boxes of bullet shells on it, is that even legal? I think there’s some sort of uniform at the back of the locker.”
Grace looked to where he was pointing. “Yes, I think you’re right about the table. That looks like a white overcoat at the back. The women wore those, they weren’t allowed to wear any metal in case it set off a spark. They had to wear rubber boots too.”
She felt Frankie looking at her. He said, “Why are you crying? It’s only a table.”
Grace wiped a tear away. “I know, it makes me sad to think of women having to do such dangerous work.”
Frankie clicked his fingers. “I’ve just remembered! There was a munitions factory in Leeds, it was on that programme. It had to be kept secret so the Germans wouldn’t bomb it. Do you remember that bit about the women’s skin turning yellow? Something to do with the gun powder. I wonder if that table is from that factory in Leeds, that would be awesome.”
Grace pressed her lips together, she didn’t trust herself to speak. She watched the scene in front of her.
The same women who had been in the previous locker were now standing at either side of the table. Grace’s eyes narrowed as the table began to shimmer. She soon realised what was happening. The ghost of a table was hovering slightly above the real one and the women were closer to this one. Grace shook her head, she’d never seen a ghost table before. She turned her attention back to the women. They were wearing long white coats and rubber boots. There was a long line of shiny metal shells in front of them on the table. Some of the women were filling the shells up, others were carefully putting the tops on and twisting them. There wasn’t a trace of the previous happiness on their yellow faces, only concentration and the occasional flicker of fear.
One of the younger women fumbled with a shell and dropped it on the table. Her face wasn’t as yellow as the others, Grace suspected she was new to the job. The women seemed to stop breathing as they watched the shell roll across the table.
A harsh voice shot out, “For goodness sake, Sally, watch what you’re doing! You’ll have us all blown to smithereens.”
Grace recognised the speaker as Irene Watkins, the one who had been cackling and making jokes earlier.
Frankie clicked his fingers again, making Grace jump. “Didn’t that factory in Leeds have an explosion? One of the shell filling rooms blew up I think. I can’t remember why now.”
In a quiet voice Grace said, “One of the women twisted the lid on a shell too harshly. The room exploded. Over thirty women were killed.”
Frankie nodded. “That’s right, I’d forgotten how obsessed you are with history.”
Grace wished she wasn’t obsessed, she wished she didn’t care about the past. And most of all she wished that Irene Watkins would watch what she was doing! Irene was too busy glaring at that younger woman at the end of the table, she was too busy glaring to see what she herself was doing with that shell top.
Grace felt the explosion coming before it actually happened. In slow motion Irene turned her eyes back to the shell in her hand, her mouth dropped open in an ‘O’ of shock. The other women were oblivious. Grace saw the spark coming out of the shell, she saw the room lighting up. She couldn’t bear it, she turned away but still heard the muted boom of an explosion.
There was an eerie silence. Grace knew she had to turn back, to see if any ghosts needed her help. But what if she saw the carnage of the explosion? She wasn’t prepared to see that.
She took a deep breath and turned round to face the storage locker. She saw what the other bidders saw: a long table, no ghosts.
Frankie said, “You’ve gone a funny colour. You’d better lay off the sweets. I don’t want you throwing up on me, these boots are new.”
Grace merely nodded, she didn’t feel like eating any more sweets. She desperately wanted to go home, her heart was aching from the sight of those unfortunate women meeting their deaths.
But she couldn’t. She knew there was a ghost who needed her help, she knew the ghost was in one of these lockers.
They moved on to the next locker. Grace warily looked at it.
There she was.
The ghost that needed her help.
Chapter 5
The ghost was an older woman, probably in her early sixties. She had short white hair cut in a modern, slightly spiky, style. She was wearing a long flared out dress. Grace narrowed her eyes as she studied the dress. Yep, those were definitely strawberries on the woman’s dress. Grace’s mouth lifted as she noticed the shoes that the ghost was wearing, they were the same red as the strawberries on her dress and they had a juicy-looking strawberry embroidered on the top part of each shoe.
The woman was sitting on an old-fashioned wooden chair that had been placed near the front of the storage locker. There was a pattern on the chair but Grace couldn’t see if fully.
The woman had a sad and lost look on her face. Grace had seen that look on other ghosts’ faces before. The woman blinked as she looked out into the crowd of bidders. She scanned across them and stopped when she came to Grace. Grace offered her a small smile. The woman jumped up and moved forward. She looked as if she was going to walk out of the storage unit. Grace winced as the woman collided into an invisible wall, the force pushed her backwards.
The woman yelped and looked over at Grace. “Help! Please! Help me get out!”
Grace pushed a clenched fist against her mouth to stop her from shouting out. Her instincts were to run forward and comfort the ghost but she couldn’t do that in front of everyone, they would think she was mad.
Perhaps she could move closer and use the excuse of wanting a better look? That might work, then she could whisper something to the ghost. She turned to Frankie to let him know what she was going to do. Her words got stuck in her throat.
Frankie’s
eyes were glistening with unshed tears, he was staring straight ahead at the locker. Grace looked at where he was looking. Her eyes widened as she realised he was staring at the chair where the ghost had been sitting, the chair that the ghost now returned to.
Could he see the ghost?
Could he feel her sadness?
Grace gently tugged on his sleeve. He blinked quickly and looked at her, an over-bright smile suddenly on his face. “Yeah?”
“What’s wrong, Frankie? Have you seen something upsetting?”
Frankie’s smile faltered. He looked as if he was considering what to say next. He nodded towards the locker and said, “It’s a blast from the past, shook me for a moment.”
“What did? Something in the locker?”
He pointed. Grace didn’t miss the slight shake of his hand. “That chair, I’ve seen it somewhere before, it’s something to do with Mum and Dad but I can’t remember what. I think we all went to a shop once and I saw that chair.”
Grace looked back at the chair. She could make out a bit of the pattern beneath the ghost, it was brown with a painting of something green twisting around the legs.
Frankie said, “Can you see the green stuff, it looks like ivy going up the legs? I’ve never forgotten that chair. When we went to the shop Dad said the tree that made the chair was still alive and that the chair would try to get me! I believed him. You know what he’s like for joking.”
There was a pause. Grace saw Frankie’s chin wobble. He coughed and said gruffly, “What he was like. Do you remember that chair? You came with us to the shop but you were little.”
“I don’t remember that.” Grace tried to lighten the mood. “But I do remember you being scared of chairs at home. Didn’t you say that they were trying to eat you? Is that because of what Dad told you about that chair?”
Frankie frowned. “I don’t remember that. It’s funny the things you forget.”
Grace saw her chance. “Why don’t we buy it? The locker? There’s not much in it, it shouldn’t cost much. It looks like someone has put bits and pieces from an old shop in it. We could use those shelves and jars.”
Frankie smiled and nodded. “And we could keep the chair in my room, we don’t have to sell it. I’d like that.”
Grace gave him a mock serious look. “As long as it doesn’t chase you around the shop.”
He snorted. “Yeah, right! Look, Sylvester’s starting the bids. I’ll act all casual as if I’m not bothered about buying it. If anyone thinks I’m serious they’ll start pushing the bids up.”
“Okay,” Grace said. She put her hands in her pockets and crossed her fingers. She really needed Frankie to win this locker, she really needed to help that sad looking ghost.
Sylvester called out, “Okay folks, I can see from your faces that you’re not excited by this locker but there’s always money to be made! Look at that chair, it looks ... interesting! Who will give me £50?”
There were laughs from the bidders.
Sylvester’s smile didn’t falter. “Okay. How about £40? £35?”
Grace smiled as Frankie actually sauntered closer to the unit. He gave an over-casual shrug and, with a dramatic sigh, said, “I’ll give you £20.”
Sylvester shot him a grateful smile. “£20, thank you Frankie! Any more? No? Okay, going ...going ...”
Frankie nodded towards Grace and gave her a triumphant smile.
Big mistake.
One of the other bidders caught the look. His hand shot up and he yelled, “I’ll give you £200! If Frankie Abrahams is bidding on it then there must be something valuable in there!”
Grace watched in horror as a bidding war broke out. Frankie’s look matched her own. He said, “I’ve only brought £500, if the bidding goes any higher we’ve no chance.”
Grace felt her heart drop into her boots as the storage unit was sold for £700.
What was she going to do now?
Chapter 6
The man who bought the locker was small and wiry-looking, he had mean beady eyes and a big nose. Grace thought he resembled a rat as he scuttled towards the locker with a smug look on his face.
Frankie sighed. “You win some, you lose some. Come on, let’s move on to the next one.”
Grace couldn’t move, she couldn’t leave that old woman behind. She said to Frankie, “I’ll catch you up in a minute, just have to check my messages.”
“Who’s going to leave you a message?” Frankie said.
It wasn’t said unkindly this time, Grace knew he was only stating the truth. The only person who sent her messages was her brother. She used to have a full and active social life but her friends had slowly disappeared from her life. She’d let them, she couldn’t deal with their pitying looks after the car crash. She pressed her lips together, was it time to get back in touch with them? For her to make the effort?
Frankie didn’t move. Grace made a big show of taking her phone out and tapping on the screen. Frankie still didn’t move.
Grace said pointedly, “I’ll catch you up.”
Frankie frowned but walked away. Grace waited until he rounded a corner then she put her phone away. She walked over to the rat-faced man who was looking through his newly bought locker. Grace gave a polite cough.
The man looked up, his little eyes narrowed so much that they almost disappeared. “Yes? What do you want? Come to see what you’ve lost? Ha! Serves you right! You shouldn’t be here with the big bidders if you haven’t got the money.”
Grace swallowed her angry reply and forced a polite tone into her voice. “I’m glad you won it, you’re obviously a professional bidder.”
He stopped what he was doing, his chest puffed out. His currant-sized eyes looked Grace up and down. “Yeah, I am a professional. Now I’ve got this locker you can tell me what your brother spotted in here, he must have seen something.”
Grace didn’t miss the calculating look in his eyes. Out of the corner of her eye she saw that the ghost was watching him too. Grace said, “It’s those glass jars over there, he’s seen some online and thought they might be valuable. They look really old but I don’t know much about antiques.”
The man walked towards the jars. “Yeah, I can see them, they do look old. He might be right. Well, it’s his loss. What an idiot, letting this locker go! I bet I can triple my money on it.”
A sudden feeling of fear washed over Grace. Had she made a terrible mistake? She was assuming that the ghost was attached to the chair that she was sitting on. What if she was attached to the glass jars? That man would never let her buy one off him now that he thought they were valuable.
She needed to act fast. Feeling ashamed of what she was about to do Grace put her hand to her head and swayed. She let out a pathetic, “Oh!”
She heard a chuckle coming from the ghost.
Mr Rat Face hadn’t noticed her swoon, he was examining the glass jars.
“Try again, lass!” the ghost shouted out.
Grace took a step closer to Rat Face and said even louder, “Oh! I feel terribly faint! I need to sit down!”
Rat Face turned to look at her. “Sit on that chair. How much did your brother say these were worth?”
“I think I’m going to faint!” Grace repeated in a hysterical voice. “I have to get out of this locker.”
“Then get out. Was it over a £100 each?”
Through gritted teeth Grace said, “I’m going to faint in here, I need to sit down in the fresh air! Move that chair outside for me, please!”
The man muttered a curse and grabbed the chair. He roughly shoved it outside. “There! Stop your wailing and sit down. Which website did he look on?”
Grace swooned dramatically onto the chair and closed her eyes. She could feel Rat Face staring at her. After a few seconds he swore again and walked away. Grace heard him rummaging in the locker, she opened her eyes.
The old woman was smiling down at her. She said, “That was quite a show. It worked, I’m out of that locker now. I don’t know why I was stuck
in there. Or how long I’ve been in there. I don’t know what you did to get me out but thank you.”
Grace returned her smile and whispered. “I can’t talk to you in front of him.”
The ghost frowned. “Why not? He probably wouldn’t notice, he’s totally absorbed in those glass jars. Are they really valuable?”
Grace shrugged. “I’ve no idea. I need to get this chair home. Or back to the shop.”
“Why?” the woman asked.
Grace stood up and said quietly, “I’ll explain everything later.”
She walked back into the locker and called over to Rat Face, “Thank you for letting me use that chair. I hope you’re going to be careful with those jars. I can’t remember exactly what Frankie said but he mentioned something like £500, or was it £1,000?”
Rat Face paused. Grace saw the greed light up in his eyes. “£1,000? Really?”
Grace nodded. “What shall I do with that chair, it’s cute. Needs repainting though.”
“Where was he looking online?”
“Some company in Italy, I think. What should I do with the chair?”
Rat Face waved his hand dismissively. “You can have it, it’s a piece of tat. Can you remember anything else about these jars?”
Grace shook her head. She felt a pang of guilt for misleading him, but it was only a pang. He seemed the type to sell his own grandmother if she’d make a half decent-profit for him.
Rat Face took out his phone. “If you’ve finished fainting can you get out?”
Grace swiftly walked away before he changed his mind. She grabbed the chair and almost ran towards the van.
Just as she was about to open the back doors someone grabbed her arm.
Chapter 7
“Where did you get that chair?”
“Frankie! You scared me half to death!”
Frankie let go of her arm. “Did you pay for it? Don’t tell me you gave Sneaky Sid favours in kind for that chair, I didn’t want it that much.”
A Sweet Murder Page 2