‘Terri Poynton, Daniel. You remember – Hannah’s friend?’
Hannah lost track of time as she lay curled up on the sofa, staring at the fire through half-closed eyes as the flames flickered and died. Each time she shifted position, she felt as if she was dragging a ball and chain. She was too exhausted to make a drink or switch on a soothing CD. Her brain resembled the mushy peas congealing on the plate in front of her. Disconnected thoughts buzzed around her head, irritating and pointless as mosquitoes.
The Doctor Who theme roared.
Surely this wasn’t Terri? Had Stefan tracked her down to the party and started making a nuisance of himself? Back aching, eyes gummy, she hauled herself off the sofa and picked up the phone.
‘Hannah?’ Greg Wharf, sounding like he’d never sounded before. Despairing. Fearful.
‘What is it?’
‘Something has happened. I need to come back to the house to tell you about it.’
‘Tell me now.’
‘It’s better face to face.’
She wanted to scream. ‘Greg! Don’t do this to me!’
‘I’m sorry, Hannah. It’s Marc.’
‘What about him?’
‘He’s … had an accident.’
‘How could I forget?’ Daniel’s head was spinning: the shock of meeting Hannah’s best friend when he least expected to, plus generous quantities of mulled wine and champagne. A funeral knell tolled through the hidden speakers: Symphonie Fantastique, ‘Dream of a Witches’ Sabbath’. ‘Though wasn’t your surname …?’
‘Poynton’s my maiden name. I went back to it only a few weeks ago.’
‘So you’re getting married?’ Somehow he managed to avoid saying again. Hannah had regaled him with tales of Terri’s matrimonial misadventures. ‘Pity Robin isn’t here, I could congratulate him in person.’
‘My fault, I’m so sorry. I jumped the gun.’ The elderly witch bowed her head in apology. ‘Do forgive me, Terri, dear. I’m simply getting carried away. I’ve always dreamt of having a lovely daughter-in-law.’
‘No worries, Miriam,’ Terri said. ‘I’m so lucky that you’re Robin’s mum. When I think of one or two of my mothers-in-law … let’s just say, they wouldn’t have needed to wear a mask for this party. But Robin and I haven’t named the day just yet. It’s a bit soon, even by my standards.’
‘A match made in heaven!’ Jeffrey’s tone implied: I give it six months, tops.
‘We have Oz and Melody to thank, we’d never have got together without them,’ Terri announced. ‘I’ve only worked for the company since August. I went to a jazz concert, where I met Melody, and Robin was one of the performers. The rest, as you might say, is history.’
‘Robin is poorly tonight?’ Daniel asked.
Terri swallowed a mouthful of popcorn smeared with red food colouring and butter to look as though it was covered with blood, and refilled her glass with punch from a hollowed-out pumpkin.
‘He’s got the runs – yuck! Thinks he’s on his deathbed, but he’ll live. A real shame, he was so looking forward to the party, but he insisted we came along anyway. I offered to stay with him and do my Florence Nightingale bit, but he wouldn’t hear of it. I ought to text him, see how he is, but someone has nicked my mobile.’
‘Stolen it?’ Miriam was aghast. ‘Not in Ravenbank, I’m sure. You’ve mislaid it, that’s all. It’ll turn up tomorrow, when you least expect.’
Terri put an arm round the old witch. ‘You always like to think the best of people. “Hear no evil, see no evil” ought to be your motto.’
Miriam shook her head. ‘I’m not soft, Terri. That foreigner you used to know, for instance. He’s rotten, through and through. If I had anything to do with it, he’d be thrown out of the country. Never mind all this human rights malarkey.’
‘He’s also history, thank God.’ Terri turned to Daniel. ‘You remember Stefan, my ex? I’ve made it clear I want nothing more to do with him, but he takes no notice. Even though he knows I’m with Robin now.’
‘Borrow my phone to text him if you like, dear,’ Miriam said. ‘Not that it does half the things yours can. I can’t keep up. One of these fine days, they’ll make a phone that cooks a fried breakfast, mark my words.’
‘Thanks, but not to worry. Robin’s probably fast asleep by now, if he isn’t still squatting on the toilet. I couldn’t do much if I’d stayed back. Besides, I didn’t like to think of you here on your own. I wanted to keep you company.’
Daniel half-closed his eyes, spellbound by Berlioz’s dark masterpiece. No wonder people said the composer, in De Quincey fashion, gorged on opium as he wrote the music. The witches danced, their cauldron bubbled beneath the blasts of wind.
‘I hope Robin gets better soon,’ he murmured. ‘I’d like to meet him.’
‘Oh, you must!’ Terri said. ‘He’s gorgeous. And he plays a mean piano too. I’m so lucky. Without him, I’d never have discovered Ravenbank. Brilliant, isn’t it? Full of history!’
‘I’ve heard about the legend of Gertrude Smith.’
‘Ravenbank’s very own ghost? Yeah, she’s walked the lanes ever since she was murdered, hasn’t she, Miriam?’
Jeffrey turned to Miriam. ‘Melody told Daniel about that conversation you heard here all those years ago, when the Hall was a care home.’
‘A care home? Wow!’ Terri gazed around their glitzy surroundings. ‘You’d never guess, would you?’
Jeffrey ignored her. ‘Was it a confession to murder? Was Roland Jones admitting to Dorothy Hodgkinson that he, and not her mother, killed Gertrude?’
Miriam gave an apologetic cough. ‘Robin should have kept that to himself. It makes me seem like an eavesdropper. I believe in people minding their own business.’
‘Of course you do, you’re the soul of discretion. The polar opposite of me, I’m afraid.’ Jeffrey beamed. ‘An incorrigible chatterbox.’
Miriam wasn’t mollified. ‘Some secrets are best left buried, if you want my opinion.’
‘I doubt any historian would go along with you, my love. Besides, it’s utterly fascinating to think that for all these years, everyone might have been mistaken. Is that why Gertrude’s ghost kept walking?’
‘You believe in the legend?’ Daniel asked.
‘Why not?’ Miriam bristled. ‘People think they are so clever nowadays. But they can’t explain everything.’
Terri said, ‘Go on, Miriam. Spill the beans! What did you hear?’
‘It was a very long time ago, dear.’ Miriam’s resolve was cracking, and Daniel suspected that she didn’t want to disappoint Terri. ‘I’m embarrassed to talk about it, to tell you the truth. It was only a snippet I overheard, and I’m not sure I can recall what …’
‘What exactly did you hear?’ Jeffrey asked. ‘That’s what we’re dying to find out.’
‘There were no private rooms in those days.’ There was a faraway look on Miriam’s leathery face as she lapsed into reminiscence. ‘Just a ward with half a dozen beds. I was making a cup of tea in a cubbyhole next to the ward when they were talking – pretty much where we are standing right now. Of course, they were both getting on in years. Older than I am now. Each of them was as deaf as a post, and they had to raise their voices to make themselves heard. You couldn’t help hearing odds and ends, however hard you tried to respect people’s privacy.’
Chafing with impatience, Jeffrey was about to interrupt, but Daniel got in first. At last they were getting somewhere, and the woman should be allowed to tell the story in her own way.
‘I’m guessing that Roland Jones didn’t confess outright to murdering Gertrude?’
‘Oh goodness me, no.’ Miriam sighed. ‘Really, it was no more than a few words that I caught. Only that Mr Jones said Dorothy’s mother wasn’t a murderer. He sounded very emphatic. And Dorothy agreed with him.’
‘Anything else?’
‘That’s all I can recall. I’m sorry, Mr Kind.’
‘Please call me Daniel.’ He suppressed his disappointment tha
t the great revelation had proved a damp squib. Melody couldn’t conjure a book out of that. ‘So he may just have been trying to be kind to Dorothy?’
‘I suppose so. He was a nice old chap. Always apologising to carers, not that he was ever any bother.’
‘And Dorothy?’
Miriam wrinkled her nose. ‘She did a lot of good, I suppose.’
‘But?’
‘She was a bit … aloof. With Miss Hodgkinson, you always knew your place. Of course, you have to make allowances. She didn’t have the easiest start in life. What with her losing her mother so young. Family is so important, isn’t it?’
She was right, Daniel thought. When Ben Kind had run off with his mistress, it had taken years for the shock waves to subside. Louise had been badly bruised, and the divorce left their mother bitter for the rest of her life.
‘If Letty was innocent – someone else must have been guilty.’
‘I expect you’re right.’ Miriam shuddered. ‘Can’t we talk about something more pleasant?’
‘But remember what day it is!’ Terri raised her voice. The alcohol was talking now. ‘We have had two murders right here on Hallowe’en! You couldn’t blame Melody for feeling nervous.’
‘What do you mean?’ Jeffrey demanded.
‘Look what happened to Gertrude after she fell for the lord of the manor, and to that masseuse who snared the last chap who lived here.’ Terri’s eyes sparkled with glee. ‘Think it over. It really isn’t safe to be a mistress of Ravenbank Hall.’
‘Hush, Terri.’ Miriam clutched her broomstick, as if for reassurance. ‘You’re starting to frighten me.’
But there was no denying Terri the last word. ‘Let’s hope for Melody’s sake,’ she exclaimed, ‘that lightning doesn’t strike three times in the same place.’
Greg rang the bell at Undercrag within five minutes of his call. Hannah hadn’t so much as run a comb through her hair, but who cared? She was numb; she could scarcely feel her own hands or feet. And when she flung open the door, she saw a man who had aged ten years inside an hour.
He flung an arm round her, and kissed the top of her head.
‘I saw his car from the back of the taxi. Of course, I didn’t know it was Marc, I had no idea what he drives. He’d crashed into a tree – you know that sharp left bend, half a mile down the road to Ambleside?’
A wave of nausea washed through her. She didn’t trust herself to speak.
‘The cab driver and I jumped out, to see what we could do. The driver was bent over the steering wheel, he was obviously in a bad way. When I saw the fair hair, I realised it was Marc. I mean, I’d only ever seen him in the flesh for that half of a minute this evening, but it wasn’t an encounter I’m likely to forget in a hurry, know what I mean? We called the emergency services, and did what we could to help.’
He hesitated, and she had a vague sense that he wasn’t telling her something. But she wasn’t focused enough to quiz him about it.
‘He was breathing, that’s the important thing. The paramedics were brilliant, and got him out in no time. They’ll be checking him out in A&E right now.’
She detached herself from him. ‘How badly hurt is he?’
‘Too early to tell.’
‘Come on, no need to protect me.’
‘His face has a few nasty gashes, and I’d guess he’s smashed some ribs. Whether it’s worse than that, who knows? You know as well as me, it will depend on whether the internal organs have been damaged. The car’s a write-off. He must have hit that tree at full pelt.’
She covered teary eyes with a hand, swearing in bitter self-reproach.
‘Hey,’ he said softly. ‘This isn’t doing Marc any good.’
For all his good intentions, if he’d touched her, she’d have smacked him, but he didn’t make that mistake. Her gorge rose, and she ran to the toilet, retching violently as she locked the door.
By the time she’d washed her face, none of the lager or the chip supper was left inside her. Her stomach hurt, a fierce pain raged in her forehead, her eyes throbbed in their sockets. But she couldn’t hide forever, so she pulled back the bolt and stumbled back into the hall.
‘I know what’s going on in your head,’ he said.
‘You reckon?’ She scarcely recognised her own voice, or the ravaged face she glimpsed in the mirror.
‘“It’s my fault, I should never have come back here.” But you can’t blame yourself for what’s happened to Marc. You will drive yourself crazy if you do.’
Maybe that’s what I deserve.
‘Stop it,’ he said, though she hadn’t uttered a peep. ‘No self-pity, you’re better than that. All that matters is … that he gets through.’
‘I need to go to the hospital,’ she said through gritted teeth.
‘Not yet.’ He stood in front of the door with his arms folded, legs planted wide apart, blocking her way out. Would he really hold her back if she was determined to go? ‘He’ll be in A&E. Maybe they’ll need to operate. Use the time to get some rest, and go and see how he is in the morning. You help him best now by not falling to pieces.’
She hesitated.
‘I suppose you’re right.’
‘Had to happen one day.’
For once, there was no humour in his grin.
‘I expect you’re wondering why I ditched Stefan?’
Ten to midnight, and the crowd of partygoers was thinning. The Knights had hired minibuses to ferry home most of their guests. ‘Danse Macabre’ whirled and rattled in the background as Daniel was cornered by the Black Widow. On the other side of the room, Quin was regaling Louise and Miriam Park with tales of an actor’s life. Jeffrey was with Melody and Oz, exchanging farewells with friends from the Theatre by the Lake.
‘I guess it didn’t work out.’ Daniel had met Stefan briefly in the summer. ‘But you seem happy, and that’s what matters.’
‘He’s been an absolute scumbag, to be honest. The man can be utterly scary when he’s in a foul mood. He’s been stalking me.’
Terri didn’t strike Daniel as someone who scared easily. ‘Has he threatened you?’
She nodded. ‘No woman is ever allowed to dump him without paying for it. God, what did I ever see in him?’
‘You’ve told Hannah?’
‘Of course, she’s up in arms, wants me to drag in m’learned friends and all that crap. The thing is, she doesn’t know the full story yet. I’m dying to tell her about Robin, but I wanted to get tonight’s announcement out of the way first.’
‘What announcement? That you’re getting married?’
Terri took another gulp of champagne. The Knights hadn’t stinted; Oz and Melody kept topping up everyone’s glasses, but there were still bottles unopened.
‘No, it’s too soon for wedding bells. Miriam would love to see Robin settled once and for all, with three or four grandkids running around, and being sick over her pinafore. But he’s not the sort of feller who likes to feel tied down. I know how he feels, I’ve been tied down too often for my own good.’ She screeched with laughter. ‘No, my poor old dad isn’t well. We haven’t always seen eye to eye, but he’s on his own now, and I need to move closer to him.’
‘Sorry to hear that.’
‘Old age, eh? Not a lot of fun. Why can’t we stay young forever? Anyway, looking after Dad will help me forget about Stefan. And it suits Robin, he’s perfectly happy.’ She laughed again, and he realised she’d drunk even more than he had. ‘Mind you, the only travelling he’s done today is back and forth to the loo. So – no big announcement, no fanfare. Never mind, eh?’
‘You’ll tell Hannah now, though?’
‘I almost did already, but then I thought I’d wait till after the party.’ Terri leant closer. ‘I feel a bit guilty, to tell you the truth, but Dad needs all the support he can get. As for Hannah, she ought to get shot of Marc, and that old barn of a house, and make a fresh start. Stop worrying so much about work. Get some fun back into her life.’
‘She’ll be fin
e,’ he said. ‘Hannah’s a survivor.’
‘More than that. She’s a winner. A class act. Believe me, Daniel, she’s one in a million. She just screwed up over Marc. Cheekbones to die for, but a self-centred wimp. She deserves better.’
Uh-oh. Daniel saw the way this conversation was heading. He mumbled something non-committal. But Terri wasn’t letting go.
‘Were your ears burning the other day?’ she demanded. ‘Hannah and I were talking, and your name cropped up.’
Louise’s arrival rescued him. ‘Quin’s insisting that we all go out in search of the Faceless Woman.’
‘Brilliant idea – yeah, let’s see if Gertrude Smith is on the prowl!’ Terri couldn’t contain her delight. ‘Who can resist a ghost hunt?’
In her dream, Hannah was late for a funeral, racing through narrow urban streets towards a strange church with a square tower resembling a campanile. She’d missed the service, and as she reached a gap in the stone wall around the graveyard, she saw that men and women dressed in black from head to toe were following pall-bearers carrying a coffin the colour of blood.
She squeezed through the gap and stumbled down a pathway lined with tombstones, knowing that if she did not reach the graveside before the coffin was lowered into its resting place, something terrible would happen. The mourners blocked her way, ignoring her pleas to be let through. She found herself crawling on hands and knees along the wet earth, muddying her clothes, but not caring about anything except to get there in time.
The priest was chanting something, in a language she couldn’t understand. She struggled to her feet, only to see the six burly men stepping away from the open grave, their job done.
She shoved her way past the mourners, and the priest turned to glare at her. Taking no notice, she peered down into the hole. The coffin lid was open.
Marc stared up at her, his chalk-white face wrinkled by hurt and reproach.
The ghost-hunters staggered out into the night. They were in pairs; Quin and Jeffrey led the way, arm in arm, weaving unsteadily between the buxus tubs outside the porticoed entrance of Ravenbank Hall. Daniel and Louise came next, then Miriam and Terri. Melody and Oz brought up the rear of the party, after locking up and sorting out the alarms.
The Frozen Shroud Page 12