The Dark Water

by Helen Moorhouse

  “I get that,” she said, veering back onto the conversational track. “Look, sort it when you can, okay? When Dan Smith Advertising goes absolutely global . . . hey, couldn’t you come up with a better name than that, actually?”

  Dan smiled again. “I kind of hoped that you’d do that for me,” he replied.

  Martha waved a hand in the air. “On my to-do list,” she said flippantly and took a large gulp from her water glass. She was feeling awfully hot.

  There was a long silence between them, a silence that Martha noticed after a while had gone on too long. There were implications to it now. It had a significance of some sort.

  Dan broke it. “Are you happy, Martha?” he asked out of the blue, looking straight at her.

  She felt her initial discomfort return and she looked away – down at the remains of their meal, at the crumpled napkin on his plate.

  “Because I’m not,” he continued and leaned over the table towards her.

  She didn’t flinch as his hand covered hers where it rested on the table. It was just a gesture, she thought, glancing momentarily at where his wedding ring used to be.

  “I cocked things up so royally,” he said, almost in a whisper.

  She forced herself to meet his gaze.

  “I had you, and a lovely home and a beautiful baby and I threw it all away. I’m so sorry. And the horrible thing is that if I had it all again I’d probably do the same – screw it up in some fool way and then I’d lose you both forever. I’m not good enough for you, Martha. Never was, never will be. But at least let us build something together, eh? Give me a second chance . . . with Ruby, with the company . . .”

  His voice trailed away but Martha continued to hold his gaze for a few seconds too long. She whipped her hand away suddenly. “I think we’d better go,” she managed, the words slurring together slightly.

  He withdrew his own hand from the table quickly and coughed. “You’re right,” he said. “Let me get the bill.”

  He paid in cash, quickly, and it only took a few awkward minutes for Martha to find herself standing outside again in the bitter cold, her breath coming in clouds, tinged yellow under the streetlights. They stood, facing each other. A little too close, thought Martha, but then again she didn’t want to step backwards because she wasn’t sure of her balance. And a cab would surely come any second. To take her away, let her think all of this through. All these old emotions that were surfacing. Dan seemed so sincere, so different.

  “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you,” she heard him say softly. He took yet another step toward her. “But I’m not sorry for what I said. I’m going to come straight out with this, Martha, and say that against my better judgement, against knowing what’s good for both of us, I’m throwing my hat back into the ring. Do you understand me? I’m going to fight for you. Because seeing you here, seeing how you are, how comfortable in your own skin, how beautiful . . . I realise just what an idiot I’ve been, what a bloody fool.”

  Martha stayed still as she felt his hand skim her cheek. The same gesture that Will had made across the table in their home a few nights previously. Will. Still no communication from him. All the way up in Dubhglas and he couldn’t be bothered letting her know he was okay. Up there chasing ghosts, like he always did . . .

  Dan was kissing her before she knew it. It felt so strange, yet so familiar at the same time. His lips were full and warm against the chill of the evening and she was conscious of his breath, his scent – all of those things that she had once loved, once taken for granted, old and new simultaneously. She had longed for this moment, she knew. She’d never admit to anyone, not even Sue, but this, for so long, had been her dream. There was something perfect about it – so right – in the crisp, clean frost of the evening on the quiet street. Just the two of them. Like before. New beginnings, right? Instinctively, Martha felt her hands reach up and slide across Dan’s shoulder-blades, across the breadth of his back, and in response she felt his hand clasp around her neck, just below her ear, the gentlest of touches. And suddenly she couldn’t stop herself as she kissed him back.

  CHAPTER 28

  Will and Gabriel had almost to physically restrain Gifford from serving them a formal meal in the dining room that evening. He was full of apologies for the fact that the housekeeper was unavoidably away and had prepared their food in advance. The house was unusually quiet, he’d explained, as apart from Callum there was never a need for staff these days if Mr Calvert wasn’t on the premises.

  Will was keen to get started and he finally persuaded the butler to serve them their evening meal in the staff canteen in order to have a proper look around the room where the gardener had seen the mysterious mists. Once the meal was finished, he then insisted that Gifford finish for the evening, making sure that any other staff were gone as well. There was much work to be done.

  It was pitch dark when they found themselves at the beginning of the investigation, in the same two chairs in the library as earlier, when the white-faced Gifford had told them of the sighting that he believed to be Laurence. Since then, Gabriel had been more or less silent. He had helped to unpack the equipment and set it up, but without a trace of his usual banter. Will knew something was wrong when Gabriel dropped a small camera on his foot and didn’t even whine.

  They sat in the silent darkness of the library, the all-consuming blackness of the house at night cloaking them. Gifford had shown them around the castle – they had both been glad to leave the stuffy, grim atmosphere of the library earlier. But now, sitting there again, Will felt it close in around him and took deep breaths to steady himself.

  Gifford had taken them to what he called the ‘hot spots’ and Will had taken note, later setting cameras to record, linked to the bank of computers that he had placed on a trestle table in the hall. Motion-sensors were set on the stairs and toward the rear of the library, trigger-objects had been left on the kitchen table downstairs where Will had also reverted to old-fashioned methods, shaking flour along the kitchen floor to try to catch footprints. It was archaic, he knew, but it had worked for him once before and he thought that if there were anywhere that a floury footprint might happen, the old, barely used room would be it.

  Upstairs, on the mezzanine, yet another camera was trained on the door of a bedroom near the top of the stairs where Gifford said that the strange mists were seen most frequently. Will had his own theory about mists but he hadn’t wanted Gifford for a second to believe that he doubted a single thing that he had said. Too frequently, these mists were caused by grubby spectacles, or cigarette smoke, or steam from a bathroom door left open after a shower. There was much else of what Gifford had said, however, that he couldn’t instantly debunk. Like the scratches, for instance. All that would take a little more work.

  Will shifted in his chair and glanced behind him for the reassuring red dot that indicated the DV camera attached to the wall near the window was working and, assured that it was, he glanced at the second camera he’d set up, trained on the fireplace. He ran his thumb along the small voice recorder which he held loosely and then looked for Gabriel, just about visible in the glow from the small screen of the thermal imager which he held. Gabriel sat completely still, staring at the apparatus. Will was filled with concern for his friend.

  “Why don’t you take the voice recorder and give me the thermal?” he whispered. It somehow felt wrong to speak out loud in the thick silence of the building. For a second he was aware that, even though he had thought the castle small, there were still many rooms around and above and below him that were empty. Or at the very least should have been.

  Gabriel didn’t respond. Will only knew that he had agreed to the swop when he felt the thermal imager thrust in his face. They fumbled in the dark for a few moments and, once the exchange had taken place, Will sat back a little in the chair and allowed the silence to settle around them again.

  Gabriel sighed loudly and Will grinned in the dark.

  “You all right?” he asked, softly.

&n
bsp; Silence again, followed by the creak of Gabriel settling in his chair.

  “I’m not sure,” came the whispered reply. “I mean, Laurence? Here? Haunting the place?” Gabriel’s voice rose a little above a whisper as a tone of desperation entered his voice.

  The thought inspired Will to scan the room with the imager to detect any figures, any change in heat signatures, any indication of an apparently empty seat being occupied by something unseen. He saw nothing out of the ordinary, but he knew that didn’t mean it would stay that way.

  Gabriel was silent for a moment before continuing. “Has he retired from being a spirit guide and gone into the haunting business? He could have bloody told me first!”

  He ended the sentence on a high note and Will suppressed a laugh, trying to stay focused on the task at hand. He knew he should be shushing Gabriel so that they might catch an unseen voice on the recorder or hear even the slightest movement in the room but he knew that would be like trying to get water to flow backwards. Best to allow him to let off steam, he decided.

  Gabriel’s tone grew serious again. “Actually I find it a bit upsetting to think of him like that. Presenting as he was when he drowned . . .”

  “We don’t know for sure it was Laurence,” said Will. “We don’t even know for sure that Gifford actually saw anything. There are any number of reasons for hallucination –”

  “Hallucination my eyeballs!” hissed Gabriel. “Did you see the man’s face? That was no hallucination. He saw it all right. And as for the smells and the noises and the mists – what the hell do you reckon is going on?”

  “Steady, Gabriel,” warned Will. “We have to remain sceptical about everything. For example, some wires might have shorted about the place, causing a smell of burning and some smoke . . .”

  Gabriel snorted.

  Will could tell by the sound that his logical explanations were being rejected. They needed a break, he thought. The darkness was beginning to get to them. A coffee and they’d be fresh to move on to another location perhaps . . .

  Will jumped as Gabriel’s voice suddenly boomed out in the darkness: “If there’s someone here – anyone – Laurence? – if you’re here, then I’d like you to show yourself to me. Do you hear?”

  Will tutted. “Gabriel, there’s no point in trying to provoke a reaction. The mood you’re in, you’re just going to talk over anything we might catch.”

  Gabriel laughed. “Going by Gifford’s tale, the main things we’ll be catching are objects hurtling through the air –” He stopped speaking suddenly and the two men held their breath.

  “What?” whispered Will, his senses alive. He scanned the room quickly again. There was nothing. No sound, no images. He sensed Gabriel relax.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I thought I heard something. I’m not used to being a normal bystander in one of these things. Usually, I have my brother here giving me directions but seeing as he’s decided to start wearing a sheet and clanking chains!” He raised the volume of his voice toward the end of the sentence.

  “Easy,” whispered Will.

  There was silence for a few more moments, broken eventually by Gabriel again. “Martha’s not going to like this one bit, I can tell you,” he stated with a sniff.

  Will uncrossed and crossed his legs where they were growing stiff in his chair.

  “It’ll be different tomorrow night,” he suggested. “Black tie party, lots of people around. Probably some electricity in use . . .”

  Gabriel snorted. “You go ahead and think on that, mister,” he laughed. “Martha’s not fooled by lights, cameras and action. She’s what you might call intuitive. Probably more intuitive than I am at the minute in fact. I’m keeping an eye on her.”

  “I tried calling her earlier but there’s no bloody coverage in this place. Looking forward to her getting here, actually,” said Will, sounding strangely embarrassed.

  No sooner were the words out than Gabriel jumped on them.

  “Looking forward to getting her away from Desperate Dan, more like!” he barked.

  Will blinked as Gabriel suddenly flicked on the small torch he carried with him. Gabriel’s face was illuminated suddenly, looking at once frightening and indignant as Will’s eyes adjusted. “Turn the light off,” he ordered, weakly. Gabriel still had some steam to let off, it seemed. Will sighed, glanced at his watch in the faint glow of the torch and settled a little, waiting for the onslaught.

  “Oh Will,” Gabriel scoffed, “why don’t you just put a big coloured spot on her and Ruby’s backs and then Desperate Dan will know they’re your property and leave you alone?”

  Will rolled his eyes. “Helpful,” he said.

  “Look, if Martha’s to be believed – and I think somehow she is – she doesn’t want him round any more than you do. She was married to him so I think she knows best what his marks out of ten for being a total bastard are, am I right?

  “I don’t know,” Will said. “She has a history with this guy and now he’s started showing an interest in Ruby – and that’s all Martha ever wanted – for the three of them to be a proper family and now here he is offering that on a plate. And he’s one of those bloody handsome types as well.”

  “Oh William, is he an absolute dish?” said Gabriel sarcastically. “’Cos –”

  “All right, all right – I get it!” hissed Will. “Can we get on with the investigation? We have a lot of ground to cover. It’s still not nice having Dan round, okay? And things between me and Martha . . . need a little polishing.”

  “I know,” said Gabriel, jumping in quickly. “I’ve stayed with you guys at the Bickerage, remember?”

  Will glanced at the medium. “The what?” he asked.

  Gabriel carried on regardless. “It’s a bit Wuthering Heights round at yours in fact – lots of storming off and brooding and silences and whatnot.”

  “Well, I’ve been busy,” blustered Will.

  Gabriel nodded. “I know, Will. Busy will keep you warm at night when Martha’s snuggled up with Dapper Dan, the Handsome Man. Why not be in a chilly castle somewhere while Daddy Dan, the Fathering Man, is being all fathersome a hundred miles away from you . . . Am I painting a picture?”

  “I get it,” snarled Will. “And before you paint anything else, Van Gogh, have a look at this.”

  Will rummaged in the pocket of his coat, worn to stay as warm as he could. He had asked Gifford to ensure that the central heating was off, to prevent any unnatural heat signatures interfering with their results. He found what he was looking for and thrust it toward Gabriel who shone the torch firstly directly in his face, and then lowered it.

  “What am I fumbling for in the dark here . . . ooooh!” Gabriel gasped as he opened the small red-leather box marked with the antique shop’s address and logo, and held his torch over it to fully inspect the diamond ring within, nestled in the red velvet.

  The central oval diamond was surrounded by half-moon sapphires, themselves surrounded by a ring of tiny brilliant cut diamonds, all set on a gleaming platinum band.

  Will looked fondly at the piece of jewellery as it gave a light sparkle in the torchlight. “Edwardian. Do you think Martha will like it?” he asked nervously. “Only I’ve been chatting with Sue behind her back . . .”.

  Gabriel’s eyes and torch shot up from the ring to Will’s face, his expression aghast.

  “. . . and went for completely the opposite of what she suggested,” Will continued. “Sue went on the net and found this site where the rings are titanium, set with unpolished pebbles – they’re meant to symbolise that our love is a rock, apparently.”

  Gabriel grimaced. “So this is it, then? The big proposal?”

  Will nodded and Gabriel fell silent, taking the ring from the box and placing it on his little finger where it went no further than the top of the nail.

  “What?” said Will suddenly. “It’s all right, isn’t it? The ring, I mean?”

  Gabriel raised his eyebrows. “Of course it is, from a diamond and sapphire point of
view . . .”

  “But . . . ?” replied Will, growing panicky.

  “You’re sure it’s not a kneejerk to the reappearance of The Amazing Dan? Are we a little insecure, darling?” He reached over to try to rub Will’s cheek with his huge hand.

  Will smacked it away. “I hardly managed to get that picked, sized and delivered in two days, now did I?” he snapped. “No, I’ve been planning this for a while but I wasn’t sure when was the right time. When all this cropped up, I thought it might be nice to propose in the Highlands.” He was glad of the darkness to hide the fact that he was blushing.

  Gabriel shone the torch on his own face, as if putting himself in a spotlight. “Take your time, Will,” he said in a deep, warning voice. “Do this right – make it something she’ll remember because you’re doing it from the heart – not because you’re reacting to her ex-husband turning up on the scene. Do you understand?”

  Will smiled. “Are you saying you think it’s good then?” he asked.

  Gabriel folded his arms and grunted. “I shall want to wear something smart for the wedding,” he said, snapping the torch off as suddenly as he’d snapped it on. “None of this hired top hat and tails nonsense. Proper tailoring. Designer. Now do we need a change of scene maybe?”

  Will smiled and stood up. “I think so. You’ve completely ruined the atmosphere in here anyway.” He stretched, and heard Gabriel rise also. “Let’s go out to the hallway maybe and do a little EVP work? A lot seems to have happened out there –” Will stopped suddenly, remembering too late that the hallway was where Gifford had said he’d seen Laurence’s ghost. “Are you all right with that?”

  He felt Gabriel thrust the ring box back at him in the dark and took it carefully, shoving it deep into his pocket again. Gabriel’s torch was reactivated, this time used to light their way from the room. They moved slowly as they negotiated their way around the furniture.