Dream Cottage (12 page)

“Well, I think the father and I will indulge in the Fruit de la Mar pour deux! Sounds scrummy!” Jeanne closed her menu and attracted Loo’s attention from behind the bar, by madly flapping the menu high above her head. She had the habit of being to wrap most people around her little finger. Loo happily obliged and took the order.

“Any wine with your meal?” she sweetly suggested.
“We have a lovely Chablis that will complement the fish beautifully.”

“We will be guided by your recommendation; thank you my dear,” Jeanne loved the attention Loo was showing her. Greta continued to look to the table, dying of embarrassment. She felt her face redden. Poor Jeanne didn’t realise Loo was very skilfully taking the rise.

“You’re very quiet this evening, Greta?” Jeanne noticed Greta’s ashen face.

“Sorry, not much fun am I? The injuries are playing up,” she lied. In truth, she couldn’t wait to escape.

“I’m just going to freshen up.” She got up from the table and walked towards the Ladies. Jonny bypassed her passage.

“How are things at Greenacres? Everything all right?” Jonny quizzed. “Heard you had a visitor the other day.”

“Wow, the news spreads like wildfire around here, doesn’t it?” Greta didn’t want to continue this particular awkward conversation.

“Heard it was a celebrity medium; the one off the TV. Having a spot of bother?” He carried on filling a pint glass with local Island ale. Loo, in the background, selected a bottle of chilled Chablis from the wine fridge, closed the door silently and listened intently.

“Yes, Nonie Spangler; she is… a friend of mine. We go back… years,” Greta lied. “It is amazing how people put two and two together and get five, isn’t it?”

“I thought it might be to do with the uh… tunnel,” Jonny filled the pint glass and placed it onto a tray.

“The what?” Greta tried to sound incredulous.

“The tunnel. I’m surprised the vicar never mentioned it before he sold Greenacres to you. There’s been talk of a tunnel linking this pub and Greenacres, for donkeys’ years. Apparently it was used as a hide by smugglers; I’m
talking years and years ago, centuries even. But no-one has ever proved it exists. The vicar had a few encounters, we are led to believe; he never said anything to anyone though. All speculation if you ask me. And there is a bit of a hint of a connection, isn’t there, with the name of this place!”

“Hmm, yes. Sorry, I don’t know anything about it. Good job the smugglers didn’t know about it… if it did exist… otherwise they would have been queuing up for storage! Ha! Ha!” Greta cut the conversation with a fanatical burst of false laughter and looked towards the Ladies’ room door.

“Sorry, nature calls!” She bobbed down as she spoke and dashed towards the toilet door.

“Greta, can you hear me?” Willow was trying to attract her attention. “I need to speak with you.”

“Hmmmph?” Greta was in a deep sleep.

“I need to speak to you… now!” Willow was insistent.

“I’m listening,” Greta mumbled.

“That woman that came to Greenacres today… she could quite clearly see me.”

“What?” Greta tried to focus and engage her brain.

“That woman who came to the cottage, she could see me and she could see Evie as well. She didn’t tell you everything.”

Greta was still slumbering.

“What? Who’s Evie?”

“Hello, Greta. I’m Evie,” another female voice spoke through the darkness.

Greta was semi-conscious.

“Oh… okay, um, Evie. Are you with Willow?” Greta replied.

“Sometimes, yes, but other times we are in parallel worlds.”

“Right,” Greta continued, her eyes still closed. “So this woman, Nonie, saw you; did she see both of you?”

“Yes, but she didn’t tell you everything.” Willow repeated.

“What else should she have told me?” Greta propped her head on the pillow.

Willow paused. There was the faint sound of sobbing.

“Willow? You can’t leave me dangling now!” she called out.

Evie spoke instead.

“Willow is too upset to say.”

“About what? You must tell me!” Greta was getting worried.

“That woman also saw
him
.”

“Who?” Greta snapped.

“
Him
… the one who murdered Willow. The man of the same name… who also murdered me!”

Greta sat bolt upright. She ran her fingers through her hair. She glanced at the clock on the bedside cabinet; it was 2.30am. She shook her head. This was becoming an habitual time to be woken up.

“Evie, are you there?” Greta called out into the darkness.

There was no reply. Greta was alone.

Greta plunged back on to her pillow in exasperation. Her mind raced back to Nonie’s visit the day before. She sighed. It was too early to phone Max. He wouldn’t appreciate a neurotic phone call in the middle of the night from his paranoid wife, talking about ghostly encounters; nor would Nonie. She dialled Sophie’s number. At length it was answered by a croaky, sleep-wracked voice.

“Hmm… yeah? Who is this?”

“Sophie! It’s Greta! Sorry hun; I know it’s the middle of the night, but I had to ring you. I’ve had another spiritual encounter with Willow and another spirit, called Evie!”

“Wow! Are they having a ghost fest or something?”
Sophie muttered. She rubbed her eyes and tried to focus on the conversation. “What time is it?”

“Early. Listen; they are both saying they were murdered, by the same guy, with the
same
name. They haven’t told me who, but I think it may shed some light on things. They’re saying that Nonie Spangler could see them and this other bloke as well. What shall I do?”

“I think you should give Nonie a ring, not now; tell her what has happened and get her back over again. Sounds like between you all, you are unravelling a bit of a crime scene. It also sounds like you have just as much psychic power as Ms Spangler. Anyway, from what you said, she didn’t spend much time with you, did she?”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. But I think you’re right, I’ll get Nonie back over here and, you’re right, she wasn’t here any time at all,” Greta agreed.

“Can I go back to sleep now?” Sophie sounded weary.

“Sorry, yes of course. I just needed to speak to someone; you did say, it was all right to phone… at any time.” Greta apologised.

“I certainly did and it’s okay. Night Greta. Sleep tight.”

Greta lay back on the bed and drew the duvet to her chin. She closed her eyes and thought about Willow and Evie. Was she insane? Was she awake or dreaming? She couldn’t decide. Suddenly she heard her name being called.

“Greta. Wake up! I need to talk to you!”

Greta groaned.

“Not again, surely. Now what?” she asked.

“It’s the builder on the phone; it seems like there’s a crisis at Greenacres!”

Greta opened her eyes to see her mother peering down at her. Holding the phone at arm’s length, close to Greta’s face.

“What’s wrong?” Greta sat up in bed and took the phone. “Hello, yes. Really? Okay, give me half an hour, I’ll be over.”

She handed the phone back to her mother.

“Trouble in paradise, darling?” Jeanne enquired.

“Yes, something like that.” Greta dragged herself out of bed and stumbled towards the bathroom.

“Shall I make breakfast?” Jeanne called out.

“Just toast and tea, thanks. I need to get over to Greenacres as soon as possible. Builders have found a problem,” Greta replied. Then uttered under her breath. “From all accounts, a bloody big problem!”

As she arrived at the cottage, she could see the builders congregated outside in the garden, huddled together, deep in conversation. They dispersed as Greta approached them. The head builder looked pensive.

“Morning, Mrs Berkley; sorry to bother you so early, but we’ve got a bit of an issue. You see, we was trying to sort out how to do the feature on your well, when there was this almighty great banging noise coming from deep underground. Then, well, Jim here will tell you… go on Jim, say what you saw.” The gaffer indicated for Jim to speak.

“Well, Missus, I was sat at the top of the ‘ole then there was this loud noise, like thunder, underground. I could hear rocks and stuff falling; like there was an avalanche or something. Then when I turned round to speak to the gaffer, Mick’s cup came flying at me and hit me right here!” he indicated with a stubby, hardworking, dirt encrusted finger, revealing an egg shaped swelling above his left eye.

“And then, when I tried to get up, something was holding me back down; like it didn’t want me to leave. That was when the gaffer phoned you. Sorry, Missus, but I can’t work in those sort of conditions; fair give me a fright, it
did. My ticker can’t take that sort of fright or assault! The boys here are worried about it too; don’t like funny things happening. Especially as the cup broke and Mick hasn’t got anything to drink his tea out of!”

The group of builders agreed by nodding and mumbling their thoughts.

“Sorry, Mrs Berkley, the boys aren’t happy to work here any more. Until you can sort things out.” The gaffer looked seriously at Greta.

“Then if the boys don’t work, the boys don’t get their pay!” Greta was fuming. “Are you trying to tell me there is something sinister in this cottage? Well, that is so absurd! I have never heard anything so preposterous!” She boomed and glared at each builder in turn.

“The boys are uncomfortable working in the kitchen. Everywhere else is fine, just there,” the gaffer tried to reason.

“That is probably because everywhere else is virtually finished!” Greta said scornfully. “I repeat, no work; no pay. Take it or leave it. It’s over to you boys! You haven’t got much more to do here! You are virtually just finishing off!”

“That isn’t fair, Mrs Berkley…” the gaffer began.

“Nor is your accusation that my cottage is haunted!” Greta fired back.

“Well, we’re sorry, but we can’t continue… but we expect to get our pay for what we have done today.” The gaffer stood his ground.

“Okay, let’s compromise. You carry on with the work and I will keep watch for any flying cups and bumps in the well and if we hear or see anything, then you can leave, immediately.”

“But what about our pay?”

“You carry on and finish the work; then you will get your pay; stop and you don’t, it’s as simple as that!” Greta
felt empowered. “Come on, everybody back to work. I will find Mick another cup, so he won’t be without his tea. I will personally stand on guard at the well to ensure you will all be quite safe!”

She ushered the builders back into the cottage and into the kitchen. They reluctantly obliged, bickering amongst each other about who was going to work around the well opening.

“Chop! Chop! Kettle is about to be put on! Morning tea and coffee will shortly be served!” Greta clapped her hands loudly to encourage them back to their stations. “If you’re lucky, you can have a biscuit too!”

The builders continued to work the entire day, incident free. They completed the task of building a circular dwarf wall around the well opening and made it safe by shoring up the walls in render. Greta sighed in relief as she watched them leave in convoy of white vans at 3pm. She checked her phone for messages. There was one from Nonie Spangler.
Sorry, only just got yr message from this am; will be on 3:15pm catamaran. Hope that’s ok? Can you pick me up at 3.40pm? C u then. NS

Greta punched the air; Nonie had agreed to a return visit. This time, Greta hoped it would be more productive than the previous. Greta closed her eyes and sighed; this was going to cost her a small fortune. Two ferry crossings in consecutive days, two investigations; another fifty pounds. Max wouldn’t be very pleased. But Greta needed to get to the bottom of the mystery so that they could start their new life in the country in some sort of peace and, hopefully, tranquillity.

Nonie Spangler shuffled along the long line of dawdling passengers who were queuing to alight from the catamaran. Greta had texted her to say she would collect her from the Ryde Pier Head at around 3.45pm. She was leaning against her car when she saw Nonie tottering along carrying a bright red leather-look oversized handbag over her shoulder. She waved to attract Nonie’s attention and Nonie duly returned the acknowledgement.

“Hello Greta! Sorry, but it’s all been a bit of a rush. The train was held up for ages and I nearly missed my connection with the ferry.” She opened the passenger door of Greta’s car and collapsed on to the seat. “I thought I’d catch the train this time. The car ferry was so expensive!”

“Thanks for coming over again at such short notice. It seems like we have a situation at Greenacres. It even caused the builders to down tools; which I couldn’t justify. Any excuse to have a break! I don’t know! Oh, and is that handbag red for danger?” She indicated at Nonie’s handbag. Nonie chose to ignore the comment and smirked.

“More activity of the paranormal variety, I take it?” Nonie wrestled with her seatbelt as Greta drove slowly up Ryde Pier, avoiding the commuters along the way and
the speed ramps strategically placed upon the newly laid wooden boards. The Victorian buildings of Ryde town centre loomed closer.

“Yes. I wanted you to reinvestigate; to see what’s going on. The builders were complaining of a collapse of masonry in the tunnel and noises too, coming from underground. One of them was allegedly hit by a flying cup, but I’m not convinced.” She drove along the Esplanade through the town into the countryside.

“Well, I’ll try my best to find out who or what it was… or is,” Nonie smiled and held her handbag close to her as the car jolted over the bumpy road surface.

At length, they arrived at Greenacres. Greta turned off the ignition as Nonie looked startled.

“Oh!” she exclaimed. She was looking at the roof.

“Have you seen something?” Greta removed the key from the ignition and got out of the car.

“I’m not so sure.” Nonie was still staring at the roof.

“Up there?” Greta pointed.

“I thought I saw something by the chimney.” Nonie climbed out of the car, still clutching her handbag.

“Funny that,” Greta replied. “Rev Oli was always staring at the roof; but he never said anything to us. Whatever it was, it seemed to have him in a complete trance.”

“Hmmm.” Nonie was not giving anything away.

“Come indoors and I’ll show you the cup. You might be able to pick up something from that.” Greta ushered Nonie inside to the kitchen and then came to an abrupt halt.

“What the hell is going on here?” she exclaimed and stormed over to the well. Nonie remained planted in the doorway. “I don’t believe this!” Greta fumed.

Greta was standing by the feature wall of the well. She shook her head in disappointment.

“It is a complete mess! Look at this! It was fine when I left; now it’s ruined!”

The newly built wall of the well had been smashed to pieces. Brick and masonry littered the floor and wet cement was spattered everywhere.

“This is really awful! Who would do such a thing?” Greta held her hand to her temple and shook her head.

Nonie joined her.

“So this has only happened since you left the cottage?”

“Yes; it can’t be the builders; they wouldn’t do such a terrible thing. They spent all day working on it; there is no way they would destroy their own handiwork. It must be an intruder.”

“I take it you locked the door when you left to pick me up?” Nonie surmised.

“Course, yes. Max is a stickler for security and, having spent a lot of time living in London, that has fortunately rubbed off on me; I wouldn’t dream of leaving the door unlocked.” Greta walked around the circumference of the well. The top was exposed and a black gaping hole to the tunnel beneath glared up at her.

“Could this mean that someone or something gained entry from the tunnel?” Nonie asked.

“You tell me; that’s is what you are here for, Nonie! Come on; what do you think?” Greta stood with her arms folded.

Nonie remained silent and closed her eyes. She nodded her head as though she was talking to someone. Greta stared at her. At length she spoke.

“Well?”

Nonie opened her eyes and blinked.

“From what I can tell from the spirit world, it was a human invader; not a spiritual one.”

“Fantastic!” said Greta scornfully. “So now I have a vandal to deal with as well as the spirits! Bring it on…”

“Wait!” Nonie interrupted. “I am being given fresh information; from a female… she is saying it is the man.”

“What man?” Greta placed her hands on her hips.

“The man; who has the same name…” Nonie was concentrating hard. Nonie closed her eyes again.

Greta looked at her.

“And what is the man’s name?”

Nonie shook her head.

“She won’t tell me; I think she wants me to work it out for myself… hold on! There is another voice… another female voice… she is warning me of the man… the man with the same name… wait! Don’t go, I don’t know what you mean… oh! She’s gone.”

“Damn it! Tell me exactly what they said.” Greta paced around the kitchen narrowly avoiding tripping over a pile of bricks.

“There were two spirits; both talking over each other. One was a young girl, the other an older woman. They were warning me about this man… they kept saying he had the same name. I’m not sure what they meant; whether it is the same man or two different men. They weren’t very forthcoming with the information. But they believe it to be a living being who had inflicted the damage to the wall and definitely not a spiritual one. Does that help you?” Nonie looked at Greta.

“Not really; you have basically told me everything I already knew. Didn’t they give you any indication about what went on? What about the flying cup?”

“Sorry, they didn’t. I’m feeling rather tired; do you mind if I take a step outside, to get some air?” Nonie walked towards the back door.

“No, of course not. Would you like some water?”
Greta offered.

“Yes, please.” Nonie opened the door and stepped into the garden. She found a large millstone, promptly sat down and took a ferry timetable from her handbag and fanned her face. She looked very pale.

Greta, unsuccessful in her quest for a glass, carried a mug of water out to Nonie who took a sip along with a small pink tablet.

“Sorry it’s in a mug, we haven’t brought any glasses over yet. Are you feeling okay?” Greta was concerned. She sat alongside Nonie who remained pale.

“Just a little faint, dear,” she replied and sipped at the water. She looked up to the chimney once more. “It saps my energy; it’s such a nuisance.”

“Tell me; what did you see up there?” Greta knew Nonie was hiding something from her.

Nonie took a deep breath.

“I… um, think I saw a shadow of a figure, maybe a man; I certainly saw a raised hand.” She took a slug of water with another tablet and made a face as she swallowed. “He was stood very defiant; like he was guarding the cottage. Then, when we were in the kitchen, he appeared by the well. He was very angry; said he didn’t want us there; sorry, Greta. I haven’t been much help.”

“Did he say who he was?” Greta probed.

“No, no, he didn’t,” Nonie replied. She wiped her mouth with a crumpled tissue she had retrieved from her handbag.

“Do you know who he might be?” Greta continued.

“Sorry, no. But he appears to be a very unhappy, restless spirit; I didn’t want to push him; spirits like these can be extremely dangerous if provoked. I kept my distance from him. One thing is for sure though…”

“Yes?” Greta held her breath.

“Greenacres will be a fantastic place to live, once you have finished the renovations!” Nonie got up from the millstone and handed Greta her empty mug. “Could I use your loo, please?”

Deflated, Greta nodded in silence.

“First door on left up the stairs. Mind the floor as you go. It might still be tacky from the stain.”

“Thank you, dear.” Nonie disappeared back into the cottage.

Greta’s phone vibrated. It was a message from Max.

Hi, how are things at Greenacres?
it read.

Greta returned her message.

Couldn’t be better x

She decided not to update Max on the current catastrophe. She sighed as she thought about Nonie. She was having serious doubts about her capabilities as a medium. She was concerned that if Nonie were telling the truth, how would she get rid of the evil male spirit? She decided to tackle Nonie head on when she saw her appear at the back door.

“What is the next course of action, Nonie?” She stood up from her cold stone seat.

“Well, dear. There isn’t anything more I can do for now.” Nonie fumbled in her handbag.

“What do you mean? Nothing more? I want to be rid of this evil spirit! I don’t want to be living under the same roof as him! You
must
be able to do
something
!” she was incredulous at Nonie’s dismissal.

“He is rather too much for me and my capabilities, Greta. He is taking all my energy,” Nonie replied, looking up at the roof.

“I am paying you to be capable, Nonie. That is what you are here for! Honestly, the works here cannot progress until we have this spirit moved out of the cottage. I can’t have
the builders making any further excuses to stop working; not at this crucial stage. Or for any more interruptions to the renovations. I need you to help me, please!”

Nonie nodded in silence. She paused before she spoke.

“I don’t think I can be of any further help, dear. Not today, I am very weak. Perhaps another time.”

“You are kidding, aren’t you? I want answers; I don’t want to wait any longer. Besides, it’s getting very expensive!” Greta stood firm.

Nonie shook her head.

“Sorry, Greta. I can’t do any more here. Do you mind taking me back to the ferry?”

“I don’t believe it! In fact, I am beginning to think that the newspapers were right about you!”

“What are you saying, dear?” Nonie looked taken aback.

“That you are a fake! And that all your shows are staged and paying members of the public are being duped by your inability to communicate with the spirit world. I’m right, aren’t I?” Greta demanded.

Nonie looked shocked. She thought for a while and then softly spoke.

“Have you ever heard of someone called Barnabas?”

Greta shook her head.

“Barnabas? Barnabas who?”

Nonie swallowed and looked up at the roof. “Just Barnabas.”

Greta thought for a moment.

“No, sorry. I’ve not heard of a Barnabas. Do you have another name? Surname or first name?”

“Barnabas is the name I have been given. I didn’t want to say anything until I was quite sure. But, in the circumstances and to prove my worth, I felt compelled to tell you,” Nonie replied. She was still reeling from Greta’s verbal attack.

“Okay. So we have a name. That’s a start, isn’t it? Anything else?” Greta continued.

“One more name that I’ve been given… it could be a name or it could be a tree…”

“Is it Willow, by any chance?” Greta asked impatiently.

“Yes, dear. Funnily enough, it is,” Nonie replied. She looked distant.

“Now we are getting somewhere. I have definitely heard of Willow. In fact, I have had a conversation or two with Willow, in the early hours. And of all places at my parents’ home!”

Nonie nodded.

“Hmm. Willow. Pretty name; pretty girl. She isn’t very old, what a terrible shame. Spirits don’t always stay in one place. They do travel about, particularly if they want to communicate with you. She obviously felt a strong need to contact you, wherever you might be.”

Greta gritted her teeth. She was becoming increasingly frustrated with Nonie and her communication skills.

“What was a shame?”

Nonie looked sad.

“That she died so young.”

“Right. So we have established Willow died young and a man called Barnabas is in my kitchen wrecking my newly built well wall. What is the connection between them?”

Nonie had closed her eyes once more and was concentrating very hard.

“Hello, Evie. Right… I will.” Nonie was in a trance.

Greta pursed her lips. She was irritated that she had to bully Nonie into doing what she was paid to do. The threat of being a fake and not paying her had spurred her into a delayed reaction. Now she was finally getting somewhere. She felt Nonie was conning her and making excuses to come back again, to retrieve a further fee.

“What has Evie told you?” Greta cut to the chase.

“Something quite disturbing, dear,” Nonie replied, her eyes still tightly shut.

“Tell me something new!” Greta mumbled.

“Okay, I will,” Nonie replied. “Willow told me that she was murdered. Here at Greenacres. This Barnabas, was involved. In fact, Barnabas was the perpetrator.”

Greta nodded. “So she was telling the truth, definitely murdered?” she whispered. “And this Barnabas person murdered Willow?”

“Yes, dear. He apparently strangled her. That’s what she informed me. She is very scared.” Nonie looked up to the window once more.

“What of? What’s she scared of?” Greta nervously asked.

“Scared that he might… that he might do it again,” Nonie responded.

“What do you mean? That’s impossible, he can’t kill her again, can he? When was Willow murdered? Can she give you any sort of date or timescale?” Greta gripped Nonie’s arm.

“Yes, she gave me a date… 1701. In the winter of 1701. It was cold; snow was lying thickly on the ground. She remembers the cold; so cold… his hands gripping hard around her neck; her breath, shallow… fighting for breath. The cold biting, his hands tightening around her neck, his hands were cold… then nothing…”

“How terrible!” Greta was shocked to think of a murder happening in such a tranquil location. “What about Evie? What happened to Evie? Did she die here too?”

Nonie paused then nodded her head solemnly.

“Yes, dear. She died here too. She died in the garden.”

“Oh no; what happened to her? Did she have a heart attack?” Greta knowingly played along.