The Chandelier Ballroom (30 page)

‘Crossways Lodge,’ interrupted Jennifer and saw her relax slightly.

‘That’s right. I was a schoolteacher. I’ve written to my old colleagues at the school where I taught, giving them my new address. Then I realised today that I’d left out the most important of them – the headmistress herself, would you believe. It was sheer oversight and I feel dreadful about it. She is a most understanding person but she would feel quite hurt come Monday when everyone but her gets a letter from me. And the last thing I want to do is upset anyone, especially her.’

The woman was running on and so was time. Any minute someone coming into the shop area and seeing the counter still open might assume it okay to take advantage, fully expecting to be served after closing time – after all, what was good for one was good for all.

‘So what you want is a stamp, Mrs Burnley?’ she prompted, perhaps a little too sharply for the woman gave an almost imperceptible start.

‘Oh, I’m so sorry, yes.’

Jennifer melted a little. ‘Very well. First or second class?’

‘Oh, first, please.’ The voice was small. Fishing into her handbag she produced both letter and money. ‘This is very kind of you. I hope it’s not too late to catch the post. When is the last collection today?’

‘You’ve plenty of time,’ Jennifer assured her as she took the money and pushed the stamp through the grille. ‘But I do close for lunch.’

The woman appeared to wince at the reminder, instantly causing Jennifer to feel like a tyrant, which was unusual for her. Also, her natural curiosity was roused, eager to find out all about this newcomer to Wadely. This time her smile was genuinely warm.

‘Look, I must close up. I usually pop into the tea shop along the road on a Saturday instead of going straight home. I wonder … would you fancy coming with me? It would be nice to have a little company. What do you think?’

There was a fraction of a second’s hesitation then the prim expression relaxed. ‘Thank you, I’d like that very much. It would be nice to get to know a few people here. It’s not always easy, is it?’ To which Jennifer had to agree.

‘Then give me a moment to get my things. It’s not too warm out there today. I think we’re going to get an early winter.’

It took only a moment to grab her hat, coat, handbag and her warm scarf, swiftly propping the closed sign against the grille as she did so.

Sitting together at a little round table with its crisp, snow-white cloth, gleaming chrome cake-stand, its delicate, blue-flowered cups and saucers and plates, she found Eileen Burnley not as quiet as she’d first imagined, in fact proving to be quite a chatty soul, which was very helpful. Being the ears of the village, if there was anything worth finding out about these new owners of Crossways Lodge, Jennifer would be the hub of interest for a long time to come.

She made it a point not to interrupt if she could, except to prompt her new friend as and when needed, as Mrs Burnley, or Eileen as she asked to be called, warmed to her tale of how she and her husband had recently married – he for the second time, having lost his wife, and she for the first time.

‘I’m afraid teaching took up all my time. I was dedicated to it and had no eyes for the opposite sex,’ she said in her rather flat tone. ‘Then out of the blue along came David and within a year we were married.’

Listening to her, Jennifer came to the conclusion that rather than the diffident soul she’d first appeared to be, she seemed in fact quite sure of herself, the very essence of what she imagined a good schoolteacher to be.

Slightly dowdy, she was dressed plain, brown hair cut straight about her ears with an equally straight fringe, spoiling what could have been quite pretty features: clear skin, full lips, a small, neat nose and bright blue eyes. A pity really, looking so prim, for she was proving to be not at all as standoffish as her looks would have had one believe. Her conversation was surprisingly animated. In fact Jennifer guessed she could be an interesting and informative conversationalist when she wanted.

‘I think we’re going to really enjoy being here,’ she said as they sat opposite each other sipping tea and nibbling tiny sandwiches.

‘I really do hope so,’ Jennifer said with genuine sincerity.

Eileen gave a little smile then grew serious.

‘The estate agent did say the house had quite an interesting history to it, though he didn’t tell us any more than that, other than saying part of it was built in the early nineteenth century and the rest built the beginning of this. I have always had a liking for history – my favourite subject when I taught at school. I would rather like to delve into it if I can.’

Before she could stop herself, the words prompted Jennifer to burst out: ‘As to history, I could tell you a lot about that place,’ instantly wishing she could have bitten off her tongue as the woman’s eyes lit up with interest.

‘Oh, that would be really interesting too! I thought I might try the library in Brentwood, but that’s quite a way to go. Having it told to me right here would be marvellous.’

‘There isn’t that much to tell,’ Jennifer began evasively, but Eileen was leaning towards her.

‘No, please, I would love to hear.’ She gave a small flat laugh. ‘It isn’t haunted is it?’ she quipped, then her blue eyes opened wide and Jennifer knew she had seen her brief change of expression too quickly for her to hide.

‘
Is
it haunted?’ Eileen asked, her eyes opening even wider.

Jennifer bit her lip. The last thing she wanted to do was to scare these people off and see the house lie empty again for God knows how long.

‘No, well, not really.’

Eileen leapt on the words. ‘What do you mean,
not really
?’

‘It’s just rumours.’ What else could she say? ‘Honestly, that’s all they are, nothing more.’

Again Eileen laughed, relaxing. ‘Well, I don’t believe in ghosts, though I wouldn’t be surprised if there are tales. Old houses usually do promote such stories. Although I don’t wonder at the estate agent trying to keep it quiet. It hardly helps his job of selling properties, does it?’

She was looking quite amused but Jennifer found herself unable to share her amusement as much as she knew she ought to. An unexpected shiver had trickled down her spine as if she herself had suddenly been confronted by a spectre. Almost as if she too had stood in that room staring at the apparition she’d been told about all those years ago.

She remembered the man who’d murdered two people then done away with himself; the woman who’d killed her husband; a soldier responsible for the death of his sergeant, apparently trying to cover it up by setting fire to part of the house, maybe even burning the man to death, raving at his court martial that he’d been prompted by the ghost of a young woman who’d told him to do it.

She found herself giving an involuntary shudder, only just managing to hide it from her companion with what felt like a rather silly, careless grin.

‘You’re right,’ she said lightly. ‘But people love to gossip about that sort of stuff, especially about things that happened a mere stone’s throw from this very spot, the big room in Crossways Lodge, for instance.’

Her companion frowned. ‘What about the room?’

Jennifer hesitated, but having started felt she must go on or make the woman wonder more. She tried to sound casual. ‘Just that the people who bought the house in the early 1930s had the existing three rooms and the hallway knocked into one, though the next people rebuilt the hallway wall.’

But Eileen had detected more to the tale than trivial village gossip. ‘And?’ she prompted, forcing Jennifer to continue.

‘Well, the man who’d enlarged it would often call it his chandelier ballroom. He’d acquired a huge chandelier and put it up there. Apparently he loved ballroom dancing and he’d hold parties there. But he committed suicide eventually, drowned himself in that lake of yours.’

That needed explaining, with Eileen’s eyes now practically boring into hers. ‘You see, his wife left him when he took up with someone else,’ she went on. ‘And then he caught his fancy woman in the arms of another man and he went berserk and …’

Breaking off, realising she could be saying too much, she gave a little laugh. ‘I’m sorry. I’ve been going on a bit, haven’t I?’

‘No,’ Eileen said readily. ‘It’s interesting. What happened to them? But I can
see how rumours get started. As you say, people love to gossip. Would you like more tea? There’s enough in the pot for another cup for the two of us. And do let’s eat these cakes we’ve paid for!’

As they parted company, agreeing to meet again in the tea shop for tea and cakes next Saturday, with Jennifer promising to bring along some newspaper cuttings of the Butterfield case and a few other bits and pieces, Eileen knew she had made one friend at least.

Thinking about it as she walked home, she couldn’t wait to tell David all about it. As for ghosts, some people did love wrapping themselves up in such things. But it would help make their new home interesting to friends who came to visit.

Two evenings later, Eileen was on tenterhooks for David to arrive home.

He seldom left the office before half past five, often after the rest of both office and factory workers had left – unless of course he was at one of his frequent meetings. His company was his whole world, ever striving to bring it up to the standard of larger stationery manufacturers, and there were times when she felt she took second place to it, even though she had told herself often enough that she should be grateful having security now which was something not to be sneezed at.

Had she not met him when she did she might have ended up a lonely old woman after retiring from teaching, a prospect that made her shudder even to think of it, as she thanked her lucky stars for her timely rescue.

To be able to call herself a married woman still struck her as being quite wonderful. David was easy to live with and she loved him in her own way, despite finding the sexual side not easy to get on with. That night after their wedding had been her first ever experience of sex and had proved quite harrowing, for knowing about it had certainly not equipped her to deal with the physical deed itself, though she had tried to make out that she had enjoyed it. It had seemed to satisfy him however. Fortunately he wasn’t one to press his attentions on her and for that she was glad. But she did love him and in fact sometimes felt jealous of his association with the several younger women in his office, even though she felt she knew instinctively that he was true to her.

Her thoughts died away to be replaced by the one in hand as she heard his car crunch to a halt in the drive. In seconds she was at the front door, cardigan gripped tightly around her throat against the cold, dank November evening. Impatiently she watched as he parked the vehicle in the new garage he’d had built, and as he came back to the house almost pounced on him, hardly before he’d had time to mount the three wide steps up to the portico.

‘Don’t take your coat off!’ she called out, running down the steps and grabbing his arm to lead him away from the house. ‘You have to come and see what I found this afternoon!’

David pulled back a little from the grasp, his tone of surprise sounding faintly rankled. ‘What do you mean, found?’

Hit by the cold night air after being in a nice warm car, he’d already anticipated the cosy warmth from the house wafting out to greet him home. The last thing he wanted was to be dragged off into the chill again.

‘What’s so urgent that you want me to look at whatever it is at this time in the evening?’ he asked. ‘I’m tired. All I want is something to eat and to sit down in front of the fire afterwards. Can’t it wait until tomorrow – Saturday?’

But she wasn’t listening. She frequently didn’t listen, not in the way that was giddy, but as someone very positive of her own decisions.

‘We’ve not had a chance to look into those two outbuildings of ours yet, have we?’ she went on as she practically dragged him along, he giving up to allow himself to be led off away from the welcoming lights of his home. ‘We’ve been so busy with the house,’ she went on, ‘we’ve not really given much thought to the outside, the garden, all this ground we have.’

‘That’s because it’s autumn,’ he interrupted. ‘And it’s cold. Come spring we can concentrate more …’ But she still wasn’t listening.

‘It was such a lovely afternoon I thought I’d take a little look at the outside – the garden and the grounds. I also took a peek into those big sheds we have and I got such a wonderful surprise. I’m dying for you to see. Come, let me show you.’

The cold was now getting to her too, she with nothing but a cardigan over her dress, so that by the time she reached one of the outbuildings to pull the door open, she was shivering as she led him inside. But she was determined to have him see what she’d found.

It hadn’t felt all that cold this afternoon, but then she’d been wearing a proper coat to go on her small safari, exploring the length and breadth of the grounds they owned. She’d been just like an explorer, free and at liberty to wander in what had felt like a timeless world. But after a while the damp ground had begun to penetrate not only her shoes but it seemed her whole body, her late afternoon tour proving far less pleasurable than anticipated. Well into autumn, what had she expected? Yet despite the persistent chill, there hadn’t been a cloud in the sky all day, which she supposed had been rather misleading, and it had been rather late in the afternoon to go wandering about.

As the sun dipped further towards the west, clouds had gathered on the horizon in flat lines, giving a wonderful sunset eventually melting to a colourful, deep red dusk. It would have taken her breath away had she not felt that such glorious colours could also be misleading, not so much as red sky at night shepherd’s delight, but the ominous hue that promised a wet day tomorrow.

Just as well she’d done her exploring today. There might not have been another chance for ages. So now she intended to take advantage of this maybe last dry evening to drag David out to show him what she’d discovered. She’d started to hurry past the two outbuildings to get back to the house and warmth, but curiosity had stopped her and she’d gone into each long shed in turn to see what they harboured,