The Haunted Lady (8 page)

The empty church echoed to the sound of our laughter. We walked forward and as we reached the transept got our first proper view of the Lady chapel, though on a much smaller scale, like the rest of the building it was impressive. Before the altar, which was a miniature replica of the one in the chancel, twin rows of pews, six in number were positioned for the worshippers.

We moved into the chapel, passing two small windows on the side walls, and our attention was drawn immediately to one of the most magnificent stained-glass windows I’d ever seen. The window was even more eye-catching than its larger counterpart behind the altar in the chancel, possibly because it dominated the enclosed space. It almost filled the north wall completely. I gasped aloud, a sound that was echoed by Eve. Michael smiled with satisfaction. ‘It’s quite something, isn’t it?’

‘It is truly superb,’ I breathed. The window was in three sections or lights, divided by mullions, vertical stone columns. Above the main panels, the upper sections consisted of a series of armorial decorations. The greater part of the window contained depictions of easily identifiable scenes from the New Testament, with the centrepiece being a portrayal of The Crucifixion. Despite the difficult material used, the craftsman had succeeded in capturing Christ’s agony on the cross dramatically.

We stared in awed silence for a long time before either of us spoke. Eve found her voice first.

‘You’re right, Adam, it is absolutely magnificent.’

Her voice was hushed, barely more than a whisper, which befitted our surroundings as well as the depth of her feelings.

After a while the spell was eased, if not entirely broken, and we had chance to look around at the rest of the chapel, our object to attempt to trace the origin of the ghostly figure. Nothing seemed untoward, and there was certainly no clue as to what might have caused the unexplained appearances. The only thing that struck me was the atmosphere. Admittedly that side of the church would be in full sunlight less than the rest of the building, but that fact certainly wouldn’t account for the much lower temperature in there. I noticed Eve shiver, so obviously the sensation wasn’t a product of what she is fond of referring to as my overactive imagination.

As we made our way past the pews towards the main body of the church, I noticed a strip of wood that was fixed vertically to the stonework. It was about four feet in length, and appeared to serve neither a useful nor a decorative function. I frowned, perplexed as I tried to think what it might be for. In the end, defeated, I signalled towards the timber. ‘What is that?’ I asked the vicar.

Michael was silent for a moment. ‘That is all that remains of the church’s darkest mystery – excluding the ghost, of course. That piece of wood was placed there to support the frame of a painting. The picture hung from it via a pair of hinges that allowed it to be turned.’

It took a moment for the significance of this to sink in. ‘Do I take it that this painting was the diptych your mother described, the one that went missing?’

Michael nodded. ‘Yes, that was the mystery I referred to. There was an image on both surfaces, front and back, and both portrayals were of Mary Magdalene. In the first she is grieving for Christ following the Crucifixion and in the second she has seen him after the Resurrection. It may seem like silly sentimentality but, although the painting disappeared a long time ago, nobody has the heart to remove that wooden support.’

He paused and sighed heavily. ‘I suppose people are hoping that somehow the lost work will turn up at some point, and I can’t summon up the courage to tell them that the age of miracles is past. Besides which,’ he added with a wry smile, ‘I’m not sure it falls within a priest’s duty to disillusion his parishioners.’

‘I’m not sure you’re right,’ I told him. ‘Perhaps miracles do still happen, all they need is a little helping hand sometimes.’

‘Does anyone know exactly what happened to it?’ Eve asked. ‘I assume everyone believes it was stolen.’

‘I think theft remains the only logical explanation, but if that’s the case, it seems like a terrible act of sacrilege.’

Michael had a point, I suppose, and I reflected on it as we made our way to the church door. I looked back at the interior one more time. It would take a particularly low character to commit such a wicked act, that was true, but as we had so recently seen the evidence of even greater evil, I was perhaps not as shocked as might otherwise be so by the theft of a painting, or, I corrected my thoughts, two paintings.

We waited in the porch again, savouring the last of the cool air as Michael closed and locked the church door. Having grasped the ring handle he pulled it sharply, probably the only way to move such a heavy piece of timber. The sound of the door colliding with the frame was sufficient to have an immediate effect, startling a lone bird that had been waddling amongst the tombstones. At the same time, as I glanced to my left, I saw the stranger yet again, standing unobtrusively in the shadow of one of the ancient yew trees, staring towards the church.

‘That man gets everywhere,’ I muttered.

Simultaneously, the bird, disturbed by the slamming of the door took flight, and flew directly across the churchyard from where the man had been only a second earlier. Seeing it caused Eve to call out loudly, ‘Good morning, Mr Magpie,’ at the same time saluting the bird. I was amused by her adoption of the countryside tradition of greeting a lone magpie with respect in order to ward off ill-fortune. Then she looked at me.

‘What man?’ she demanded.

I pointed towards the yew, but the stranger had vanished as abruptly as the magpie. ‘Didn’t you see him, Eve? What about you, Michael? He was standing under that yew tree, just to the right of the lych-gate.’

‘I certainly didn’t. I was busy locking up. I only turned round when Eve greeted the magpie.’

‘There was nobody there when I looked,’ Eve told me, ‘are you sure you haven’t made it up, Adam? Perhaps it was a trick of the light, or something, a moving shadow possibly.’

‘No, he was there, I’m certain of it. What’s more, it isn’t the first time I’ve seen him by any means. He was outside the museum earlier this morning for one thing.’

I explained the other occasions when I’d seen the stranger and described his clothing, but it failed to register with either of them. It was only when I saw them eyeing me curiously that I realised that they were probably wondering if I, too, was beginning to see ghostly apparitions. I gave up the vain attempt to convince them otherwise and headed for the car.

When we reached the vicarage, we found that Marjorie Phillips, in addition to brewing a large pot of tea, had also made a huge mound of sandwiches. ‘Blimey, Mum,’ Michael protested, ‘you didn’t have to take the feeding of the five thousand so literally.’

‘I suppose I did get carried away.’ She turned to us and explained, ‘After my husband died and Michael went to university I’ve only had to cater for myself. One gets out of practice in providing for others.’

It was a poignant reminder of how lonely an existence life for someone left on their own could be. I reflected on this sad fact until we were invited to tuck in. Having missed out on the gateau earlier, I was able to oblige. Once we had disposed of all but the foothills of the sandwich mountain, we took our mugs of tea into the lounge, which looked out over the rear of the house, where the well-tended lawns sloped down towards a small brake of weeping willow trees that fringed the stream in the distance. It was a delightful view and, as we sat sipping our tea, I reflected that there must be many worse ways of earning a living than being a parson with a rural parish.

I listened unashamedly as Michael made his phone call to Elmfield Grange. From the tone of the conversation it was obvious that he was meeting with some resistance to his plan to call on his beloved. ‘I have to see you, Chloe,’ Michael insisted, ‘we can’t leave things as they are.’ There was a pause and then he said, ‘No, Chloe, it can’t wait. It is much too important to me. No, I have to come with them. I lent my car to Mother.’

His last statement wasn’t actually untrue, it simply wasn’t the whole truth. Michael had indeed lent the car to his mother, but only for her to return to the vicarage. ‘Very well,’ he told her eventually, ‘we’ll be there at four o’clock.’

He put the phone down and looked across at us a little anxiously. ‘I hope I did the right thing. Is four o’clock all right for you? I had a bit of trouble persuading her. It wasn’t that Chloe was against the idea but her aunt and uncle aren’t too keen on visitors. They only agreed because it was you. According to what Chloe said, they want to talk to you.’

I wondered what we’d done to be singled out, especially in view of the less than rapturous greeting we had received earlier.

As we were chatting to the vicar and his mother, Eve seized on the opportunity to tease me further about the apparition that only I had seen. ‘You told us about some of Michael’s parishioners having seen ghosts,’ she told Marjorie, ‘but it seems they aren’t the only ones. Adam has also started seeing people who aren’t there too, and near Dinsdale Church, which makes it even spookier.’ She gestured with her hands and uttered a sort of moaning noise which I suppose must have been her idea of how a ghost might sound. ‘Actually, to be fair to him, Adam also reckons he’s seen the ghost elsewhere on several occasions. The fact that nobody else has witnessed this mysterious vision doesn’t seem to have registered with Adam, poor soul.’

Not unnaturally, Marjorie was extremely curious, and asked Eve what form the apparition took.

‘Don’t ask me,’ Eve replied with a wicked glance in my direction, ‘you’d better ask the expert. The ghost has chosen to appear to Adam, not me.’

I bore the jibes patiently, resolving, however, to get my own back at the first possible opportunity. The chance came much sooner than I could have hoped for. ‘I first noticed him when we were getting off the train,’ I told Marjorie. ‘I was helping you get your suitcase onto the platform and saw him a bit further along. I thought at the time that he looked lost, but it was his appearance that registered with me. The man was wearing a leather jacket and hat. I remember thinking how out of place he looked. The next time I saw him was a few days ago in Dinsdale town centre, then at the museum this morning, and later outside the church.’

There was barely a second’s pause before Marjorie responded. ‘Oh, that man, I remember him. I noticed him at the station too, and at the museum this morning.’

She turned to Eve and told her, ‘If Adam
is
seeing ghosts then I’m afraid I am too,’

‘Ah, so the fact that Eve hasn’t seen him is down to her defective eyesight and not my overactive imagination.’

To say that I was shocked by the vulgar gesture my wife gave me would be an understatement. I mean, you don’t expect that sort of behaviour, not in a vicarage, do you?

––––––––

T
here was very little conversation as we drove to Elmfield Grange. It wasn’t that long a journey, but in addition I think Michael was nervous regarding the outcome of his meeting with Chloe. I tried to bolster his confidence a little. ‘Don’t take “no” for an answer, Michael. Remember that this is the girl you love, the one you want to spend the rest of your life with. Keep that in mind as a way of making every effort to fight for her.’

‘I don’t often say this,’ Eve added, ‘but Adam’s advice is spot on. You should
definitely
go in on the attack, with all guns blazing.’

The one thing about Eve’s compliments is that they are almost always backhanded.

As I turned into the approach to the house, the huge wrought iron gates were open, enabling us to drive up the long, tree-lined avenue leading to the main entrance. The trees were in full foliage, sentinels forming a prolonged guard of honour and masking the building, and it was only when we emerged from them that we caught our first glimpse of the Kershaw family home.

It was the second time within a matter of hours that we’d been struck by the magnificence of a building. Dinsdale Parish Church had been erected to the glory of God, Elmfield Grange symbolised the worldly wealth of a family. It was a superb example of the architect’s prowess and the craftsmanship of the builders who had interpreted his plans. There was, however, one marked difference, in that although everything about St Mary Magdalene’s Church was genuine, Elmfield Grange was a cleverly designed fraud.

It had been constructed in the Palladian style, with wings at each end to offset the central section. In front of the main entrance was a colonnade of four arched columns, with wider pillars at either end. The gap between was sufficient to drive a motor car through, although I guessed it had been designed when the sole mode of transport had been a horse and carriage. I soon found out that my assumption had been incorrect.

To our right as we approached the facade was a wide sweep of gravel, beyond which was a strip of grass, that gave way to a wide set of steps leading down to an immense lawn. Two young boys aged about eight and six were playing cricket on the lawn; they had obviously been well coached. I was relieved to see a post and rail fence that divided the lawn from a lake, to prevent over-enthusiastic fielders from finishing up in the water. The centrepiece of the lake was an ornamental fountain, although this one, I was relieved to see, was free from corpses.

Chloe must have been watching for our arrival, because she had opened the front door and was alongside the car before we had chance to get out. Her expression reflected as much stress as the tension on her fiancé’s face, something that Eve must also have noticed, judging by her greeting.

‘If you could direct us which way to go,’ she told Chloe, ‘Adam and I will leave you two lovebirds to sort things out while we go and talk to your aunt and uncle.’

Eve’s statement hit exactly the right note, and her use of the word ‘lovebirds’ had a touch of genius about it. I think the idea that they might have to settle their differences in front of witnesses simply increased the tension, and I saw the immediate relief in both their faces that they could do so in private.