The Haunting of Highdown Hall (21 page)

Won’t go wrong? Perhaps not, until now. Now she had veered off the path, big time.

Sitting opposite her, Sarah filled both their cups and then pushed a plate of homemade fruit cake towards her, a slice already cut and ready for her to take. Ruby hadn’t seen her slice the cake, briefly she wondered how long her grandmother had known she was going to turn up. Before she’d even known herself?

Sipping at her tea, Sarah asked, “What’s troubling you, dear?”

Ruby hesitated. She still felt so guilty about Corinna, Rawlings, even Cash – putting them all in the line of fire. Behaving, perhaps, as recklessly as her mother had, inheriting yet another family trait.

“No, dear,” said Sarah, her green eyes still bright, still sparkling despite the fact she wasn’t far off eighty. “You are
not
like your mother, now tell me.”

The tears she had fought so hard to keep at bay when Cash had wrapped his arms around her outside Rawlings flat, could not be thwarted any longer. As they fell in torrents down her cheeks, Ruby explained what had happened at Highdown Hall.

***

Sarah had never met Theo; she hadn’t met any of the team, although Ruby had told her plenty about them. She admired Ruby, and them, for what they were trying to do: to dissolve the fearsome reputation still attached to dealings with the spiritual world by bringing the whole process out into the open. Despite this, she had made it clear to Ruby when she had first set up Psychic Surveys, that this was something her granddaughter must do independently of her family. Although Sarah would help anyone who asked her to, for many years now her main focus had been caring only for Jessica.

Focusing her soft eyes on Ruby now, Sarah considered her words carefully before she spoke.

“Now, I’m not saying I agree with Theo, I’m just saying I can see her point. However, I’m sure she knows, as I do, that you acted from good intention in bringing Rawlings to the cleansing, even if that intention was somewhat flawed.”

Ruby’s head came up abruptly.

“Flawed? In what way?”

“Geoffrey Rawlings in his guise as Clive Lytton was obviously a significant character in Cynthia Hart’s life, but only in a negative sense. It therefore follows that despite his remorse he can only introduce further negativity to the process, stirring up painful emotions within her. Emotions hard to deal with.”

“But she wouldn’t believe me when I told her that whole thing about selling your soul to the Devil was rubbish. I had to find some way to
prove
it to her.”

“But you didn’t prove a thing it seems. She still believes something is blocking her path to the light, something menacing – and it is causing her great distress.”

“But there is
nothing
!” Ruby almost shouted. She felt so frustrated.

“It is not your place to decide that.” Sarah’s voice became sterner too. “You are
not
Cynthia and you do not know what she is experiencing.”

Trying to keep her emotions under control, Ruby muttered, “So what do I do now?”

“More research for a start. Find out what else could possibly be keeping her there.”

“If I’m allowed to,” Ruby replied, downcast. “Mr Kierney’s not going to be impressed we failed a second time. He may not let me try again.”

“Find a way to persuade him. You can’t leave Cynthia in the state she is in. Arm yourself with as much information as you can before you try again. Go prepared.”

A tired smile crossed Ruby’s features. “Psychic Surveys? Psychic Investigations more like.”

“All part and parcel, my dear,” Sarah smiled back at her. “Now, I think I’ll wake your mother, dinner will be ready soon.”

Ruby steeled herself as Sarah left the room, having to bolster herself before coming face to face with Jessica again; she always looked so lost it was hard to bear. Thank God her grandmother rose brilliantly to the challenge of looking after her, fussing over her as though she were a small child still, wrapping her tightly in her own special brand of love, doing her best to make an unbearable life bearable. But what would happen when Gran passed? It was a question she would only ask herself occasionally. The baton would pass to her of course and it filled her with dread. There was no way she could do as good a job as Gran did, she just wasn’t as selfless.

Whilst Sarah put the finishing touches to dinner, boiling peas to go with the shepherd’s pie she had made earlier in the day, and warming plates, Ruby sat and did a jigsaw with her mother. When Jessica had first entered the room, she had smiled at Ruby, kissed her on the cheek and then looked away. Ruby knew what to do to engage her though.

Jessica adored jigsaws, had always done apparently, since she’d been a small child. She did them avidly, day in, day out. Sarah said they helped to keep her mind occupied. Getting up and going into the living room, Ruby stopped to admire the small Christmas tree in the corner, how bright and jolly it looked. Next, she found the board upon which was scattered the pieces of her mother’s latest project, a picture detail from the Sistine Chapel in Rome – God’s finger pointing. Bringing it back to the kitchen table, her mother’s eyes lit up. Both she and Ruby got to work, her mother’s hands working swiftly, Ruby’s excruciatingly slow in comparison. Unlike her mother, she wasn’t keen on jigsaws.

“Dinner’s ready,” said her grandmother, smiling indulgently at both her daughter and granddaughter.
My two favourite people in the world,
she would often say.

Pushing the board to one side, Sarah started to dish up. Jessica’s portion was meagre compared to Ruby’s but both ate what they were given, Ruby not realising until the plate of steaming hot food was put in front of her, just how ravenous she was.

Afterwards, Sarah made coffee and the three of them retired to the living room to sit in front of the fire, Sarah and Ruby chatting, careful to refer only to mundane everyday matters, whilst Jessica stared into the distance – at what, Ruby didn’t know.

Chapter Fifteen

Ruby rose early the next morning, intending to be at her desk by nine sharp. On the doorstep of her childhood home, Sarah took hold of her hands and clasped them tightly.

“You’re special, Ruby,” she said, a light shining in her eyes, “truly deserving of the gift you’ve been given. Great-gran Rosamund would have been so proud of you. I’m proud of you. So is your mother. What you do is good, really good. Remember that.”

“I will,” said Ruby, bolstered by her words, by her unwavering belief. Ready to tackle, once again, Cynthia Hart, or any spirit trapped by fear.

Walking away, she glanced up at her mother’s bedroom window and was surprised to see her standing behind the glass; she didn’t normally wake so early.

Ruby raised a hand to wave at her but Jessica did not wave back, she just continued to stare down at her, a slight frown on her face.

***

Back in the office, the heater turned to maximum, her fingerless gloves and woollen scarf kept on for extra warmth, Ruby restrained her hair in a pony tail before calling Mr Kierney. He was, as she had predicted, far from pleased.

“Last night was the worst ever. I didn’t sleep a wink, not a bloody wink! And I’ve got an important meeting today. I blame you entirely,” he shouted down the phone.

“Mr Kierney, I apologise, but we are making progress I assure you. Some cases just... well, they just take a little extra effort, that’s all.”

“Extra effort? You’ve been here three bloody times.”

“I know, I know.” Ruby didn’t need reminding. “And all the procedures we have carried out to date usually meet with great success. Sometimes, however, a spirit is resistant and the reasons why aren’t immediately obvious. I need to investigate further, which of course, I intend to do.”

“Investigate further? Everything you need to know about her must be on the net; she was world-famous for God’s sake.”

“I know,” Ruby tried to appease. “And we’ve searched the internet as well as historical records, but so far to no avail. We’ll continue checking, obviously, and we’ll need to visit Highdown Hall again too.”

“Again? You want to come to my house again? You’ll be moving in next!”

If that’s what it takes,
Ruby was tempted to reply. Instead, she said, “Please, Mr Kierney, I intend to solve this case and at no extra charge to you. I truly believe I am close to releasing Cynthia’s spirit. Allow me to see it through.”

After a long pause during which Ruby found herself holding her breath, Mr Kierney at last graced her with a reply.

“I’m moving out, going to stay with a friend in London until this nonsense is over. I’ll give you time, Ruby, but not much, a week, no more. I plan to return to Highdown Hall with friends on Boxing Day, they’re really looking forward to spending the rest of the festive season in the country; I don’t want to let them down. Make sure she’s gone by then or mine will be the last case you work on. Do I make myself clear?”

“Perfectly,” replied Ruby through gritted teeth. Drawing a deep breath, she continued, “What about access to the house? Would you be willing to loan me a key?”

“If you want it, come and get it. I’ll be gone by lunchtime.”

Replacing the receiver, Ruby let her head fall into her hands. All other Psychic Surveys cases would have to be dealt with by Theo, Ness and Corinna whilst she concentrated on Highdown Hall. There was no way she could afford to let one failure overshadow their achievements. More than that, she couldn’t abandon Cynthia, no matter how cross she was with her right now for hurting Corinna. She’d have to dig deep, and be fast about it.

Thinking of Corinna, she phoned her next.

“Hi, hun,” she said, “how are you?”

“Hey, Ruby,” Corinna sounded chirpy enough. “I’m good, really, don’t worry about me.”

“But I am worried, I’ve never known a spirit attack before, not physically I mean. In many ways, I didn’t think it was possible. I’m so sorry.”

“No need to be, no need at all. How are you?”

Tired,
she wanted to say, and not just because of lack of sleep. Instead, she responded, “I’m good too. Listen, Corinna, if you don’t want to continue working for Psychic Surveys, I’d totally understand. What happened to you at Highdown, it was awful.”

“Ruby,” Corinna’s voice was serious now. “I know I’m not as psychic as you are, as Theo or Ness, but I’m as committed. Don’t ever doubt that.”

Ruby felt contrite that she had done so.

“I won’t, Corinna, and thanks, thank you so much. Rest today. I’ll be in touch tomorrow. I’ll pay you for today. Is that okay?”

“A duvet day sanctioned by the boss? Of course it’s okay! See you tomorrow.”

Two down, one to go – Theo.

***

Theo hadn’t been quite as accommodating as Corinna, but she didn’t sound as angry as she had done the day before. Ruby explained that Mr Kierney was giving her the key to Highdown Hall, that she was picking it up today and that he would be absent for a week.

“Which leads us up to Christmas Eve – Cynthia’s birthday and the night she died.”

“So it does,” replied Ruby, glancing at her desk calendar. “Interesting.”

“If you’re thinking of going there alone, Ruby, don’t. This spirit is the strongest we’ve encountered; I don’t want you getting hurt too.”

“I won’t,” said Ruby, but she knew as much as Theo did that it was a lie. She
did
intend to go there alone. It may be the only way of finding out what really happened that night in 1958. With no one else’s wellbeing to take into account, she could push Cynthia to remember, harder than she had done already.

“What about other cases, are there any you’d like us to help you with?” asked Theo, bringing Ruby back to the present.

“The answer machine’s beeping furiously, so on that basis, I’d say yes please.”

“I’ll pop in later this afternoon with Ness so we can sort out some kind of rota; leave you free to research Cynthia, an actress, who I’m afraid, I’m not quite as enamoured with as I used to be.”

“I’ll be back around three o’clock,” said Ruby, relieved that Theo too had no intention of abandoning her. But how much more they wanted to take of Cynthia she didn’t know.

Chapter Sixteen

Mr Kierney wouldn’t let Ruby past the front door when she turned up at Highdown Hall later that morning.

“You can do what you have to do when I’m gone,” he had said, “I want no more of it.”

Handing her a brown envelope with the key in it, he continued, “There are instructions inside on how to use the alarm system as well as the gate code. Under no circumstances leave the house unalarmed or the gates open.”

Assuring him she wouldn’t, she turned to go, glancing fleetingly up at the turret where Cynthia still resided as she did so. She was not a fan of horror films, found the scream-inducing tricks they used to frighten their audiences predictable and pathetic, but even she had half-expected a face to appear suddenly at the window, glowing white features transformed into a twisted grimace, claw-like hands reaching up to frantically scrape at the glass. She rarely felt fear, but a frisson made itself known in the pit of her stomach and refused to go away. Despite it, or maybe in spite of it, she still intended to come back – but to say she wasn’t looking forward to it was something of an understatement.