The Haunting of Highdown Hall (28 page)

Cash’s brow furrowed as he cast his mind back.

“Yeah, that’s right. I remember now. You mentioned a crash, something about residual feelings...”

“Yes, really heightened emotions, not just the shock of realising death was imminent but anger and triumph too, bitter triumph. You made that joke about the lottery. I assumed the crash had been recent, in the past few years or so. After all, residual feelings don’t come with a date stamped on them. But it could just as easily have been from many years before, from 1958 in fact.”

“David Levine, you mean?”

Nodding, Ruby continued, “I think it’s where David Levine passed. Esme said he had looked flustered when he left Highdown Hall. I wonder why? And also, why the dark feelings? Were they to do with Cynthia? Had she crossed him in some way?”

“How do we find out?”

“Research again, but also by mentioning his name to Cynthia, to gauge what sort of a reaction we’ll get.”

“It could be as extreme as last time,” said Cash, wary.

“It could be. It’s a chance we’ll have to take.”

While Cash mulled over what she had said, Ruby made a quick phone call to Theo, eager to tell her what they had learnt from Esme.

“David Levine? I’ll Google him, see what I can find out.”

Ruby explained about the box.

“Have you looked through it?” asked Theo.

“No, not yet, but I intend to soon.”

“Let me know if you find anything significant.”

“I will, thanks, Theo.”

“Shall we meet up tomorrow morning to discuss our findings?”

“Tomorrow morning would be perfect, say half past ten?” said Ruby. “I’ll text Corinna and Ness and let them know. After the meeting though, we should rest, no more work.”

“Absolutely,” agreed Theo, “rest is imperative. We need to face Highdown Hall with all cylinders firing. All else can wait until after Christmas, except emergencies of course.”

“Of course,” said Ruby, remembering the pact they’d made when she’d started the business, never to turn down a distress call. And there was no doubt about it, Christmas could be a busy time, a time when energies in this world and the next stirred themselves even more than usual, an emotional time for so many, not just the living, and not always joyful. But for now, all other cases would be on hold, for a short time anyway.

As she ended the call, Cash came up behind her.

“Did I hear you say there’s no more work until the big one?” he murmured into her ear.

“You did indeed,” she turned to smile at him. “We need to save ourselves for Highdown.”

“Well, for the rest of the day, can we save ourselves at a pub I know in the West End?”

“We can, but let’s head to that café we passed on the way first. What was it called? The Mock Turtle or something? I’d like to have a quick look through the box.”

The café was indeed called The Mock Turtle and it promised not only the finest cakes in the East End of London but also delicious Lavazza coffee. It was also shut.

“Where now?” sighed Cash.

Ruby looked around. There was no other café within sight. Unable to wait any longer, she opened the box and looked inside.

“Anything interesting?” Cash’s voice was eager.

“Hmmm, not really.” Ruby couldn’t help it, she was disappointed. “Just more magazine and newspaper clippings, I’ve seen most of them before already.” Her shoulders slumping, she continued, “I suppose it’s to be expected Cynthia would have collected such things.”

“Maybe she was looking through them, just before the party? A little reminder of how famous she was?”

“Maybe...” Ruby conceded.

Stepping closer, Cash pointed to one of the cuttings in Ruby’s hand.

“Who’s that?”

Ruby looked again. This piece didn’t appear to concern Cynthia at all; instead it featured a head shot of a rather glamorous man, another actor by the looks of it.

Reading the caption, she discovered he was indeed an actor called Ron Mason who had the same sort of distinguished, serious air about him as his contemporary Sir Laurence Olivier. Although Ruby had never heard of him, he looked familiar.

Cash seemed to think so too.

“He reminds me of someone,” he said. Not even two seconds later, he added, a note of triumph in his voice: “He reminds me of Cynthia.”

Yes!
Ruby’s excitement stirred again. Mason had the same shape face as Cynthia, the same dazzling smile. Although the cutting was black and white, she would have bet anything he had also had the same red hair and blue eyes – twinkling blue eyes in fact. The cutting was dated 1941 and the man looked to be in his late thirties.

Stuffing the rest of the articles back into the box but holding that particular one aloft, she turned to Cash. “We need to do some research on this man, Ron Mason.”

“He looks like a relation, what do you think?”

“He could be, perhaps even Cynthia’s father – maybe he wasn’t ‘unknown’ after all.”

Cash had already got his iPhone out and was Googling the name but unfortunately the search engine was having trouble loading. “Damn,” he swore under his breath.

“Look, don’t worry about it for now.” Ruby carefully folded the newspaper cutting and slipped it into her coat pocket. “We’ll look into it when we get back to Lewes. We’ve got our work cut out though; we need to find out about him
and
David Levine now.”

“Whoever
he
is,” replied Cash.

Ruby nodded. “Well, if Google can’t tell us, perhaps Cynthia can.”

Cash looked at his watch. “Pub?”

“Are you trying to get me drunk again, Cash Wilkins?”

“Ruby Davis... it’s not just ghosts you can see through, is it?”

***

“Here it is,” Cash announced proudly. “The Angel and Crown. One of the finest hostelries in London.”

“Really?” Ruby was unconvinced. “It looks a bit of a dive to me.”

Its once grand Victorian facade had indeed fallen on hard times, many of its dark green tiles were chipped and its rusty old hanging baskets, which might have cheered it up in spring, dangled sad and empty. Only the golden lanterns, placed at intervals around the exterior, looked as though they were taken pride in, they had obviously been recently polished and sent out a soft glow into the winter gloom.

Cash was undeterred by her general lack of enthusiasm.

“This is a real old London boozer this is,” he continued, beaming at her. “Your typical gin palace. How a real pub should be. Come on, let’s go inside.”

As numerous shadows at the windows suggested, the inside was heaving, full of people revving up for the Christmas holidays. So authentic in its ‘London-ness’ it was almost a parody of itself, Ruby did indeed love it – despite being a bit on the tatty side it had atmosphere in buckets, and the fairy lights strung around the bar in honour of the looming holiday gave the whole place a somewhat surreal feel. Laughter filled the air.

“There’s actually a seat over there,” said Cash, having to shout to make himself heard. “I’ll get the drinks. They’ve got mulled wine on the go; do you fancy some of that?”

“Ooh, yes please,” replied Ruby, squeezing past various revellers towards the corner Cash had pointed at. Seating herself on the end of a long burgundy velvet seat, the rest of it occupied by a huddled group of friends, she pulled a vacant stool close to her. Placing the box on her lap, her hands hovered protectively over it.

When Cash eventually returned, he took up residence on the stool. As there was so little room, he had to lean in close, snaking his arm around the back of her. Although she knew it was mainly for reasons of balance, she couldn’t deny she liked the feel of it. He had opted for mulled wine too, both of them clearly relishing its spicy warmth – cloves, cinnamon and nutmeg, shot through with orange and ginger.

After a few more sips, Cash suggested they take another look through the box.

“No, not here, it’s far too busy. Like I said, we’ll have time later.”

“Fair enough,” said Cash. “Hey, I never asked you. Did you finish that book?”

“What book?”

“
Drive Like Hell.
”

“Oh yeah,” laughed Ruby, recalling the way they’d met. “I loved it, it was really good. Did you finish it?”

“Almost, not quite. Got a few pages to go still. Glad to note Wes Freed didn’t let me down with his book recommendation though.”

It felt nice talking about ‘normal’ things. And she could do that with Cash. He was just as happy to talk about books and music as he was about the paranormal. He seemed to take life, death and everything in between in his stride. Perhaps it would be okay to take their relationship further. Perhaps he wouldn’t run. He might be the one to stick around.

They shared a bottle of wine next, a surprisingly good Shiraz considering it was a pub. Cash then declared he was hungry.

“I don’t know where you put it,” Ruby said, eyeing his lean frame.

“Hollow legs, that’s what my mum says. Shall we go and eat?”

The mention of his mum reminded Ruby of Daisy.

“Oh God, the dog. We need to go and get her.”

“She’ll be fine with Mum, she loves dogs, she’ll be spoiling her rotten, believe me. I’ll text to let her know we’ll be back a bit later than we thought.”

Still Ruby hesitated.

“We should really get back now. Start finding out what we can about Levine and Mason.”

“Theo’s got Levine covered,” Cash was persuasive. “She’ll find out all there is to know.”

“Hmmm,” said Ruby, still contemplating. He was right though, one of Theo’s fortes was research, ferreting out facts and figures. Levine was in capable hands and they could look up Mason tomorrow.

“Okay,” she conceded, feeling hungry herself all of a sudden, though for what exactly, she wasn’t sure.

“Just don’t let me drink too much; I don’t want to end up mislaying this box.”

“You won’t, I’ll make sure of it,” replied Cash, winking at her.

***

They ate at a French food restaurant in the theatre district. Although part of a well-known chain, the atmosphere was good and the food above average. Choosing the normal menu over the festive one, Cash ordered a rib-eye steak; she ordered the risotto, both of them declaring their dishes delicious. After some comfortingly mundane chat, Cash started telling her more about his background: his absent father, his wonderful mother, ‘the best cook in the world’ apparently, and his older brother, Presley, a motorcycle courier by day and a guitarist in a band by night, their mother’s obvious love of music running deep in his veins too.

“And what about you,” she asked, “do you play any instruments?”

“I used to play the drums. Played in a band too, just locally, pubs and stuff. The band broke up a couple of years ago; I haven’t played much since then.”

“Do you miss it?”

“Yeah, a bit. I might find myself another band soon.”

“What sort of music did you play?” asked Ruby, bursting with questions, suddenly wanting to know everything there was to know about the man sitting opposite her.

“Prog rock but with a harder edge.”

“And what was the band’s name?”

“Eagle Rare,” he said, smiling shyly at her.

“Unusual name,” she said, loving this new coy side to him.

“It’s after an unusual whiskey, available by mail order from America.”

“Now that I’d like to try,” she replied, unable to keep her flirty nature at bay.

“For you, I’d crack it open anytime,” he countered, just as suggestively.

Feeling herself blush, she brought the conversation back round to music.

“Presley’s band, are they good?”

“Thousand Island Park? They’re brilliant. They’ve got a gig coming up in February, in Essex, do you fancy going?”

“I’d love to,” said Ruby, chuffed he was making plans for them so far ahead.

Cash managed to squeeze in a chocolate mousse but Ruby opted for a cappuccino instead. Woozy from the wine they had drunk, she felt unsteady as they rose to go. Seemingly unaffected by his quota, Cash reached out a helping hand, a hand she wanted him to keep in place, to never take away. He seemed to realise this; his expression became more serious, his eyes intense, the way they had looked on that night they had first kissed – all-consuming. A night that seemed so long ago now – not just mere weeks.

Realising it must look odd; the pair of them, standing in a packed restaurant, staring at each other, Ruby broke the connection. As she tried to make a steady exit, Cash called after her.

“Ruby? Haven’t you forgotten something?”

Confused, she turned back.

Looking at the box, she muttered, “Honestly, Cash, what would I do without you?”

“You’ve got me; you don’t need to worry on that score.”

His words, although delivered casually, felt like they had set off bubbles of happiness inside her, rising up like champagne. Taking the box from him and turning on her heel, she practically floated outside.