Jake Conley Mysteries Collection - Books 5-7

Chapter 2-2

Arthur’s mind was troubled too, but for another reason. As he biked back to work that afternoon he pondered over his wife’s strange behaviour. What on earth had possessed her to move the heavy bedroom furniture around in her condition?”

At the same time Becky murmured, “How could I tell him the truth? He’d think me out of my mind.” She sat down in the armchair next to the hearth and reflected on the morning’s strange events. Roy was at school and Arthur was at work and she decided to have a break from housework with a cup of tea.” Sir John looked at his father as if for confirmation that his facts were correct. The old man waved him on. Hesitating for a moment as if he’d lost the thread, he said, “Ah, yes …she carried it into the living room and that was when she saw an old woman with a black book in her lap seated in a rocking chair by the hearth. Becky felt a chill run up and down her spine. The fine hairs on her arm stood on end and she was rooted to the spot unable to move, while the air around her felt cold.”

As for Jake, a familiar dull ache between his eyebrows told him that the tale had psychic importance to him. He rubbed his temples and the old man grinned a toothless smile. Struggling to latch on to the story again, he heard Sir John say, “…Grandma knew at once that this was the old woman who was said to haunt the house, but like Arthur she’d dismissed talk of ghosts as nonsense. Yet she wasn’t afraid. There was something kind about the old woman’s wrinkly face and its gentle smile. But there was something else in her expression, Becky thought, what was it, concern?”

“As she thought this, the old woman pointed towards the ceiling. Becky’s eyes followed the finger upwards. It was in that instant that her head filled with the urgent need to move the bedroom furniture around. When she looked back the old woman had disappeared and in the place of the rocking chair was Becky’s familiar armchair. With notable courage, Becky sat down there with her cup of tea. She hadn’t imagined the old woman, she knew that —and another thing, the room was warm again. Becky sipped her tea. “So, I’ve seen the ghost,” she thought. She knew that there were people in Covenham who’d believe her, more than once she’d heard the tragic tale of the old woman’s death recounted in awed tones by one or other of the villagers; she knew equally well that Arthur would tease her if she uttered even one word about a ghost. When she finished her tea, Becky went into the bedroom. After an hour’s exertion, the layout of the bedroom was different, she’d even managed to shift the heavy wardrobe. She couldn’t explain why, but she knew this task was urgent. Why it was so pressing, she had no idea.”

So, I’ve seen the ghostAlice stared at Jake, who was tense and pale. She knew him well enough by now to see that this tale was having a profound effect on him. Could it be that AA had hit upon something that his old public-school mate had told him and thought it worthy of Jake’s attentions? She wondered where all this was leading.

“Father came back from school at half-past four,” Sir John continued, “At a quarter-past five Arthur was back home and sniffing the air at the door. “I reckon there’s a storm brewing, Bubs, the air’s far too still.”

“Put the wood in the hole, Arthur,” she said, using one of his own favourite expressions for shutting the door, “you’re letting all the heat out of the room.”

The evening passed much as usual. Roy was asleep by eight o’clock and Becky and Arthur went up to bed around half-past ten. What a gale was blowing! The rain lashed against the sash windows. These were draughty old windows Becky thought as she snuggled down even further under the eiderdown. She worried that Roy wouldn’t be warm enough and then thought that if she put any more bedding on him, she’d crush him. Anyway, he had an earthenware hot water bottle in with him. She relaxed, cuddled up to her husband and drifted into an uneasy sleep. Meanwhile, the storm got worse. About one o’clock Becky woke with a start. The wind was howling like a tortured beast in a steel-fanged trap. She gasped as the gale flung something against the rattling window, maybe the branch of a tree.

Thank goodness it didn’t break the glass.

Thank goodness it didn’t break the glass.Lightning flashed overhead and lit up the curtains that rose and fell in the draught, like arms raised in anguish. Tense, Grandma lay listening to the small skeleton of the cottage groan and creak under its skin of plaster, while the sounds of water sluicing from the drainpipes and the rain driven against the panes were drowned by the roar of thunder that woke even the deep-sleeping Arthur. Just then the old mortar on the chimney gave way. Like bombardment on the Western Front, there was a deafening crash as the whole stack broke loose and crashed through the tiled roof and through the bedroom ceiling in a cloud of dust and debris. Even in her terrified state Becky realised:

It’s come down where our bed would have been if I hadn’t moved it.

It’s come down where our bed would have been if I hadn’t moved it.Roy woke with his heart pounding fit to burst and his face white with dust. Tears washed two flesh-coloured lines down the dust mask as he howled for his mother, but Becky screamed as her contractions began and that morning Roy had a little brother, Kenneth, born three months before his time.”

Sir John stood, crossed over to the dresser and poured himself another whisky. Without a word, he waved the bottle at Jake.

“Don’t mind if I do. Thank you.” When the barrister settled back into his armchair, Jake told him, “You know, that’s a fascinating story and whilst I believe that your father,” he glanced at the old man, whose head had dropped onto his chest and whose breathing was deep and regular, “saw a ghost, it could be argued that his mother had a premonition. But given the circumstances, I feel sure the ghost saved the family that night.”

“By Jove, father has told that story to many people, believe me, but I must say, you are the first that’s sounded so convinced.” He gave Jake a warm smile and added, “Clive told me you were the chappie to get to the bottom of our mystery and I believe he’s right.”

“I’ve had more than a little experience of the supernatural, Sir John, and I feel sure that the ghost was trying to tell your father by gestures that —”

“Yes! Oh sorry to interrupt. My enthusiasm, I’m afraid it gets the better of me. You were going to say that there was something in the stair wall, I think.”

“I was. Is that what your father believes?”

“It is.”

“Has neither of you been back to find out? I presume the cottage is still standing?”

“Yes, but abandoned for years. The villagers won’t go near it. Many still think it’s haunted even in this day and age. I imagine it would cost a pretty penny to restore the place and with it being small, pokey by today’s standards, who would take it on? Father never did go back, but he’s often wondered whether there was something in the wall. Now he’s very old, I believe it’s become an obsession to unveil the mystery. And, frankly, I’m far too busy.”

“It’s fascinating. I think you’d better tell me how to find Rose Cottage and anything you think might help an investigation, Sir John.”

“Well…”

By the time he’d finished and arranged for them to sleep in his guest room, plus granting them the loan of his Land Rover, both Jake and Alice were happy to retire to discuss what they had heard. The plan was to go to Covenham St. Mary the next morning.