Ghost Order

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

County Cork, Ireland

Frank Bowen headed up the winding lane, cutting through endless fields until he came to a crossroads and stopped to consult the map. He knew it was around here somewhere, but the fact that it was hard to find was a good thing.

He pulled the rented Audi A3 into gear and drove straight across, towards the grey sky opening up ahead. Fast-moving clouds painted a stark backdrop behind a row of silhouetted trees. At a fork in the road that he recognised from the map, Frank drove onto a narrow lane and followed the twisting uphill road for several miles. He was soon passing old houses and farms, with their tumbling stone walls and towering corrugated hay sheds dotted here and there, and then came to an open five-bar gate partly obscured by a group of trees.

This must be it.

He drove along the track, mostly unused judging by the long grass sprouting from the occasional crack in the road, until a farmhouse came into view. As he pulled into the courtyard a spectacular vista of a lush green rolling valley with a dark blue sea sparkling in the distance came into view. A green Ford Explorer was already parked up on the gravel and a young man, who Frank guessed was the estate agent, was speaking into his mobile. He gave Frank a wave of his hand and finished his call.

Frank parked up, exited his rental car and nodded at the man.

“Mr Hales. How’re ya doing? Grand day for it?” he responded cheerfully.

Any day, it seemed, was a good day when it wasn’t raining in Ireland.

Frank gave an easy smile, almost forgetting he’d used an alias. “As long as it’s dry, Mr O’Farrell.” He turned to the main house, looking up at the roof as if surveying it. “So this is the Manor House?” he quipped.

The young estate agent nodded, following Frank’s gaze. “Aye, it was a farm for many years. It’s a great property but, as I said, has been on the market for a while. Let me show you around inside first, so.”

They toured the farmhouse. It had a large central kitchen with wood-burning stove and an impressive dining room, as well as a front living room. Upstairs were four spacious bedrooms and an attic that spanned across the top of the building. The curtains were faded as were the carpets and the walls showed evidence of scuff marks and scrapes. The air inside was musty and beams of dust-laden sunlight streamed through the windows, adding to the sense of neglect and abandonment.

However, Frank warmed to it straight away. It felt like a home. They then walked down to a dimly lit basement, divided into two rooms. The stone walls were covered with dark soot, old rusty farm gear was scattered on the concrete ground, and old wood shelves creaked with tins of paint and boxes of forgotten tools.

They walked back outside. “It comes with around two acres of pastureland, including the cow shed over there,” the young agent gestured at the curved roof. “You could take it down, I guess.” They walked to a stone building that had presumably been used for wood storage, but was now simply piled high with discarded furniture and rusting appliances, junk the previous owners had seemingly thrown inside from the house.

A small patch of woodland stretched from one side of the property for a few hundred yards with a stone wall cutting across. “That’s part of the property boundary, up to the wall,” the agent explained with a sweeping hand.

“How come no one’s been interested?” Frank asked, turning to O’Farrell who made a face as if the answer personally puzzled him. “Just one of those properties that doesn’t get sufficient interest, so. There were some offers but they just fell through.”

Frank looked around again. It was a contender and, due to the lack of offers, it was highly likely he could negotiate hard on a price reduction. He would, however, need to carefully consider his dwindling finances and personal situation before making any commitment.