Gloria Mortimer had taken a seat beside her husband, her face blotched as if she had recently been crying and her cutlery clattering against the plate due to a small tremor in her hand.
‘Have you checked your levels this morning?’ asked her husband, helping himself to the only mini packet of cereal on the table.
Gloria nodded and pushed the bacon around her plate. ‘I’m just not feeling very hungry. I didn’t sleep at all w—’
‘You need to eat, Gloria,’ Andrew interrupted in a low voice.
His wife speared a watery tomato and placed it into her mouth.
‘Although how anyone is supposed to eat this, I’ve no idea,’ herhusband complained to Harold. ‘How did you manage to burn poached eggs?’
‘I’m not even supposed to be cooking the bloody breakfast!’ Harold grumbled. ‘I only did it because Rendell hasn’t come downstairs yet.’ He pointed out of the window, where the snow had finally stopped but a thick layer of ice now covered the ground. ‘I’ve got a coach I should be digging out.’
Harold’s nose had gone purple with the cold and a drip was forming on the end.
‘Any sign of a thaw?’ asked Midge, without a hint of irony.
Harold nodded, cautiously, as he rinsed out the large Belfast sink. ‘The snow is beginning to shift. But we’re still stuck here until the firing stops and the road reopens.’
Midge, who did not want to spend any more time in Rendell’s company than was necessary, was relieved to hear that he was still in bed. Perhaps, if she finished her breakfast quickly enough, she could avoid him all day long by sequestering herself in the library.
Dr Mortimer was deep in conversation with his wife.
‘I told you, the whole thing is ridiculous...’
‘But Andrew, you said you saw the ghost yourself... surely you must believe in it now...’
He shook his head, firmly. ‘All I saw was nothing more than some second-rate special effects...’
‘You seemed pretty convinced last night,’ murmured Harold, sitting down at the table. ‘I didn’t sleep a bloody wink.’ He slurped some tea noisily, in a way that put Midge’s teeth on edge. The unaccustomed social sharing of the breakfast table was playing havoc with her nerves. To her horror, she had already witnessed Dr Mortimer double-dipping the marmalade jar. ‘Now, I’m seeing or hearing things everywhere. Footsteps in the corridor, ghosts...’ Harold shook his head. ‘I swear I just saw one nearthe bathing room, as I came round the corner. Then poof! Gone again.’
‘Perhaps we should find out what the ghost wants,’ said Gloria. ‘Give her some closure.’
‘Yes!’ said Noah excitedly, pointing at her with his Marmite soldier. ‘Exactly that! Nine out of ten ghosts are just looking to right a wrong before passing over.’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake,’ snorted Dr Mortimer. ‘Now you want to run a therapy session for the paranormal?’
‘I can’t believe Rona and I missed it,’ complained Noah, which sounded rather as if they had spent the night together. Midge wasn’t the only one who thought so.
‘Rona and I?’ winked Harold. ‘You should be so bloody lucky.’
Noah flushed and took a sip from his tea.
‘But what about Robert?’ Gloria implored her husband. ‘What if that really was him trying to talk to us during the séance? I couldn’t bear it if—’
‘Nonsense!’ Dr Mortimer’s voice burst out loudly. He lowered it slightly as Gloria shrank back. ‘Again, another bit of shameless theatrics, and when Mr Rendell finally drags himself out of bed, I will have it out with him.’
‘In my opinion, it sounds more like a residual haunting anyway,’ said Noah.
‘And what is that?’ asked Harold.
‘When the ghost is unaware of the living and is just repeating actions from the past.’
‘Oh,’ said Harold.
‘Why did you miss it?’ Midge asked Noah. ‘The ghostly sighting?’
He fidgeted on his chair. ‘I was interviewing Rendell.’
