‘And I thought the police were supposed to have some kind of integrity,’ said Rona, shaking her head.
‘Well, that’s your first mistake there,’ snorted Harold, rubbing at his shirt more vigorously.
Midge shifted uncomfortably, suddenly acutely aware of the splintered grain in the wooden chair underneath her.
‘I don’t care what you say,’ Noah huffed. ‘Rendell’s death is proof of a malevolent entity in this house – perhaps even the White Lady of the Moor.’
Harold snorted again. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
‘No, listen. At the séance, Rendell saw something at the window, after it blew open all by itself. It was the Lady showing herself to him as a warning before he died.’
‘The only lady showing herself in windows is Midge,’ scoffed Harold, no doubt alluding to her brief performance in the bathing room. Midge flushed from her neck upwards.
‘You can’t deny the existence of the ghost,’ said Noah, pointing back at the doctor. ‘Even Dr Mortimer saw her.’
‘Well...’ said the doctor.
‘Come on, the parallels are obvious!’ Noah exclaimed. ‘Charles Atherton was driven mad by a ghost! A white figure, just like you both saw.’
‘Dreaming,’ said Midge. ‘There’s nothing in the family doctor’s account to suggest that Charles Atherton was having anything other than a nightmare.’
‘OK,’ said Noah. ‘But according to the doctor’s diary he was found dead in the bath, just like Rendell. Surely, you can’t think it’s a coincidence?’
‘A coincidence is far more likely than a ghost,’ replied Midge, firmly.
‘Tea, anyone?’ Rona got up to lift the kettle on to the ring of the Aga. ‘What do we do now, then? Surely, we can’t stay in this house?’ she asked. ‘Why is this bloody thing not switching on?’
Harold stepped up behind her and placed the kettle back on to its electric mount, before flicking on the power switch. He stopped suddenly. ‘What the...?’ He was pointing at the tall duck-blue wooden sideboard.
The row of dinner plates along the top shelf had started shaking against the backboard.
‘What is it?!’ shrieked Rona, her eyes wide with terror as she backed towards the door. ‘What’s happening?’
Suddenly, a china plate to the left of the row toppled off the shelf, smashing to the ground and splintering into a thousand tiny shards.
‘It’s the ghost!’ cried Noah, rapturously. ‘It’s trying to tell us something!’
‘The only thing it’s telling me is that I’ve lost my deposit!’ shouted the doctor over the noise of the bucking sideboard.
Smash went another plate, dropping to the ground as the rattling of the wood intensified.
‘Tell it to stop!’ shouted Harold.
‘Stand back!’ ordered the doctor, unnecessarily in Midge’s opinion, as no one other than Rona was moving. ‘And make sure you’re wearing shoes.’
Midge, who had no idea why he thought she would suddenly feel compelled to go barefoot, watched as the end plate shook precariously close to the edge.
They held their breath, eyes fixed on the last dinner plate of the set.
The rattling stopped, leaving the final plate intact but alone and bereft of company.
Noah gave a whoop of joy and fist-pumped the air. ‘A-mazing!’ Then suddenly his face fell.
‘You forgot to record it, didn’t you?’ smirked Harold.
Rona sat down again and pulled out her roll-up pouch with trembling hands. ‘That was insane...’ She trailed off, shaking her head.
Gloria was on her knees, picking up the pieces of crockery.
