‘He runs thePhantom Filesmonthly podcast. My competitor, you could call him. Can you believe his real name is George Ryland? Should be called thePhoney Files.’
From the sounds of it, everyone was now jostling with eachother to pull on the handle. ‘This is useless,’ cried Harold. ‘We’ll just have to wait until that woman realizes we’re shut in and opens it from the other side.’
Midge frowned into the darkness, inhaling deeply as her nose filled with the smell of woodsmoke.
‘Who?’ asked Noah.
‘You know, the fat one, what’s her name... Marge? Isn’t she in the kitchen?’
Midge held her breath, becoming very still.
‘Oh yes,’ exclaimed Rona, in relief. ‘Midge will get us out.’
Midge sighed. Being once more overlooked created rather a dilemma for her. Announcing her presence now would prove dreadfully awkward for everyone, wouldn’t it? Far better to make her escape while still unnoticed and save the others from any further humiliation.
‘What if something happens to her, though?’ Rona suddenly announced, hysterically. ‘The tarot card? Remember? What if she’s been murdered or decapitated by the ghost?’
‘Well, we’re a bit buggered, then,’ said Harold. ‘Someone will have to go out in the snow and hope one of the doors is unlocked.’
‘Being decapitated by a ghostisbeing murdered by one,’ said Noah. ‘And you shouldn’t always assume that ghosts are psychopathic murderers, you know. It’s racial profiling, when you think about it.’
‘Get this bloody door open now!’
Turning around, Midge contemplated the window, covered again entirely by its heavy curtains. Using the end of her cane to avoid any more potential obstructions, she made her way slowly back towards the glass, the noise of her steps covered by the arguing from the others.
The bottom of the cane connected softly with the bottom of the French window. Moving her hand out, she felt with her fingers until they grazed against the handle. Clutching it, she pushed thewindow to open it wider, the bite of the wintry late-evening air immediately cooling her flushed cheeks.
Silently, she stepped out into the night, gently closed the door and made her way around the side of the house, feeling with her hand along the rough outer wall, while her cane swept forwards and backwards, identifying any rogue stones in the snow until she had reached the main entrance. The entire house was in blackout, forcing the early stars into a persistent brightness above the roof. She pushed against the front door, mercifully unlocked, and walked into the hall, carefully reaching out for the panels, guided by the noises coming from the drawing room.
‘Midge!’ Rona was shouting. ‘We’re stuck in the drawing room. Can you come and let us out?’
When she reached the doorway, she put her hand on the handle and turned. It immediately twisted and the door opened with a slight click, revealing the shadows of the others behind it.
‘Is that you, Midge?’ exclaimed Harold. ‘There’s a power cut, the door’s jammed.’
‘Oh, thank God!’ Rona threw her arms around Midge, accidentally cuffing her ear in the dark. ‘We thought something dreadful had happened.’
‘See, I told you so,’ said the doctor, appearing beside her. ‘No need for everyone to panic.’
‘These old houses are all the same,’ said Harold, pushing past Midge. ‘Nothing works and everything’s stiff.’
An apt description of you, too, thought Midge. ‘Odd that the door could be opened from one side and not the other, though,’ she said to no one in particular.
‘I told you, it was the White Lady,’ said Noah.
‘Now, let’s get these lights back on,’ said Harold. ‘I’ll go and check the fuse...’ He paused for a moment, the whites of his eyes visible in the darkness of the hall. ‘Unless anyone wants to come with me.’
‘It’s a sign,’ muttered Rona, who was now painfully clasping Midge’s hand. She could feel the shaking through her clothes. ‘We’ve got to stick together, especially you, Midge. Remember the tarot.’
‘It’s just a stupid card, Rona,’ said Noah.
‘NO!’ Rona was getting breathless. ‘No one go anywhere.’
‘We can’t all stand here in the dark for ever,’ pointed out Midge, and besides, her hand was starting to hurt.
‘It’s a surge in the EMF,’ said Noah.
‘Great, you can come with me, then,’ said Harold.
