‘Please!’ pleaded Rona.
‘Come on,’ said Midge, patting her awkwardly. ‘Look, we’ll all go together, OK?’
‘Hold on to each other,’ said Harold as they made their way along the central hall. ‘I’m fairly sure the fuse box is under the stairs.’
Following in single file, they walked behind Harold as he guided them back under the staircase, coming to an abrupt stop near a cupboard door. ‘Open the door,’ he instructed Noah. With the door open, Harold reached inside and felt along the wall for the fuse box, complaining about the absence of a torch in the cupboard. ‘Got it,’ he said, running his fingers along the switches. ‘Here it is, hold on!’ With a click, the lights suddenly burst on, and Harold reappeared like a mole from its hole, blinking against the unexpected brightness.
‘Did you check for ectoplasm?’ asked Noah, anxiously.
‘No, I sodding well did not check for ectoplasm,’ replied Harold.
‘Why not?’ asked Noah.
‘Because the last I heard, ghosts don’t disconnect fuses.’
Chapter27
The kitchen was in darkness when Midge entered later, causing her to briefly wonder if the power had failed again. This didn’t bother Midge, who often ate without any lights on. Given a choice, she would have preferred to attempt most things in life in the dark. Not complete blackout, you understand, but just enough to blur the edges.
‘Do you think Rendell was a bad man?’
Midge was surprised to find Gloria sitting alone at the kitchen table, in the dark, a glass of wine in front of her.
It was an odd question and one that required some thought, causing Midge to pause her ruminations on who would fiddle with the light fuse and why. She knew Rendell had been bad, sometimes. ‘I suppose that depends on who is judging him.’ Something else occurred to her. ‘Your husband said you were a nurse at the JR. Is that the John Radcliffe Hospital in Oxford?’ she asked.
Gloria nodded.
‘Where the Cuthbert baby case was.’ And where Midge had first met Rendell. Even then, he’d had a reputation with the nurses. ‘Did you ever come across Rendell there?’
‘No,’ answered Gloria. ‘It’s where I met Andrew, though. I was actually seeing one of his colleagues at the time. Patrick Symonds.’ Midge cleared her throat, waiting for Gloria to finish. She took a sip of wine and continued, ‘But Andrew took one look and decided that he was going to have me for himself, and that was that.’
‘Oh.’ Midge pursed her lips.
‘He looks after me,’ said Gloria. ‘I know how he seems to people,but he wasn’t always like that. He gave up consulting and became a GP so he could be with me more, after... Robert.’
She stared at the table, her voice so low she was almost talking to herself.
‘Although he spends more time on the golf course than at home, now. He’s got his handicap down to twenty.’
Midge tried to smile but really had no idea what that meant.
‘Patrick Symonds has a handicap of fifteen,’ whispered Gloria. ‘Why do you think he killed himself?’
‘Who? Patrick Symonds?’ asked Midge, blinking.
‘No! Rendell.’
‘I don’t,’ replied Midge.
‘Do you believe in Noah’s murdering ghost as well?’ asked Gloria.
Midge shook her head. ‘No. But I’ll answer your question. Whether suicide or murder, in my experience, there are usually only two reasons why they happen. Money or sex.’ Midge opened the fridge door, the light briefly illuminating the two of them. Inside were the remains of Noah’s uniquely hacked artisan cheeses. ‘And possibly cheese,’ she muttered to herself.
Gloria frowned down at the wine as she swirled it around the glass.
‘It’s hard to imagine Rendell having sex.’
Midge swallowed before taking out the cheese board. ‘I try not to imagine anyone having sex.’
