Harold cleared his throat. ‘Right, well. There are a few local legends about spirits and such on the moors, but it’s the White Lady who haunts the Hall too. She never seemed to do much harm until Victorian times, when there were rumours of a ghostly apparition shortly before Lord Charles Atherton died. A pale young woman was seen on the moors and walking the halls of the house, and old Charles went doolally. That very Christmas Eve, he was found dead.’
‘Oh goodness,’ breathed Mrs Mortimer. Her hand shook slightly as she took a sip of water from her glass. ‘How awful.’
‘Oh yes,’ nodded Harold. ‘Charles’s two sons both died young – some say she whispered curses on the family, driving Charles mad and eventually bringing their line to an end. Ever since, whenever the ghost makes an appearance, a death is sure to follow...’
‘Typical woman.’ Rendell was back from the slot machines, andloomed over them, zipping up his coat. ‘Always nagging, even in the afterlife. Am I right?’
Dr Mortimer was the only one to laugh.
‘No one has settled in the house for long since. Apparently, the current owner is too scared to live there now, cos of the ghost,’ said Harold.
‘Why does she whisper?’ Rona asked. ‘I mean, have you noticed? Ghosts always seem to whisper, don’t they? If I was dead and had something to say, I’d be shouting it.’
Midge imagined she would.
‘She’ll be struggling to get through the electromagnetic field...’ This was from Dr Mortimer, who was smirking.
Harold pointed at him. ‘Ah, looks like we have a sceptic here, boss.’
Rona put down her drink. ‘I would hope that we are all going into this with an open mind.’
‘I’m sorry, is everything OK?’ Noah spoke instead to Mrs Mortimer, who was staring at him with an intensity that seemed strange, even to Midge. Andrew quickly placed his hand over hers and squeezed, but it wasn’t with a gentle touch. Midge, who was watching, saw the slight opening of Mrs Mortimer’s mouth from the pressure. ‘Of course, everything’s fine, isn’t it, Gloria?’ said the GP, firmly. ‘My wife just hasn’t been sleeping well lately.’
Gloria Mortimer struck Midge as a very nervy person. She was accustomed to anxious people through her forced attendance at Bridie’s WI events and wondered if perhaps Gloria taught Pilates. In her experience, Pilates instructors often brought suppressed anxiety to a whole new level.
Gloria looked quickly down at her plate. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, quietly. ‘You just remind me of someone... someone we used to know.’
Suddenly, the entire eating area was lit up by a flash of lightning, followed by a torrential hammering of hailstones that shook the wide, glass windows.
‘Come on!’ said Rendell, impatiently. ‘We need to get there before the bad weather sets in.’
As the others made their way towards the exit, Midge, who was slowed slightly by her cane and the suitcase she insisted on dragging, overhead Harold muttering to Rendell behind her, ‘I told you this trip was a bad idea.’
‘If you hadn’t wasted so much time holding court, we’d have been on the road half an hour ago,’ said Rendell, wringing his hands. ‘We need to get there by five, else there’s a strong chance the road will get blocked by the snow.’
‘You should have cancelled the whole thing,’ said Harold in a low voice. ‘Paid them their money back.’
‘With what?’ hissed Rendell, pushing past him and Midge, through the revolving doors and out into the hail and sleet.
When the coach started up once again, the vibrations of the engine were enough to rattle the toilet door beside her. It seemed to have come ajar during lunch. Leaning across, she pushed the door with her cane to click it shut. Perhaps one of the others had preferred to take their chances with a broken toilet rather than the germ roulette of a service station restroom.
Rendell was standing up by his seat next to Harold. ‘Plenty of room, then, so feel free to take a row each, those of you who like to spread out.’ Was he looking directly at her? The weight gain was probably the reason he didn’t recognize her. She’d always been big, but previously active and reasonably fit. But then, after everything that had happened with the baby incident, she’d just given up. First it was the weight, then the stick when walking became too much of an effort. And not long after that, the Hercule Poirot jokes had started – which was a bit unfair, Midge thought, because she always shaved her moustache on workdays.
See, that was humour. And now she was so exhausted, she had no choice but to nap for the rest of the journey to Atherton Hall.
Chapter3
Despite her best intentions to sleep through until they reached the Hall, Midge was woken by the slamming of doors from the undercarriage and an unnecessary amount of swearing. Her knee throbbed slightly from the awkward angle she had dozed in, and the nylon seat cover was prickling the back of her legs.
‘They’re putting snow chains on the wheels,’ explained Noah who, she noticed, had taken the opportunity to stretch his legs out across the aisle.
Thick snowflakes were already obscuring the view through the windows, but Midge could just make out Harold beside the coach as he shuttled backwards and forwards between the wheels. Directly below Midge’s window was Rona, smoking a cigarette as she huddled inside a fur coat. To Midge’s surprise, she appeared to be deep in conversation with Dr Mortimer, who was standing with his back to the window.
‘Goodness,’ said Midge before adding hopefully, ‘Will we have to turn back?’
Disappointingly, Noah shook his head. ‘To be honest,’ he said, ‘we may as well carry on, otherwise we’ll be waiting to be dug out.’
Would that be such a bad thing?wondered Midge. No one could say she hadn’t tried. After all, even Bridie couldn’t complain if they were brought home early by the rescue services. But then she remembered the toilet was broken, and so decided to wish the wheel chains every good luck.
