Chapter FIFTEEN
I’d managed to avoid the afternoon tea, but there was no way I could absent myself from the Hallowe’en dinner.
Apart from anything else, I was actually really hungry!
I inspected myself anxiously in the mirror. I was wearing heels and my slim-fitting black jersey dress which always seemed to draw compliments. It was my go-to outfit when I wanted to feel confident and in control, and tonight I’d pinned on the large diamante spider brooch I’d found in a charity shop. I’d put my hair up to show off the stunning silver drop earrings I’d bought for the occasion – each one a delicate spider’s web with a tiny spider in residence, hanging from a leafy twig. They were fun but also a work of art, and I liked the way the earrings grazed my neck when I moved.
Downstairs, I found a crowd gathered in the morning room sampling the Hallowe’en cocktails that the café girls had mixed specially for the pre-dinner drinks. I’d heard that the original experiment had resulted in a spot of pole-dancing on Sunnybrook High Street and quite a few sore heads the next day.
Among the tantalising offerings were th.
‘Shark Shocker’, which had miniature versions of the star of ‘Jaws’
swimming around in it; ‘Witches’
Brew’, an interesting shade of green with a spider balanced on the ice cubes; and th.
‘Zombie Smash’, which apparently contained gin, vodka and rum, with muddled strawberries to give it a bloody red tinge.
Maddy had reassured me that tonight’s cocktails were nothing like as eye-watering as the originals.
That being said, one sip of the vodka-stron.
‘Bloody Eyeball’
(a lychee with a cherry in the middle conjured up a disgusting eyeball surprisingly effectively!) and I had a feeling I’d better not finish it if I wanted to stay in control of my emotions. And I definitely needed to do that with Mark around!
He and Fiona hadn’t arrived yet and I wondered if they’d be taking photos of the Hallowe’en dinner. It would be a shame if they didn’t because there were some fantastically spooky costumes in the room – and some that were just plain daft!
There were skeletons and witches with pointy hats and a few sexy black cats with cute ears and tails, but it was Bertha and Maddy who were causing the most amusement. Bertha looked as if she was being strangled by a very large hairy spider that was wound around her neck like a massive scarf, and Maddy had literally poked some holes in a white sheet, trimmed it to mid-thigh-length, and popped it over her head. She was wearing it with sheer tights and the highest spangled silver heels I’d ever seen in my life. I felt quite boring by comparison in my black dress and spider brooch!
The stars of the evening, Sylvia and Mick, looked actually rather sophisticated as Morticia and Gomez from The Adams Family, Sylvia in a slinky black number and a long black wig, and Mick rather dapper in a pinstripe suit, black wig and a fake moustache.
After a while, people started filtering through to the dining room. Mark still hadn’t arrived and I suddenly realised he was probably already in the dining room, he and Fiona needing to stay sober to do their job.
I excused myself and nipped to the downstairs loo to check my make-up and to summon up the courage to go into the dining room.
Standing outside with most people already in there, my heart beat a rapid rhythm in my chest. I was used to having TV cameras trained on me. Even speaking in front of a live audience held no fear for me these days.
But walking into that dining room, where I knew Mark would be, was taking every single ounce of my courage and more!
Taking a deep breath, I turned the doorknob and went in. And to my relief, as I took my seat at the long, sumptuously decorated table, I realised that Mark and Fiona weren’t even there yet. The relief I felt was quickly followed by a feeling of nausea as my mind flitted to wondering what they were doing.
Maybe they’d gone home instead of staying over?
But looking out into the darkness at the rain battering the windows, it seemed unlikely. Even more so when Mick announced he’d seen on the local news that the roads in the neighbourhood were flooded – completely impassable, he said.
‘There’s been an accident with a car ending up in the river,’
he said, and everyone gasped.
‘No casualties, thank goodness, but it’s fierce out there. And sadly, the band I booked for tomorrow have just phoned and cancelled because of the weather conditions and the state of the roads.’
I glanced at Sylvia, hoping she wasn’t too downhearted about this, and I was struck by how pale she looked in the black wig. I suddenly wondered if maybe she’d forgotten to take her medication. She really didn’t look well. Or was I fussing too much?
Everyone had fallen silent to hear what Mick was saying, so when the door suddenly creaked open, a few people jumped and exclaimed out loud, making everyone laugh.
It was Mark and Fiona (Fiona in devil’s horns and Mark wearing a scary scream mask), apologising profusely for being late but explaining that they’d been poring over the photos they’d taken that day and had forgotten the time.
‘No apology needed,’
smiled Mick, standing up.
‘Now that we’re all here, I’ll go and tell Joyce and Evelyn that they can start serving the first course.’
As he left, Maddy asked.
‘Anyone know the story behind how this place came to be haunted?’
Fen (a black cat) shuddered.
‘Ooh, I’m not sure I want to know the details.’
She grinned.
‘They’re sure to be gruesome and I’m already more creeped out than I’d like to be, just knowing the hall might be haunted!’
‘But the whole point of Hallowe’en is to be scared,’
pointed out Katja (witch) with a chuckle.
‘So I think we should know.’
At that point, Joyce and Evelyn came in with the starters on trays, also wearing devil’s horns.
‘Your first course, ladies and gentlemen, is a take on pasta primavera,’
announced Joyce.
‘imaginatively named “pasta scream-avera”!’
Mark took the opportunity to whisk off his mask and take some photos of us all with our starters. And then we tucked into the delicious pasta dish, laughing over the mozzarella balls that had been cleverly shaped into spooky-looking skulls for the occasion. And Sylvia related the story she’d told me, about the doomed Lord Fortescue and his poor, grieving widow, Lady Annabel, who was said to haunt the hall.
When she’d finished, there was a stunned silence around the table as everyone processed her morbid tale. The atmosphere in the room had subtly darkened and the silence seemed to suggest that everyone was feeling it.
Even Chantelle (no costume) looked dumbstruck.
I shivered as a tree tapped on the black window opposite, like a creature of the dead wanting to get in.
But that was nothing compared to what happened next.
From out in the entrance hall came the sound of three high-pitched screams . . .