Chapter 19
DANNY
The flat above the hairdressing salon hadn’t been their choice, but once he and Brooke had arrived at Harling Hall that fateful night, most of the decisions had been taken out of their hands and, at the time, they’d been grateful for it.
Lawrie had ushered them into a cosy living room, where they were joined moments later by a rather grand gentleman in Victorian clothes, who’d introduced himself as Aubrey Wyndham, and a flustered looking woman in old-fashioned nightclothes who Aubrey said was his wife, Agnes.
There’d then followed quite the discussion, as Lawrie, Agnes, Aubrey, Peter and Isaac tried to explain what their presence in Rowan Vale meant, and what should happen next.
‘You’re saying we can’t go home?’ Danny had said, aghast. ‘We can’t ever go back to see our families?’
‘I’m afraid not,’ Lawrie had replied, shaking his head sadly. ‘Your boundaries will be those of the Harling Estate. You were very close to the edge of it, actually. A few more yards and you’d have been out of it, and who knows where you’d have found yourselves then. You were very lucky.’
‘Lucky?’ Brooke had gasped. ‘I don’t see what’s lucky about being killed in a car accident when I’m only twenty-five and I can’t ever get home to see my family again.’
‘Well of course, that’s not ideal,’ Lawrie had agreed, with breathtaking understatement, ‘but what I mean is that if you’re going to be a ghost, believe me you can’t do better than to be a ghost in this lovely little village of ours.
You’ll have plenty of company for a start, and we believe in making our guests very comfortable. ’
‘So you’re not a ghost then?’ Danny had asked, confused.
‘No. Not yet anyway,’ Lawrie had said, laughing. ‘You see, this is a very special estate. More ghosts are here than almost anywhere in Britain, or so it’s believed. We don’t exactly know why, but we think it’s something to do with the standing stones and the ley lines. You see?’
‘Not in the slightest,’ Danny had replied dully. ‘How come you can see us if you’re still alive?’
‘It’s a gift,’ Lawrie had said modestly.
‘The owners of the Harling Estate have to possess the ability to communicate with their ghostly residents, otherwise they must sell the estate to someone who can. That’s the way it’s worked here since – well, who knows how long for?
There were Harlings here at the time of William the Conqueror, and they possessed the gift, so…
’ He sighed. ‘I know this all sounds terribly strange, but you’ll get used to it eventually.
Now, you’re welcome to stay here tonight of course, but we’ll need to find you more permanent accommodation as soon as possible.
You need to start making an afterlife for yourselves.
How lovely that you have each other! Are you, er – what do you say these days – an item? ’
Brooke had turned to look at Danny, who’d immediately said, ‘Certainly not!’
‘We work together,’ Brooke had explained hastily. ‘I mean, worked.’
Danny had seen her gulp and he’d realised they would never work together again. Their days at the pharmaceutical company were over.
‘You know, I always hated that job,’ she’d murmured. ‘But now I know I’ll never go back to it, I feel oddly sad.’
‘I never knew you hated the job,’ Danny had said, surprised. ‘I thought you loved it. You always seemed really cheerful whenever I saw you on reception.’
‘Hmm,’ Brooke had replied vaguely. ‘Well, it had some perks, I suppose.’ She’d turned to Lawrie. ‘We were at a party you see. Celebrating someone’s retirement. It was a 1980s fancy dress party. That’s why we’re wearing these costumes.’
‘Oh,’ Lawrie had said. ‘I wondered why you were wearing such extraordinary clothes, but I didn’t like to mention it.’
‘I’m relieved to hear those aren’t your usual clothes,’ Agnes had agreed, pursing her lips in disapproval. ‘You look positively ridiculous.’
That’s rich, coming from her, Danny had thought, but said nothing. Lawrie had already moved on and was now discussing things with Aubrey, Isaac and Peter.
‘I don’t believe there are any empty cottages at present,’ he’d mused. ‘Perhaps someone would agree to share. Unless,’ he’d added, looking thoughtfully at a bewildered Danny and Brooke, ‘you’d prefer your own space.’
Brooke had said nothing. She’d looked exhausted, shaken and close to tears. Could ghosts cry, Danny wondered? It certainly looked as if she was about to, and he couldn’t blame her. He knew exactly how she felt and, without thinking, he’d put his arm around her to comfort her.
Lawrie seemed to recognise their distress as he got to his feet. ‘I’m so sorry. All this can wait for another time. Agnes, perhaps you’d be so kind as to show our guests to their rooms for the night?’
‘Room,’ Brooke had said quickly. ‘I don’t want to be parted from Danny!’
‘That’s out of the question,’ Agnes had informed her. ‘Think of your reputation, girl!’
‘Stuff my reputation,’ Brooke had snapped. ‘I’m scared and I want Danny!’
‘It’s okay,’ Danny had said, sensing how close to the edge Brooke was. ‘She can share a room with me. We’ve been through a lot tonight and we need to talk things over. Please.’
Agnes had looked aghast, but Aubrey had said, ‘I think an exception can be made just this once, don’t you, my dear?’
Agnes had sighed. ‘Very well. If you think that’s for the best, Mr Wyndham. But I will take them to the third best guest room, that being the case. Twin beds,’ she’d added pointedly.
So Danny and Brooke had spent their first night as ghosts lying close beside each other on one single bed, hoping that Agnes wouldn’t sneak in to check up on them.
Nothing improper had happened of course.
Even if either of them would want it to (and why on earth would they?) or if it was physically possible (and how could it be if they were no longer alive?) they’d just been killed in a horrible accident and were trying to come to terms with the fact that they were now ghosts.
They were far too shocked and upset to even think about that sort of thing, and Danny couldn’t imagine why Agnes would think it even a remote possibility.
It had been a strange experience all round.
On top of everything they’d just been through, it was odd spending the night sleeping with his arms around Brooke, but she’d been so upset that he’d felt she needed the comfort and protection of his close presence.
To be absolutely honest, he’d needed to feel comforted and protected, too.
As wrong as it sounded, he was glad to have her with him.
Not that they ever repeated the experience, of course. Once they moved into the flat there was no question of them sharing a bed ever again.
‘Two bedrooms,’ Lawrie had said cheerfully as he showed them round.
‘Now, one of the girls downstairs will come up every day to put the heating on, so I’ll ask them to switch a light on and we’ll get you a television set.
They will also dust and hoover the place every weekend for you.
They’ll understand the situation and they’ll be happy to help. ’
‘Girls downstairs?’ Danny had asked blankly.
‘The hairdressers. Don’t worry. Everyone in Rowan Vale knows about the ghosts, and they know that everyone who can is expected to help out in any way possible. Several of the shops have ghosts living in the flats above. It’s perfectly normal round here.’
Brooke and Danny had quickly realised that ‘normal’ had a very different meaning in Rowan Vale.
Within a few days they’d met several other ghosts, who couldn’t have been more friendly and welcoming. Polly Herron, who lived above the teashop she’d once managed, had hugged them as if they were her own family, and had told them that if there was anything they needed, they only had to ask.
Millie, a Beatles fanatic who’d died when she was only seventeen in 1964, had flopped onto the sofa next to Brooke, and they’d spent an excruciatingly dull two hours listening to her bang on about Paul McCartney, and telling the two of them which Beatles’ songs she’d put in her top twenty and why.
Walter Tasker had introduced himself as the former teacher of the great William Shakespeare himself, and had quoted vast tracts of poetry to them to illustrate every point he made about life, love, death and the great beyond.
It had been horrible at first. Danny had been desolate and Brooke had fretted endlessly about her family, worrying about them and how they were coping.
Gradually, though, afterlife had taken on a new normality, and Brooke had made every effort to socialise more with the ghosts.
She had, she said, realised that they were going to be here a long, long time.
Possibly forever. The more friends they had the better.
It would be a very dull afterlife without company and entertainment.
Danny, though, never quite felt like his old self again. Brooke had seemed worried about him at first, but after a while she seemed to accept that was just the way he was now and stopped trying so hard to jolly him along.
He’d done his best to hide from her that he felt resentful towards her. Whenever she complained about Lee he kept quiet, not wanting to say what was on his mind: that if she’d only stayed at the party instead of throwing a massive strop for no good reason, they’d still be alive right now.
Brooke didn’t see how it was fair that Lee had been the driver of the car, but he’d apparently gone on to wherever it was ghosts went.
Surely, she’d said bitterly, if anyone should have found themselves Earthbound it was him?
Evidently, there was no more justice in the afterlife than there had been in actual life. Typical.
But while Brooke focused her anger on Lee, and ranted whenever the mood took her, Danny internalised his own anger towards her. It was quite possible that they’d be together in Rowan Vale for the rest of eternity. He couldn’t start a feud with her now.
So instead, he concentrated on getting through each day, making an effort to be as polite and kind to her as he possibly could, though not always succeeding.
And bit by bit, Brooke eventually grew on him. She was a funny little thing, and he had to admit there were times when she did make him laugh. And despite the terrible hair and eccentric outfit, she was pretty and sweet, with beautiful eyes.
Yes, when all was said and done, he rather liked Brooke.
She was a lovely person. Totally oblivious to what she’d done, of course, but lovely.
She just wasn’t Kirsty.