Chapter 8
The Quicken Tree Inn complex was stunning, with a sweet courtyard and four acres of gardens to explore.
It stood by the river, with the church, the village green, and all the other attractions of Rowan Vale within easy walking distance.
I knew because I’d done an online search as soon as Mia had confirmed the booking.
I was excited to be back in Rowan Vale, but I knew I’d be expected to ‘find out’ as much information as I could about the village and any ghostly residents there might be.
I knew there were three up at Harling Hall, but I was already aware that they wanted nothing to do with me – or Mariska – and for whatever reason, they wished their presence to remain hidden. There didn’t seem much point in asking them for help.
Besides, I didn’t want to spook Mia, did I?
After all, she lived and worked in that house, and from what she’d said I gathered she didn’t really believe in ghosts.
I’d hate to frighten her by telling her she was sharing her home with some.
Maybe I should keep Harling Hall out of it. But where else to start?
We took our cases from the car and carried them inside, where Honey immediately began a lengthy exploration of the cottage, sniffing her way around the rooms and making Melissa shriek as she ventured towards the kitchen.
‘We’ll have to do a recce of the village,’ she said as she firmly closed the kitchen door, ensuring Honey couldn’t contaminate the place.
I was too busy staring out of the window to listen much. Yes, the cottage was elegant and luxurious, and I’d personally never stayed in a hotel room that was anywhere near as grand as this one, although I knew Melissa had.
But those views! I gazed out over the acres of Cotswold gardens and fields and sighed with pleasure. And we were here for three whole days! I couldn’t believe my luck. ‘It’s beautiful,’ I murmured. We even had our own little garden area, with a low fence separating us from the rest of the grounds.
‘We live in a highly desirable property in a beautiful town by the Thames,’ Melissa said impatiently. ‘What’s so fabulous about this place?’
‘We don’t have views like this from the window, though,’ I said. ‘We look out over the town.’
It was true. Our house was lovely, but it wasn’t set in acres of grounds like this was.
Every view from the windows at home was of other houses and gardens, and although they were all pretty, it didn’t give you the feeling of space that this was giving me.
At home, a few minutes’ walk and you could be on the high street, where endless traffic edged its way past chain stores and cafes and municipal buildings.
Here, I thought dreamily, you could run free and breathe.
You’d have thought that, being a television celebrity, Melissa would have wanted to live somewhere more remote and private, but she hadn’t.
She’d always loved the fact that our house was so close to the town and that she couldn’t go out to the shops without being approached by some tourist or other asking for an autograph.
I wondered how she’d feel about it in a year or so, when It’s Haunted! was a distant memory and the television fans had moved on. When people stopped asking for autographs, how would she cope then?
‘We can walk along the banks of the Thames in five minutes at home,’ Melissa said impatiently. ‘Do pay attention, Verity. This is important.’
‘Sorry.’ I dropped onto one of the surprisingly soft but impressively supportive sofas and tried to look businesslike and efficient. ‘What were you saying?’
She gave an impatient sigh as she dropped the latch on the front door and took her mobile phone from her handbag, briefly checking for messages.
‘I was saying we’ll need to do a recce of the village.
We only have a couple of days until Halloween.
We must find out all we can – just in case, you understand.
We can’t always rely on the spirits to come through, and with a live audience… ’
‘Why put yourself through it, Mel?’ I asked gently. ‘It’s just a daft little Halloween event in an insignificant village. Why bother?’
Surely, I thought, the fear and angst weren’t worth the money she’d get from this séance? And it wasn’t as if she desperately needed the cash either. So why?
Melissa sat on the other sofa and leaned forward, her expression serious. ‘The Cotswolds Courier is covering the event,’ she said quietly. ‘And there’s every chance that it will also feature on TV on Your Cotswolds, too.’
‘It’s just a local news programme.’ I wrinkled my nose, perplexed. ‘So what?’
‘So what? Look, if something amazing happened on Halloween night, the footage would go around the country. It would be shown on network television! Don’t you see? I’d have people queueing up to offer me contracts! I just need one good thing to happen on live TV. Just one!’
‘But Melissa…’ I trailed off, not sure how to point out subtly and kindly that the chances of her contacting a ghost on live TV was unlikely in the extreme.
‘So,’ she said heavily, ‘I really, really need you to do your research. You hear me? I need you to find out all you can about this place and any possible hauntings. Just in case my channels are still blocked and I have some difficulties. You have to find the ghosts, Verity. You understand?’
Oh, I understood. My sister’s entire future lay in my hands. But she wasn’t prepared to acknowledge that, even now.
‘I’ll do what I can,’ I said helplessly. ‘But I can’t promise anything.’
‘I’ve made a start,’ she said eagerly. ‘I’ve been doing some research of my own, and I’ve discovered some possible sites in this village where we might find spirits.
’ She tapped the screen of her phone a few times, pulling up a map of Rowan Vale.
To my surprise she joined me on the sofa, sitting close beside me so I could get a good view of the map.
‘See that stretch of the river, just across the road from the gates to this pub? That is where Harmony Hill drowned! You know, Harmony Hill? The 1930s and 1940s Hollywood movie star?’
I shook my head even though I had heard of her. ‘Bit before my time,’ I murmured.
She gave me an impatient tut. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. Everyone’s heard of Harmony Hill. She was gorgeous and so talented! It was such a tragedy when she died. The news crews were here for days afterwards, apparently. Hollywood was in mourning. Honestly, how can you not know that?’
‘There were a lot of tragic early deaths in Hollywood in the thirties and forties,’ I pointed out. ‘Jean Harlow and Carole Lombard for starters.’
‘But this one didn’t happen in Hollywood.
It happened in Rowan Vale! If any spirit’s going to be lingering around here it will surely be her?
She’s so far from home, after all, bless her.
’ She gave a sigh that sounded suspiciously compassionate, but her expression brightened almost immediately.
‘Imagine if I – we – could contact Harmony Hill live on television.’
Hmm. So much for compassion then.
‘I heard,’ I said cautiously, ‘that this village is rumoured to be haunted by a Roman soldier.’
She didn’t look impressed. ‘That’s a bit of a cliché, isn’t it? Do you remember how many Roman soldiers I chatted to in York that time? They were everywhere. It got quite tedious in the end. I’ve found something else that’s much more interesting. A murder!’
‘A murder? Here?’
‘Yes. According to old newspaper reports, a war widow was shot in the back in the woods in the early hours of New Year’s Day 1948. They never found her killer. Imagine what stories she’d have to tell us if you could find her!’
I shivered. ‘Let’s hope I don’t find her murderer instead.’
‘Most of the buildings in this village are centuries old,’ she said thoughtfully, clearly barely listening to me.
‘I expect there’ll be a spirit or two somewhere here.
And I thought we could have a wander into the woods.
Visit the Wyrd Stones and get a feel for them.
Also, there’s this place.’ She pinched the screen, zooming in on an area that was right on the edge of the Harling Estate.
‘What’s over there?’ I asked, narrowing my eyes as I tried to make out the tiny writing on the screen.
‘It’s a place called Woodstone Manor. From what I read online it was built in the Gothic Revival style in the mid-eighteenth century by the owner of the estate at the time.
It looks so much like an old church or something that the locals nicknamed it The Monastery.
But it was never completed and no one seems to know why. Might be a story there, you think?’
‘Maybe,’ I said doubtfully.
‘Only one way to find out,’ she said, giving me an expectant look.
‘Today?’
‘No time like the present. We’ll grab some lunch then we’ll head out to do some exploring. See what we can find. The dog will be all right here, won’t she?’
‘No,’ I said firmly. ‘She’s not had a walk today. We take her with us.’
Melissa gave me an annoyed look. ‘We need to soak up the atmosphere. See if any spirits are present who are willing to communicate with me – you – us. We don’t want a dog getting in the way and scaring them off.’
‘But dogs can sense things even before we can,’ I said deviously. ‘She might tip us off if there are any around, hiding from me. Us.’
Melissa pouted. ‘I suppose so. But you’ll have to clear up after her if she does…’ she wrinkled her nose in distaste, ‘what dogs do. I shall be too busy seeking out the spirits.’
How stupid of me to think for one moment that Melissa would ever give me credit for something she was clearly relying on me to do. It wasn’t Melissa who was hoping to communicate with the spirits. She was praying that I’d be able to. I could only cross my fingers and hope.