Chapter 15 #2
‘He isn’t!’ Millie said hotly. ‘Him and Ronnie are right now leading Quintus Severus a merry dance at the other end of the village just to distract him from us. He’s lovely.’
Polly rolled her eyes. ‘Just cos he’s the only eligible male ghost in the village – apart from Ronnie and Lord knows you don’t ever want to go there – doesn’t mean he’s lovely.
He’s nothing but a pest, just like his mate.
Always fighting they are,’ she told me. ‘Even though they’re supposed to have made up, they just can’t help themselves.
It’s not even about Lily any more. I don’t think they know why they’re scrapping. ’
‘Well…’ Millie sounded defensive. ‘It gets boring for them. It’s something to do.’ She brightened suddenly. ‘Bill told me he doesn’t feel the need to fight any more anyway. Not now he’s got me.’
‘Got you?…’ Polly shook her head, ‘and look where that’s got you. Going against Callie and all the other ghosts and landing yourself in a whole heap of trouble. Not to mention the rest of us! How do you think we’ll feel if all this gets out, eh? Not a thought for a single one of us.’
Millie hung her head and I sat down on the upturned bucket, unclipping Honey’s lead and letting her go free as I waited. I had an idea I was in for a lecture.
‘It’s not your fault,’ Polly said to me. ‘Well, not entirely. She should never have come to find you. I couldn’t believe it when she told me. But now she has and I must tell you – beg you, if you like: don’t tell our stories on the television tonight. Don’t say a word about us. Please.’
‘It’s not me who’ll be on the television,’ I said half-heartedly, but I knew I was only buying time while I thought. How was I going to win Polly round? I’d already told Melissa what Millie had said. She’d never agree to back down now. ‘What’s the problem anyway?’
‘What’s the problem?’ Polly was aghast. ‘Putting aside the fact that no one has the right to tell our stories but us, did she not tell you about our lives? Our deaths? About me for a start, and what happened in the early hours of New Year’s Day, 1948?’
I gave her a look of sympathy. ‘She did,’ I said softly, ‘and I’m so sorry. It must have been terrible for you.’
‘It’s all over and done with,’ she said. ‘But that’s the point. I’d like it to stay that way. You know who killed me. You know how that could affect my family who still live here in the village.’
‘But they already know, Pol,’ Millie protested.
‘They know, but do you think they want the whole thing dragged up on the blooming telly?’ Polly demanded.
‘It’s family business and it should stay that way.
And what about Harmony? Do you know how many weird people there are who would come to Rowan Vale looking to meet her spirit if they knew she was still here?
Harmony says it’s a proper industry. Brooke said it’s called dead celeb hunting.
Said it was rife even back in her day. Morbid, I call it.
She doesn’t deserve to be hounded day and night by those weirdos.
She’s been through enough. Harmony’s practically a recluse as it is.
We’d never see her again if this goes through. ’
‘I understand that,’ I said slowly. ‘But there are other ghosts—’
‘Like Brooke and Danny, you mean?’ she snapped, her eyes glinting with annoyance.
‘They’ve not been dead five minutes – not when you compare them to the rest of us.
They’ve got family out there. Family what believes they’re laid to rest. Can you imagine how horrible it would be to hear their spirits are trapped here forever?
And don’t tell me they might not hear about it, because any mention of Rowan Vale and ghosts in a newspaper or television anywhere and they’ll make sure they watch.
How could they not, knowing this is where their loved ones died?
You can’t guarantee they won’t ever know about it, can you? ’
‘No,’ I said quietly. ‘I guess I can’t.’
‘See, this is what I mean!’ Polly shook her head in panic. ‘You can’t do this to us. Millie should never have told you. There was only her Bill and that Ronnie and Walter Tasker who were willing to talk to you. The rest of us said no. None of us wanted our stories out there.’
‘I understand that,’ I said. ‘But you must know, it’s not me who’s doing the séance. It’s my sister. And I’ve already given her the information.’
Polly and Millie exchanged glances, and Polly’s eyes narrowed. ‘You’ve given her the information?’ She folded her arms. ‘I heard that’s what you always do. So, is she a fake then?’
‘She’s not a fake!’ There I went again, defending her.
I slumped in defeat. ‘At least, she wasn’t.
She genuinely had the gift, but about four years ago it deserted her.
What was she supposed to do? It was her job!
She had to pretend she could still see ghosts or she’d lose everything.
That’s when I stepped in,’ I admitted. ‘I did the ghost whispering and she put on the show.’
‘I see.’ Polly looked around as if seeking answers in the empty dull barn.
Honey came loping back to us and sat beside me, watching the two spirits with wary, but not unfriendly, eyes.
‘Look, I know you think Harmony and me are the most interesting ghosts in the village. Stands to reason. A murder victim and a Hollywood star. But if I gave you some names and a little bit of background, do you think your sister would settle for those? I mean, they’re not fascinating stories, but they’re interesting enough.
Real people. Real lives. Real deaths. What do you say? ’
‘I thought the other ghosts didn’t want—’ Millie began, shocked.
‘I had a word with some of them,’ Polly said. ‘Soon as you told me what you’d done I went to see some of the more genial ghosts and asked if they’d be willing to let me tell you about them. Not all said yes, but enough did.’
‘Okay,’ I agreed. ‘Look, if it was down to me, I wouldn’t give any names away, but I have to give my sister something if I’m going to ask her not to mention you and Harmony.’
‘I get it,’ Polly said. ‘We’re women of the world.
We understand how these things work. Right, well, here’s some names for you: Isaac Grace, former landlord of The Quicken Tree Inn.
Peter the Baker – no good asking me his surname cos I don’t know, and I think he’s forgotten himself.
Now there’s a story. Not murder maybe, but manslaughter at the very least. And you’ve got Walter.
And Ronnie and Bill, of course, daft buggers that they are.
Not Millie. Lucy wouldn’t like it,’ she added as Millie started to protest.
Millie shut up and nodded glumly.
‘Mr Swain – station porter and decent gentleman. Will that do you?’
‘What about Robert and John?’ Millie asked.
‘Not children,’ Polly said firmly, and I fully agreed with her about that.
‘So,’ she said. ‘Let’s get cracking. I’ll tell you everything I know about them.’
‘But what about Quintus Severus?’ Millie said, horrified. ‘He’ll know people have talked. He’ll find out what I’ve done. He’ll—’
‘Don’t you worry about Quintus Severus,’ Polly said confidently. She gave us a warm smile and a cheeky wink. ‘I have a very good friend who can wrap that fella round her little finger.’