Chapter 17
AGNES
There was no doubt that the Pumpkin Path through the woods looked enchanting. Even Agnes couldn’t complain as she held hands with Aubrey and they made their way towards the King’s Court with Florence skipping along in front of them.
The branches of the trees were threaded with pumpkin-shaped fairy lights, and there were carved pumpkins lining the way through the woods, illuminated with battery-operated candles, which Callie had explained was for safety reasons.
Really, Agnes thought to herself, there was no limit to what people could do these days. Battery-operated candles with flames that weren’t really flames at all, but little lights that were made to look like flames! Who would have believed such a thing possible? She couldn’t help but be impressed.
The events began in the stone circle and all the ghosts – well, almost all the ghosts – arrived to watch the fun.
Naturally, there was no sign of Silas Alexander, who had forecast doom and catastrophe upon them.
Even Quintus Severus was there, watchful as ever, one hand on his sword as if preparing for trouble.
Oddly, Agnes found that quite comforting.
She hadn’t been at all sure about attending herself, but Aubrey had particularly wanted to see the children’s events because his great-grandsons were taking part, and Agnes felt it her duty as his wife to be with him.
Besides, Florence was desperate to be there and, after all, Agnes was her mother.
She still felt terrible guilt about all the years she’d left Florence to attend these things alone, due to her desperation to keep Aubrey and Clara apart. She was determined to make amends.
Clara and her husband, Jack, came to stand beside Aubrey as soon as the family arrived and Aubrey cooed and fussed over his great-granddaughter, Caitlyn Rose, who at just ten months old was at the delightful stage of smiling and chuckling and finding her besotted great-grandfather absolutely fascinating.
Agnes could sense that Florence was deeply envious as she watched the two youngest of the Milsom boys, ten-year-old Declan and seven-year-old Freddie, parading around in their Halloween costumes.
She thought wistfully of the wonderful costume she would have sewn for her daughter if only she’d been able.
And how, she thought, Aubrey would have loved to help carve a pumpkin with Florence, as Freddie’s father, Jack, was doing now for his youngest son.
She observed, rather disapprovingly, that the middle Milsom boy, Declan, insisted on carving his own, though he was closely supervised by an attending adult.
His older brother Ashton, who was in Imogen’s class at school, refused to participate at all as he was far too ‘cool’ to do such a thing, although what his temperature had to do with it, Agnes couldn’t imagine.
Imogen was also taking part, and Agnes couldn’t help noticing that she and Ashton seemed to be getting on very well, laughing and joking together as he cheered her on from the sidelines despite his own refusal to get involved.
She noticed the envious look on Florence’s face as she watched, and sighed, wishing there was something she could do to help.
‘Imogen is growing up, I’m afraid,’ Aubrey murmured to her, clearly following her train of thought.
‘She’s twelve now, whereas Florence will be forever ten.
They’re bound to grow apart as Imogen makes new friends and develops new interests.
We’ll have to keep an eye on Florence and be there for her as much as we can, my dear. There’s nothing more we can do.’
Agnes knew that was true, but it didn’t make it any easier to bear.
She could see Imogen growing up before her eyes.
In a few years – maybe sooner – the young girl wouldn’t want anything to do with Florence at all.
She would be too busy with her friends and boyfriends, as young ladies today referred to their suitors.
Why would she want to spend her time with a ten-year-old?
Catching sight of John and Robert, also watching from the sidelines with envious expressions, Agnes wondered for the first time if perhaps she ought to be more welcoming to the two little ragamuffins.
They were not who she would have chosen as companions to her daughter, but at least they seemed to like Florence, and they would never grow older and leave her behind.
Perhaps, she pondered, she would invite them round one afternoon. Perhaps.
By half past five the light had faded dramatically, and the cheerful, orange pumpkin lights around the stone circle were a welcome relief from the encroaching darkness.
Freddie had won the fancy dress costume prize, having dressed as the cutest vampire anyone had ever seen.
Another child from the village had won the pumpkin carving competition, which Jack grumbled about and said was a fix, much to Clara’s amusement and Agnes’s indignation, and Imogen had come second in the apple bobbing.
Food and drinks were provided for the guests, thanks to Mia’s hard work, and the ghosts inhaled the delicious scents of barbecued steak and chicken, jacket potatoes, hot dogs, cinder toffee, hot chocolate and brandysnaps and tried not to imagine what such things would taste of.
Then everyone settled down to listen as Brodie, Max, and Betty from Rowan Farm took turns to tell spooky stories – although thankfully, they weren’t too spooky.
Agnes was very relieved about that. For the children’s sake, of course.
Even so, her eyes kept darting towards the woods, where she fancied she caught a glimpse of something unearthly between the trees.
She was glad when the stories came to an end and everyone headed for home at last, either to settle down for the night, or to await the babysitters for their children so they could return to the woods later for the big event.
Clara, Jack, their children and dog, Toby, were staying the night at Harling Hall, Clara having offered to babysit Imogen and keep a close eye on Lawrie while Callie, Mia and Brodie were at the séance.
Florence, on the other hand, had been given permission to attend the event by her parents – much to Imogen’s disgust.
‘She’s only ten! I’m twelve! Why can’t I go?’ she complained.
‘I can’t go either,’ Ashton pointed out grumpily. ‘It’s a proper swizz.’
‘I can go because I’m already a ghost,’ Florence said with a grin.
‘I ain’t gonna get scared, am I? But you two might start crying if that Madam Mariska woman contacts the dead.
’ She lifted her arms and waggled her fingers at them, making ghostly wailing noises to demonstrate just how terrifying – or not – ghosts could be.
Imogen wasn’t impressed, pointing out that she could already see all the ghosts anyway, but Callie put her foot down and said it was too late for her to be out, so that was that.
Agnes wasn’t at all certain about attending the event and had pleaded with Aubrey and Florence not to go. After all, the other ghosts had agreed they were staying well away from the barrow, and she felt it was a huge risk for her beloved husband and daughter to take.
‘What if Madam Mariska spots you in the crowd?’ she asked, horrified.
‘What if she does?’ Florence scoffed. ‘We don’t ’ave to speak to ’er, do we? What’s she gonna do then?’
‘Florence is right,’ Aubrey said. ‘Even if she can see us, there’s nothing she can do about it. We’ve kept our silence and she has nothing on us. Please come with us, my dear. We’ve attended so few of these village events over the years. I don’t want to miss this one.’
That did it. She could hardly say no when she knew she’d been responsible for keeping Aubrey practically chained to the grounds of Harling Hall for years. Reluctantly, she agreed to accompany them, but she was still nervous.
At ten forty-five, the ticket holders and the three ghosts followed the pumpkin path back towards the King’s Court, and from there made their way along a more sparsely lit route to where the four stones, known as The Guardians, stood sentry above the ancient barrow.
Lanterns burned around the site, and a few plain white candles were lit on top of the stones.
Florence got as close to the site as she possibly could and climbed to the top of one of the stones, sitting cross-legged and peering down on the mostly oblivious crowd, a wide grin on her face.
Aubrey shook his head slightly at her lack of respect, but Agnes didn’t have the heart to tell her daughter to get down. After all, what harm could she do to the stones? None at all. And if the medium spotted her up there, she couldn’t do much about it. Florence was right about that.
Agnes could hear the excitement building as the guests awaited the arrival of Madam Mariska.
There were muttered conversations all around her, as people argued about the existence of ghosts, and whether Mariska was a conwoman or a genuine medium.
It made her chuckle when a group of arrogant men standing close by insisted that there were no such things as ghosts, and that only idiots and small children would ever believe that there were.
‘Oh, if only you knew,’ she said to them, wishing that – just for that moment – she could make herself known to them and frighten the life out of them all.
Sometimes, being a spirit was extremely frustrating.
Agnes sighed to herself at the thought but had no more time to dwell on the subject as Isaac and Peter the Baker sidled up.
Well, she thought indignantly, so much for the other ghosts boycotting the séance! Really, they were so unreliable.
Peter doffed his cap at Agnes, and Isaac nodded his head, which gratified her somewhat, even though she wasn’t keen on the way those two behaved towards Aubrey. Why, at times it was as if they even believed themselves to be his equals!
‘Well, this is a night, to be sure,’ Isaac said, beaming at her husband, for all the world as if they were friends. ‘Can you believe it? I’m going to be famous.’
Agnes and Aubrey exchanged glances. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Why,’ Isaac said, looking surprised, ‘have you not heard? Such a to-do there’s been about this séance – all thanks to young Millie and that blessed scamp of hers.’
He nodded over to where Millie was standing, her arms wrapped around the waist of none other than Bill Fairfax, whose own arm was draped over her shoulder.
‘Good heavens,’ said Aubrey. ‘I didn’t know those two were courting.’
‘Seems so,’ Peter said, rolling his eyes.
‘Not together five minutes and they’ve already caused an uproar.
Quintus Severus was mortified. Said he was going to offer his resignation to Callie and go and live in the woods for letting her down.
Harmony had to talk him round. Took her ages.
Like she told him, it wasn’t his fault that Millie and Bill – and even that blooming Ronnie – had pulled the wool over his eyes.
It just went to show how devious they are, and how much we really need him.
Harmony said the last thing we want is Callie knowing what’s been going on.
He’s agreed – only cos it’s Harmony, I reckon – and sworn to be much more vigilant from now on and I’ll bet he will be an’ all. And a good job, too.’
‘But what is Quintus Severus so upset about?’ Aubrey asked, baffled.
‘Well,’ Peter explained. ‘It’s like this…’
Agnes listened with wide eyes as he and Isaac explained how Millie and Bill had spilled all the ghosts’ secrets to none other than Verity – who, it turned out, was the real medium of the two, Mariska having lost her ability some years ago.
‘So Polly had to come up with alternatives, you see,’ Isaac finished.
‘To stop Mariska telling the world about her murder, and about Harmony, and all the ones that didn’t want their stories told.
And that’s why Peter and I agreed to our stories being told instead.
It was the least we could do,’ he added nobly, ‘to save our fellow spirits.’
‘I knew that woman was a fraud,’ Agnes spluttered. ‘And fancy young Verity being the real medium! She must have known about us all along, Aubrey. How duplicitous. How untrustworthy. How dishonest. How—’
‘I’m sure she was only trying to help her sister, my dear,’ Aubrey said kindly. ‘We mustn’t judge her too harshly. At least she was kind enough to promise not to reveal the secrets after all.’
‘True,’ Agnes said, almost reluctantly.
‘It’s a catastrophe, that’s what it is!’
They all turned as Polly came running up to them, her eyes wide with shock.
‘What’s up with you, my love?’ Isaac asked cheerfully. ‘No need to look so panicky. It’s all been sorted now, hasn’t it?’
‘That’s what I thought,’ Polly gasped, ‘but I’ve just seen Verity and it turns out that Madam Mariska has refused to keep quiet. She’s going to tell everyone about – about what happened that night. And about Harmony, and Brooke and Danny, too.’
‘Oh my word!’ Agnes threw up her hands in horror then turned to her husband. ‘Do something, Aubrey!’
‘I’m not entirely sure what I can do,’ he protested. He turned to Polly. ‘Have you told Callie?’
‘No, I’ve just come from seeing Verity. She’s ever so upset. Her and her sister had a big row and Verity’s refusing to come here now. She says she’ll never help her sister again.’
‘I should hope not,’ Agnes said.
‘It would be a sad thing,’ Aubrey said solemnly, ‘for two sisters to fall out over this matter.’
Agnes rolled her eyes. She adored her husband but sometimes his kindness and concern for others proved too much for even her to bear.
‘We must stop this,’ she told Polly sternly. ‘We must find Callie and tell her that this event must be cancelled at all costs!’
‘I think, my love, that we are too late,’ Aubrey said gently, as he nodded over her shoulder.
Agnes turned and her hand flew to her mouth as she saw Callie and Brodie making their way to the barrow, chatting animatedly to what Aubrey explained to her was a television cameraman, a photographer and two reporters from the Cotswolds Courier and Your Cotswolds.
Among this group was Madam Mariska herself, head down, and strangely subdued.
‘I expect she’s meditating,’ someone said nearby. ‘Getting in the vibe and that, ready to contact the spirits.’
‘Ready to blow my family’s life apart, more like,’ muttered Polly. ‘Not to mention what it’ll do to poor Danny’s and Brooke’s parents. Oh, what on earth are we going to do? Who would ever have believed that the Reverend Alexander would be right, after all?’