Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
Morgan had found the only neighbour to the summer camp in a three-mile radius by sheer luck.
The small track that led to her cottage had been a few feet away from where she’d stopped the car.
She was using Google Maps because she didn’t trust the satnav to take her out here without making her drive off the end of the fell.
It happened and she had a love-hate relationship with the satnav in the div cars.
Turning down the narrow, bumpy track she did wonder if she should have left the car and walked, but it was too cold and she felt so weary.
It had been a long night. No idea what time it was, she glanced at the clock on the dashboard and realised she’d missed breakfast, and it was now almost lunchtime.
Ettie’s tea and biscuits had been good, but she needed something a bit more substantial.
The white house came into view and Morgan sighed; it was so pretty.
The sash windows and wooden door were all the warmest sunshine yellow.
It made her smile. The garden was a little overgrown, but it hadn’t really been gardening weather.
The front, as she got nearer, wasn’t as fresh as she’d thought.
It was peeling in some parts and needed a new coat of paint.
Morgan knocked on the door, expecting a dog to bark, but was greeted by silence instead.
She waited a couple of minutes before knocking again, a little louder this time.
She heard shuffling sounds coming towards her from inside and was glad someone was home.
She heard a safety chain sliding across as the door was opened a little and two of the bluest eyes she’d seen stared at her through the crack.
‘Hello, I’m Morgan Brookes, a detective with Rydal Falls police. Can I speak to you for a couple of minutes?’
‘What about?’
‘A serious incident in the grounds of the old summer camp.’
The door closed, and Morgan heard the chain slide off.
The woman staring at her had a head of tight, white curls, she was wearing a onesie that had the Stranger Things logo on the front.
When she turned to lead the way Morgan realised it had a hood in the shape of a Demogorgon’s head, and she had the most irresistible urge to laugh.
Not to be rude, but because it was the least item of attire she’d ever expected to see an old woman wearing, especially one who literally lived in the middle of nowhere.
‘I love Stranger Things,’ Morgan said to the Demogorgon.
‘Me too, best thing I’ve ever watched on Netflix.
My grandson bought me this for my birthday.
I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry and instead thought I’d embrace it.
I mean nobody usually comes here, so who was going to see me in it?
Well, until you knocked. That was why I took some time to answer the door.
I was a little bit embarrassed, but then I peeped out of the curtain and saw you looking anxious and figured my embarrassment was worth it to check what you wanted. ’
‘You have a cool grandson.’
‘I think so, he’s almost fifty though, so you know.’
Morgan laughed. ‘No shame in that. I’m desperate to watch the new series, but I’m also scared because I don’t want it to end.’
‘Ah, me too. I started at the beginning again, so that I’m up to speed when I get to it. At my age my memory isn’t as good as it used to be. Would you like a hot drink? You look half frozen.’
‘I would love one. I am half frozen. It’s been a long night.’
‘Let me see, I think you drink coffee, milky no sugar.’
‘I do, thank you.’
‘Would you like a sandwich; I was just making myself one for lunch.’
‘Oh, no, thank you. I couldn’t impose like that.’
‘What, you couldn’t possibly take two slices of bread and some cheese, sliced tomatoes off an old woman who isn’t really that old and would take her last breaths defending those kids on that TV show in the Upside Down if I had to.’
‘Well, if you put it that way. I would die for a cheese and tomato sandwich and appreciate it more than you know. I’m so hungry.’
The woman nodded. ‘You look hungry, and I don’t mean that to be rude so forgive me. Let’s sit in the kitchen and you can talk to me while I make our lunch.’
Morgan felt her cheeks burn, she sometimes forgot how kind some people were.
The nature of her job meant that she dealt with the cruellest, most horrible people that walked the earth, so when she came across one who was the complete opposite it took her by surprise.
She sat down at the circular table and smiled again as she realised she didn’t even know the woman’s name and here she was waiting for her to make her lunch.
‘I’m so sorry, I forgot to ask your name.’
‘Joyce Black, imagine if it had been Byers. You’d have thought I’d lost the plot.’
‘Cool that you have the same initials though and rather fitting for a big fan of the show.’
The kettle was whistling, and Joyce was spooning coffee into a Stranger Things mug; she held it up and waved it at Morgan.
‘My grandson, again. He is a bit of a buff, so he sends me all sorts of stuff. He makes me smile though, so I don’t complain about it.
At least he’s thinking of me. I’m blessed more than I ever thought was possible at my age. ’
‘That’s so sweet, your grandson sounds like my kind of guy.’
‘Oh, he’s a good one but I’m afraid he’s not a ladies man, he’s a man’s man.’
Morgan grinned. ‘All the best guys are.’
‘True.’
Morgan watched Joyce making the sandwiches and was transported to the last lunch that her mum Sylvia ever made her before she took her own life. Sylvia would have loved Stranger Things, she’d have loved Joyce too.
The bread was thick and slathered in butter, cheese, mayo and thinly sliced tomatoes that Joyce had lightly salted.
Morgan’s mouth was watering, she had never felt so hungry in a long time.
Joyce put the plate on the table in front of her, and she picked one up, taking a huge bite. She let out a sigh.
‘Joyce, this is heaven.’
‘You can’t beat simplicity.’
Joyce sat down opposite her and they both tucked into their sandwiches. Morgan felt as if she’d known the woman for years and not just met her fifteen minutes ago. When both plates were empty, Joyce scooped them up and put them in the sink before sitting back down.
‘Right then, I suppose you better get down to business and tell me what you need to know.’
‘Have you heard anything at all today about what’s going on at the old summer camp?’
It was Joyce’s turn to sigh. ‘That place is a nightmare, isn’t it?
No, I have been in my own little bubble, as you can see.
I don’t drive any more. I rely on my Tesco shopping getting delivered and my grandson, who I love to bits, only visits at Christmas and for my birthday.
He sends me stuff all the time, bless him, but I don’t see him as much as I’d like to, which makes my heart sad, but he has his own life and I don’t want to ever be a burden to him. What’s happened now, is Amos okay?’
‘Amos is fine, well as fine as he could be after the nightmare time he had last night. He found a teenage girl half frozen to death, and her friend died. Her other friend is still missing, as far as I know.’
Joyce was shaking her head. ‘Oh, for goodness’ sakes, that is horrible.
I live some distance from Amos, so I’m sorry to say I heard none of this and this is the first I’ve heard about it.
Those poor kids, when are they going to learn that it’s not an adventure playground, it’s a dangerous place to be?
I suppose they were out ghost hunting or something stupid.
I’ve told Amos the only way to stop it is to clear all the remaining buildings and raze them to the ground.
Hell, burning them to the ground isn’t a bad idea.
They linger on and with that lingering, bring bad luck and misfortune. ’
‘It’s a challenge, isn’t it, they do it to scare themselves. I heard the ghost stories when I was at school, but back then none of us had cars so we didn’t ever go there. Kids now, they’re a lot more mobile than we ever were.’
‘How did they die?’
Morgan shrugged. ‘We don’t know for sure yet, but I pulled his body out of the lake.’
Joyce plucked a tissue out of a box on the table and dabbed at her eyes. ‘That’s so sad, his poor parents and family are going to be beside themselves. This is why you’ve had such a terrible night, you poor thing. I am so glad I could make you a sandwich.’
‘It’s what I do, and I appreciate it more than you know, Joyce. It is terribly sad. Do you know of anyone else who lives out here, or would have cause to be out last night in that awful weather?’
‘No, I don’t. As far as I know, Morgan, it’s literally me and Amos on this side of the fell. We have the only two properties that are habitable.’
‘My aunt Ettie told me that she thinks this place, well, more Amos’s place…’ Morgan paused not wanting to upset Joyce who had been so lovely to her. ‘Well, she thinks the land is cursed and mentioned a mystical figure called the watcher who only appears when it’s misty.’
Joyce didn’t laugh like she expected her to; in fact, she didn’t even flinch and nodded her head.
‘I’ve heard of him but never paid much attention to it, same as the land being cursed, heard that a lot, too.
I mean, this watcher, where is he from? Where does he live?
If you ask me, it’s a folk tale passed down to scare walkers from trespassing on private property.
It’s a bit like the Loch Ness Monster I suppose, some stories gather traction and interest, but do we actually think there is a prehistoric monster living in a loch in Scotland of all the places one could be?
What I do know is there have been a lot of tragic deaths on the land of the old camp and that in itself is enough to fuel the ghost stories. ’
‘Why do you think that is, the high death rate?’
‘Oh, well. I don’t know about land being cursed, but I do know that no matter where you are, when you have a large volume of people in the same area there is bound to be some accidents or tragedies.
I mean if you google every lake in the UK, I bet you’ll find tragic deaths that have happened in the water, accidental drownings, boating accidents, that kind of thing.
It’s not as uncommon as you’d think. I’m not superstitious at all, what I do know is that there have been sporadic tragedies, those poor sisters and the Sunday school teachers, well that is beyond horrific, but it’s probably not that rare of an occurrence.
Windermere has had its fair share of tragedies over the years.
I’m sorry, Morgan, I don’t know if I can say if it’s cursed or just Amos’s bad luck to live on land that has a large lake and lots of tourists back in its heyday. ’
Morgan’s phone began to ring. ‘Excuse me.’ She pulled it out of her pocket.
‘Morgan, where are you? It’s been well over an hour.’
Ben’s voice was fraught with worry.
‘I’m with Joyce, the lady who lives nearest to Amos, like you told me to be.’
‘For this long? Did you get anything?’
‘Nothing to see or hear from Joyce.’
Ben’s sigh was so loud it made her ear tingle.
‘Well can you get here ASAP. Declan has just phoned. He wants us both at the mortuary for the PM.’
‘Yes, boss.’ She hung up and stood up. ‘Thank you, Joyce, I have to get back to work.’
Joyce smiled at her. ‘Anytime you’re cold or hungry then please come see me. I get a little lonely out here on my own, as my grandson doesn’t get to visit as often as I’d like. He’s busy with his own life.’
‘I will, I promise.’
‘Please take care.’
Morgan smiled at her and wondered why every single person she met ended up telling her to be careful.
She would go tell Ben what Ettie and Joyce had told her.
It was useful information, but it wasn’t going to solve the case any time soon.
As far as she knew they still hadn’t found Scarlett, or Dawson’s killer, and she wasn’t going to stop until she did.