The Village Newcomers (Tales from Turnham Malpas) Read online

  Chapter 12

  The embroidery group had decided that their girls’ weekend away would be well worth repeating, but the same could not be said of the youth club after their ghost hunt in the castle. They’d all been so scared that a re-run was out of the question.

  They’d set off enthusiastically enough, though. Beth sat next to Jake on the minibus, and allowed him to hold her hand after a few minutes re-establishing their relationship after her fright. On Jake’s insistence they chose to sit on the back row, as far away from Alex as they possibly could; he was in the seat immediately behind the driver, sitting with a friend of his from school. Beth briefly felt disloyal to Alex, but the feeling didn’t last long when she remembered her frequently repeated saying that they weren’t joined at the hip.

  ‘Beth?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Last time . . . I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause any trouble.’

  Beth stared out of the window. She wasn’t going to tell him the real reason for her panic. It was bad enough Alex knowing, and her mum and dad. They chatted about school and friends and films they’d seen, and before they knew it they’d arrived at the castle. It seemed to arise out of a dark mist, with turrets and battlements and softly-lit windows that were merely slits in the vast stone walls.

  Venetia had matches and so did Kate, but they didn’t need their candles until they were well inside the castle, as the draw-bridge over the moat was lit by lamps.

  In the great hall they were given a hot drink, which was spiced and Christmassy and very welcome. A lively castle servant gave a talk, telling them the history of the castle and the ghosts which were regularly sighted by the family and the staff. One ghost was a small child whose skeleton had been discovered during some repairs. Another apparition was an eighteenth-century man, a family member who had died in India; he’d always loved the castle and had suddenly appeared shortly after his death sitting in his favourite chair in the library, reading.

  Almost all of them shuddered, and shuddered even more when they heard about the strange bright light which appeared from time to time on the landing, followed by Lady Emily, who, from time to time, flung herself over the banisters to her death on the floor of the great hall, as she’d done on the news of the death of her fiancé at Trafalgar on Nelson’s flagship. Her screams as she fell were often heard, even if her ghost couldn’t be seen.

  By the time the talk had finished everyone was apprehensive. On the instruction of the castle servant, who’d worked at the castle man and boy, their candles were lit and the tour began.

  Kate, ever the sceptic, said as they were setting off, ‘Don’t let yourselves get too alarmed. It’s just fun. Right?’

  They were taken first to the nursery at the top of the stairs. By the light of their candles they could make out a huge rocking horse in the window, toys laid out on a table, a puzzle half-finished, a Noah’s ark with the animals lined up to go in, as though a child had only just left the room. A small fire glowed in the fireplace. They stood in silence . . . then the rocking horse began gently moving. Beth clutched Jake’s hand; he slipped an arm around her shoulders. Not one of them had been close to it but there it was, rocking silently back and forth. Then the fire went out and the only light came from their candles. In the complete silence that ensued the voices of young children enjoying a nursery tea could be heard, not loudly but enough to be able to catch a few words.

  As the voices died away the castle servant said, ‘Three children were having nursery tea up here in 1902 when a terrible fire broke out. A nursemaid had locked them in, and they couldn’t escape. Sometimes her ghost, full of guilt, wanders about up here, but not tonight.

  Melanie from Penny Fawcett dared to ask, ‘Those children’s voices we heard just now, were they the children who died . . . kind of?’

  The servant seemed very surprised. ‘Voices? You heard children’s voices?’

  They all nodded.

  ‘I heard nothing. My word, you must all be very special, very sensitive. I’ve never heard them.’ He cleared his throat nervously and added, ‘Let’s go down, shall we?’

  Those at the front of the group, including Jake, Beth and Venetia, were able to lead the way down the stairs to the first floor, when they felt an icy cold draught. Venetia trembled, Beth grabbed Jake’s hand even more tightly, and then they felt something swish past them with a rustle and a rush, nothing they could see but definitely something. Their candles fluttered and then they all heard terrible screams, which seemed to go right down to the floor of the great hall.

  By this time everyone was scared to death and Kate had difficulty in calming nerves. ‘Gently, everyone, steady now. We don’t want an accident.’

  But then the candles blew out altogether, and they were standing in utter darkness. Two girls began to cry. Jake put both arms round Beth as she shivered with fright, and Kate said, ‘We’ll light our candles again. Stand still while I light mine then I can see yours.’

  Melanie said, ‘I’v-ve n-never seen darkness as bad as this before.’

  Jake replied, ‘Well, we’ve got street lighting, haven’t we? Beth here is brave as brave because she’s used to complete darkness at night, aren’t you, Beth?’

  Wanting to keep her image intact, Beth said, ‘Nothing to be afraid of.’ She swallowed hard, and someone else said, ‘Let’s get downstairs right now. Light my candle, Kate, please.’

  ‘Light my candle,’ whispered Jake in Beth’s ear. So she did, and he squeezed her arm, kissed her cheek and held her tighter still as they went down the stone staircase. The darkness and the fear made Beth grateful for his reassuring arm around her, and she was glad, so very very glad it was Jake holding her.

  Alex caught up with them. ‘All right, Beth?’

  ‘Of course I am,’ she replied tartly. ‘A few ghosts don’t bother me.’ But she clasped Jake’s forearm, and kept him holding her. The ghosts did bother her and she would have been happy to go out to the minibus immediately, but there were more rooms to visit, more ghosts to look for, and now Fran had joined her and Jake.

  ‘I don’t like this, do you, Beth?’

  ‘It is a bit creepy.’

  ‘Bit creepy! It’s terrifying.’

  As they reached the bottom of the stairs, Jake, determined not to be impressed by this ghost business, pretended he felt a tremulous wisp of something brush across his face as he passed through a doorway. He took flight, dragging Beth with him and closely followed by Fran, who’d panicked when she saw Jake’s apparently stricken face in the light of his candle.

  The three of them were outside the giant castle door and running for the minibus before anyone could stop them.

  Kate followed to persuade them to finish the tour, but the two girls vehemently refused to go back in and sat shaking and afraid in the minibus waiting to go home. Their nerves slowly calmed and eventually they began reassuring each other.

  The sight of Beth’s face, bleak and afraid, made Jake confess his joke.

  ‘That,’ said Beth, ‘is the nastiest thing you could have done. You knew I was already scared to death. Alex wouldn’t have done that to me.’

  ‘Not goody-goody Alex, oh no! So thoughtful, your Alex, so protective! It was all pretend, didn’t you realise? All made up by that servant.’

  Fran was furious. ‘But he didn’t hear the children’s voices having tea, did he? We all did, so why didn’t he?’

  Beth came to her aid. ‘Yes . . . but the draught we felt . . .’

  ‘What about the screams that floated all the way down the stairs. They were real enough.’

  ‘Whatever . . . it was all for entertainment. God! What a fantastic scheme!’ Just for fun Jake rubbed his face briskly with his hand as though brushing cobwebs away again. Beth grabbed his hand and began beating him with her fists, but it turned into a game and then became serious and Jake was kissing her like he’d never kissed her before . . . Beth subjected herself to his embraces because they were at that very moment what she wanted most in
all the world, so her mock fury melted into need of him and she adored his passion . . . and like that old advert, his kisses reached places never reached before. Beth, enraptured by Jake’s burning desire for her, longed for him. If seeing and hearing ghosts meant his need for her manifested itself like this then . . .

  Fran didn’t know where to look, so she got out of the minibus and sat on the bottom step of the stairs leading to the main door of the castle to wait for the others.

  Then she began to worry. It didn’t seem right, not that kind of frantic kissing, and she wished Beth wasn’t liking it. But she was. Fran hovered between staying where she was and taking no responsibility, and getting back in the minibus and embarrassing them into stopping. Mind made up she got back in and shouted, ‘They’re all coming back!’ That did the trick. Jake released Beth, who straightened her clothes and got out a comb and put her hair to rights.

  The moment Jake knew she’d told a great big fib he shouted, ‘Just shut your mouth. What business is it of yours?’

  ‘Beth’s a friend of mine.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘And it’s not on.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘Well, it isn’t. You shouldn’t.’

  But then the others did come back. Kate instantly noted Beth’s flushed cheeks, the air of excitement about her and her laughing eyes.

  Everyone was entirely convinced that each incident was absolutely real.

  ‘He says we were lucky tonight,’ said one. ‘Sometimes people come and see hardly anything at all.’

  ‘Well, we did. I wonder if the Scouts would like to go? That’d get their woggles all of a jamboree, wouldn’t it?’

  They all fell about in helpless, giggling heaps.

  ‘We saw that man who died in India sitting there in the chair holding a book. Two hundred and fifty years later. In his dressing gown in the library.’

  ‘I’m never going there again.’

  ‘W-worse still, he got up and disappeared through a bookcase. ’

  ‘Then the old servant showed us that it was a real door he’d gone through, a bookcase but a door as well. So he remembered after two hundred and fifty years of being dead. I feel terrible. I’ll never forget this night. Never!’

  ‘Who suggested we came here?’ asked Alex.

  Venetia admitted it was her idea. ‘But I’m never, ever coming ever again. It’s all been too much.’

  But it hadn’t been too much for Beth. As she lay in bed that night she realised that the ghostly appearances must have been man-made because it was all too coincidental that they’d seen every possible ghost all on the same night. In any case, she had far too much to think about how frightened she’d been.

  Now she knew all about kissing. Mum and Dad definitely knew what it was all about, she could see that now. Beth recalled the feel of Jake’s arms around her, and his kissing . . . it was truly divine. She could take a permanent fancy to kissing. It was fantastic. All that closeness and his body against hers and his arms round her and her arms round him . . . Life would never be the same again. How had she managed all these years without being kissed like that?

  Chapter 13

  The arrival of the glossy invitations to the Elizabethan banquet from Ford and Mercedes was greeted with sheer delight by the majority of villagers. Plans were made for their outfits, comparisons were made with others. The telephone lines buzzed with conversations about it. Isn’t it wonderful? Can’t wait! Four weeks to go! Wonderful!

  But there was one household where the husband refused point-blank to have anything at all to do with it.

  ‘The man must be mad, Kate! Stark raving. There’s no way I’m going dressed like . . . a . . . a . . . Sir Walter Raleigh, in doublet and hose. What does he think we are? Children? Not right in the head? I am not . . . we’re not going. Send a refusal immediately.’

  Then Craddock Fitch stormed off to London and the airport, glad to leave the whole matter behind him. He’d not liked Ford right from the first time he met him, the ridiculous man. The puffed-up, boastful twit. The idiotic upstart. Thinking he was the village benefactor buying the mower and then the digger for the graves! Huh! Well, he’d soon find himself demoted by the real benefactor. Craddock Fitch would show him!

  Mistaking Kate for his daughter indeed. He couldn’t think of anything more designed to anger him. Ford nearly got punched on the nose about that, and then he trumped it by assuming that Craddock Fitch was retired, living in rented accommodation and couldn’t afford to help him with his charitable flirtations. As for his wife, Mercedes, she had no taste, no education, no finesse. He patted his own stomach, proud of its taut muscles. Compared to the pair of them, he was a prime example of a vital, healthy man. Ask his wife, she knew how vital he was!

  His driver heard him snorting and muttering in the back and knew this was not the morning for idle chatter. The financial markets he’d carefully read up on before turning the ignition would have to wait. He pushed his own copy of the Financial Times under the front passenger seat and concentrated on driving. His passenger continued to grumble, and the grumbling grew louder when they were caught up in a massive traffic jam and appeared to be running the risk of missing the plane.

  Mrs Kate Fitch decided not to send a refusal immediately. Experience had taught her that sometimes, with only the smallest amount of persuasion from her, Craddock could quite happily change his mind once he’d calmed down. Instead she went off to the village school quietly smiling with joy, for the school was where she loved to be.

  She hadn’t bargained for Maggie being eager for a chat about the banquet.

  ‘Isn’t it marvellous? Never thought I’d get an invite but there it is on my mantelpiece as large as life. I’ve no doubt you got one too?’

  ‘Of course. However, I’ve things to do . . .’

  But there was no escape.

  ‘There’s two fancy dress shops in Culworth and as soon as I’ve finished dinners I’m off on the lunchtime bus to reserve my costume. I wouldn’t leave it too long if I were you. They’ll all be gone, you’ll see! Must press on. You will keep me talking, Mrs Fitch. Mr Fitch will look good in tights with his lean figure. You must feed him just right for him to be so good, especially at his age.’

  ‘Got to get on.’

  ‘So ’ave I. Someone said Ron Bissett’s not going under any circumstances. Sheila’ll be disappointed and not half. They say there’s entertainment, too, not just the food. It’ll have to finish at midnight with it being Sunday the next day. Have you ever tried mead?’

  ‘I should warn you that it is extremely potent. Be very, very careful. Too much mead and you’re anybody’s. Not a care in the world.’ Kate winked wickedly.

  Maggie was shocked. Standing in the middle of the school kitchen, propping up her mop, she wondered if Kate was serious. She’d confirm it, straight after school started, with Jimbo. He always knew everything, Jimbo did. He’d know about mead.

  ‘Are you and Harriet going to the banquet?’ Maggie asked him two hours later in the Store.

  Jimbo nodded.

  Maggie leaned confidentially against the till counter and asked, ‘You’re serving mead at the banquet, they say. Have you tried it?’

  Jimbo nodded again.

  ‘I’m told it’s very potent.’

  He nodded vigorously.

  ‘Two glasses enough?’

  Another nod.

  ‘Enough to make you drunk?’

  He nodded once more.

  ‘You lost your voice or something?’

  One shake of his head.

  ‘Well, answer me, then. This is getting ridiculous.’

  ‘Just having fun. You must be the twentieth person who’s come in here since yesterday asking that very same question. I can tell you that we shall all be lucky to sleep in our own beds afterwards.’

  ‘Sleep in our own beds? Do you mean we’ll never get ’ome?’

  ‘We’ll get home all right, but it might not actually be our home. We’ll be so drunk we shan’t
know the difference which bed we’re in.’

  ‘Oh my God!’ The possibility intrigued Maggie. ‘Jimmy’s? Oh, definitely not. I don’t think he’ll change his sheets that often, do you? And if there’s one thing I can’t abide . . .’ Her nose wrinkled at the thought of unwashed sheets. ‘Or it could be Paddy Cleary’s. He might be small but he’s got some powerful thighs with all that digging he does. Or even Barry Jones. You should see him stripped off sawing wood. Tanned, he is, as if he’s been on a cruise, but what Pat might have to say . . .’

  ‘Go away! You’re making me blush.’

  ‘You blush? That’s a laugh.’