Caroline Graham - A Ghost in the Machine

“I was wondering…Jude?”

“Sorry. Drifted off.”

“Could we go out, d’you think?”

“Out? Um…I suppose…”

“Just to have tea, perhaps. A change of scene would be really nice.”

“Of course we could.” He must be sick to death of these four walls. Why on earth hadn’t she thought of it? “Anywhere special?”

“There’s that new hotel on the way to Beaconsfield. I think it’s called the Peacock—”

“No. I…wouldn’t want to go there.”

“OK.” Ashley, frowning, put the colander of beans aside. He waited, curious and concerned.

“They’re…um…surly.” Judith calmed her unsteady breath. “I found them surly.”

“Then we’ll go somewhere else. The Soft Shoe Café?”

“I love that name.”

“So Fred and Ginger.”

Judith sang: “‘Isn’t this a lovely day to be caught in the rain?’”

Suddenly she was happy. It would be an event to go out together even if it was just to an ordinary caff in boring old Causton. She smiled in anticipation. This was the second nice thing to happen in so many days, the first being the disappearance of the Lawson girl.

Judith assumed she had gone back to London. She had last seen Polly a couple of nights ago, running through the gates of Appleby House into the soft grey evening light. Swinging her bag over her shoulder, lifting her head towards the early stars, smiling. Where was she going, without wheels, at this time of night? Meeting someone presumably. Someone who didn’t want to drive up to the house. Then, just a few yards along the lane, she used her mobile. Talked briefly, checked her watch and wandered off into the village.

So vivid was this recall that Judith gave quite a jump when their own phone rang. She got up but Ashley, who was nearer, stretched across the back of his chair and picked up the receiver. He said: “Kate!” the exclamation warm with surprise and pleasure.

Judith’s contentment dissolved like mist on the sea. She longed to snatch the thing from him. It would be for her anyway, wouldn’t it? Something domestic. She reached out a hand. Ashley waved her away.

“How are you? More important, when are you coming back?” He laughed then said, “Too long, too long.”

“What does she want?” Even to her own ears Judith sounded shrill. “Ashley?”

“Really? We saw her only this morning…Of course we will. You should have rung before…Try not to worry. I’m sure everything’s OK. Do you want a word with Jude?…Fine. We’ll check it out. Bye.”

“What did she want?”

“I wish you wouldn’t do that.”

“What?”

“Interrupt, try and take over. I may be ill but I’m still capable of handling a phone call.”

“Sorry.” I should have a record made.

“They’ve been trying to ring Appleby House for two days. The operator said the phone was off the hook.”

“Right.” Judith got up, glad to leave the beans. “I’ll go and sort it.”

Benny was amazed at Judith’s news. They checked both the downstairs telephones, which were securely on their rests. The only other set, explained Benny, was in Carey’s room and it couldn’t be that because no one had gone in since she died. Well, herself once, but only because she’d absolutely had to.

Seeing Benny becoming increasingly anxious and distressed Judith suggested the operator could have made a mistake and there was actually a fault on the line. However, before they reported it shouldn’t they make absolutely sure…?

“I must come with you,” cried Benny, and immediately regretted it. She had spoken impulsively, feeling somehow that no one but herself should enter Carey’s room. Yet, as they both climbed the stairs, Benny made herself acknowledge how foolish this attitude was. Pretty soon Kate and Mallory would be living here and then not just Carey’s room but the whole house would probably change beyond recognition.

“This is the one.” Benny paused only long enough to take a single deep breath, then turned the white ceramic knob and went in. She saw the telephone receiver straight away. It was lying on its side on the bedside table.

Judith moved quickly, putting her arm round Benny’s waist. Taking the full weight.

“Benny—look, it’s all right. Come and sit down. You must have made a call and forgotten to—”

“I didn’t! I didn’t …” Benny let herself be supported towards the bed. “I haven’t been in here…”

She sat, pale as paper, lips trembling, hands jiggling. Further denying the possibility, she shook her head back and forth with such ferocity Judith feared she would hurt herself.

“Oh, dear…” Judith attempted to hold Benny and calm this terrible agitation. She tried to remain patient but it wasn’t easy. Surely this was a reaction too far? Next time, she thought, I’ll send Ash. “Would you like me to make you some tea?”

Benny did not reply but her eyes kept sliding sideways to the telephone and she became very still. When Judith picked up the receiver to replace it she gave a little whinny of fear. Judith sighed, struggled not to show her vexation and went downstairs to put the kettle on. The minute the tea was made she would ring the Lawsons. The sooner they came down the better. Benny was not Judith’s responsibility. She had more than enough on her plate without having to cope with hysterical old maids.

The following morning Mrs. Crudge, having spent at least half an hour attempting to comfort, console and counsel was on the point of giving up. As she was to say to her Ernest that very evening, “I was wrung to a wither.”

“Benny, my love—you don’t know how lucky you are.” She drained her coffee cup. “Some folks’d give their right arm to have a direct sign from the paralogical.”

“I thought it was that murderer. From Badger’s Drift.”

“He’s miles away by now.”

“Or a burglar.” Benny started crying and snuffling again.

“Burglars burgle things. They don’t just take a phone off the hook then run off.”

“I suppose not.”

“I mean—it wouldn’t be worth their while, what with prison and everything. Just going around taking phones off hooks.”

“Judith said I must have made a call but I didn’t, Doris. I haven’t been in that room since just before the funeral.”

“Of course you haven’t. No living hand touched that apparatus. It’s a pity you didn’t get on to me straight away. There might have been etheric traces lingering.”

“What could you have done, Doris?”

Doris hesitated. Her solid cheeks took on an almost clover-like hue and Benny realised that her friend was actually blushing.

“Well, I am actually what is known in psychic circles as a sensitive.”

Benny wanted to ask, a sensitive what? but it seemed a bit rude. “What does that mean exactly?”

“We see things.” A definite note of superiority had crept into Mrs. Crudge’s voice. “Things that other people can’t see.”

“You mean things that aren’t there?”

“I shouldn’t fret about technical details, my love. What matters is—the sign’s been given. Miss Lawson’s in touch. All you have to do is come along next Sunday afternoon to receive the message.”

This time Benny didn’t immediately reject the idea. She sat quietly, thinking about it. She thought, what if, in the face of all modern knowledge and intelligence and science and common sense and everything, Doris was right? Could it be true that Carey was making huge efforts to connect, leaving signs and wisps of stuff and suchlike? Imagine the strain, the sheer energy involved in heaving that receiver off its stand. She would not be very pleased if Benny could not even be bothered to go along and collect any messages. It didn’t bear thinking of. Even a disembodied Carey was a force to be reckoned with. What if she came to the house and started haunting?