Caroline Graham - A Ghost in the Machine

“No, they’re not.”

“Which one d’you want then?”

“The one with men in little skirts with birds’ heads walking sideways.”

“That’s the Egyptians. They were dead mystic.”

“Like the Knights Templar?”

“Nobody’s as mystic as the Knights Templar. They’d walk round for hours and hours in a weird sort of trance.”

“I still like the Egyptians best.” Karen poured some more orangeade and smiled. A rare sight. Indeed, a sorry sight. “Tell me about the mystery of the Sphinx, Roy. Go on.”

“You’ll only get all worked up.”

“No, I won’t.”

“Last time you couldn’t go to sleep.”

“Tell me about the wonderful rose crystal in its bottom. And the evil green stone of Set.”

It was mid-morning when Kate put her key in the door of 13 Cordwainer Road. Benny, who had not been there before, was very disappointed. As they were driving through streets of shops and terraced houses she kept looking out for a sudden change in the landscape, for the beginning of spacious semi-detached dwellings with gardens and garages; the sort of home she had always pictured Kate and Mallory living in.

Kate unpacked the fresh milk she had brought and made some tea while Mallory picked up the post in the hall. Nearly all flyers – they had already sent out change-of-address cards to family and friends – there was one personal letter, which was from the new owners. Apparently there had been some hold-up on the transportation of their furniture from Hong Kong and they wouldn’t actually be moving in for another couple of weeks. As this would hardly affect the Lawsons one way or the other, Mallory dropped the note into the bin with the rest of the junk mail. Then, as the tea brewed, he and Kate looked around the sitting room in some dismay.

“Didn’t we say we weren’t going to take that?” He was staring at a stained oak bureau that had belonged to his parents.

“Yes,” said Kate. “That and the zinc table and chairs outside and the big painted cupboard in the back bedroom.”

“That’s right. You were going to ring house clearance.”

“We, Mallory. We were going to ring house clearance.”

“You see, Ben?” Mallory picked up the Yellow Pages. “Can’t manage without you.” He looked up the relevant section. “Try all these people and say we’ve some stuff to clear. But they have to collect from this address,” he scrawled it across the page, “by mid-afternoon.”

“What if no one can come?” worried Benny.

“Then we’ll send it with the rest of the stuff and sell it down there.”

Kate, pouring the tea, stared round gloomily. “I can’t get over all these wretched pots and pans. I thought I’d packed everything.”

“There’s still some space in this box.”

“Not half enough.”

“Also, there’s Polly’s room,” said Mallory. “She should really be here.”

He had rung Polly’s number just before they left Appleby House. Dialling carefully, waiting and waiting while Kate stood by expressionless, feeling her face might crack. And what were they talking about? Two shelves of books and enough clothes to fill a bin liner.

“Polly?” Benny had stopped dialling. “She’s on holiday.”

“Holiday?”

“In Crete. With friends.”

“How do you know?” The rush of relief almost knocked Mallory off balance.

“They rang when she was down at Forbes Abbot the other week. She went out to meet them. To make final arrangements.”

“There you are, Mal,” said Kate. “Now, can we get on?”

“What?”

“We need boxes from the nearest supermarket. Then we have to pack as much as we can of the rest of the stuff before the removal men get here. The van’s due at one.”

“Right.”

“Hello? Hello – is that –” Benny screwed her eyes up at the Yellow Pages – “Mr. Tallis?…Oh, Frank. Well, I’m Benny…Fine thank you, Frank. I hope you are too? Now, there’s some lovely furniture here for clearing…Thirteen Cordwainer Road. Parsons Green, that’s right. Would you be able to come and have a look, only it has to be today?”

Kate caught Mallory’s eye. Both smiled over Benny’s head, awkwardness and suspicion dissolving in the glance. Kate thought, this time tomorrow we’ll be home with a capital H, then everything will be transformed.

Mallory thought, all that anxiety over nothing. There’ll probably be a postcard any day now. Even as he pictured it arriving Mallory felt the notches in the belt of anxiety around his chest begin to slip and slide. His breathing slowed down. His heartbeat softened.

Benny replaced the receiver. “Frank’ll be round in half an hour.”

“Thanks a lot, Ben,” said Mallory. He just stopped himself saying, “Well done.” She wasn’t a child, although the look of pride in her accomplishment might lead one to wonder.

Actually Benny was already thinking of something entirely different. She was recalling her visit last night to Doris’s house and pondering on what a stroke of luck it had been that her friend listened to the local radio station. Having heard an advance announcement of the Ava Garret interview Doris just had time to get her neighbour to record the programme. Listening, Benny realised that she had been right to place such confidence in the medium. How forthright Ava sounded. How vividly she described the communication between herself and the spirit of Dennis Brinkley. And how convincing her promises that their next dialogue would bring forth even more dramatic revelations as to the manner of his death. She should have been on the stage, thought Benny, nodding with satisfaction as the machine was finally switched off. You’d never have guessed that, from start to finish, the whole business was nothing but a pack of lies.

The rest of the morning went so smoothly that Kate found herself poised and waiting for the other shoe to drop. They decided to have toast and tinned soup in the garden, sitting on the grass, as the zinc chairs and table had been snapped up, along with all the other unwanted furniture, by Frank Tallis.

As they were stacking their bowls and plates, Kate spotted in the longish grass a small flowerpot decorated with a glaze of blue and yellow irises. She cried: “Look! Look!” and seized the pot, wrapping it in newspaper and wedging it into one of the cardboard boxes they had collected from Sainsbury’s.

“That is just so lucky. I would have hated to lose it.”

“It’s an omen,” said Benny. “You’ll see.”

The serendipity continued. The removal van arrived a few minutes early. The men were amiable, polite and efficient. Quite quickly the house was emptied of all it contained.

The occupants did not linger. Mallory left to bring the car to the front door. Benny poured the remaining milk down the sink. Kate stood looking round the sitting room where she and Mallory had spent nearly every evening for the past nine years. She felt nothing. A box to live in, merely. Now they were going home.

“You all right, Ben?”

Benny, quiet for a moment, blew her nose on a lace hanky. “Mmm.”

Kate linked arms, squeezing Benny closely against her side. How thoughtless she had been. Content in her own happiness, she had quite forgotten that Benny was returning to a village now bereft of her oldest and dearest friend. At once Kate vowed to love and care for Benny always, whatever the circumstances. They had heard no talk for some days about Dennis’s murder and Kate hoped all that nonsense was over. But if it wasn’t she would be very patient and try to understand and nurse Benny back to equanimity.

Outside Mallory hooted. As they left, Kate carrying the keys to drop off at the estate agents, the back doors of the van were being fastened and secured. The Lawsons, taking short cuts and nippy sideroads, would arrive at Appleby House first. In case of hold-ups or accident Judith and Ashley, who also had a list of what furniture went where, would let the removal men in.