Caroline Graham - A Ghost in the Machine

There was a really stupid pattern on the bedclothes. Women in funny stick-out skirts dancing on their toes and men jumping through the air, wearing sort of Robin Hood costumes. Everything was grubby. Ava had told Roy once, just after he’d moved in, that her outstanding gifts put her above housework and that anything Karen didn’t do got left. This ultimately became anything Karen and Roy didn’t do.

It was a job shoving the duvet through. The window, small to start with, was the old-fashioned sort that would only open in two separate halves. The mattress was going to be even worse. Roy decided the best thing to do was drag it on to the landing, down the stairs then round the side of the house. He heaved it off the bed and on to the floor. Lying underneath, on top of the box springs, was an envelope. Roy picked it up by the tips of his fingers and looked inside. It was full of money. Automatically he stuffed it into his pocket, then straightaway took it out again. He would have to start thinking differently from now on. Living life a new way. There wasn’t just himself to consider.

He tried to count the money, which wasn’t easy. The fifty-pound notes were damp and stuck together. He peeled them off carefully. There were nine. Four bundles of two made one hundred pounds four times. And there was one note left over.

“Karen?” He could hear her washing up. She was talking to herself as she often did. Chattering away like an old washerwoman. He called again. “Karen?”

“What?”

“Come and see what I’ve found.”

That same Saturday morning Doris was having a quick whizz through the Echo. She thought there might be a bit more information about Ava’s death but it was the usual light-weight weekend stuff. Sport, horse racing, profiles of local characters, a few recipes. Doris cut out the only one that sounded tasty – a ham and cheese sandwich fried in butter with an egg on top – and passed the rest of the paper to Ernest.

She was keeping an eye on the time. Cheated yesterday of any conversation in the muddle and rush of unpacking, Doris had decided to try to catch Benny at her flat this morning. She was aiming for 9:30, when Benny should have finished breakfast but perhaps not yet gone over to the main house. Just in case, Doris took a note to leave. But she was in luck. Benny was at home but looking terribly upset. She was actually shaking as she opened the door. Doris was immediately concerned.

“Whatever’s the matter?”

“I’ve been reading this book. They asked me – Kate and Mallory. I was so pleased – to be taking part, you know?”

“Yes,” said Doris, going inside. “Is it awful?”

“Terrible. Oh! Doris – I really don’t think I can bear to read any more.”

“Don’t then.”

“It’s about this sword…so amazingly sharp—like magic. It has to cut through leather and flesh and bones and muscle. It can slice a soldier in half. And there’s jousting and horses and heads rolling everywhere…”

It sounded like a jolly good read to Doris. “Listen, love, the last thing in the world Mallory would want is for you to get into this sort of state, right?”

“Yes, but—”

“This where it goes?” She pushed the heavy pile of paper back into a large Jiffy bag. “Now you take that back to the house and tell him you think it’s a real belter.”

“It doesn’t seem a very good start,” said Benny. “Telling lies.”

“You’re in business now. Better get used to it.”

“Right!” Benny seized the package.

“Hang on,” said Doris. “Kate’s not here at the minute. I just saw her go over the road.”

“To the Parnells’?” asked Benny.

She spoke quite coldly and Doris was surprised. It wasn’t like Benny, who seemed to like practically everyone on sight, to be so chilly. Doris, a bit uncomfortable at asking a direct question, raised her eyebrows.

Benny ignored the hint. She would never tell anyone what had happened to turn her against the Parnells—well, only Judith really. Just days after she had given them the lovely present of the Scottie dog soap and sponge she had seen it put out with the rubbish on collection day. Judith had not even bothered to bury it under other things or put it in a bag. This absolute indifference to anyone else’s feelings, for the bin was clearly visible from the gates of Appleby House, had made Benny very angry. She was glad they were going away.

“Tell you what,” Doris was saying now. “I couldn’t half do with a cuppa.”

“Benny apologised, made some tea and produced almond biscuits. There was an awkward moment when she took the tray into the sitting room. Doris was sitting in Dennis’s wing chair and Benny couldn’t help making a little cry of distress, which she immediately smothered. But Doris heard and got up straightaway, protesting that the sun was in her eyes and she thought she’d settle better on the settee.

“You coming to the Near at Hand tomorrow, Ben?”

Benny’s hand trembled so violently the lid of the teapot started to dance. “What for?”

“Well…I expect there’ll be a memorial service. You know, for Ava. Just thought you might be interested.”

“Ava?”

“Ava Garret. The medium who died.”

“Oh, yes.” That Ava.

“I thought there’d’ve been an inquest by now.”

Doris no sooner spoke than regretted it. Benny’s face clouded over and Doris guessed she was remembering the inquest on Dennis. What an awful day that had been, with Benny acting so strangely and making wild accusations.

At this point Benny picked up the pot again and finished pouring the tea. As she put the milk and sugar in, Doris cautiously started to skirt around the real reason for her visit.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said on Thursday, Ben.”

“To do with what?”

“When I told you Ava’d died you seemed really cross. Then you said, ‘What am I going to do now ?’”

“I don’t remember that.”

“You definitely did, and I thought—”

“Look at the time.” Benny got up, almost tipping over her cup, such was her haste. “I’m…er…supposed to be over there. Mallory will…um…the Celandine…meeting.” She snatched up the manuscript. “No need for you to hurry, Doris. Finish your tea, have some more biscuits. Pull the door to when you go.”

Doris finished her tea and all the biscuits too. She felt she deserved some sort of compensation. For hadn’t she been the one who’d urged Benny to visit the Church of the Near at Hand in the first place? Without me, thought Doris, poor Mr. Brinkley would still be floating around the etheric grid desperate for a link-up. You don’t expect gratitude for helping people or, these days, even thanks. But to be shut out when a new and mysterious angle on the whole business seemed to be in the offing was extremely frustrating.

Something was going on or Benny wouldn’t have scarpered like that. Doris recalled the clattering cup and saucer, the grabbing of the envelope and Ben flying from the room, calling over her shoulder. She had run away, that’s what she had done. Run like the wind. But from what? Doris, nibbling on the final almond thin, was determined to find out.

Kate was saying goodbye to Ashley and Judith. They had already said it once, all four of them, the previous evening at dinner. Remembering what it had been like the night before she and Mallory moved, Kate had thought asking them over for a meal would be helpful. Not that the Parnells were actually moving but they were going away for an unknown length of time.

It had all happened very quickly. Even before the Harley Street appointment Judith was surfing the Net looking for the best hospital and the best-known and reputable consultant. She showed her brief list to the specialist when they met and followed his advice. Ashley told Kate all about it when Judith was in Causton, booking their flights.