Martin Edwards - The Frozen Shroud

She hesitated.

‘I suppose you’re right.’

‘Had to happen one day.’

For once, there was no humour in his grin.

‘I expect you’re wondering why I ditched Stefan?’

Ten to midnight, and the crowd of partygoers was thinning. The Knights had hired minibuses to ferry home most of their guests. ‘Danse Macabre’ whirled and rattled in the background as Daniel was cornered by the Black Widow. On the other side of the room, Quin was regaling Louise and Miriam Park with tales of an actor’s life. Jeffrey was with Melody and Oz, exchanging farewells with friends from the Theatre by the Lake.

‘I guess it didn’t work out.’ Daniel had met Stefan briefly in the summer. ‘But you seem happy, and that’s what matters.’

‘He’s been an absolute scumbag, to be honest. The man can be utterly scary when he’s in a foul mood. He’s been stalking me.’

Terri didn’t strike Daniel as someone who scared easily. ‘Has he threatened you?’

She nodded. ‘No woman is ever allowed to dump him without paying for it. God, what did I ever see in him?’

‘You’ve told Hannah?’

‘Of course, she’s up in arms, wants me to drag in m’learned friends and all that crap. The thing is, she doesn’t know the full story yet. I’m dying to tell her about Robin, but I wanted to get tonight’s announcement out of the way first.’

‘What announcement? That you’re getting married?’

Terri took another gulp of champagne. The Knights hadn’t stinted; Oz and Melody kept topping up everyone’s glasses, but there were still bottles unopened.

‘No, it’s too soon for wedding bells. Miriam would love to see Robin settled once and for all, with three or four grandkids running around, and being sick over her pinafore. But he’s not the sort of feller who likes to feel tied down. I know how he feels, I’ve been tied down too often for my own good.’ She screeched with laughter. ‘No, my poor old dad isn’t well. We haven’t always seen eye to eye, but he’s on his own now, and I need to move closer to him.’

‘Sorry to hear that.’

‘Old age, eh? Not a lot of fun. Why can’t we stay young forever? Anyway, looking after Dad will help me forget about Stefan. And it suits Robin, he’s perfectly happy.’ She laughed again, and he realised she’d drunk even more than he had. ‘Mind you, the only travelling he’s done today is back and forth to the loo. So — no big announcement, no fanfare. Never mind, eh?’

‘You’ll tell Hannah now, though?’

‘I almost did already, but then I thought I’d wait till after the party.’ Terri leant closer. ‘I feel a bit guilty, to tell you the truth, but Dad needs all the support he can get. As for Hannah, she ought to get shot of Marc, and that old barn of a house, and make a fresh start. Stop worrying so much about work. Get some fun back into her life.’

‘She’ll be fine,’ he said. ‘Hannah’s a survivor.’

‘More than that. She’s a winner. A class act. Believe me, Daniel, she’s one in a million. She just screwed up over Marc. Cheekbones to die for, but a self-centred wimp. She deserves better.’

Uh-oh. Daniel saw the way this conversation was heading. He mumbled something non-committal. But Terri wasn’t letting go.

‘Were your ears burning the other day?’ she demanded. ‘Hannah and I were talking, and your name cropped up.’

Louise’s arrival rescued him. ‘Quin’s insisting that we all go out in search of the Faceless Woman.’

‘Brilliant idea — yeah, let’s see if Gertrude Smith is on the prowl!’ Terri couldn’t contain her delight. ‘Who can resist a ghost hunt?’

In her dream, Hannah was late for a funeral, racing through narrow urban streets towards a strange church with a square tower resembling a campanile. She’d missed the service, and as she reached a gap in the stone wall around the graveyard, she saw that men and women dressed in black from head to toe were following pall-bearers carrying a coffin the colour of blood.

She squeezed through the gap and stumbled down a pathway lined with tombstones, knowing that if she did not reach the graveside before the coffin was lowered into its resting place, something terrible would happen. The mourners blocked her way, ignoring her pleas to be let through. She found herself crawling on hands and knees along the wet earth, muddying her clothes, but not caring about anything except to get there in time.

The priest was chanting something, in a language she couldn’t understand. She struggled to her feet, only to see the six burly men stepping away from the open grave, their job done.

She shoved her way past the mourners, and the priest turned to glare at her. Taking no notice, she peered down into the hole. The coffin lid was open.

Marc stared up at her, his chalk-white face wrinkled by hurt and reproach.

The ghost-hunters staggered out into the night. They were in pairs; Quin and Jeffrey led the way, arm in arm, weaving unsteadily between the buxus tubs outside the porticoed entrance of Ravenbank Hall. Daniel and Louise came next, then Miriam and Terri. Melody and Oz brought up the rear of the party, after locking up and sorting out the alarms.

During the party, there had been a torrential storm. The grass was sodden, and they found themselves splashing through large puddles on the driveway. Lamps spaced at regular intervals illuminated the way as far as the Hall’s iron gates. Beyond, the lane leading to Martindale was unlit, but the moon was high, and the Knights had supplied everyone with torches.

There was something peculiarly British about a ghost hunt, Daniel reflected. In ancient times, had people believed this misty, twilit land was on the very edge of the world? The Roman legionnaires who strode along the road high above Martindale believed the country to be infested with spirits. But apparitions were untouchable, tantalising those who sought them out. However close they seemed, whatever form and shape they took, they remained forever out of reach.

Louise broke into his thoughts. ‘Think of that poor girl Gertrude. What in God’s name was she doing outside, the night she was murdered?’

‘One account suggests Letty lured her out. Sent a message arranging a tryst, pretending it came from Clifford. Caught her unawares, and bashed her face in.’

‘So was Letty strong enough to batter her to death despite her poor health?’

‘Her illness was mental, not physical. What’s more, Gertrude had a withered arm. If Letty took her by surprise, she couldn’t have managed much of a fight to save her life.’

‘The disability must have made it tough, working as a maid.’

‘Depends on her duties, doesn’t it? She had fair hair, blue eyes and a coy smile. All the reports of the case dwell on how pretty she was. I doubt Hodgkinson recruited her just to clean the silver.’

‘And then it all went tits-up when Gertrude got pregnant?’

‘That’s one way of putting it. Question is — who was the father? The assumption seems to have been that it was Clifford, and Letty found out. Suppose the news of the pregnancy drove Roland Jones to fury.’

‘You think he killed Gertrude in a rage?’

‘Or maybe he was the father, and she wanted to get rid of the child … the permutations are endless. But it doesn’t look like Miriam Park will be much help.’

An owl hooted in the trees. It sounded despondent, as though contemplating human folly. Otherwise, everything was quiet. Daniel fixed his torch beam on the ground. He needed to watch his step. It would be easy to trip, and sprain an ankle, or worse.

‘Nothing could ever be proved anyway, not after all this time,’ Louise said.

‘A historian can’t ever afford to think like that.’

‘So are you going to see what you can find out about Roland Jones?’ He nodded. ‘And what about Shenagh Moss?’