The Dead of Winter (3 page)

There was no evidence of Tim in the large room, but, Rina had to agree, it was worth a ‘wow'. The panelled walls were carved in a linenfold pattern reminiscent of much earlier centuries and yet looking ‘right' for the opulent space. Above that, a fresco of Adam-style plasterwork – which, beautiful and intricate as it was, didn't quite work with the panelling. Three massive windows – covered by heavy russet velvet curtains that, to Rina's eye, looked contemporary with the house . . . and were showing every one of their hundred-and-fifty-odd years – would have provided guests with a view of spectacular gardens. At least, Rina guessed they were spectacular, but today it was impossible to see anything through the damned rain.

A fireplace that evidently shared a chimney with the one in the reception area dominated the wall opposite the windows, though unlike its blue stone counterpart, some neo-Jacobean woodcarver had been let loose to create a whole forest of trees and swags and unlikely beasts, flanked by mermaid-like creatures, naked from the waist up and wearing the most elaborate headdresses decked out in flowers and fruit.

Nothing about it was right, Rina thought, and yet she found it strangely appealing. Whoever had the job of making the fire surround and overmantel had been having a wonderful time.

Joy bent closer to look at the mermaids. ‘She's wearing one of my Great Aunt Madge's wedding hats,' she said.

‘Ah, I have yet to meet the redoubtable Aunt Madge, haven't I?'

‘Yes, Mum is saving that treat. Too early a meeting with Aunt Madge would be a test of even the strongest friendship. I bet Tim is through there.'

French doors opened on to what looked like woodland, and Rina was puzzled until she realized that they in fact gave entrance into a very elaborate conservatory. No, she corrected, more of an orangery, far too grand to be labelled a mere conservatory. Large expanses of window let what light there was enter through the rear of the garden room, and the roof was more glass, supported by the most beautiful and over-engineered cast-iron arches. There was nothing in the least bit temporary about this structure: nothing that, in Rina's mind, equated with the flimsy UPVC structures people tagged on to the rear of their semis.

The floor was tiled in what looked like marble; elaborate cast-iron grates ran the full length for drainage. Heavy planters, big enough to hold substantial trees, stood against the piers between the windows and, though the trees themselves were now overgrown and untidy, Rina could see where they had once been espaliered and fanned against the walls.

‘There's a pond.' Joy was astonished. ‘Oh my God, don't let Mum see this. There'll be no peace till we get one.'

Rina laughed. Bridie's house comprised a collection of themed rooms – Rina usually stayed in the art-deco suite – and Bridie was a devil for going to auctions and buying impossibly large furniture just because she liked it. She'd given refuge to the biggest sideboard Rina had ever seen and a draw leaf table designed to seat about thirty, the spare leaves of which were carefully stored and regularly inspected against the time when she had to host a meeting of Commonwealth leaders.

‘So, where is Tim?' Joy asked.

‘Got to be through there.' More doors, this time leading to a library and then into a smaller study. These rooms must form a wing at the back of the house, Rina thought, matching the nursery wing where her bedroom was, on the opposite side of the house.

Tim appeared to be inspecting a large round table. With him were three other people, two men and a woman, setting up cameras in the corners of the otherwise empty room.

Tim himself was beneath the table.

‘Timothy Brandon, come out and explain yourself,' Joy demanded.

Four pairs of eyes focused in her direction, only Tim failing to notice her tone.

‘Ah, you've found us, good. Great location isn't it?' He scrambled out from beneath the table, face lit by excitement.

‘Seance?' Joy demanded.

The young woman with the camera laughed. ‘Oops, someone's in trouble.'

Joy glared at her, then back at Tim. ‘Explain.'

The older of the cameramen extended a hand. Rina shook it automatically. ‘I think Melissa is bringing us some tea and coffee,' he said. ‘Back in the hall. How about we all go and sit down and I'll give Tim a hand on the excuses front?'

‘Do I need a hand?' Tim asked, then took a closer look at Joy and Rina. ‘Ah, looks like I do.'

Joy, in turn, shook the older cameraman's hand. ‘Toby Thwaite,' he said.

Rina had heard the name before. Her eyes narrowed as she dredged up a vague memory. ‘You and Tim were at university together.'

‘We were, yes. I took the route into electronic magic, and Tim took the more direct approach. I filmed his Pepper's Ghost show at Christmas; that's when I asked him to be the fourth man for this job.' He gestured towards the unmanned camera set up in the far corner. ‘This is the rest of my team: Robin Hill and Viv Grieves. They're both students of mine.'

Hellos all round. Rina studied the younger pair: Robin, with dark floppy hair falling over his eyes and the demeanour of an excited ten year old. Viv, with richly brown skin but unusually light hazel eyes. She was very pretty, Rina thought, noting that Robin seemed to think so too. She guessed they were just a little older than Joy.

‘Robin, I think, is hoping he'll see a bona fide ghost,' Toby went on, ‘and Viv here is determined she's going to spot who's pulling the strings.'

‘So . . . ?' Joy let the question hang.

‘Tea,' Toby said. ‘Hopefully, some sandwiches too. I'm starved.'

They all trooped back into the main hall. A table had been set up near to the fire, and Melissa was busy dragging seats over. Tim and Viv moved to help. Toby spotted the tea and coffee and hot-water jugs set out on the console table.

‘So,' he said. ‘I'll be mother, shall I? Mrs Martin, what would you like?'

‘Rina, call me Rina, and I'd like some tea, please. No sugar.'

Sandwiches and cakes had been laid out on the table. Melissa smiled at her. ‘Glad you've met people. Dinner will be at seven, but I hope this will hold you all until then.' Another bright smile and she was gone. Rina was relieved they had been spared the jazz hands this time.

‘What does she actually do?' Joy asked.

‘Ah, Melissa, well, she actually runs this place. She's got caterers coming in for this weekend, but mostly it's just Mel and some part-timers. She does a fantastic job.'

‘Runs this place? As a conference centre?'

‘Well –' Toby continued to hand around the refreshments – ‘believe it or not, in summer they use this as a wedding venue. October to March it will, hopefully, also be conferences, but the company that owns Aikensthorpe has been properly up and running less than a year, and they need to get the secondary accommodation finished before they can really get that off the ground. They're converting what used to be estate cottages and the stable block. Melissa took over last April, and she's trebled the bookings since then, prices too. Lucky we booked early on.'

He sat down and helped himself to a sandwich. ‘Eat,' he said. ‘Before Viv and Robin get stuck in. Typical students,' he added, ‘always up for free food.'

‘And you're not?' Viv objected.

‘Oh, I don't deny it.' He laughed.

Viv flopped down in the low chair beside him, and Robin pulled his own seat closer. Joy tucked in beside Rina on the little sofa, and Tim wedged his chair between that and Toby's seat.

‘How much trouble am I in?' he asked.

‘Depends,' Joy told him. ‘Have a sandwich. You don't think straight when you're hungry, and I want this explanation to be a good one.'

Rina sipped her tea, surveying the little group. The film people obviously knew each other well, and Toby appeared to have some knowledge of Melissa and this house. He and Tim also seemed to have fallen back easily into their old friendship, which was interesting for Rina who knew very little about Tim's youth. She and Joy were very much the newcomers here.

‘So,' she said. ‘I suggest we start at the beginning and get the context right. What is this place, why are we all here, and why, Tim dear, did you not tell us what was going on?'

Toby smiled at her. ‘You'll need more tea,' he said. ‘This is at least a three-cup story.'

He waited until everyone had settled with sufficient food and drink before beginning. Outside, the night was drawing in early; looking at her watch, Rina saw it was only four o'clock, but the darkness was profound. She wondered if they could close the curtains. As if reading her thoughts, Viv and Robin got up and pulled the heavy drapes across. ‘Shut the night out,' Viv said. ‘It's a bit grim, isn't it? Makes you wonder why on earth they built a house in such an abandoned place.'

‘Ah, there speaks a true urbanite.' Toby laughed. ‘So, on this dark and stormy night, let us begin.

‘Aikensthorpe Hall was built in 1854 by a rich mill owner by the name of Albert Southam. Like many rich men of his age, he was also interested in experimentation, in science and in religion. You've got to think of the historical context here. Spiritualism was just getting started, the Universalist Church was suggesting that anyone could be saved, not just the select few, and Darwin was suggesting that we might not be the result of one single, once and for all, act of creation. Science was moving into the seance room and photographing the phenomena, and both the stage magicians and some of the more unscrupulous mediums were making use of early special effects. God and his angels and the possibility of life after death had become legitimate areas for experimentation and investigation. Literally, nothing was sacred any more – or at least not so sacred that it couldn't be profaned by the scientific nosy parker poking it with a stick. It was a truly fascinating time, and we've got some real experts lined up for the weekend.'

‘Melissa mentioned coaches arriving tomorrow?'

‘Yes, that's right. There's been a big conference up in Leeds this last week; some of the delegates are decamping here tomorrow for the lectures. I think Melissa would have loved to stage a full-scale convention, with all the delegates on-site, but the accommodation really isn't ready. So, we're bussing people in for tomorrow . . .'

‘We?' Rina enquired.

Toby grinned at her. ‘Guilty,' he said. ‘No, actually, I got dragged into this by David, that's Professor Franklin. He'll be master of ceremonies tomorrow. I got to know him about eighteen months ago. He's written quite widely on the use of early photography and also what you could term magic tricks in a religious context. He's supervising Gail Perry, who'll be our medium at the seance. Gail is a PhD student writing about the various quasi-scientific movements that sprang up in the North of England particularly, and it was her research that uncovered the strange events here in the winter of 1872. That's what tomorrow's reconstruction is all about. Hopefully without the subsequent insanity and violent death.'

He took a bite of his sandwich, and Rina glared at him, so obvious was his enjoyment in making them wait.

‘Oh, for goodness' sake,' Viv said. ‘They had this seance one night – in fact, the anniversary is tomorrow, which is pretty good timing, don't you think? They'd had loads before, everyone seems to have been at it back then, but this was different. Everyone involved had spent Christmas and New Year together, and during that time they'd invented a ghost.'

‘Invented one?' Joy was amused. ‘Why?'

‘Well,' Toby butted in, taking his story back again. ‘It actually prefigured a thing called the Philip experiment in Toronto about a hundred years later. A group of Canadian researchers under the direction of a Dr Owen and his wife got together and created a persona called Philip. Over several months they discussed who he might have been, decided he was a seventeenth-century English aristocrat with a string of mistresses.'

‘No, just one mistress. She was burned as a witch, they decided, which of course is terribly inaccurate,' Viv interrupted again.

‘Inaccurate?' Joy asked.

‘We hanged our witches,' Rina told her. ‘Burning was for heretics.'

‘That's right.' Viv nodded enthusiastically. ‘They did it different in Scotland, but in England it was the hangman who dealt with convicted witches.'

‘Anyway,' Toby laughingly reasserted, ‘in essence, the modern group
created
Philip, but the Philip they invented and then tried to contact in the seance room behaved pretty much the same way as any other ghostly presence reported in the literature. The table they used was rapped on and moved and even performed on the television in front of the cameras. Of course, it could all be a bit of clever camera trickery and a lot of manipulation—'

‘Or it could be that they accidentally stumbled on something real.' It was the first time Robin had contributed to the conversation. He blushed, Rina noticed, noting too that Viv reached out and grabbed his hand and glared at Toby as his laughter exploded.

‘We're all entitled to our opinions,' Viv told their professor sternly.

‘I'm not saying I
believe
that.' Robin was defensive. ‘Just that we should keep our minds open as well as our eyes.'

‘Which saying is, I believe, a direct quote from our dear David Franklin.'

Rina looked sharply at Toby, noting the hardening of his tone and the increased pressure of Viv's hand on Robin's. Ah, not so happy families, then, she thought.

‘So, you're saying this Philip behaved as though he was real and not something they'd made up?' Joy was intrigued.