Page 38 of Christmas Spirits at Honeywell House (Ghosts of Rowan Vale #3)

I barely knew Aubrey, but a few minutes in his company had already convinced me that it would be cruel to tell him the truth about his son. James had been in prison for theft and embezzlement and had married Ellen six months after his release.

She’d been a neighbour of his mother’s. Elspeth, it seemed, had fallen on hard times since leaving the estate, as, according to the 1881 census, she’d lived in a terraced house in Manchester and took in lodgers to make ends meet.

I wasn’t sure James and Ellen had ever been a love match either, as their daughter had arrived just four months after the wedding, so it might have been forced upon them. Looking at this gentleman sitting in my living room, I had a feeling he wasn’t ready to hear such things.

The story had always been that James was a bit of a rat, but the blame for that had been put squarely on the fact that he’d been so badly treated by his father. Somehow, I had a feeling that the truth had been buried along the way. I decided to be gentle with this man.

‘They were very happy,’ I told him. ‘And I remember their great-granddaughter, my grandma a bit. She seemed lovely. Sadly, she passed away when I was four.’

‘And your parents?’

I bit my lip, aware that this was turning into a tale of woe.

‘Both gone,’ I said briefly. ‘It’s just me now.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ he said kindly.

‘Thank you.’ I took a sip of orange juice. ‘Anyway, I have Jack.’ For now . ‘And I have three children.’ I patted my stomach. ‘And one on the way.’

His face brightened. ‘You’re expecting a baby? How wonderful! You know, I saw two of your boys in the street on Thursday. Red hair, like yours. One of them waved at me. It was quite apparent that he could see me.’

‘One of the boys saw you?’ I gasped.

‘Yes. Little chap, about five or six years old. The other one was distracted. He had some sort of device in his hands. Perhaps a pocket telephone.’

‘They don’t have mobile phones,’ I said. ‘It must have been his Switch. Little bugger must have sneaked it into school. I’ll be having words with him.’

‘Oh dear. I didn’t mean to cause any trouble,’ he said anxiously.

There was something so innocent about him that I couldn’t help wanting to reassure him. ‘You haven’t. Don’t worry. It’s not really that big a deal.’

‘I don’t suppose…’ Aubrey hesitated. ‘These documents your father collected. I don’t suppose there was anything about me? I mean, did – did you know about me?’ He gave a nervous laugh. ‘Or had I been forgotten about entirely?’

I couldn’t hurt him. Those gentle navy-blue eyes of his made me want to protect him somehow.

‘Only your birth, marriage, and death certificates,’ I said, ‘and the brief mentions in the census returns. But Dad said he’d heard you were a gentleman, and someone to be proud of.’

His eyes shone as he beamed at me. ‘Really? Ah, well, that’s – that’s excellent. I mean, I don’t know about ‘someone to be proud of’, but anyway… Wonderful. And my wife, Elspeth? What became of her?’

After James went to prison, she moved to a pretty dodgy address, took in the sort of lodgers she’d once have turned up her nose at, and died of tuberculosis aged sixty-one.

‘Lived to a ripe old age and died peacefully in her sleep,’ I said.

‘I’m very glad about that,’ he said softly. ‘It’s a great relief to me. I’ve worried you see. Over the years.’

I had no idea where the stories about Aubrey had started, but I was no longer in any doubt that Callie was right about him. He was a sweetheart, and I already liked him a lot.

‘When is your little one due, if you don’t mind me asking?’ he said.

‘January.’

‘You must be so excited.’

‘Well, it was a bit of a shock to be honest. We’ve only just found out ourselves, and there’s a lot to do before he arrives. But we’ve got to get Christmas over with first. With three boys that’s a major production in itself.’

‘Ah yes.’ He laughed. ‘I can imagine.’ He glanced around, admiring the Christmas tree and eyeing the balloons that were pinned up on the ceiling in rather suggestive bunches of three, thanks to Jack’s juvenile sense of humour. ‘Very festive.’

‘Hmm.’

We sat in silence for a few moments while I racked my brains trying to figure out something else to say. I really wanted to ask him more about Agnes, and why she’d interfered in our business, but I had a feeling he didn’t want to discuss it, and I wasn’t going to nag him.

‘I understand you’re selling the model village,’ he said suddenly, ‘and it’s being moved to the grounds of the Hall.’

‘That’s right,’ I said. ‘We wanted to open it up to the public, but unfortunately, we just don’t have the space to accommodate paying visitors here, so Jack decided it would be better to hand it over to Callie. I expect you’ve seen it, haven’t you?’

‘Oh yes. When it was completed, there was a grand opening for the villagers, and we all popped along to have a look. There’s a little model of me at the Hall, you know.

Doesn’t look much like me, but then none of the ghosts look truly accurate.

How can they? The craftsmen only had Sir Edward’s description of us to go by, and maybe the odd photograph or portrait of some of us.

Sadly, my portrait was only rediscovered fairly recently, so… ’

‘I’ve seen a portrait of you when you were very young,’ I said.

He stared at me in amazement. ‘You have?’

‘A miniature portrait of you and your wife. You looked to be in your twenties.’

He thought for a moment then nodded. ‘That,’ he said heavily, ‘would have been our engagement portrait.’

He didn’t sound as if the engagement held any happy memories, so I didn’t push it.

‘Sadly, we don’t have it any longer,’ I admitted. ‘When Dad died, we had to pack up his belongings quickly, and I think the portrait got put into the wrong bag. I think it must have gone to the charity shop. I’m so sorry.’

He shook his head. ‘It really doesn’t matter. Don’t give it another thought.’

‘Would you like another tour of the model village?’ I suggested.

‘May I? That would be most agreeable.’

‘Of course.’ I was glad to have something to do, and led him back through the kitchen, where Toby eyed him with interest but made no attempt to growl at him, then through the back door into the garden.

I opened the paddock gate and together we walked into the miniature world of the Harling Estate, complete with a scale replica of Rowan Vale, the woodland, the parkland, and even The Wyrd Stones.

‘This is incredible,’ Aubrey said. ‘I’d quite forgotten how well-built this is.

Ah, and look! There’s that Roman chap, Quintus Severus!

They’ll have to reposition him, you know.

He no longer spends all his time at the stones.

For some reason, he’s moved into the village.

I was hoping to catch a glimpse of him on my way here today, but no such luck.

’ He gave a hoot of laughter. ‘And look! There’s old Walter Tasker, bowing as usual. ’

‘Wasn’t he Shakespeare’s teacher? Or is that just something people say?’

‘Oh no! It’s quite true. Of course, that has given Walter a few ideas above his station, but his heart’s in the right place.

So to speak.’ He smiled and peered down at another figure.

‘And that’s Peter the baker. Oh, and there’s Isaac Grace.

He was the landlord at The Quicken Tree Inn, you know.

Oh, it is good to see them all here. I’ve not spoken to them in years. Although, clearly, some are missing.’

‘Callie’s talking about putting models of the more recent ghosts in place,’ I told him. ‘Did she mention it?’

‘Not to me,’ he said. ‘You mean, there might be a model of Florence?’ He turned to face me. ‘Florence is my daughter. Well…’

‘I know,’ I said quickly. ‘I know all about Florence.’

Didn’t I just! I’d had Callie ranting on about her enough times when she’d first moved here, though lately it seemed the little wartime evacuee had settled down and was much easier to live with these days.

I knew Aubrey and Agnes adored her and treated her just like their own child. It was quite sweet really.

‘There you are,’ I said, pointing to the two figures standing outside the Hall. ‘You and Agnes.’

‘Yes.’ He stared down at them, seeming lost in thought. ‘Indeed.’

It was so cold that I shivered, and he noticed immediately.

‘Good heavens, you shouldn’t be out here in this weather, especially in your condition! Let’s get inside immediately. I’m so sorry, I didn’t think. I don’t feel it, you see. The cold. Or the sunshine. Or – or anything in the physical realm.’

We headed inside, and I huddled by the fire, glad to feel the warmth on my skin again.

‘Perhaps, now that we’ve become acquainted,’ Aubrey said cautiously, ‘you would like to visit me at the Hall? It would be good to get to know you a little better. Only if you’d like to, of course.’

‘I think I’d like to very much,’ I told him, with barely a moment’s consideration. ‘But how will Agnes feel about that? She didn’t want me near you, did she?’

‘No.’ For the first time Aubrey’s face took on a grim expression. ‘No, she didn’t. But that shouldn’t stop us from becoming better acquainted. After all, Harling Hall was once your family home, too. And I would love it if you could bring the boys. And Jack, too, of course.’

‘I’ll – I’ll talk it over with them and let you know,’ I said, not wanting to admit that, right now, the chances of discussing anything to do with my heritage with Jack were zero.

‘I’ve seen Jack a few times,’ he told me. ‘He’s been to the Hall on occasion. He used to drive Lawrie around, didn’t he? I believe he drives the steam engine.’

‘He does,’ I said. ‘He loves it.’

‘So you’re happy, Clara? You seem to have built a very pleasant life here with a good husband and your children.’

‘Yes, of course,’ I said, not wanting to burst his bubble. ‘Very happy.’

‘I’m so glad.’

‘And you? I know it must be hard for you, being a ghost and everything. But you’ve got your lovely home, and people to talk to, and Florence, and Agnes of course. You’re happy?’

Aubrey gave me a wide smile. ‘Me? Of course. Very happy. Everything’s wonderful.’

‘Well,’ I said, valiantly attempting to sound cheerful, ‘aren’t we the lucky ones?’

‘We are,’ he agreed. ‘Very lucky indeed.’