Page 4 of Christmas Spirits at Honeywell House (Ghosts of Rowan Vale #3)

Lunch that day was a shambolic affair, with Freddie refusing to eat the tuna pasta I’d made him, even though he was the one who’d asked for it.

Declan managed to drop his all over the carpet because he was too distracted by the television and failed to grasp the plate properly when I handed it to him, and Ashton didn’t show up at all, having gone out with a school friend earlier and not bothering to return.

Jack took control, which was a good job because I was on the verge of meltdown.

‘Freddie, if you don’t eat that you’ll get nothing else until dinner, and that’s a promise. Declan, turn off the television and help me clean this mess up. From now on, you boys eat at the kitchen table, not in front of the telly. You understand?’

‘Aw, Dad!’ Declan began to protest but then his scowl turned to glee as Toby swooped in and ate the fallen pasta, clearing the area more effectively than even the Dyson would have managed. ‘Ha, job done.’

‘I don’t think so,’ Jack said firmly. ‘That carpet will need scrubbing. It’s tuna! Can you imagine…’

‘Don’t like sitting at the table,’ Freddie wailed as I took his hand and led him into the kitchen.

‘Well, the sooner you eat your lunch the sooner you can go back into the living room,’ I told him.

‘Not fair.’ He climbed onto a chair and folded his arms, pouting.

‘Whoever said life was?’ I said, putting the plate in front of him. ‘Now, eat it up.’

I gave Declan Ashton’s meal, put cling film over what was left in the bowl, and put it in the fridge for my missing son, while Jack, bless him, scrubbed the carpet, and the two youngest boys sulkily ate their lunch.

I’d only just closed the fridge door when Ashton burst into the kitchen with a hearty cry of, ‘Got anything to eat? I’m starving.’

Jack was just coming through from the living room with the bowl of soapy water and a cloth. He frowned as he tipped the dirty water down the sink.

‘You’re late.’

Ashton shrugged. ‘Lost track of time.’

‘It’s past lunchtime.’

‘Well,’ Ashton said, nodding at his brothers, ‘they’re still eating so Mum can’t have dished up that long ago.’

‘They’re still eating it,’ I said, ‘because Freddie refused his earlier and Declan dropped his on the floor and— Oh, never mind! Just wash your hands and sit down.’

‘At the table?’ he asked, wrinkling his nose.

‘Yes,’ Jack said firmly, ‘at the table. From now on that’s where all meals will be eaten. Honestly, it’s like feeding time at the zoo with you lot.’

Ashton washed his hands and dropped into a chair, still grumbling.

I handed him his lunch, passed all the boys a drink, and finally sat down, while my lovely husband made us a cup of tea.

Jack and I had already decided we’d have a sandwich later while we watched television.

Evidently the new rule about only eating in the kitchen didn’t apply to us.

‘Now,’ Jack said at last, as he passed me a mug and joined us at the table, ‘this afternoon your mum and I are going to watch a film in peace, so we want you lot to amuse yourselves.’

‘I’m going out again anyway,’ Ashton said, his cheeks bulging with pasta. ‘I’ve only dropped in for something to eat. We’re off to Rowan Farm to watch the ploughing. They’re using Bonnie and Blossom.’

‘What, when they’ve got that tractor?’ Jack shook his head. ‘Never understood why they still hang onto those two horses.’

‘It’s all part of the charm,’ I reminded him. ‘They’re selling history there, aren’t they? It’s a Second World War farm and I reckon tourists are far more interested in seeing heavy horses do the work than an old tractor.’

‘Speak for yourself,’ Jack said. ‘Besides, the use of tractors grew massively during the war. The farmers needed to feed a starving country, remember?’

‘Maybe so, but horses were still used alongside them for long enough,’ I said. ‘Trouble with you is, you’ve got no soul. Horses are far nicer to look at than machines.’

‘It’s not about looking nice. Oh!’ Jack gave up. ‘Make sure you and those pals of yours don’t get in Nick’s way,’ he told Ashton. ‘Don’t go causing any bother up there or I’ll be having words.’

‘We’re not daft,’ Ashton said scornfully. He chewed for a moment then said, ‘Them market huts are going up, Mum. It’s going to look great. You’ll like that, won’t you? You love a good market.’

I smiled fondly at him. ‘I do, and this one is going to be amazing. They’ll be selling all sorts of Christmassy stuff.’

‘ I want to see the market!’ Freddie cried.

‘It’s not open yet, love. As soon as it does, we’ll take you, promise.’

‘Right, I’m off.’ Ashton scraped back his chair. ‘Thanks for that, Mum.’

‘You’re welcome. Be back at five.’

‘Did that boy inhale his food?’ Jack said, astonished. ‘How can anyone eat so quickly?’

‘ I want to watch the horses on the farm with Ashton,’ Freddie protested.

Ashton looked horrified. ‘I’m not taking him with me!’

‘Of course you’re not,’ Jack said. ‘You get off. Me and your mum are going to watch a film and these two can occupy themselves with a game or something.’

‘A game!’ Declan pushed his plate away and gave me a pleading look. ‘I’m not playing a game with him . How old do you think I am?’

‘It’ll only be for a couple of hours,’ Jack told him. ‘It won’t hurt you to spend some time with your little brother.’

‘If you’d let us have a telly in our bedrooms it wouldn’t matter,’ Declan pointed out, as Ashton took the opportunity to escape. ‘But, oh no, we have to be the only kids in school who don’t have one.’

‘I know for a fact that’s not true,’ I said. ‘Immi hasn’t got one in her bedroom either.’

‘Oh, her!’ Declan said crossly. ‘No, she just lives in a massive mansion and gets to talk with ghosts. Poor Immi.’

‘Look,’ Jack said, ‘you’ve got plenty of board games upstairs. Why don’t you play snakes and ladders with Freddie? Or Frustration. Something simple like that. It’s not for long.’

‘I want to go on my Nintendo Switch,’ Declan said crossly.

‘ I want to play Lego,’ Freddie said eagerly. ‘Daddy, will you play Lego with me?’

‘Yeah, Daddy . Why don’t you play Lego with him?’ Declan suggested.

‘You know why! I’ve just told you, I’m watching a film with your mum, and?—’

‘It’s okay,’ I said. Honestly, I was worn out just listening to them, and totally past caring about watching TV with Jack. ‘Declan, you go and play on your Nintendo Switch. Jack, you help Freddie with his Lego. I’ll stick these pots in the dishwasher then I’ll watch the film in peace.’

‘But I was going to watch it with you,’ Jack protested. ‘We were going to have a couple of hours together. Just you and me for a change.’

‘When the kids are in bed we’ll have time then,’ I said. ‘You weren’t that bothered about watching it anyway. We’ll find something else we both like tonight.’

‘You’ll be asleep,’ he mumbled, but I was too tired to argue, and he was clearly too smart. ‘Okay, but I’ll stack the dishwasher. You boys go upstairs, and I’ll meet you up there in ten minutes.’

‘Bring biscuits,’ Freddie ordered as he scrambled down from the chair.

‘Honestly, who do they think they are, issuing orders?’ Jack demanded as the two boys rushed out of the kitchen.

I was already rustling through the cupboard. ‘Here,’ I said, putting a packet of custard creams on the worktop. ‘Take them with you. Anything for a bit of peace.’

* * *

I really tried to watch the film but my mind kept wandering. I was tired, but not tired enough to doze off, and my levels of concentration were way too low to keep track of a heavily plotted, multi-character murder mystery.

I flicked through the channels, looking for something lighter that might interest me, but there was nothing.

I sighed and switched off the television, then, on impulse, I went over to the sideboard and rummaged around in the bottom drawer.

As I’d thought, my sketchbook and pencils were in there, and after a moment’s hesitation I took them out.

Sitting on the sofa, I flicked through the drawings I’d done over the last few years. I hadn’t touched the sketch pad for well over – well, I had no idea, really. I wasn’t even sure if I’d drawn anything since Freddie was born.

I smiled wistfully as I gazed at the sketches I’d made. There was a drawing of Ashton and Declan, sitting together in an armchair, both fast asleep in their pyjamas. Ashton must have been around five years old, and Declan maybe two or three. Bless them. They looked like little cherubs.

I turned the page, and my heart fluttered in a way I thought it had forgotten how to do. There was a sketch of Jack, looking gorgeous in the jacket and trousers he wore for work.

He was a train driver, employed by the Harling Estate to drive the steam trains between the pretty Cotswold market town of Much Melton and Harling’s Halt. Harling’s Halt was part of the estate, and where many of the tourists to the living history village of Rowan Vale began their visit.

I’d been to Harling’s Halt many times. It was wonderful to catch the steam train to Much Melton, for one thing. Travelling in one of those old carriages was a real treat, and the boys loved it.

But even without the train, the Harling’s Halt experience was fun.

With employees of the estate dressed in World War One uniforms and dresses, strolling up and down the platform or gathered together, for all the world as if they were saying goodbye to their sweethearts, there was an amazing atmosphere there.

Vintage bunting adorned the station, songs from the Great War played softly in the background, and propaganda posters were pinned to the noticeboards.

There was also the most gorgeous little cafe, The Victory Tearooms, which I used to love going in before I had the boys.

I never went in there now, though. It was far too elegant for me these days.

I smiled as I gazed at the drawing of Jack, drinking in every detail of that familiar face.

He looked so handsome in his uniform, and I remembered how thrilling it had been to ride on the train, knowing he was driving it.

It had been ages since I’d last done that.

I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d visited the station.

Sighing, I flicked through the drawings until I came to one I’d almost forgotten about.

My fingers stilled and my heart beat a little faster as I gazed down at the portrait.

Jack had once asked me who the man was, and I’d told him it was just some actor from the television who’d caught my attention. I’d hated having to lie to him.

Although hadn’t I been lying to him right from the moment we met?

I felt a wave of shame and told myself, for the millionth time, that it hadn’t been like that. That I hadn’t used him. That my love for Jack was genuine.

Even so, I knew that if he ever found out the truth, he’d be so hurt our marriage might never recover from it. I should have been honest with him from that very first day…