Page 8 of Christmas Spirits at Honeywell House (Ghosts of Rowan Vale #3)

‘Yes,’ Callie said. ‘We’re going to have actors playing the parts, and a narrator. But only when it gets dark so it’s a bit spookier and there won’t be any small children around.’

‘We’re also going to be selling copies of the book and other Dickens novels in The Victory Tearooms,’ Brodie said.

‘We’ve come to an arrangement with the bookshop in Chipping Royston.

We won’t make anything from it, but it adds to the atmosphere, and it’s a good way to build a relationship with our neighbours. ’

‘You never know when we’ll need their help,’ Callie agreed.

‘In return, the bookshop is putting posters up advertising our event. And, of course, lovely Pippa is covering it for The Cotswolds Courier ,’ she added, referring to Shona from the teashop’s youngest daughter, who was a local reporter.

‘With our star guest we might even be able to get the local television news interested.’

‘Star guest?’ asked Jack hopefully.

‘Cain Carmichael,’ she said proudly.

Jack visibly slumped. ‘Oh, really?’

‘Sounds like you’ve got it all under control,’ I said hastily. ‘You’re a whizz at this stuff, Callie. Look how quickly you organised the 1940s weekend in the summer! I’d never have believed it possible.’

‘Oh, that wasn’t down to me,’ she said modestly.

‘I had so much help. Everyone was brilliant, pulling together the way they did.’ She tilted her head, thinking.

‘Hey, you know what you could do, Clara? You could draw scenes from the market and the Dickensian Weekend! We could get the sketches printed and sell them, or make them into Christmas cards, or…’

‘We wouldn’t have time to make them into Christmas cards,’ Brodie said gently.

‘For next year!’ Callie said excitedly.

‘She doesn’t just draw, you know,’ Jack told her proudly. ‘You should see her paintings. She’s especially good at old buildings. Show them that one you did of the castle in Scotland, love. And that one of the ruins of Hailes Abbey.’

‘Seriously?’ Callie looked thrilled. ‘Hey, Clara, what about painting Harling Hall?’ She looked at Brodie. ‘It’s your grandfather’s birthday in February. He’d love a painting of the Hall, wouldn’t he? What do you think?’

‘Would you be able to paint it by February?’ Brodie asked me doubtfully.

‘She painted the castle in less than a week,’ Jack said. ‘In fact, she painted it in a day, but she wanted to perfect it. February wouldn’t pose any sort of challenge, would it?’

‘Thanks for deciding for me,’ I said, feeling a flutter of panic at the thought. ‘Thanks, Callie, but honestly I’m not up to the job.’

‘You’ve just lost your confidence, that’s all,’ Jack soothed.

‘I’m not good enough!’ I insisted.

‘Well, look, why don’t you two come to dinner tomorrow night and we’ll chat about it a bit then?’ Callie suggested. ‘You can have a look around and see what you think. You’ve only been to Harling Hall once, so you’re long overdue a visit.’

Jack and I exchanged glances.

To my shame, I’d turned down all Callie’s previous invitations. I’d always had an excuse – I wasn’t feeling well, the kids had to be somewhere, Jack had already made plans…

‘But the thing is, I mean, we’d never get a babysitter at such short notice.’

‘That wouldn’t be a problem,’ Callie said. ‘I’m sure Mia would look after the boys for you, and if not, you could bring them with you.’

‘How about it?’ Jack asked me hopefully. ‘They’d love that, wouldn’t they? They’ve always wanted a look inside the big house.’

I gave a half-laugh, feeling increasingly trapped.

‘I could hardly focus on looking at the house with those three to keep an eye on.’

‘Don’t worry about that. Immi will keep them occupied,’ Callie promised.

‘And we’ve got our spies anyway,’ Brodie added, with a laugh. ‘Agnes and Aubrey will make sure they don’t get up to anything they shouldn’t, and Florrie will love to grass on them if they do.’

Callie laughed, too. ‘Ooh yes, she’d love that. So, you’ll come then? How about sevenish?’

I closed my eyes. ‘No, sorry!’

There was a silence, and I opened my eyes, feeling sick with dread. Jack gave me a slight shake of the head. Callie and Brodie looked stunned.

‘Is there – is there something you’re not telling me?

’ Callie asked nervously. ‘Only, you’ve turned down so many invitations to the Hall, and I’d really love you to pop by one day.

It doesn’t have to be anything formal, you know.

And if you don’t want to paint the house, that’s fine.

I’d still love you both to come to dinner. ’

I gave Jack a pleading look and he sighed.

‘You’re going to have to tell them, love,’ he said.

‘Tell us what?’ asked Brodie.

Jack looked at me. When I didn’t speak, he said, ‘Fact is, she’s scared to go to Harling Hall. She’s afraid of ghosts.’

There was a long silence as Callie and Brodie absorbed that information.

I could only imagine what they must be thinking.

Callie had only just accepted her ability to see all ghosts after years of denial, and poor Brodie had lost his inheritance because, unlike his grandfather, he didn’t have that ability.

Callie’s gift had led to her becoming the new owner of the Harling Estate, whereas Brodie’s lack of it had meant he’d lost his claim to his inheritance.

Ghosts were a big deal in both their lives for different reasons, but I don’t think someone having a fear of ghosts had ever entered their heads – particularly not someone living in Rowan Vale, of all places.

‘Well,’ Brodie said at last, ‘you moved to the wrong village then, didn’t you?’ He tried to make a joke of it, but I wasn’t in the mood for laughing.

‘But you came to the Hall for the ball at the end of the 1940s weekend,’ Callie said, puzzled. ‘Although,’ she admitted slowly, ‘you were a bit hyped up, as I recall. On edge. But I thought that was just your hormones.’

‘Not hormones for once,’ I joked feebly. ‘Nerves. I didn’t want to let you down when you’d gone to so much effort, and Jack really wanted to be there.’

‘Right…’ Callie seemed dazed by my confession. ‘But as for the Hall’s ghosts, you wouldn’t even know they were there. You must know that from the ball.’

‘The ball that ended with you being whisked away by the spirit of a Roman centurion?’ I asked dryly.

She looked sheepish. ‘Yes, well, that was unexpected. But look, you wouldn’t see them. You can’t even hear them. They won’t bother you at all and you can just pretend they don’t exist.’

‘But they do exist!’ I said desperately. ‘And it gives me the creeps, knowing they might be watching me. Sorry but I just can’t do it.’

‘Well…’ Callie shrugged helplessly. ‘What if I explained the situation and asked them to stay upstairs? I’m sure?—’

‘No!’ Even I realised how abrupt that had sounded, and I held up my hands in an apology. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be rude. It’s very kind of you and all that, but can we just drop it? I don’t want to go to Harling Hall. The whole situation makes me feel queasy to be honest.’

Callie must have known that I had no such problems going to The Quicken Tree for the pub quiz, even knowing that the ghost of a former landlord hung around there.

Or that it was very probable that I passed ghosts in the street every time I ventured out.

Even so, she very nobly didn’t point that out.

Instead, like the true friend she was, she said, ‘Of course. I’m so sorry if I’ve upset you. It’s not a problem. Let’s forget it, shall we?’

Tears pricked my eyes as I nodded.

‘Anyway,’ she said brightly, ‘to change the subject a little, remember we’re collecting our costumes on Monday. You are still coming with me, aren’t you?’

‘Of course,’ I said. ‘I’m long overdue a trip to Much Melton. I’m looking forward to it.’

‘I thought,’ Callie said eagerly, ‘that we’d leave the car and go on the train. What do you think?’

I looked at my handsome, loyal husband, who was smiling at me without a trace of annoyance, despite my weird behaviour. He’d be driving. It had been a long time since I’d travelled on his beloved steam train.

I nodded with genuine enthusiasm. ‘That sounds brilliant, Callie. I can’t wait.’