Page 23 of Kindred Spirits at Harling Hall (Ghosts of Rowan Vale #1)

23

After an eventful weekend, it was almost a relief to get back to work. I spent Monday going slowly and painfully over the Idiot’s Guide from Brodie, as well as the written notes that Lawrie had prepared for me, which basically listed all the tenants, where they lived, a little bit about their family history, and whether or not they had any family connection to the resident ghosts. There was also a list of all the ghosts he could name, although he’d added a reminder that not all the ghosts on the estate had made themselves personally known to him.

On Tuesday, I ventured out to the Wyrd Stones with Mia. Despite my initial apprehension, it was amazing to see them in person. There was a distinct atmosphere around the area, which was in the very centre of the Harling Estate.

After making our way through thick woodland, The King’s Court was the first thing we came to – an almost perfect circle of fourteen stones enclosing a separate group of three in a huge clearing, overlooked by a solitary rowan tree.

‘The Queen Stone and her children,’ Mia said, and shivered.

‘You know the legend then,’ I said.

‘I do. Such a sad story, isn’t it?’

‘But just a story,’ I reminded her, much as I’d done Lawrie. ‘No need to get upset.’

‘I can’t help it,’ she admitted. ‘The thought of being separated from your family like that. It always gets to me.’

I looked at her with curiosity. ‘What about your family, Mia?’

‘Mine?’ She laughed. ‘What’s that got to do with it?’

‘I’m just asking,’ I said. ‘I don’t really know anything about you, and I’d like to. Your parents, for example. Are they still alive?’

‘Oh yes. Fighting fit.’

‘Where are they?’ I asked her.

She tilted her head, considering. ‘What month is it? June? They’ll be in Copenhagen. July, it will be Quebec.’

I stared at her. ‘Wow! They like to travel then.’

‘They love it.’

‘And you don’t?’

‘I used to. Thing is, I’ve been all over the place with them. By the time I was twenty-five, I was bored and looking to put down roots. I don’t think Mum and Dad ever will and let’s face it, it was time for me to strike out on my own anyway.’

‘So, you ended up in the Cotswolds?’

‘I know. Crazy, isn’t it? One minute, I was on a gondola in Venice; the next, I was dragging a suitcase to The Quicken Tree, never imagining that my life would change forever.’

‘Do you regret it?’

There was a slight pause. ‘No. I was ready to settle down and earn my own living. Mum’s very protective and wanted me to stay with them, but Dad’s a bit more level-headed. He’s a financier who made his own way in the world, unlike Mum, and he thought I should at least learn how to make a living, even if I never had to do it, so from my mid-teens, he started teaching me how to do accounts and basic administration tasks.

‘Overruled Mum about me learning advanced computer skills as soon as I finished boarding school and sent me to a private college to learn. Paid for me to do an expensive cookery course. That kind of thing. He always insisted I could never have too many strings to my bow. Poor Mum was horrified. She wanted me to be like her and basically do nothing except marry a rich man.’

There was a twinkle of amusement in her eyes, and I sensed that, despite everything, she was fond of her parents.

‘You must miss them.’

‘Sometimes, but we chat on the phone and I video call them. If they’re ever at home, I pop over and see them.’

‘Where is home?’ I asked.

‘Richmond.’

‘North Yorkshire?’ I asked in surprise.

She smiled. ‘London.’

‘Oh, of course. You already said you were from London. I’m originally from Yorkshire so I automatically think of our Richmond. Is that where you grew up then?’

‘Not really. I was at boarding school in Scotland and during the holidays, I was often taken abroad to various glamorous destinations.’

‘Sounds idyllic,’ I murmured, though deep down, I wasn’t too sure it did. It sounded quite unsettled to me. There was a lot to be said for staying at home if you asked me.

‘I was very lucky,’ she said flatly. Then her eyes sparkled, and she said, ‘Sometimes, I’d go to Grandma’s for Christmas. I loved that. She lived in Hampstead, and she used to make such a fuss of me. We’d go all out decorating her house for Christmas. It couldn’t have been more traditional. I suppose it was to make up for the fact that I was often abroad for the holidays and missed out on British Christmases. She always said that was a terrible shame.’

‘She sounds very nice,’ I said. ‘Very down to earth.’

‘She was,’ she said wistfully. ‘She died five years ago. I wish—’ She broke off and shook her head. ‘Anyway, that’s more than enough about me. We have stones to look at. Shall we visit the barrow next? It’s just along that track there.’

I had the definite feeling that the subject of Mia’s private life was now firmly closed, so I nodded in agreement. ‘Sure. Why not?’

To reach the barrow, we followed a track which threaded its way between the trees and went through a gate to where The Guardians stood, overlooked by another rowan tree. To me at first they were just another bunch of stones. They did, however, look a bit creepier as I got closer to them and realised they looked uncannily like four people huddled together.

The barrow was apparently beneath the stones, and an excavation, decades earlier, had uncovered the bones of twelve people as well as cremated remains.

‘What’s with the rowan trees?’ I asked. ‘They’re everywhere. Is it true that another name for rowan is quicken tree, and even the pub’s named after them?’

‘It is. Rowans are one of the nine sacred trees in Druidry, and it was believed that they protected against witches and evil, mainly due to the little pentagrams embedded in the bottom of each red berry. Red is supposed to be the most effective colour of protection too. It has another name – the witch tree. So you see, given the mythology around these stones, it’s not surprising rowans were planted everywhere and are held in such high regard around here.’

‘Wow,’ I said. ‘I had no idea.’

‘This is the oldest of the three sites,’ Mia told me. ‘It dates back to early Neolithic times. Probably around five and a half thousand years old.’

‘No way.’ I shivered. ‘That’s incredible. So how old is the circle?’

‘Late Neolithic,’ she said. ‘Probably around a thousand years younger than this place. The stones are local. They think they were brought here from this area, long before these trees were planted.’

‘Brought here?’ I said with a smirk. ‘Thought the witch made them from people?’

She laughed and we turned to head back up the track. We passed the stone circle again then followed a well-worn track through dense trees until we found The Penitent King standing all alone, away from his supposed Queen, children, and courtiers, a ring of rowan trees surrounding him.

Despite my earlier lack of sympathy, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness for this lonely stone all by itself, surrounded by an iron fence and so many trees. There was no clearing for this stone. It was as if it was being punished. Though bigger than the others, it was rather misshapen and had a forlorn look about it.

Callie, you’re being ridiculous. How can a stone look forlorn?

I was so lost in my thoughts that at first, I didn’t realise we weren’t alone in this part of the woods. Then a prickling started on my shoulders and down my neck and I spun round, my jaw dropping as I saw, standing between two trees in the distance, a distinguished-looking man who, judging by his clothing and North-African appearance, could be none other than Quintus Severus himself.

He was watching us, an impassive look on his face. Mia frowned at me and said, ‘What are you looking at?’

‘We’re being watched,’ I told her. ‘I have a feeling it’s the Roman centurion.’

‘Ah,’ Mia said. ‘I see. Not surprising, I suppose. Lawrie says he’s taken it upon himself to patrol the outer reaches of the estate and keep a special eye on the stones. Apparently, they’ve been vandalised over the centuries, with people chipping bits off them to take home. That’s why this old chap’s such an odd shape, and why Sir Edward fenced him off.’

‘I don’t see what good the centurion will be able to do,’ I said. ‘He can hardly push them away or call the police, can he?’ Seeing that Quintus Severus was still watching us, I gave him a feeble wave.

I saw him visibly start and he took a step towards us but then seemed to think better of it. There was a moment’s hesitation, then he bowed.

‘He’s just bowed to me,’ I said in amazement. ‘What’s all that about?’

‘You waved to him,’ she pointed out. ‘He’s probably just realised who you are and is showing you respect. After all, you’re the new protector of the stones and they mean a lot to him.’

‘I am?’ I hadn’t even thought about that before, and it felt like a huge responsibility. In a weird way, it felt like more of a responsibility than looking after a complete village with all its tenants – alive and dead. I frowned. ‘I didn’t know Roman soldiers bowed. I thought they saluted. I’ve seen it in the films.’

‘Not sure the films are strictly accurate, though. Besides, Quintus Severus has been around a long, long time. He probably observes the etiquette of the current period.’

‘And how would he know what that is?’ I asked, curious. ‘He doesn’t come into the village, and I can’t see him having a television set out here, can you?’

Mia shrugged. ‘Who knows? There are so many mysteries around here, it’s just another one to add to the list. Is he still watching?’

‘No.’ My gaze followed the soldier as he marched purposefully through the woods until the trees obscured him from my sight. ‘Can’t see him now. I suppose he’s continuing his inspection. Not much of a life, is it? I mean, not much of an afterlife. Poor fella. Wish I could persuade him to come into the village and mingle a bit. He deserves a break, if you ask me. A Roman soldier. I mean – wow.’

‘If he wants to socialise, he knows where to find other ghosts,’ she pointed out.

‘I suppose so. Just seems a shame.’

‘Come on. Let’s get back to the Hall,’ she said, and I had to agree. I was ready for a nice, cold glass of her homemade lemonade.

As we walked, I thought about Quintus Severus and his lonely life on the edges of the estate, and about Harmony Hill, who was rarely seen and lived goodness knows where. I wondered about the other ghosts who never came to the village and felt sad for them. Why did they stay away? Did they have company? Or were they all as isolated as this Roman soldier?

At least Agnes, Aubrey, and Florence had each other. And they had us. I thought about the ghosts who had no living relatives in the village. Since only Lawrie and I could see them, it couldn’t be much fun for them. Did they mingle with each other? Or did they all stick to their own areas, much like the ghosts at the Hall?

It occurred to me that I’d never known Aubrey and Agnes leave the house.

‘Oh, they wander the gardens sometimes,’ Mia assured me when I voiced my concerns to her. ‘Lawrie tells me they like to check on the gardeners and see what’s been planted and what’s growing. Although,’ she admitted, ‘I’ve never heard him mention them leaving the grounds.’

‘ Can they leave the grounds?’ I asked doubtfully. ‘Are they sort of restricted to certain areas?’

‘I shouldn’t think so,’ she said. ‘Florrie goes all over the estate, doesn’t she? If she can leave the Hall, I don’t see why Aubrey and Agnes shouldn’t. As far as we’re aware, all the ghosts can come and go as they please, as long as they don’t cross the estate boundaries.’

‘How strange,’ I mused. ‘I must ask them why they don’t go further afield.’

‘It’s probably Agnes’s doing,’ she said knowingly. ‘Maybe she doesn’t want to mix with the hoi polloi, and what Agnes wants, Agnes gets after all.’

For a moment, she sounded quite bitter, and I stared at her.

‘You don’t like Agnes?’

She laughed. ‘Why wouldn’t I like her? I can’t see her. I can’t hear her. I have no feelings about her one way or the other. I’m just going by what Lawrie has told me, that’s all. Now, enough of all this ghost talk. Let’s hurry home because I’m gasping for a lemonade.’