Page 3 of Kindred Spirits at Harling Hall (Ghosts of Rowan Vale #1)

3

FLORRIE

‘He is, you know. He’s going to kiss her.’ John wrinkled his nose. ‘If they do, I’m out of here.’

Florrie’s eyes narrowed as she watched the man and woman just a few feet away from them, utterly oblivious to the fact that they were under observation by a trio of amused children, who were sitting cross-legged on the grass listening to every word the couple were saying.

Neither Bram nor Rissa had been blessed with the gift, which was a very good thing as far as Florrie was concerned. And luckily, she, John, and Robert had no living descendants or close relatives who might be able to see them either. They were pretty much free to come and go as they pleased, and spying on unsuspecting courting couples was one of the few perks of an afterlife that could, in Florrie’s opinion, be way too boring for her liking.

Of course, if all that kissing business started, the trio would always make a hasty retreat. Who wanted to see all that yucky stuff? In her opinion, though, they were safe with Bram and Rissa. Whatever John thought, she was convinced that Dutchman Bram – who masqueraded as a German prisoner of war – had no interest in the ‘land girl’ from the farm. He had far more sense than that. After all, he must know she was still sweet on Brodie. Everyone did.

‘Is he ’eck,’ she said scornfully. ‘He don’t like her very much at all, and who can blame ’im? Done up like a dog’s dinner to work on a farm…’

Her voice trailed off as she recalled her mother’s voice suddenly. It had been such a long time since she’d heard it, but just then, her words came back to her with painful clarity. ‘That Elsie Jones at number four, all dressed up like a dog’s dinner. Does she think we’re daft? We all know who she’s orf to see.’

‘Why isn’t she at work, anyway?’ she finished dully. ‘Skiving, no doubt. Someone should warn ’em at the farm about her.’

‘I think she’s pretty,’ Robert said softly. ‘All that yellow hair. It’s like a cloud of butter.’

‘Bleach,’ Florrie said dismissively. ‘And ’ow can you ’ave a cloud of butter? Are you soft in the ’ead? Anyway, what do you know about it?’ She nodded towards Bram and Rissa. ‘Look at ’er, staring at ’im, all daft and soppy. Pouting ’er lips like that. Looks like a goldfish.’

She mimed a goldfish opening and closing its mouth, which made Robert laugh.

‘Well, I think they’ll get married,’ John persisted. ‘I’m glad. I like it when people are happy.’

‘Sometimes,’ Florrie said darkly, ‘I wonder why I bovver with you.’

‘Bet he kisses her in the next couple of minutes,’ John said, as if determined to wind her up.

‘Ten bob says ’e won’t,’ Florrie retorted. She wasn’t sure how much ten bob was but the way her mum used to go on about the cost of everything, she suspected it was a lot.

‘You haven’t got ten bob,’ John pointed out, which infuriated her so much that she was tempted to slap him.

A moment later, she forgot her anger and gave a triumphant whoop, as Bram got to his feet, bid a casual farewell to Rissa – who gave a heavy sigh before tucking into her packed lunch – and headed off across the field, taking a shortcut back to the farmhouse.

‘Ha! Told you! Well, that’s twenty minutes we’ll never get back,’ Florrie said, even though she had no real idea how long they’d been watching the couple. She jumped up, deciding to find something more interesting to do with her time.

‘Where are you going?’ Robert was soon at her side, as expected.

‘Finding something better to do,’ Florrie told him, walking directly through the closed gate of the field into the lane. She jerked her thumb behind her. ‘Your brother can stay there and moon over ’is girlfriend all he likes.’

‘She’s not my girlfriend!’ John had rushed up behind her, as she well knew, and she thought with some satisfaction that, if he’d been able to blush, his face would be bright red now. He was very easy to embarrass. ‘Just cos I said she looked nice once doesn’t mean?—’

Florrie, however, had lost interest. She’d spotted someone new walking down the lane just ahead of them, and her eyes gleamed with curiosity.

‘Tourist,’ she said.

The three of them grinned at each other and Florrie began to prance behind the young woman, swinging her arms in an exaggerated fashion and wiggling her hips.

Robert laughed and Florrie responded by flicking her plaits back. She could always rely on Robert’s devotion. John was sometimes more difficult to keep in check, but she had ways of dealing with him if he got too independent.

She was momentarily distracted from her thoughts when the young woman stopped and turned round. For a second, Florrie could have sworn she was looking directly at them, but of course, she couldn’t be. Just to be certain, she stuck her tongue out at the visitor, who didn’t respond but turned and continued walking.

Knowing she was safe, Florrie winked at Robert and John and the three of them ran past the woman, then turned to face her. Walking backwards, they pulled faces and hurled insults at her, mocking her dark-auburn hair, her clothing – she was wearing a black jacket and a pair of jeans, which Florrie knew would make Agnes shudder – and even the way she walked.

Suddenly, the woman stopped and put her hands on her hips.

‘Okay, that’s enough of that, don’t you think?’

Florrie wasn’t quite sure what to make of that. Momentarily stunned, she was annoyed when John nudged her and informed her the woman was talking to them.

‘Don’t be daft.’ For once, though, Florrie wasn’t so sure of herself. She eyed the woman nervously. ‘Are you?’

‘I don’t see any other children being rude to me. Why aren’t you in school?’

Florrie could feel Robert trembling beside her. John murmured, ‘Uh-oh.’

Who did this woman think she was, frightening them like that? And anyway, how could she see them? It didn’t make sense. Florrie decided the best form of defence was attack.

‘Don’t go to school,’ she said defiantly.

‘What do you mean, you don’t go to school? Are you home taught?’

Florrie wasn’t entirely sure what that meant. ‘We just don’t go. Don’t have to. You can’t make us. Besides, there’d be no point. These two can’t even read, so they wouldn’t learn much, would they?’

‘They can’t… Are you having me on? Where do you live?’

‘Mind your beeswax,’ Florrie snapped. ‘Got nuffink to do with you.’

‘If you’re not at school, and these boys can’t read or write, not to mention one of them hasn’t even got any shoes on, then it’s got everything to do with me. Whether you realise it or not, you need protecting.’

Florrie watched, feeling increasingly annoyed as the woman crouched down and spoke to Robert. ‘Don’t look so worried. You’re not in any trouble. But I would like to speak to your mum and dad.’

John swallowed hard and Florrie saw the tears well up in Robert’s eyes. How dare this woman mention the boys’ mum and dad? What did she want to go and upset them for? Who did she think she was, anyway?

Grabbing Robert’s arm she yelled, ‘Clear off and leave us alone. I’m going to tell Lawrie about you. He’ll sort you out good and proper.’

She almost dragged the boys away, and together, they ran down the lane and through the village before finally huddling together behind the ancient wishing well on the green. Even if the woman came this way, she wouldn’t spot them from the path.

Florrie wasn’t used to feeling alarmed and she didn’t like it.

‘How could she see us, Florrie?’ John whispered, clearly as scared as she was. ‘I thought only Lawrie could see us among the living ones?’

Florrie had assumed the same, and it deeply unnerved her that this stranger had proved her wrong. ‘I don’t know,’ she admitted, hating having no answer for them. She straightened suddenly, determined they weren’t going to see any weakness in her. ‘But I’m off to tell Lawrie about ’er. He needs to know. Come on, let’s go to the big ’ouse.’

Robert and John shrank away. ‘We don’t go there. You know that.’

‘I don’t see why not,’ she grumbled. ‘You’re such babies.’

‘No, we’re not,’ John snapped. ‘You’re just mean. You know why we don’t go near the big house. He might be there.’

‘I’ve told you loads of times; ’e never comes to the ’ouse. It’s not my fault if you don’t believe me.’ Florrie felt increasingly flustered. Today was not going according to plan. First, some weird woman who could see them, and now John and Robert refusing to do as she said. She wasn’t sure what to do about any of it.

Robert sniffed and rubbed his nose and John put a protective arm around his little brother.

Florrie’s mouth tightened.

‘Oh no!’ she cried.

John and Robert jumped in fright.

‘What is it? Is it that woman?’ John looked wildly around him.

‘It’s ’im!’ Florrie gasped, clutching her chest dramatically. ‘It’s Pillory Pete!’

‘No!’ Robert wailed. ‘Florrie, make him go away.’

‘You’d better run and ’ide,’ she said. ‘I’ll try to distract ’im.’

The boys didn’t need telling twice. They took to their heels and fled, leaving a grinning Florrie behind. That, she thought, would teach them. They were too soft for their own good, and she was doing them a favour, really. They’d have to toughen up one day. It wasn’t like they were all alone in the world either. Not like her. They had each other, just like Henry and Francis. She had no one.

Watching the boys disappear into the distance, Florrie sighed, then turned towards the house. Time to tell Lawrie about the interloper, and she’d spice the story up a bit just to rile everyone up. Agnes would be furious by the time she’d finished, she thought with some satisfaction.

Feeling a bit better, she fairly sped along the path – a thin, running figure with bobbing plaits and ridiculously out-of-place black wellies.