Page 45 of Murder Most Haunted

Intending to retire to her room and catch up on some stitching, Midge didn’t get much further than the hallway before the house erupted into loud banging and clanging that rattled the giant windows.

Rona, her hair wrapped up inside an elaborate hairnet, suddenly appeared at the bottom of the staircase, screaming in fright. ‘What is it? What’s that noise?’

Booming thuds shook the enormous oak door, forcing the hefty iron knocker to clatter against the wood.

Suddenly, the hallway burst into light with a flash of illumination from outside.

‘It’s the artillery,’ said Harold, appearing from the kitchen. ‘They’re letting off shells.’

His face flickered in and out of view with the strobing lights through the window. ‘There you go, see. No drama . . .’ He trailed off, unable to continue as his eyes locked in frozen horror on the wall behind them. Midge and Rona turned as one, to follow his gaze.

Just above their heads was the large portrait of William Atherton, reclining in an armchair.

Someone had ripped the painting in half from top to bottom.

‘What the . . .?’ Harold was now staring below the vandalized picture at where the rifle display cabinet hung on the wall.

There was an empty space in the middle of the guns.

Rona started to scream.

Midge was insistent that there had only ever been six rifles from the start, which Harold said was ridiculous. ‘How do you account for the ruddy great rifle-shaped gap in the middle, then? Either way, that painting was definitely whole before.’

Which was when Noah became quite hysterical at the thought of the security deposit, because those paintings and antiques were ‘worth a bloody fortune’.

For her part, Rona wanted to know how she was supposed to sleep ‘with a gun-toting murderer on the loose’, and didn’t appear reassured when Noah argued it was much more likely to be a paranormal purging taking place, and would anyone mind if he did a quick sweep for an ectoplasm trail?

Rona, it appeared, did very much mind, and took herself off to her room, which by the sounds of all the chair scraping on the floorboards above them was being thoroughly barricaded.

However, Noah didn’t get much further in his slime exploration before they were interrupted by another sudden violent bang – this time one of so much energy that finally the front door broke free of its restraints and flew open, crashing against the wall with such force it was nearly ripped from its hinges.

Midge’s breath caught in her throat.

Framed against the illuminated night sky, a glowing figure loomed over the threshold.

Midge stared, unable to make sense of what she was seeing, as the shape began to take form. Despite Noah’s screams, it wasn’t the White Lady of the Moor standing in front of them.

It was Bridie.