Page 46 of Murder Most Haunted

‘There you are!’ cried Bridie, striding forward. ‘I’ve been banging and banging on the servants’ door for ages!’

‘It’s boarded up,’ said Harold, automatically, his face swinging between Bridie and Midge.

Midge was swept up in a firm hug before being released back on to the floor. ‘Goodness, Midge,’ continued Bridie, giving her the once-over, ‘what on earth is that on your mouth?’

For a moment, Midge couldn’t think what Bridie was talking about, having completely forgotten about her acquisition of Rona’s orange lipstick, and about her reapplication of it this morning.

‘Um. Lipstick, it’s Rona’s – she thought it suited my .

. . my hair.’ Midge touched her hair, quickly, suddenly feeling slightly foolish.

‘Did she now?’ Bridie raised an eyebrow before turning to Noah, her hand outstretched. ‘Hello, I’m Bridie. Midge’s wife. Fantastic cloak, by the way.’

‘Not a ghost, then?’ said Noah in disappointment, taking her hand unenthusiastically.

‘Not the last time I checked,’ laughed Bridie. ‘What is this, flour?’ She brushed off a small dusting of flour on Midge’s arm. ‘And close your mouth, Midge, you look like you’re catching flies.’

But Midge was too shocked to control her lower jaw. How was Bridie even there? ‘I-I don’t understand . . .’

‘What’s to understand?’ said Bridie, turning back to her. ‘I felt bad all weekend for making you come when you clearly didn’t want to, so I thought I’d join you for the last evening.’ Bridie paused briefly. ‘Why are you just standing there?’

‘But you must be exhausted from the treatment,’ said Midge. This was typical of Bridie. Always pushing herself beyond her limits when she should be recuperating.

Bridie waved off her concern with a dismissive hand, but Midge could see the tell-tale signs of fatigue in the droop of her shoulders.

Harold’s eyes were wide open. ‘How did you get here? Have you got a car?’

‘Oh no, darling. I don’t drive,’ replied Bridie. ‘I took a taxi.’

‘So is the gate open now?’ said Harold.

‘Not completely,’ replied Bridie. ‘I had a dreadful time of it, to be honest. The driver would only bring me so far, apparently none of the locals will come near the house because of the white lady or something? I had to walk the last couple of miles or so.’

‘But how did you get on to the range?’ asked Harold.

‘Luckily, the gate was open for a short while at least,’ explained Bridie. ‘The firing was only scheduled for later this evening. I checked the noticeboard.’

Harold blinked. ‘Noticeboard?’

Bridie nodded. ‘Online. They only close the ranges for a few hours at a time. Although it took me so long to get up here, I nearly got caught in it all again!’

Harold looked at Midge. ‘That means we could get out! Did you see when they stop?’ he asked Bridie, who shook her head.

‘No, sorry, I was only looking at this afternoon’s times. I assumed Rendell would have all that in hand.’ She frowned, looking about. ‘Where is he, anyway?’

Midge opened her mouth, but Bridie carried on, ‘Never mind. First things first, I can barely feel my feet. I’m looking forward to a lovely, long bath.’

Midge and Noah shared a look.

‘Let’s get this suitcase upstairs, shall we? I’m freezing. And then you can both tell me how many ghosts you’ve seen.’

Bridie and Noah headed towards the stairs with Harold pulling her suitcase behind them, leaving Midge following along, wondering how to break the news to Bridie that the bath was out of action.

It didn’t take long for Bridie to unpack the small suitcase she had brought, giving Midge the opportunity to inventory her own handbag.

In doing so, she discovered the abandoned glove from the mine excursion, which she quickly tucked into her handkerchief drawer with her other treasures.

As she did so, she filled Bridie in on the discovery of Rendell and Dr Mortimer’s plan to get help.

‘So, you’re convinced someone murdered this Rendell?’ asked Bridie, her face turned away as she hung a dress in the wardrobe.

Midge shrugged, trying to find a space to sit down in a room that suddenly seemed a bit smaller. ‘Suicide doesn’t seem that likely.’

She briefly considered telling Bridie about her discovery of the false bathing room key, but was surprised to find that she wanted to keep it to herself. Midge wasn’t used to analysing her feelings, but for some reason she felt conflicted about Bridie’s sudden appearance.

‘But murder?’ Bridie was now looking through the chest of drawers. ‘Honestly, Midge, are these the only clothes you brought? No wonder the others think you need brightening up!’ Midge wasn’t sure when any of the others had thought that and said so, much to Bridie’s surprise as well as her own.

‘What about Rendell?’ Bridie ignored the outburst and asked again, this time with her back turned. ‘What do you think has happened to him?’

Midge kept her face as blank as possible, aware that Bridie was watching her reflection in the wardrobe mirror. ‘I’m not sure yet.’

Bridie sat down on the bed and patted the mattress next to her. ‘Oh, Midge, I have missed you.’

Midge instantly felt ashamed of her earlier reluctance to share. She took the opportunity of Bridie’s closeness to check for signs of the recent treatment on her face.

Suddenly, her face did contort, but because her foot had caught painfully against something under the bed. ‘What on earth is that?’

Midge bent over to check, realizing that Bridie had kicked the old Atherton painting.

She dragged it out for Bridie to see. ‘It’s the Athertons in the bathing room.

It was hanging over my bed and I couldn’t bear to sleep underneath it.

’ Something jolted in her mind as she spoke. Something that was out of sorts.

Bridie shuddered, rubbing her ankle. ‘I don’t blame you – what a ghastly picture.’ She frowned at it for a moment. ‘How odd.’

‘What?’ asked Midge.

‘That,’ said Bridie, pointing. Just behind one of men was a maid, carrying a large bucket of steaming water, overlooked in the background. ‘Why would they insist on one of the maids being in the portrait with them?’

Midge stared. The maid was dressed head to toe in a lace-lined white uniform, complete with matching white blouse.

Bridie had straightened up, dismissing the painting. ‘Now, how about I make a late supper for everyone?’

‘That would be very nice, thank you,’ said Midge, pushing the portrait back under the bed and putting the discombobulated feeling down to Bridie’s unexpected appearance.

‘Have you been eating well?’ Bridie squeezed Midge’s thigh.

Midge sighed.

‘Now, Midge,’ laughed Bridie, ‘no sulking. I keep telling you how important it is to look after yourself. I’m not always going to be around and—’

‘Let’s go down,’ interrupted Midge, already heading for the door.

In the way that she had that always made Midge feel slightly envious, it only took Bridie a matter of minutes to make herself at home in the kitchen and with the others. Harold had joined them, chatting while Bridie gaily bossed Noah around, after insisting on him being her sous chef.

‘She’s a cracker,’ Harold whispered to Midge as they listened to her asking Noah question after question about ghost-hunting. ‘Are you sure she’s a lesbian?’

Midge watched Bridie as she instructed Noah on the quantity of onions to add to the wok. ‘Pretty sure, yes.’

‘The White Lady of Atherton Moor is an ancient legend, but it’s possible her form was taken by a woman called Beth Hallow, and she became a revenant,’ Noah was saying. ‘So, to stop a revenant, you need to help them fulfil a task that they were unable to do while alive.’

‘Gosh,’ said Bridie. ‘And you think that will stop all of the haunting?’

‘Absolutely,’ confirmed Noah. ‘But first we need to find out what the task is. We know from the doctor’s journal that Charles Atherton believed the White Lady was looking for her baby, and that she wanted him dead, but does that mean we need to find the ba—?’

Suddenly Harold snapped his fingers together. ‘Phone!’

Midge frowned and even Bridie and Noah stopped at the outburst. ‘What?’

Harold was excitedly pointing at Bridie. ‘Your phone – you must have one with you. We can use it to call the police and get out of here!’

Bridie’s face fell. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry. But Midge messaged me when you left to say that phones weren’t allowed, so I’ve left mine at home.’

‘Oh,’ replied Harold, his face downcast.

Rona, whose fear of missing out had finally drawn her out from behind her barricade, entered the kitchen and spotted Bridie. ‘Hello! Lovely to meet you, I’m Rona.’

Bridie put down her spoon and walked over, wiping her hands on the apron she had put on. ‘I’m Bridie. Midge has been telling me all about you. A pop star, gosh! I hope you haven’t found the company too dull.’

‘We’ve been quite enjoying the solitude, haven’t we, Midge?’ said Rona, patting Midge’s arm.

‘Despite the dead body?’ said Bridie, smoothly.

‘Ah, well, it’s given us all the chance to play detectives.’

‘Well, Midge wouldn’t be playing—’ began Bridie.

Midge cut her off. ‘Yes, but of course we shall have to wait for the real police to see what is really going on.’

Bridie frowned. Midge shrugged slightly in the hope that she would understand she hadn’t told them about her former career.

‘Would you like to join us for some curry?’ asked Bridie. ‘I’m afraid I couldn’t find any garlic.’

‘Did I hear that right?’ asked Rona, ignoring the last comment. ‘You didn’t bring your phone with you?’

Bridie had returned to the Aga and was helping Noah dish up. ‘No.’

‘How unfortunate,’ said Rona, taking a tray from the table and holding it out to Noah.

‘I think I’ll have mine in my room.’ Noah obediently piled a plate with the delicious-smelling curry and placed it on Rona’s tray.

‘Gloria has completely lost it. We may have to consider locking her in when the doctor leaves. She’s convinced that the White Lady has come as a warning to her.

You’d think she got the tarot card, Midge. ’