Page 57 of Murder Most Haunted

Noah had baked some cookies in an attempt to get Gloria to eat and to cheer up Rona.

Rona had not taken the digging up of Beth Hallow very well at all, and had disappeared back to her room, where Midge heard several more chairs being dragged across the floor.

Not wanting the cookies to go to waste, Midge was on her way upstairs to deliver them to Gloria when she caught sight of her through the wooden balustrade of the landing just above her head.

She was wrapped up in her husband’s dressing gown.

Midge cleared her throat. ‘Gloria. Can I help?’

Gloria stopped and leaned her head over the banister in confusion. ‘Hello?’ she called down, squinting in the gloom of the hallway.

‘Wait a moment.’ Midge put down the plate of cookies she was carrying and hurried up the stairs, anchoring herself with her cane.

When she reached the top, Gloria grabbed at her arm with a hand that was cold and clammy.

‘I can’t find Andrew,’ she whispered, pulling Midge close.

‘He said he was going to find Robert, but he hasn’t come back. ’

Midge had only delivered the death notification once as a young probationer.

Sergeants would actively seek out fatal accidents on the police radio to send their charges to, in order to get the task ‘under their belt’.

However, none of the training had covered delivering the same death notification to the same person, twice.

Midge stared hard into Gloria’s wide eyes.

Was she sleepwalking again or had the shock turned her mind?

‘Let’s go back to bed, shall we?’

‘Oh no, dear,’ said Gloria, shaking her head. ‘I’m flattered, but I’m not a lesbian. Andrew is my husband, you see.’

Midge dropped her hand, more than a little surprised by this unexpected turn in the conversation. ‘No, I wasn’t . . . I didn’t mean . . .’ She sighed. ‘Why don’t I walk you to your room. Did Andrew leave you with anything else to help you sleep?’

‘Oh, yes,’ said Gloria, now following on obediently behind Midge, like a puppy. ‘On the table. I forgot.’

After settling Gloria back into her bed, Midge poured her a glass of water and handed her two of the tiny pills that were on the side table. ‘Take these,’ she said.

Gloria took them with a small mouthful of water and swallowed.

When she leaned back against the pillows, Midge pulled the blanket up to her chin, because it was something the nurses had once done for her in the hospital and she had found it pleasant.

She was turning to leave when Gloria spoke up again, ‘Can you wait with me for a while? Until the guns stop?’

‘Oh,’ said Midge, unable to think of a reason not to.

She drew the curtains against the reproving gaze of the moors and pulled a small chair up to the bed.

She lowered herself into it, desperately hoping that Gloria wasn’t expecting her to make conversation.

In the past, she had learned that if she concentrated on keeping her body as still as possible, people quite often forgot she was there.

Fortunately, Gloria’s eyes were fluttering shut already.

Midge put her hand inside her small handbag and pulled out her hedgehog handkerchief embroidery.

‘Did your mother teach you to embroider?’ Gloria had opened her eyes again and was staring straight at her.

‘No,’ replied Midge, concentrating on her needle. ‘Mother didn’t have the patience for a lot of things, embroidery being one of them. My grandmother taught me. She said if I learned to embroider, it would fill the gaps when I was alone.’

‘Was she right?’

Midge didn’t answer.

‘Do you always embroider animals?’

Midge nodded.

‘Why?’

‘I like them,’ she replied, examining her stitching before increasing the tension on the thread.

‘Andrew always says hedgehogs are filthy creatures, covered in fleas.’ Gloria’s eyes had filled with tears.

Midge knotted the end of the thread and pulled out the needle. ‘Here,’ she said, handing the handkerchief to Gloria, who promptly took it and wiped at her eyes. ‘I like hedgehogs,’ Midge said. ‘They’re both soft and spiky at the same time.’

Gloria considered this as she blew her nose. ‘A contradiction.’

Midge nodded and decided not to ask for her handkerchief back, under the circumstances.

‘Like crumpets,’ murmured Gloria.

‘Pardon?’ Midge leaned forward, not certain that she had heard correctly.

‘They irritate Andrew. He says they can’t make up their mind whether they’re savoury or sweet.’ She smiled slightly. ‘Robert used to ask for them just to annoy him.’

Midge wondered if perhaps she would have liked Robert, after all. She reached into her bag and pulled out another incomplete hedgehog.

For half an hour, she embroidered, listening to the booming in the distance until eventually it stopped. Gathering her things together, she stood up, thinking that Gloria was sound asleep.

Her voice stopped her at the door. ‘Thank you, Midge. I know it’s silly, but I hate the sound of the firing.’

Midge nodded and went to leave when Gloria spoke again, ‘Would you pass me my balm? These pills make my lips very dry. It’s on the chest of drawers.’

‘Of course,’ said Midge, picking up the small pot and handing it to Gloria, who unscrewed the lid.

‘What a lovely smell,’ remarked Midge, walking to the door.

‘Yes, isn’t it,’ said Gloria, rubbing her lips. ‘It’s orange blossom.’

Now, thought Midge, as she closed the door behind her, that’s very interesting.