Page 61 of Murder Most Haunted

‘Someone has gone to a great deal of trouble to stop us from finding out whatever is on this film,’ said Midge.

‘Even murder?’ asked Noah.

The four of them had come in from the cold. Rona had made her merry way upstairs, and the others were standing in the hallway as they examined the undeveloped film. Midge shrugged. ‘What I do know is that we need to see the pictures.’

‘But how are you going to develop them?’ asked Harold. ‘It’s not like we’ve got a Boots down the road.’

‘I have done a bit of dark-room stuff,’ said Noah. Midge found she wasn’t entirely surprised by this news. ‘But I buy the solutions. I’ve no idea how to prepare them.’

‘No,’ agreed Midge. ‘But, fortunately, we do know someone who may have enough chemistry knowledge to help.’

‘Ah,’ said Harold, shaking his head. ‘If you’re talking about Rona, then we’ve got a problem.’

‘What is it?’ asked Midge.

‘I think the graveyard shenanigans really must have tipped her over the edge,’ said Harold. ‘She had another bottle in her hand when she headed back to her room.’

Midge enlisted her wife’s help.

Bridie McGowan was a legend within the local WI when it came to organization and getting things done.

There was no one in the three counties more reliable.

Bridie, pleased to be of use, immediately dispatched Noah to prepare the pantry, which she said would double as an excellent dark room, before turning her attentions towards cajoling Rona into helping.

Even so, it took several attempts at banging on Rona’s door to get her to agree to open up.

When she finally let them in, Midge had to wrinkle her nose against the thick smell of cigarette smoke and alcohol that lay like a blanket over the room.

‘What do you all want?’ Rona asked, perching uncomfortably on the arm of one of the chairs.

‘Don’t tell me.’ She waved a nearly empty bottle of wine at them.

‘Has someone else died? Going to fiddle with a few more dead bodies?’

‘We’ll never get the deposit back,’ muttered Harold, eyeing the overflowing ashtrays.

‘Where did she even get the booze from?’ Midge heard Bridie ask him.

‘Gloria, if you must know!’ Rona shouted over to where they were whispering in the corner.

‘I went to check on her earlier but she was asleep and, well, it turns out Gloria is a little hoarder.’ She giggled and took another swig before pinching her fingers together in front of her face.

‘She may also have a teensy-weensy drink problem. But who am I to judge?’

‘You’re supposed to be in recovery,’ said Harold.

‘I am,’ agreed Rona. ‘And right now, I’m recovering from two hundred and eighty-nine days of fucking boredom.’

‘We need to sober her up,’ said Bridie.

‘I’m hungry,’ Rona announced. ‘You know what I fancy? A lovely, greasy burger. Mooo . . .’ She stood up, wobbling slightly. ‘Can I have one? Or maybe a bacon sandwich?’

‘You’re vegetarian,’ pointed out Midge.

Rona made her unsteady way over to her. ‘Ah, Midge. Lovely, serious Squidgy-Midgy.’ She cupped Midge’s chin with her hand. ‘Why do you look so sad?’

Midge thought about this. ‘I think it’s the shape of my chin.’

‘No,’ cried Rona. ‘It’s your shoes. They make me sad, too.’ She grabbed at Midge’s arm. ‘Always so sensible, Midge. Haven’t you ever just wanted to start over again? Rip all your clothes off and just be the real you . . .’

‘No,’ frowned Midge. ‘Anyway, wouldn’t I achieve the same thing by simply unbuttoning? Ripping would be a waste of good material.’

‘She smells like a vineyard,’ whispered Bridie.

‘I’m fucking here!’ roared Rona, swinging round to face her and baring her teeth. ‘I’m a person standing right . . . here.’

‘We need your help, Rona,’ said Midge, taking her hand and leading her back to the chair. ‘Remember Noah’s photos?’

‘Ickle-bickle Noah,’ sighed Rona, sinking back into the chair. ‘Don’t you want to just pick him up and put him in your pocket?’

‘Not really,’ said Midge.

‘It’s such a shame about his podcast show, isn’t it?’ continued Rona, taking a shoe off and stroking it on her lap like a cat.

‘What do you mean?’ asked Midge.

‘Lost all his sponsors.’ Rona leaned forward and whispered, ‘Between us, though, I always thought Phantom Files was a bit more edgy, but I’d never tell him.’

‘So, he’s run out of money?’ said Harold. ‘I thought he was making a podcast right now.’

‘It would be like kicking a puppy, wouldn’t it?’ said Rona, bashing the shoe up and down on her knee in time with her words. ‘Kicking it until it fell apart.’ She tossed the shoe to the floor.

‘Rona, please concentrate,’ said Midge.

Rona saluted and lifted her head to meet Midge’s eyes. ‘Reporting for duty.’

‘We need to know what chemicals we should use to develop photographic film.’

Rona frowned. ‘This is a bit of an odd time to be worried about your holiday snaps.’

‘I’m not sure this is such a good idea,’ said Harold.

‘Awwwww . . . Harry-warry. Poor old Daddy Harold, dumped by Linda. You just need a big cuddle.’ Rona put her head to one side and stared at him critically. ‘You know, you’d still be quite a looker, if you blew your nose occasionally.’

‘Rona.’ Midge shook her head. ‘Rona, what chemicals can we use?’

‘Lemme think.’ Rona sat back and closed her eyes. After a moment or so, Midge realized that she had fallen asleep. She shook her gently by her uninjured shoulder. ‘Rona, wake up. What chemicals?’

‘What?’ Rona’s eyes flicked open. ‘Let me sleep, Midge, I’m tired.’

Midge’s shaking became more insistent, and Rona’s grumbling increased. ‘OK, OK,’ she yawned. ‘You need a developer, a rinse and a fixer.’

‘This is impossible,’ said Harold.

‘What can we make a developer from?’ asked Bridie.

‘Shhhhh!’ hissed Rona, squinting at her. ‘I’m not talking to you. You’re horrible to my Squidgy.’

‘Rona . . .’ cautioned Midge.

‘Just because you’ve got cancer doesn’t mean you can talk to her like you do,’ said Rona, the words coming out in a rush.

‘Rona!’ warned Midge, sharply. ‘Don’t speak to her like that.’

But Bridie was looking at her now. ‘You told them?’

‘Caffenol,’ said Rona. ‘You need three ingredients.’ She held four fingers up, causing Bridie to click her teeth in exasperation. ‘Instant coffee, washing soda and vitamin C.’ She smirked at Midge. ‘It’s about all that instant coffee is good for, if you ask me. Then the rinse can just be water.’

‘And the fixer?’ asked Midge.

‘Ohhhhh . . .’ Rona grinned and tapped her nose. ‘That’s really complicated. Top secret.’

‘For God’s sake.’ Midge could practically hear Bridie’s teeth grinding behind her.

‘What is it?’ asked Midge.

Rona beckoned her closer until Midge’s ear was against her mouth. The smell of wine was overpowering. ‘Salt.’

‘Salt?’ said Midge.

Rona nodded but then her eyes flew open suddenly. ‘Or is that for explosives? Hang on.’ She held a finger up and thought. ‘No. That’s right. Salt and water. Unless you want to make a bomb, Midge? That might be more fun. Bridie can mix it.’

‘This is a really, really bad idea,’ said Harold.

‘I’ll tell Noah what ingredients we need,’ said Bridie, and left the room.

‘I’ll check on Gloria and then join you,’ said Harold, and quickly followed her out.

‘You have a little rest now too, Rona,’ suggested Midge, pulling her out of the chair and guiding her to the bed.

‘Be careful, Midge,’ said Rona. ‘All those chemicals. I don’t want my little Midgey Moo to get hurt.’ She started to cry as she lay back. Midge patted her awkwardly on the arm and then tried to pull the blanket up to her chin as she had done with Gloria, but Rona was wriggling about too much.

‘All the chemicals . . . so dangerous,’ she said, her tears running down on to the pillow. ‘It’s so sad.’

‘Go to sleep, Rona,’ said Midge, turning away from the bed to leave.

‘Midge.’ Rona’s hand suddenly shot out and grabbed her. ‘It’s important.’

‘What?’ Midge turned back.

‘Arse,’ said Rona.

‘Pardon?’

But Rona was already snoring.