The Haunting of Harriet (38 page)

“Well, Jenny, I don’t know what to say. That is quite an accomplishment, and a considerable compliment. I thank you from the bottom of my heart and I apologize for hurting you earlier. I never meant to. But seeing the indisputable details of my death and the deaths of my family laid out so graphically was a shock, to put it mildly. Now I shall share something with you, something about me you did not know. I did not know I was dead until very recently. It is not an easy thing to come to terms with, but I am trying.”

She paused and pointed at Mel, who felt a surge enter her as though she had been poked with a cattle prod. “I know you tried to tell me ages ago. I didn’t believe you. However, before you offer to ‘point me to the light’ again I have to tell you this. I am here for a purpose. My destiny is not fulfilled. I don’t know exactly what it is but it concerns you, my dear.” Harriet reached out and took Jenny’s hand. For a brief moment she could not speak. Her eyes had filled again and her throat tightened. She swallowed hard then continued.

“At first I believed my task was complete when I saved you and your brother from the lake. It made sense to perform an act that would purge my memory of my brother’s death. But now, thanks to your efforts, I have read the coroner’s verdict, I accept that he was dead long before I stabbed him with the boat hook. What else is there for me to do? Teach. That is my destiny. You have a rare gift, a voice that will be spoken of until the next millennium, and I have been selected to train it. Don’t worry, my dear, you will be guided over the coming years by many teachers far more competent than me. My task is to instil a permanent love of music in your heart. Your next years will be full of music, special schools, then colleges, in this country and abroad, all there for your benefit. And I shall always be here at Beckmans for you when you come home; as you said, Jenny, there will be many homecomings. I am tired now. I must rest. Tomorrow at the boathouse we have that Pastourelle to master. It is a difficult piece, perfect for your voice.”

With that, she was gone. The book lay on the table unopened to those without imagination. The room was full of her presence even after she had gone. Where did she go? Had things changed for her now she was aware of being dead? Jenny had so many questions she needed answered. Sitting down in the armchair, Jenny thought back over her relationship with Harriet. It had begun when she first entered this house as a baby. That lovely voice that sang her to sleep each night, the soft light that came into her room when she was afraid of the unseen monsters of the dark, the comforting awareness that she was never alone, this was what Harriet meant to her. Even when The Pote had died, it was Harriet who had stopped his fear. It was her existence that brought the comfort of knowing he was well and happy. What had Harriet told her about pain? She could not become a great singer without touching pain. She had known its vicious touch when she thought she had lost her brother. She had hurt when Aunty Mel was threatened by cancer. Now she knew what she must do with all this and any future pain. She would pour it into her singing. If Harriet had stayed behind for her, she would not let her down. Her music would become her life and she would make her teacher proud of her.

Mel picked up the book. This was the first time she had seen it. Slowly she turned the pages, absorbed by the astonishing wealth of material. During the “presentation” Mel had been aware of a strong female presence in the room: a woman of a certain age, someone who knew the house intimately. Mel could not see her but she felt her to be tall and distinguished, a woman not to be messed with, someone who had known great sorrow and loss, a very determined person, tenaciously loyal, a woman with a mission. When Mel put this to Jenny she laughed. Mel had summed up Harriet’s character pretty accurately. The child’s account of what had taken place paralleled Mel’s version of events although she was only working on feelings and shadowy glimpses, which were subject to misinterpretation. Poor Mel had the uncomfortable feeling that this ghost was playing with her. A gauntlet had been thrown down and she was not about to be called a coward or a charlatan. She too could be stubborn to a terrifying degree. Well, if this spirit wanted to challenge her professional reputation she had met her match. Let battle commence.

Mel’s first challenge was her promise to Brenda, so when later that evening she found Robert alone rifling through some music, she came straight out with it. Robert was amused rather than annoyed. He had been waiting for some reaction from the Circus. Liz had been splendid, as had Jenny. Edward was reticent, not hostile, and he did not expect an adverse reaction from Bob or Mel. He was certainly not expecting their advice that he should address his parents’ feelings.

After a friendly and frank exchange, Mel was assured that both his mother and father were aware of their son’s sexual persuasion and had accepted it, albeit with reservation. What was not obvious was exactly where the animosity was coming from; there was no denying there had been quite violent clashes, especially between mother and son.

Eventually all became clear. The remaining stumbling-block was the church. Robert had been brought up Catholic, and like all good Catholic boys had served as an altar boy and chorister. He had always loved music, especially sacred music, which had kept him close to the church long after he began to doubt the Creed and the antiquated beliefs the clergy adhered to. As he grew older his sexuality was no longer a question for him, but it began to be seen as an issue by everyone else. Never had Robert considered his own God-given orientation to be anything other than natural; certainly not an “issue”. But the Church in its infinite wisdom saw differently. His mother told him to keep quiet. It was nobody else’s business. He could not help feeling she was praying he would see sense and, in time, become a “normal” heterosexual.

He was not wrong. Brenda’s indoctrination was deeply entrenched. She believed that to be gay was a choice and an evil one at that. Knowing her son was in no way an evil person led her to the conclusion that he had made a few unfortunate choices along the way, which he should reverse as soon as possible. This simple application of a truly evil doctrine was a pretty fair description of the Church’s attitude to homosexuality. It will all come out in the wash.

Robert could tolerate this attitude in his mother, but when lifted to the level of a dictate that ostensibly banned him from his own faith, he could not keep quiet, hence the rows. Donald had tried to keep his head down and adopt a low profile, but had exposed himself as weak. He tried to placate his son, also advising that he keep a low profile, which merely confirmed Robert’s beliefs that his father was at heart a coward and homophobic. In his personal life he accepted his parents’ stance. They were of the old school and were trying to be tolerant. Robert did not ask for tolerance. He wanted acceptance, equality and respect.

As he poured his heart out to Mel, Robert was at times tearful. His dignity and determination impressed Mel. He knew he had offended his mother by lashing out against her church, accusing it of gross hypocrisy, citing as evidence the many cases of child abuse and predatory priests. He had hated causing her such pain by turning his back on all she held so dear. She had pleaded on her knees that he come back to the fold for fear of eternal damnation, but Robert was quite prepared to chance his luck and accept his absolution elsewhere.

Mel agreed to report back to Brenda, suggesting gently at Robert’s request that she should look to her own actions if she hoped to heal the rift between the two of them. With this rather unpleasant resolution made Mel switched subjects and pumped Robert for information about Harriet and they were soon engrossed in matters of a more metaphysical nature. It transpired that Robert had always had the gift of clairvoyance. He was convinced that we all have the same ability if we choose to use it. It came as a surprise to hear that Mel could not see Harriet, so calling Mark in as a rational, relatively impartial witness and Jenny, because there was no way she was going to be left out, they sat up late into the night discussing the various manifestations of the spirit world they had become aware of or been informed of. Mel and Bob stayed that night, which meant that the next day the four seekers were free to settle themselves in the Fourth Room to explore this fascinating realm even further.

That night Jenny fell asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow. Her dreams were rapid and colourful, filling the air with ghosts and demons, spectres and goblins. Hairy monsters breathing flames from their pulsating nostrils dived at her, making her twist and turn her head in a desperate attempt to avoid their suffocating swoops. As they spun around the room gathering speed with each diminishing lap, the drone of their vast wings drowned out the sound of her own breathing and the fire from their nostrils burned her face. As her last breath struggled free she woke to find Google spread-eagled across her face, panting in short hot bursts as her wrinkled dwarf legs chased imaginary foes pursued in her canine dreams.

By morning Jenny was glad to get up. Breakfast was another riotous affair with toast and croissants waving about as the hands that held them gesticulated wildly. The day was full of vitality. Things got done on days like this. Happenings were in the air. Bob, Edward and James had hatched a plan of their own, while the secret four were anxious to continue their research into the unknown. Liz had shopping to do, since the larder was empty and there were no signs of her rapacious guests leaving. She also had an appointment in town, which she was being pretty secretive about it. Edward assumed it was with the hairdresser. Mel, on the other hand, was intrigued. When her inquisitive pestering was met with a brusque “wait and see”, her curiosity was aroused rather than sated.

E
dward, Bob and James were being equally secretive. Yesterday they had been discussing the accident. James had surprised the men by instigating the conversation. He was still not convinced by Jenny’s explanation. After all, he was the one who had nearly drowned and he felt justified in wanting to find out exactly how his life had been saved. Of course Mel had told Bob every detail of the post-mortem, but forgetting that the two men seldom discussed anything but cricket and rugby it was never explored further. Minor matters such as world peace or life and death were left to the women. James had not yet reached the great age of enlightenment, where priorities are so easily identified. His curiosity was still a vital part of his motivation and he had succeeded in arousing a certain interest in the two older men. Ghosts were dismissed out of hand. The subject of the boat hook, however, still waited to be resolved. Bob recalled how agitated Liz had become when she first mentioned it, ordering him to “leave it alone”. That was months if not years ago. They decided there must be a rational explanation, and resolved to find it before the various wild theories perpetrated by the women became even more fanciful.

The Jessops had never owned a boat hook, although Edward kept meaning to buy one. So what had fished young James out of the water? Edward was sure that a simple, if not obvious, solution would eventually come to light. Bob was less sceptical, having spent so much time with a wife who used her psychic powers in the everyday way most women use a dishwasher. He also believed the explanation might well fall into the category “not known” or “non-proven”. Edward accused him of hedging his bets. Of course he had the additional advantage of having almost discovered something suspiciously fitting the bill when the old boat was salvaged. They decided to raise the
Olly Ro
and then see if they could locate the mysterious boat hook.

As they made their way to the lake equipped with a long rake and several lengths of stout rope, they had to admit this was a pretty stupid time of year to be embarking on an underwater adventure. A couple more beers and a flask of coffee were carried along in case the salvage took longer than anticipated. It was too cold for swimwear. Wet suits were dismissed as being over-the-top, and anyway they only possessed one. Waders were chosen as a sensible compromise. The boat was totally submerged now and lay deeper than they had expected, the level of the lake still being raised above the normal watermark. Edward regretted not having rescued it before it had sunk, but Liz had forbidden anyone to touch it. Eventually it succumbed to the constant tossing and turning and had shipped too much water to remain afloat.

As they approached it, Bob remarked that it was in almost the exact spot where the old
Jolly Roger
had lain all those years. Both men made light of the coincidence, bluffly speculating as to how much of a meal their wives would make of it.

Bob was decidedly uncomfortable about the whole business. He tried to appear casual but his arms were covered in goose pimples, despite the fact that he wore a thick oilskin coat.

“Where has Liz gone?” Bob was struggling with the rope, turning it into a large lasso.

“Shopping, I think. Then the hairdresser; she could be ages.” Edward was already in the water and took hold of the lasso, feeding it around the submerged hull. “It’s fucking freezing in here. Whoops, you didn’t hear that, James.”