The Ghostly Past

Chapter 8

It was Saturday. She had still gone into work the day before, enduring the curious and sympathetic looks thrown in her direction. All the students knew, probably courtesy of Harriet, that Miss Fitzroy had found 'a crazy lady' and a dead body in the forest. James had ceased trying to talk to her, but he seemed preoccupied.

Harriet had been spooked by what they'd found, had spent more time than usual in practice. When Clara had popped in to visit her, the girl had been sitting with her head deep in manga. "My escape." She had said, more subdued than normal. Clara had left her to it.

By the Saturday, she had decided to visit the library, to see if she could find any archived material on the town history, on the little girl she had seen that night in the darkness, and the men Philip had seen.

"I'm afraid we don't stock the old newspapers here." The librarian said, arms folded. Clara felt as if everyone knew who she was. She felt conspicuous, and it was a feeling that made her particularly anxious.

"What about parish newsletters?"

"You'd have to ask Father John." She looked bored. "See him after mass tomorrow. He might give you access."

"Are there any old maps of the town or archives?"

"The mayor keeps an archive of sorts." The librarian said hesitantly. "Up at Grey Gardens. You'd have to ask him if you want to get in."

"Thank you." She said polite, despite her anxiety "I will. I'll do that now."

It was a long walk. Grey Gardens was on the northern outskirts of the village. The day was a little dark, overcast. To reach the house, she had to walk down a long winding drive, flanked by trees and lawns. There were walled gardens she could just about see through gaps, and at the end, a colossal mansion home. It was of a pale stone, with dark roofs, vast gleaming windows across the front.

At the threshold was a marble fountain, burbling in the quiet country air. She hesitated before it, marvelling almost at her own daring in walking to the mayor's house.

There were signs for the restaurant pointing down a side drive but she steeled herself before walking up to the front door and pressing the doorbell. It took a minute or two before it swung open to reveal a uniformed man, "Can I help you?"

"I was hoping to see Mayor Vella." She felt foolish, standing there.

"Oh." He let the silence hang a moment, deepening her embarrassment. "I'm afraid he's not at home. Do you have an appointment?"

"No. I was hoping to make an appointment to see the archives. I'm really interested in the history of the town and the library said..." She said, stopping herself.

"I see." The man, the butler gave her a long look. "If you leave me a name and telephone number, I'll have someone call you regarding access." She watched him scrawl down her name with a sinking feeling that no one would call.

Clara left after the door slammed behind her, taking a walk down to the restaurant run out of the old stable block. It was bustling with people, most of the tables taken with people enjoying the gourmet cuisine. She decided to stay for lunch, shown to a table by a uniformed waiter, gazing out at the lawn.

She'd only just ordered when a familiar face appeared at the door to the kitchen, giving rapid orders to a couple of waiters. Max seemed very much in his element. She had known he worked there of course but hadn't expected to see him.

His eyes fell upon her and he smiled, eyes wide with surprise. "Clara!" He strode over, tourists giving her odd looks. "I didn't expect to see you here. You should have said, I could have made you up something special." The warmth of his voice startled her.

"It was a spur of the moment decision." She smiled back, "I'm sorry for bothering you at work."

"You're no bother." He touched her arm lightly. "I'm not working for long today, so if you want when I finish, I could show you the gardens? Grey Gardens is a nice estate. Unless you're in a hurry?"

He was giving her an out, she realised. "That sounds lovely." She found herself saying. He gave her that grin, the ones that made his green eyes seem to glow and then disappeared back into the kitchen.

The food was delicious, she had to admit and while she was finishing up, Max came out, just in jeans and a grey t-shirt, and sat at her table. Tourists kept looking at them, at him. She assumed they were wondering why someone who looked like him was hanging around with someone like her.

In silence, they cut across the lawn into the gardens. "Are we supposed to be in here?" Clara asked nervously. "I don't want to be thrown off the property for trespassing."

"Ah Leo won't mind, and I work here. Everyone knows my face." Max's arm brushed against hers.

"It is beautiful." Clara acknowledged as they passed through an open gate into a rose garden, a riot of colours in full bloom, some bright, others subtle but no less beautiful.

"For you." Max laughed, plucking a dusky pink one by the stem, pulling off the thorns before tucking it into her hair. "Beautiful." He said softly, and she flushed scarlet.

"First trespassing, and now stealing. Maybe I was wrong about you, Mr Henderson." She tried to joke.

To her dismay, a cloud passed over his face before he smiled. "Depends what you think of me, I guess." He murmured. "I heard about what happened in the woods. Leo told me, and Ryan, and roughly half the village." She ducked her head. "You've certainly made an impression here."

"I didn't plan on making an impression at all." Clara replied as they left the rose garden.

"Are you alright?" He asked her, "It must have been rough. And I heard Ryan didn't help."

"He doesn't like me." She sighed, "But I'm okay. Better than poor Anne." She didn't start the ghost conversation. It seemed like the ultimate way to end a conversation in Gloomsdale.

"Ryan's a good guy. He doesn't like being in Leo's shadow, always trying to make a name for himself. When he was a kid, he was quiet. Sporty of course, on all the teams, but not too much trouble. He's under a lot of stress recently."

"Leo said that. Why?" She sensed Max's hesitation. "You know what? Forget I asked. It's none of my business anyway."

He smiled at her, "You're an enigma, you know that?"

"No I'm not! I'm the most clear cut person around. Everyone always knows what I'm thinking."

"You're such a contradiction though. Inquisitive, but secretive. Incredibly anxious, but also a lot bolder than you think."

"I'm not bold." Clara started to laugh.

"Sure you are." Max flashed her a grin. "For example, why are you really here today?"

"I...came to ask the mayor if he'll let me look at the town archives."

"See? Bold move." His smile faded a little. "You're really not letting this go, are you?"

"A man died." Clara muttered. There were paused in a copse of trees by a low stone wall. "More than one. Those hikers too. I know it sounds crazy, but I saw something, and Anne saw something. I just want to do a little research."

"Who am I stop you?" Max smiled at her, but it was tight.

"I know that you know. I also get the impression you couldn't tell me even if you wanted to. So what's the harm in letting me figure it out?"

"I suppose you're right." He sighed. "Let's get out of here anyway. Let's go for a drive."