The Voice Within

Chapter 11: Penhallam, April 23rd 2011

He slept fitfully, memories of last night's experience clouding his mind. A banging door and creaking floorboards told him that Julia was up. He felt like an errant child, confined to his room for a tantrum. At eight o'clock – a knock on his door.

"Breakfast ready in fifteen minutes." She sounded very 'matter of fact'.

"OK, thanks. I'll just have a quick wash."

He waited whilst her steps receded down the corridor then, wrapping the towel tightly round his body, he scuttled into the bathroom. Fifteen minutes later, shaved and dressed, he presented himself in the kitchen. Julia was busy cooking at the stove.

"Good morning," he announced cheerily.

"Morning," she replied, keeping her eyes lowered.

He moved towards her, wishing he'd rehearsed something appropriate to say.

"About last night – look, it was just a silly dream. I'd fallen asleep and then thought I was ... well, it doesn't matter. But I expect that Rioja had something to do with it."

She concentrated on the bacon, chasing it round the frying pan with a wooden spatula.

"You remember I told you that no one has been here looking for ghosts since I've lived at Penhallam?"

"Yes."

"That's not quite true. Two years ago a reporter from the local paper turned up – a quiet, mild man. He said his passion was local history and he already knew quite a lot about the Penhallams. He'd visited the house as a boy – knew the family who lived here then. We talked for a long time. He wanted to see Kate's room.  Apparently he'd stayed there once before – so I let him stay in there overnight."

Doug felt his skin tingle.

"Why?"

"I don't know really. I suppose I was feeling lonely. He was persuasive. I'd probably drunk too much."

"What happened?"

"I found him in the morning, like you, with his hands clutched round his throat. I called an ambulance. They told me he'd had a heart attack."

"Do you know what happened to him?"

"No, I lost touch."

"And he never came back?"

"Not so far as I know."

"I'd like to find him. Maybe he'd talk to me."

"I can make some enquires."

Julia tipped the bacon along with scrambled egg onto two plates.

"Sit down here," she said, indicating the pine table. "I've made you coffee." She sat down opposite him and began eating.

"Look, I don't want you to think I'm just using you in some way for my book."

"Why not? I thought that's what you were doing."

"Our talk last night. I told you things I haven't told other people. I felt easy talking to you."   

 She looked at him quizzically but said nothing.

"I just wanted you to know that I enjoy being with you."

She pushed her plate to one side and sat back in her chair, studying his face.

"You're a strange man, Douglas Penhallam. A hard-bitten feature writer, you're about to go on trial, you come down here to escape and now you're making a pass at me. I don't know how you do it ..."