The Voice Within

Chapter 23: Penhallam, May 17th

A light breeze drifted through the open window at Penhallam teasing the candle flames which cast gyrating shadows across the kitchen walls. Julia and Doug struggled listlessly with a light meal – each preoccupied with their own thoughts.

"Am I insane?" asked Doug, pushing his fork to one side of his half-eaten meal. "I've always prided myself on being rational. It's the way I work – using deduction and logic. Now here I am about to watch some ghosts reconstruct a murder."

"So why do you want to do this?"

Doug stared disconsolately into his wine.

"I don't believe we have all the answers. I accept that there are things we don't understand – things that don't have a scientific or logical explanation. But that doesn't make them any less real. For example, Sarah, your daughter. I believe she's absolutely real to you but I can't touch her or speak to her so it's a different kind of reality. Maybe that's the problem. None of us knows what 'real' is anymore."

Julia turned and stared out of the kitchen window at the fading light which cast heavy shadows across the garden.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have talked about Sarah."

"It's alright. I don't mind talking about her. It keeps her alive. Maybe that's what these memories of yours are doing, keeping something alive that should be at rest."

"Harry said something similar," replied Doug. "He told me there was some evidence that paranormal activity is the result of what he called 'unfinished business'. Something in the past which wasn't completed and so the memories keep replaying until they can reach a natural ending – a bit like a damaged CD."

"Do you think there's unfinished business here at Penhallam?"

"That's what I'm hoping to find out tonight."

"How will this re-enactment help?"

Doug pushed his plate away and sighed.

"I don't believe ghosts exist in a physical sense. But perhaps they're like memories that take on a tangible form in our minds – a way that we have of connecting with the past."

"Why do you think these memories survive?"

"Maybe it's because they have something to say to us today. I think it's possible that we inherit memory passed on through generations. After all, we inherit traits like physical features and personality – why not memory? And maybe that memory helps us to deal with the present. Perhaps that's what Freddie meant when he said 'the future lies in the past'."  

At midnight they ventured out into the courtyard carrying folding chairs. Julia also took a flask of coffee and some sandwiches. They had turned off the downstairs lights in the house but a single lit window from upstairs provided some illumination in an otherwise inky black night.

They set their chairs up and waited. The timeless call of an owl drifted on the breeze before the night reverted to a profound silence. Julia took hold of Doug's arm and pulled herself closer to him. She checked her watch. It was half past midnight.

Doug tensed.

"What's the matter?"

"Up there. Kate's window. I'm sure I saw a light flicker."

"I can't see anything. You're imagining it."

"I saw something. Look, there it is again."

She felt his body go rigid. His eyes were bulging.

"What is it, Doug? What have you seen?" 

Kate stood back from the window holding only a candle so that she couldn't be seen from outside. Some of the guests were leaving now. The raucous laughter. The sound of horse's hooves on the cobbled courtyard and her father's voice shouting coarse salutations as they left. He had won friends that night. Her humiliation in front of his guests had been intended to prove his commitment to the King's cause and his dedication to the Catholic Church. Word would soon be abroad that Arthur Penhallam was no ditherer. He was a true Royalist and, as such, would expect to be rewarded handsomely by the King when this brief insurrection was over. He would ask for the Trebarfoot's estate. That would make him the largest landowner in the county and it would amuse him to see the haughty Trebarfoots ruined.