Page 35 of Secrets and Seashells at Rainbow Bay
How very odd.
I walk back across the main bedroom about to leave when suddenly there’s a creaking sound – it’s coming from this room again. I turn around and to my astonishment I’m sure I can see the bed moving.
The blue silk eiderdown is definitely moving up and down on top of the bed – it’s like someone it sitting down on it so it creases at the edges and there’s a large dent in the usually immaculate cover.
Is there a bird or a mouse caught between the covers? I wonder.
I walk slowly across to the bed and cautiously pull back the covers in case something scuttles or flies out, but when there’s nothing there I feel over the top of the bed in case I can touch the shape of an animal or bird trapped in between the layers. But again, nothing.
I straighten up the bed, and shake my head. I must have been imagining it. I didn’t get much sleep last night; a seagull had decided it would be a great idea to build a nest just outside my bedroom window. So from about 4 a.m. all I’d heard was it toing and froing as it created its masterpiece maternity home. Maybe my lack of sleep was making my mind play tricks on me?
I walk towards the door and turn back to take one last look at the room. Everything seems fine now, no noises, no movement on the . . . I stare in disbelief at the bed. The blue eiderdown which I straightened less than a minute ago is dented again – exactly like someone has sat on it.
‘Too weird,’ I say out loud, shaking my head. ‘Really, way too freaky.’
And then I hear it again: the very definite sound of a man laughing.
‘Morning, miss,’ Tiffany says as I enter the office. ‘Ooh, what’s up with you? You look like you’ve seen a ghost!’
I stare at her.
‘You’re all white,’ she says, looking at me with concern. ‘Do you want a cuppa? I’ve got something a bit stronger hidden in the bottom drawer of my desk if you’d like that? Don’t tell Arthur, though.’
‘No, tea will be fine,’ I tell her. I pull out the chair at my newly created desk and I sit down while Tiffany puts the kettle on.
‘So what’s occurring?’ she asks, perching herself on the edge of my desk now. ‘You’re very pale, you know.’
‘Tiffany . . . ’ I say slowly. ‘This may seem like an odd question, but do you know if this castle is haunted?’
‘Yeah, that’s what they say.’
‘Who says?’
‘Er, people who’ve worked here in the past. I just assumed it was stories – you know like they pass down through the generations for entertainment?’
I nod.
‘Why, do you think differently, then?’ she asks. ‘Have you seen something?’
‘Notseen, exactly, more heard.’
‘Ooh, really? What sort of things have you heard? Like chains rattling and stuff?’
‘No, we’re not talking about a ghost in a Charles Dickens novel! What I heard was . . . ’ – I feel silly even saying it now – ‘ . . . laughter.’
‘Ooh, a friendly ghost, then – like Casper?’
I stare at Tiffany – she probably wasn’t the best person to talk to about this.
‘Perhaps. And perhaps I was just imagining it.’ I shake my head. ‘Never mind. Now, what have you got for me this morning? More bills?’ I look at the paperwork already piled up in front of me.
‘Morning, Arthur,’ I say as Arthur pops his head around the office door later. I’ve just finished dealing with all my paperwork and emails, and after two cups of Tiffany’s overly sweet tea I’ve decided that it was definitely my mind playing tricks on me this morning and nothing else.
‘Morning,’ Arthur says. ‘I was just wondering if you’d rung Doug Longstaff yet? He wants to talk to you about supplying the bread and stuff for the café. Doug is the local baker?’ he reminds me unnecessarily.
‘Yes, I do remember, Arthur. It’s next on my list.’
Arthur just nods. ‘Are you all right? You look a little pale this morning.’
