Page 62 of Murder Most Haunted
‘Here,’ said Midge. ‘Do you see? These footprints go all the way to the...’ She stopped suddenly, her blood running cold.
‘What’s going on?’ called Noah.
‘There’s someone there,’ whispered Midge, pointing. She hadn’t been mistaken. Just around the corner, a shadowy shape was moving away from them.
‘Is it her?’ cried Noah, dropping his Tupperware in his excitement. ‘OMG, is it the ghost?’
Midge frowned into the darkness. There was something familiar about the shape.
‘That’s not a ghost, Noah. That’s Gloria!’
Dressed only in her nightdress, bare feet sinking into the snow, Gloria Mortimer was marching alongside the distant border hedge, seemingly oblivious to the cold of the winter evening.
‘Go and get the doctor,’ Midge instructed Noah as she made her way after Gloria, slowing down for the stone steps of the levelled lawns and taking care not to slip on the ice. The doctor’s wife was still some way ahead of Midge when Harold caught up with her. They followed in silence as she moved past the croquet lawn and through a gap in the hedge towards the south wing, her nightie billowing out behind her in the cold air.
‘Gloria!’ called Harold. But she didn’t turn.
Midge and Harold continued after her, their feet sinking into the snow as they went. ‘She’s got no shoes on,’ said Harold. ‘She’ll catch her death. Gloria!’ he shouted again.
Something about her gait was familiar to Midge. It jogged a memory of the time immediately after Bridie’s diagnosis. For several nights, Midge had woken up to find her walking backwards and forwards across the landing, uncommunicative and withdrawn. Midge suddenly put out a hand towards Harold’s arm, reluctant to touch but needing to stop him. ‘I think she’s sleepwalking. We need to be careful.’
They slowed their pace and crept closer, watching as Gloria opened a tiny metal gate into a small walled area that Midge had previously not noticed. She disappeared inside, leaving the gate open.
They passed through behind her. The walls were lined with yew trees, spreading a blanket of darkness over them, but the smattering of moonlight reflecting off the snow was enough to show up pale stones sticking out of the ground.
‘It’s a cemetery!’ breathed Harold, confirming Midge’s opinion that he had a talent for the obvious.
To their left, Gloria stood in front of one of the graves. As they watched, she sank down on to her knees and moved her arms as if arranging flowers. She spoke quietly to herself and when Midge stepped closer, she thought she could see tears running down her cheeks.
‘She must think it’s her son’s,’ whispered Midge.
They stood in silence watching over Gloria until Dr Mortimer and Noah appeared next to them, breathing heavily from running through the snow. The doctor had a blanket in his arms. ‘Ms McGowan.’ He nodded at her, his eyes only on his wife. He moved forward slowly and spoke to her in a low voice, placing the blanket very gently over her shoulders as Midge and Harold watched. Without a word to either of them, he put his arm aroundher and walked her past them and out of the gate, leaving the others standing alone amongst the graves.
‘He said she’s done it quite a bit since... well, since, you know,’ said Noah.
Midge nodded, turning to go back to the house. As she did, she noticed a tiny headstone right in the corner of the cemetery, against the wall, separated from the others.
‘Come on, Midge, I’m freezing,’ complained Harold.
Midge ignored him and walked over to the grave, her feet crunching in the snow. The stone was overgrown and eroded but she could just make out what was left of the engraving:
ELIZABETH‘BETH’ HALLOWDIED12THJUNE1868
She bent down, the snow soaking through on to her knee. Her hand ran across the date. ‘Does anything strike you as odd about this stone?’
‘Odd?’ said Harold. ‘You’re a bit of an oddball yourself, aren’t you?’
Midge stiffened. ‘I have been told so before.’
‘Beth?’ said Harold, his face wrinkling as he looked at the stone. ‘Wasn’t that the name of the ghost who spoke to us in the séance?’
‘Yes,’ replied Midge, not for the first time wondering what it all meant.
Chapter38
Extract fromThey Do It With Stringspodcast
‘The Tin House’: Episode Three
