Page 46 of Murder Most Haunted
Midge chose her words carefully. ‘No. I don’t believe in ghosts.’
‘If Noah is right and Rendell didn’t commit suicide, then perhaps we need to find what she’s looking for, so she can rest,’ announced Rona.
‘What are you talking about?’ asked Midge.
‘The White Lady of the Moor – the one that haunted Charles Atherton,’ said Rona, her eyes wide.
‘Have something to drink,’ said Midge.
Rona waved her hand at Midge. ‘That’s sweet of you, I’d love a cup of tea, but could you make it? I caught Harold re-using tea bags yesterday.’
She side-eyed Harold, who pretended not to have heard. ‘Actually, thinking about it, maybe a Danish or something if we have one? In fact, forget the tea... I’ll have a mocha latte with whipped cream.’
Midge considered this. She wasn’t an expert on frothy coffee, her one experience inside a coffee house having left both her and the barista firmly traumatized. She’d ended up with a drink the size of a Mr Whippy and the name ‘Miguel’ written on its side. ‘There is Nescafé instant and skimmed milk. Perhaps I could shake the milk for you?’
‘That fucking Willow!’ shouted Rona suddenly, causing Midge to jump. ‘I told her to never book me into anything that only has instant. We need to get out of here.’
‘When Harold’s wife gets back to an empty house I’m sure she’ll raise the alarm,’ said Noah, the lack of enthusiasm for an imminent rescue written all over his face. ‘Is she back from her trip tonight or tomorrow, Harold?’
There was a silence while they all waited for Harold to confirm either way. Instead, he started fiddling with an apple from the fruit bowl.
‘Or not?’ said Noah.
Harold shrugged.
‘What’s going on?’ asked Noah. ‘Harold?’
Midge answered instead. ‘Harold can’t confirm because Linda left him a while ago, didn’t she?’
Harold’s shoulders slumped as he leaned back against the sink. ‘How did you know?’
Midge pointed at his fingers. ‘There’s a sun mark of a recently removed wedding ring, and you’ve given at least two different destinations for her supposed trip.’ She refrained from addingthat anyone with such a persistent nasal drip had been living on borrowed marital time anyway.
He sniffed, in what Midge interpreted as an acknowledgement, and bit into the apple.
‘So, no one knows we’re stuck here, and no one’s going to miss us for at least another day?’ asked Rona, shaking her head slowly. She suddenly looked very tired, in Midge’s opinion, dark smudges under her eyes and a straggle of hair loose from its updo.
‘Presumably, even if they aren’t notified by Linda, your office will wonder why the coach didn’t come back?’ said Midge.
Harold was doing his best not to look at anyone.
‘Harold?’ asked Noah.
He placed the half-eaten apple down on the draining board. ‘Not really sure about that.’
‘What do you mean?’
He placed his hands flat on the table and took a deep breath. ‘There isn’t technically anyone else at the Haunting Holiday Excursions office. Just me...’
‘What about a receptionist, the other drivers?’ said Rona, her voice rising.
‘All gone,’ replied Harold. ‘No one’s been paid in weeks. I’m the only one working there and, to be honest, I haven’t had any wages for a couple of months.’
‘But...’ Noah shook his head. ‘Why are you still driving for him, if you haven’t been paid?’
‘For the company, I suppose.’ His voice dropped. ‘I get a bit lonely sometimes.’
‘Oh, for Christ’s sake!’ exploded Rona. ‘You mean to tell me no one knows we’re stranded?’
