Page 45 of Murder Most Haunted
‘Who’s having sex?’ Noah flicked the light switch as he entered. ‘Why are you two sitting in the dark? The power is back on.’
Gloria’s eyes lit up when she saw him and she immediately pulled out the chair next to her, which Midge had been about to sit down on. ‘Oh, silly. We were just discussing Rendell. Sit down and Midge will make some supper for you.’
This was going too far in Midge’s opinion. ‘I was making a sandwich,’ she said, pulling out the bread board. ‘I can do that.’ But even sandwiches came with their own problems. Did Noahlike the crusts on or off? Bridie, for example, could get very waspish if she forgot to remove the crusts.
Noah wrinkled his nose. ‘Ham, please, if there is any.’ He sat down next to Gloria. ‘What is that awful smell of garlic?’
Midge sniffed. He was right, there was a tang of garlic in the air.
‘Perhaps someone was making something with it earlier,’ said Gloria, sweeping the table with her forearm. ‘The table was a bit of a mess when I came in. Do you cook, Noah?’
He shook his head. ‘Mum does most of the time.’
‘No girlfriend, then?’ asked Gloria, smiling at him.
‘No.’ He hunched his shoulders slightly. ‘I’m asexual.’
Gloria blinked. ‘You’re what?’
‘It means that I experience no sexual feelings or desires.’
Which seemed at odds with the bottom-ogling Midge had witnessed earlier, she thought as she buttered the bread.
‘I think that’s called old age,’ snorted Gloria, making Midge wonder just how many glasses of wine she’d already enjoyed.
‘I think it’s called bloody lucky,’ said Harold, who had just walked in and overheard the conversation. ‘Have you seen him?’
‘It’s not a choice,’ explained Noah. ‘I fall in love, just without any sexual urges.’
Midge stopped slicing the cheese. What a much happier place the world would be if everyone was like Noah.
‘Rubbish!’ said Harold. ‘You just haven’t met the right girl yet, or man...’ He held a finger up and winked conspiratorially at Midge. ‘I’m not homophobic.’
There was a clang as Midge placed the sandwich plate down on to the table with a bit more force than was necessary.
‘Of course,’ continued Harold, obliviously, ‘the computer science degree probably didn’t help.’
‘Robert was always out chasing girls,’ said Gloria, taking another slug of wine. ‘You’d have liked him.’ She nodded at Midge, who wasn’t sure why, considering the predatory overtone thatGloria had just introduced. Still, it was something people often said about lost loved ones and Midge felt it was probably inappropriate to respond with ‘I don’t think so’. So, she buttered another slice of bread for herself and wondered if, when she died, Bridie would say things like ‘You would have liked her’, to people who, in reality, wouldn’t have.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the clatter of a glass knocking against the tabletop. ‘Mrs Mortimer? Are you OK?’
Gloria had gone so pale that for a moment Midge half expected to see a ghost in the kitchen.
‘I’m fine, I’ve just been feeling very lightheaded.’ She fiddled with the insulin pump on her arm.
‘Do you need anything?’ asked Midge, hoping she wasn’t going to say a sandwich.
‘I’ll make you a cup of tea,’ said Noah, jumping up.
‘Is it your insulin?’ asked Harold. ‘Shall I get your husband?’
Gloria shook her head, looking down at the pump. ‘No, the figures are fine, so it’s not my insulin. I expect it’s the events catching up with me... I’ll be fine once Robert has finished making me a cup of tea.’
‘Noah,’ said Midge, quietly. ‘Noah is making the tea.’
‘Of course.’ Gloria blinked. ‘Do you know what? I am rather tired. I think I’ll go to bed now instead. Good night.’
She left just as Rona entered the room. ‘Midge, do you believe in ghosts?’
