Page 49 of Murder Most Haunted
The same word was spelled out, every time.
A. D. A. M.
The baby’s name.
She woke with a gasp, tangled up in her sheets and a dull throbbing in her knee, which had been aggravated by the thrashing around. Her whole body itched with the tiresome, unsettled feeling that always overcame her when dealing with a misplaced object. Of course, had she been more romantic in nature, she may have put the discomfort of the night down to missing Bridie lying next to her. But Midge was nothing if not practical when it came to matters of the bedroom, and had been rather enjoying the extra space. Reaching into the drawer next to her for a couple of anti-inflammatories, she stifled a sigh when confronted by the empty space in the row of canary handkerchiefs. Thinking this the culprit of her bad night’s sleep, she determined to retrieve the missing hankie from Noah as soon as she was washed and dressed.
This time, because Bridie wasn’t here to comment, she opted for the sink in her own room and a flannel. She dressed quickly in another navy jumper and trousers, lacing up her boots tightly for extra support and leaning more heavily on her cane than usual.
When she entered the kitchen, Gloria was fussing over Noah, insisting that he sit while she made some breakfast under the belligerent gaze of her husband. This was excellent timing as far Midge was concerned, who took out a plate and cutlery in the hope that Gloria would feel compelled to serve up for her too.
‘Actually,’ said Midge to Noah, ‘while I’m here, I believe you have one of my handkerchiefs. The one with the canary on it?’
Noah frowned. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘I lent it to you when we arrived,’ prompted Midge. ‘When you were indisposed by the sheep.’
‘Indisposed?’ Noah shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. If you did, I don’t remember. You mean when I was being sick?’
Midge was astounded. Surely vomiting was no excuse for misplacing another person’s belongings. ‘You mean you don’t have it?’
‘I’ll have a look later.’ He shrugged. ‘Sorry.’
Sorry?Sorry hardly covered such carelessness. At the thought of one of her ladies lost in the wilderness and unaccounted for, Midge started to feel queasy. Forcing herself to take several deep breaths, she focused on the conversation between Gloria and her husband.
Dr Mortimer said he wanted to leave. He had decided enough was enough and it was about time that someone manned up and went to get help. The good doctor obviously taking the view that her lack of a scrotum disqualified her from risking her life, Midge left it to the others to argue about. Unabashed sexism was, for once, a relief.
‘Any tea in the pot?’ asked Rona, who had swept into the kitchen on an overpowering cloud of perfume. On top of her head was a slouched, oversized beanie which drooped in the manner of a sad armadillo. ‘Noah, be a sweetie and pour me one.’
‘Are you actually capable of making a drink for yourself?’ asked Noah.
‘There’s something wrong with the bloody kettle,’ snapped Rona, pointing at the offending appliance. ‘Every time I put it on the cooker thing it melts.’
‘Jesus Christ, it’s a bloody electric kettle, you can’t put it on the range!’ said Noah. ‘How the hell have you got to your age without being able to tell the difference between an electric kettle and a stovetop one?’
Rona’s eyes widened. ‘I’m a pop star, Noah. I don’t make my own drinks, or food.’ Rona considered something for a moment. ‘Or even eat, for that matter. I smoke.’
With a sigh, Noah laid down the book that he had been reading and began to set out some cups. Harold entered, completing their party.
‘We need to get the police here as soon as possible,’ said the doctor, annoyed at the interruption. ‘And start rationing.’ Which was an easy thing to say for a man who had just polished off all the bacon again, thought Midge, sourly.
‘I said yesterday we should be rationing,’ pointed out Harold. ‘And it’s all very well saying someone should set off into the snow for help, but those are live firing ranges out there, and a closed gate.’
The doctor scowled back, as if the MOD’s strategy for the weekend had been entirely to inconvenience him. ‘There was a guard station, wasn’t there? If someone can make it to there, they can get help.’
‘If,’ replied Harold. ‘Anyway, that place looked pretty abandoned when we came through.’
‘Either way, we need to wait for a break in the firing,’ conceded the doctor.
Harold snorted as he opened what was, to Midge’s knowledge, the last packet of biscuits. ‘You’d still have to deal with the unexploded devices that they bury all over the place.’
‘For God’s sake! We can’t just sit here.’
‘I can,’ said Noah. ‘You don’t understand how these things work. It’s not every day that you get to experience visitations like this. We’re privileged, really.’
The doctor glared at him. ‘Privileged? This has gone beyond a joke. This kind of stress is not good for Gloria. I need to get her away from here as soon as possible.’
‘Well, I’m not going anywhere,’ said Noah, firmly. ‘And whatif someone comes to rescue us when you’re halfway across the ranges? We need to stay put and stick together.’
