Page 59 of Murder Most Haunted
‘Remember? Outside your window on the first night?’
‘Oh,’ considered Midge. ‘Yes.’
‘I mean, Noah sounded pretty upset, didn’t he?’
In Midge’s opinion, Noah always sounded in a perpetual state of angst. She had put this down to hormones and the tight skinny jeans that his generation insisted on wearing.
‘And, you know, we’ve only got his word that he left Rendell after the interview.’
‘Harold heard Rendell in the bathing room in the morning,’ said Midge.
‘Harold heardsomeone,’ replied Rona. ‘I can’t stay here. It’s too dangerous. I don’t know why Noah wants to stay.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, don’t you think it’s odd? Every time anyone tries to suggest getting help in some way, Noah comes up with one objection or another.’
Midge thought about this. ‘I assume he is just excited about the podcast.’
‘I’m not sticking around to die just so he can boost his ratings,’ wailed Rona. To Midge’s dismay, her canary handkerchief had appeared in Rona’s hand and was in the process of being screwed up into a tight, soggy ball. Midge winced at the sight ofher delicate cloth being manhandled in such a way. Despite the nap, she felt exhausted being near Rona. Once, years ago, Bridie had convinced her it would be fun to ride on the waltzer at a local fairground, saying it would be good for Midge to ‘live a little’. After an uncomfortable car ride home splashed in Midge’s vomit, Bridie conceded that she had been incorrect in her assumption. Two days in Rona’s company reminded Midge of those unpredictable moments, spinning through the air, gripping on to the safety bar.
Midge’s knee was beginning to cramp and her stomach had started growling. ‘I’m going to see if there is anything to eat.’
‘Don’t leave me alone,’ begged Rona, who genuinely looked upset at the thought of her own company. ‘I get so bored on my own.’
‘I won’t be long,’ said Midge.
‘Midge,’ said Rona, ‘could you lay out a nightie for me, from the drawer? If I’m going to be stuck in bed, I better look my best.’
‘I can’t see any nightdresses,’ said Midge, looking down into the top drawer of the dresser and trying her best to ignore the array of tiny string underwear. Midge regarded thongs with the same distrust she reserved for car salesmen – both of which left her feeling uncomfortable and confused.
‘The pink one, on the top,’ said Rona.
Midge selected a tiny piece of lace which would have been a suitable replacement for her handkerchief and placed it on the bed.
‘Willow usually presses them for me before she puts them out,’ said Rona, waving at the nightie.
‘I think you must have knocked your head rather hard in the tunnel,’ observed Midge, turning to leave.
‘Come right back and fill me in on all the gossip, then,’ pouted Rona.
‘I don’t gossip,’ pointed out Midge, closing the door. ‘But naturally I will keep you informed of events.’
To her surprise, in the kitchen, she found Noah covered fromhead to toe in flour, vigorously mixing batter within a cake bowl. The irresistible aroma was coming from the oven, inside of which were several cake tins. On the table were row upon row of perfectly turned-out cupcakes, which Harold appeared to be happily taste-testing.
‘Midge!’ he said, pulling out a chair and inviting her to sit. ‘Let me introduce Noella Lawson!’ Harold laughed so hard at his own joke, several mouthfuls of crumbs came flying out, which was a waste of a perfectly good cake in Midge’s opinion.
Noah gave a shy bow and wiped yet more flour on to his jeans. Harold leaned in to Midge and winked. ‘Turns out that Noah here stress bakes.’
‘Stress baking?’ Midge enquired.
‘When I’m nervous,’ said Noah, ‘I find it helps my anxiety. Problem is, I’m not very good at portioning. Try a muffin.’
Midge was confused. ‘That is not a muffin, Noah, that is quite clearly a small cake.’
‘They’re called muffins,’ explained Noah.
‘Perhaps by those with diminished powers of reason,’ replied Midge, helping herself none the less. ‘There is already a perfectly respectable baked item under the moniker of “muffin” – Bridie and I share one, toasted with butter, most mornings, and this most certainly is not it.’
