Page 57 of Ghost in the Garden
“That’s her,” she said in a rush. “I’ll bet you anything that’s our ghost.”
*
Iris Fraser almostfell on her husband Frank as he returned to their room.
“He was here again!” she blurted before the door was even properly closed.
“Who?” Frank demanded.
“That journalist you spoke to the other day. I’m sure it was him. Tall, sallow bloke, speaks like a gent. Had a woman with him.”
“What sort of a woman?” Frank asked, scowling.
“I don’t know,” Iris said impatiently. “Too bloody pretty by half, though her dress was nothing to marvel at. Nosy cow, too.”
“Why, what did she ask? Ain’t we got any tea?”
“I’ll get it later. She didn’t ask anything, but she was peering inside, trying to see over my shoulder.”
Frank laughed. “Looking for dust?”
“I don’t know, but I don’t like people coming round here. What if they know?”
“Know what?” Fraser said, throwing himself into the comfortable chair.
“That I go and seehim.”
“Why should anyone know that? You take care, don’t you?”
“Yes, but someone chased me down that lane last night, and it weren’t bloody Lambert.”
Frank curled his lip. “Maybe Mrs. Lambert. You’ll need to watch your back, girl.”
“Frank, I don’t want to do it no more. Ain’t we got enough money yet?” She sat in his lap, because he liked that, and traced a pattern on his shirt front with one finger.
Frank sighed. “I suppose we have. Tell the truth, I don’t much like you going there either.”
“Then why d’you let me? You said you wasn’t frightened of him.”
“I’m not,” Frank bragged. Iris knew he was lying. “I just like that he thinks he’s getting one over on me, stealing my wife. And in reality, you’re taking his presents and selling them, sowe’regetting one over onhim.”
“You wouldn’t feel the need to if I wasn’t going to his bed twice a week.”
Frank shifted. “Does no harm to keep him sweet.”
She flattened her hand on his chest to lever herself up and glare at him.
“All right,” he said hastily, “you’re right. It ain’t worth it. You can’t just stop going, though. We don’t want to make him mad with us. Go tomorrow as usual, tell him I’m getting suspicious and you’re worried and can’t come for the next few weeks. Likely he’ll move on to some other girl.”
Iris didn’t quite like that idea, either that Lambert would find it so easy to move on from her, or that Frank would think it so easy. But at least she was winning the argument.
“Can’t I just send a message?” she wheedled.
“Don’t be daft. Who would you trust that to? Or should I take it to him meself?”
She sighed. “Fair enough. Once more, then, and I ain’t ever going back after that. We’ve got to find another place to stay.”
*
