The Secret of Crickley Hall

visiting?—an old manor house called Crickley Hall, near the harbour village of Hollow Bay, had been confronted by the ghost of a nude man … house flooded, water everywhere … another ghost in the cellar … hadn't seen this one clearly but knew it was there … Gabe remembered last night and the fear he'd felt himself because he thought there was something there in the cellar with him, out of sight in the shadows of the room next door. In the light of day he had questioned his own susceptibility, wondering if the noises he'd heard had merely whipped up his own imagination, causing him to think he was not alone. But then, he had followed the mist from upstairs, the thing he called the 'white shadow', so what was that all about?

Celia Trevellick was still ranting at him—something about letting the dead rest in peace, ruining someone's good name with outrageous rumours, pandering to the press with wicked lies—but he wasn't taking it in. He read on: Mrs Eve Caleigh and her husband Gabriel … currently renting the property … neither confirmed nor denied reports that Crickley Hall is haunted … police called to investigate disturbances … two young daughters Laura and Kaley … Surely Eve hadn't told the paper all this?

'Are you listening to me, Mr Caleigh?' The vicar's wife's face was taut with indignation, a blue vein clearly throbbing in her left temple.

'I wasn't here at the time,' Gabe explained firmly, 'but I'm sure my wife wouldn't have given a story like this to a reporter. She'd've slammed the door in their face.'

'Well they got it from somewhere.'

'Yeah, from the two kids who broke in most likely. But hey, I don't get it. Why are you blaming us for something we didn't do?'

For a moment she seemed lost for words, but she soon rallied. 'Because you're outsiders here and you've stirred up gossip and whispers about past events that weren't true in the first place. You're tarnishing the reputations of good people who are no longer able to defend themselves.'

'Who exactly?'

'Never mind that. Just stop this nonsense about Crickley Hall being haunted.'

'Lady, we didn't start it in the first place. You think we want crazies turning up on our doorstep asking to see the ghosts? We got better things to do. Now excuse me while I get on with one of those better things.'

He began to close the door, but she held a hand against it.

'I can make a complaint to the owner, you know,' she said fiercely. 'My husband knows the estate manager, Mr Grainger, very well. We could have your lease revoked.'

'You're kidding, right?'

'I can assure you I'm not. People who cause trouble should expect trouble back.'

Gabe felt himself beginning to burn.

'So long, Mrs Trevellick,' he said evenly, keeping his temper in check. 'Go ride your broomstick someplace else.' He forced the door shut, his last sight of the irate woman at least satisfying: she stood as stiff as a rod, her mouth agape, her eyes wide with shock. If he'd given her the chance, he was sure she would have poked him with the sharp end of the umbrella.

He turned to see Eve by the kitchen door, obviously reluctant to have become involved in the altercation. Realizing he still had the newspaper in his hand, he offered it up to her.

'Page five, great picture,' he said.

Eve took it from him and quickly leafed through to the relevant feature.

'Oh God,' she said when she saw the photographs and read the headline. She went through the story, shaking her head at parts of it. 'The reporter makes it sound like I gave a full interview and that I knew Crickley Hall was haunted. I swear, Gabe, I said none of this.'

'Okay, hon, I know.' He shrugged as if to dismiss the article.

'I refused to speak to him. And the photographer took the picture before I could close the door.'

'Don't worry. It couldn't be helped. They just run stories to fill up space.'

'So this is why Mrs Trevellick was so cross?'

'Uh-huh. You heard?'

'Most of it.'

'You did the right thing, not getting involved. She's nuts.'

They went back into the kitchen together, Eve still reading the piece.

'Seems like Seraphina and her brother enjoyed the attention,' she commented, looking up from the newspaper. 'Probably disappointed they didn't get to have a picture too.'

Percy regarded Gabe and Eve curiously. 'Sounded like the vicar's wife out there.'

'That's who it was, Percy,' said Gabe. 'Celia Trevellick. Can't get my head round why she was so mad. Said something about dredging up old rumours. Damage to the community, apparently.'

'I heard her from here. Little un was anxious like.' The gardener smiled at Cally, who was watching her parents.

'S'll right, Sparky,' Gabe told her. 'The angry lady's gone now.'

With that reassurance, Cally went back to her colouring, the tip of her tongue protruding from the corner of her mouth as she drew a tree behind the purple and yellow horse.

Gabe waved a hand at the newspaper that Eve still held open. 'I don't get it. We should be the ones to get upset. Using a picture of Eve without her permission, showing everyone the house.'

'And virtually giving out the address,' Eve put in. 'I just hope we don't start getting daytrippers and loonies looking us up. I can't understand why Mrs Trevellick got so upset though.'

Percy's jaw jutted as he scratched his neck. 'The vicar's wife is an important person in Hollow Bay. She's on the parish council an' the church committee, as well as bein' in charge of the Women's Guild hereabouts. An' her family goes way back, it's part of local history.'

'Oh yeah?' said Gabe, still baffled as to why the newspaper story had rattled her cage.

Percy nodded. 'Expects her husband to be bishop one day, so her reputation is important to her.'

'But what's that got to do with this?' Gabe indicated the journal, which Eve had closed and left on the table.

'Scandals never really fade away in these parts. Rumours don't ever die, an' reputations go back generations.'

Gabe shrugged again. 'I still don't get it.'

'Her grandpa were Hollow Bay's vicar durin' the war an' long afore.'

'So?'

'He were a great chum of Augustus Cribben. Stood by the man, admired Cribben for his pious ways an' discipline. It were the vicar, Rossbridger, who recommended Augustus Cribben for the post of guardian in the first place. Knew him of old, y'see. Not exactly pals, but they both had respect for one another.'

Eve was dismayed. 'But Cribben treated the evacuees appallingly. You told us that yourself and it's all there in the book Gabe found.'

'Yers, but nobody knew that at the time. Nobody 'cept Nancy, of course, an' she weren't able to do anythin' 'bout it in the end.'

Gabe sat back down at the table, giving Cally a faint smile when she peeked up at him. To Percy, he said: 'Why should any of this matter to Rossbridger's granddaughter after all these years?'

'Like I says, it's a dark part of her family history. She don't want it dug up again—might tarnish her an' the vicar's good name.'

'That's ridiculous. How could it matter now? It's in the past.'

'An' as I says, family history is important in these parts, 'specially when yer be fine upstandin' members of the community like the Trevellicks an' yer expects yer husband to become bishop.'

Gabe was confounded, Eve dismayed.

'Old Rossbridger, he were right behind Cribben in those days an' it were him that persuaded the authorities not to look too fer into what went on in Crickley Hall. Seems like they agreed to that—bad fer the morale of the country in time of war an' all that. 'Cause more an' more parents was refusin' to send their young uns away to strange parts. Didn't trust the authorities, an' in some cases they was right not to.'