Bhaskar lowered his voice and thrust his head forward at Athreya.
‘Before the youngsters return,’ he said, ‘I wanted to tell you this. I’d like to spend some time with you and Varadan tomorrow, before the guests start arriving. Manu told you about the two wills, I take it?
Athreya nodded.
‘I would like to tell you why I did that,’ Bhaskar went on. ‘Varadan, of course, knows all about it. And once you have heard me out, and I’ve answered your questions, I would like to offer you a commission. In the event of any … unpleasant developments.’
Dinner turned out to be an informal affair in the form of a buffet. Athreya had expected Bhaskar to have ordered a formal five-course meal, which would have been in keeping with the colonial, old-world atmosphere that Greybrooke Manor asserted. At about 9 p.m., Murugan, the chief of staff, came to the drawing room and discreetly announced that dinner had been served. All the residents of the mansion, with the exception of Richie, who had not been seen for over an hour, drifted to the dining room, chattering as they went.
Treating him as the guest of honour, Dora ushered Athreya to the tables where the buffet was laid out, and recommended dishes to him. Already informed that Athreya was a vegetarian, Bhuvana–Murugan’s wife and the mansion’s cook–had prepared a number of meatless dishes.
Soon, all of them were sitting around the long dining table with full plates.
‘Mr Athreya,’ Michelle asked with a twinkle in her eyes, ‘do you believe in ghosts?’
‘Ah!’ Bhaskar exclaimed from the head of the table. ‘One of my favourite dinner-time topics. Of course, I like it even better over cognac after dinner. Come on, Mr Athreya, tell us. Have you encountered the world of phantasms and apparitions?’
‘Not in the kind of ghosts you probably have in mind, Michelle,’ Athreya replied, slowly and entirely in earnest. ‘Not in spirits, ghouls, ectoplasm and that sort of thing. Not in the ones you read about in horror stories. But I do believe in ghosts of a different sort—ones that are far more dangerous.’
‘What sort?’ Michelle asked in a hushed voice.
‘The kind that exist only in the minds of men and women. The ones that make them do things they would not otherwise attempt … from thievery and debauchery, to murder and massacre. Such phantoms can ravage the minds of the weak-willed and the insecure. That’s the kind of ghost I do believe in.’
‘Phooh!’ Bhaskar exclaimed. ‘For a moment, I thought you were going to tell us a thrilling ghost story. I fear you have disappointed Michelle.’
‘Have I?’ Athreya asked Michelle with a smile. ‘I’m sorry. But I have faced my share of spooks and phantoms.’
‘Well, I guess you are too sane, Mr Athreya, too pragmatic to believe in such otherworldly things. But there are many here who do believe in them.’
‘I’m sure there are.’ Athreya smiled. ‘That’s so everywhere, all around the world. But do you believe in ghosts, Michelle?’
‘I don’t want to … but sometimes …’ She stopped.
‘Sometimes what?’ Athreya prompted.
‘Sometimes, you see or hear things you can’t explain away.’
‘Are you talking about the Parker thing, girl?’ Bhaskar asked.
Michelle nodded and looked up at Athreya.
‘There was an Englishman called Parker, who was one of the early owners of Greybrooke Manor. He was reputed to have been a devil worshipper, and there was a rumour that he had sacrificed a young girl at the chapel. Her nude body was found a mile away.
‘Parker was killed in a horrible way, apparently in retaliation, and was denied a Christian burial. His chopped-up body was scattered along the length of the valley, and was never found. Because of that, they say, his spirit is unable to be at peace. It keeps wandering in the valley, searching for the pieces of its long-lost body. Sometimes it comes to Greybrooke Manor too.
‘Many people claim to have seem him at night, wandering about in the vale. The tale has been around for ages, well before Grandfather bought the Greybrooke estate.’
‘A practical man would say that the tale served its purpose,’ Athreya said cautiously, bringing his eyes back to the food on his plate. ‘It allowed an Indian to purchase this vast property for a song. Wasn’t this story one of the reasons behind the last English heir offering the estate at a throwaway price?’
‘Sounds like Wing Commander Sridhar’s words!’ Bhaskar rumbled. ‘But he is not wrong. This tale and the larger legend contributed to my father getting the estate cheap. But the legend and its related tales still live on, you know. It will not be very easy for me to find a willing buyer for this estate, should I wish to sell it. Myths and legends are powerful stuff.’
‘That they are,’ Athreya agreed wholeheartedly. ‘Myths, legends and well-spun fiction send sane men and nations to war. History is full of such incidents. If you’ve read Yuval Harari, you’ll know what I mean. Fiction drives men to the ends of the earth. And beyond.’ He turned to Michelle and continued, ‘Do you have reason to believe in these tales?’
Michelle seemed to struggle with putting together a response. She tried a couple of times and pulled back. Athreya waited patiently.
‘You see, Mr Athreya,’ she finally managed, ‘I have seen Parker’s ghost.’
‘You?’ Bhaskar demanded. ‘When?’
‘Three times, Uncle. The latest occasion was last night.’
‘Where, girl?’
‘In the vale,’ Michelle said in a low voice. ‘A little beyond the cemetery.’
‘What were you doing in the cemetery at night?’ Bhaskar’s voice was a soft growl, not unlike a mother wolf’s.
When Michelle did not answer, Bhaskar let out a soft groan and rubbed his face vigorously.
‘Murthy is around, isn’t he?’ he asked kindly. ‘You went to see him.’
It was more a statement than a question. Michelle didn’t answer. Her eyes were riveted to the tabletop.
‘My dear girl, ask him to come here.’ Bhaskar’s tone had softened. ‘He doesn’t have to see me if he doesn’t want
