The Dead of Winter Read online

  ‘No, there are at least two of us. This really isn’t my thing, but now we’re here, I think we should view the whole weekend as life experience and remember that it’s only a couple of days.’ Rina smiled. ‘Think what leverage you’ll have next time you want him to go shopping with you.’

  Joy giggled. ‘Trouble with that, Rina, is I’d much rather take you or Mum or even the Peters sisters. But I’m sure I’ll find some other way of spending my brownie points.’ She leaned over and touched Rina’s short grey hair. ‘You’re going wavy. Must be the rain.’

  ‘It always has that effect. I didn’t mind when I was younger, but I think I’m getting on a bit for the frizzy look to be a good one. I’ve got a hair appointment booked for when I get back to Frantham.’

  ‘Ah, at Miss Prince’s salon?’ Joy giggled.

  Rina smiled back. ‘Miss Prince knows how to deal with us ladies of a certain age.’

  ‘Rina, darling, you will never be a “Lady of a Certain Age”. You are far too special for that. Have you phoned home, by the way?’

  ‘Yes, and spoken to everyone. Bethany and Eliza send their best love as always and want to know when they’ll see you again, and the Montmorencys said to tell you they’ve found a new chocolate cake recipe you just have to try.’

  ‘Oh my God, not more chocolate cake.’ Joy’s eyes softened with affection as she thought of the Peters sisters and the Montmorency twins, who comprised Rina’s eccentric household. Ex-performers all, as was Rina, Joy had come to know and love them well since she had entered their lives so precipitously the year before. Her brother had been killed, and Rina and her cohort had helped track down his killers. Joy had come to regard them all as part of her extended family. Tim, the youngest member of the household by a good thirty years, had rapidly become something more than that.

  ‘Mac was there, with Miriam,’ Rina added, referring to DI Sebastian McGregor and his partner. They had promised to keep an eye on everyone in Rina’s absence.

  ‘Oh, how are they?’

  ‘A little tense. Mac’s hearing is on Monday; they’ll be driving up to Pinsent this weekend. By Tuesday I expect he’ll know if he still has a job.’ She smiled. ‘He offered to make a detour and pick us both up on Sunday morning if we find we can’t last the weekend. Tim could collect us from Pinsent on Monday, and you could come down for a few days.’

  ‘Rina, that sounds like a plan. Let’s see how desperate we get. I’ve been looking at my schedule for the weekend. I’m attending a talk on the Universalist Church, whatever that may be, followed by a lecture and practical demonstration of various circa nineteenth-century mediumistic practices, and in the afternoon something to do with the design and construction of a Davenport cabinet, which I’m assuming is some sort of magic box. I’ll tell you now, anyone asks for a volunteer and I am out of here.’

  ‘It’s a long walk home.’

  ‘True. You’re right, though. Tim loves this stuff, and we love Tim – and it should be interesting, at least. His Christmas show was a massive hit. I think he’s hoping to get more inspiration.’

  Rina nodded. She’d been to the Palisades twice to see Tim perform over the Christmas period. The owners of the art-deco hotel had recently renovated the little theatre and removed a partition wall that had been erected sometime in the seventies, so the main dining room and theatre space again became one. It was now wonderful for cabaret, live music and table-to-table close-up magic, which Tim loved to perform. For Christmas, though, they had really set out to produce something spectacular, and Tim had reconstructed a version of Pepper’s Ghost, a Victorian illusion that set mystical beings dancing across the stage; and, in his version of an old set-piece called The Artist’s Dream, he’d co-opted one of the cabaret dancers to play the part of the ghostlike artist’s muse, visiting him while he slept. It had been a beautiful, charmingly old-fashioned interlude, and Rina had seen several of the audience dabbing their eyes.

  It had all been rather wonderful, Rina thought, and a fantastic contrast to the intimate close-up magic and mentalism that formed the remainder of his act. It was partly because of those performances that Tim had been invited here, to Aikensthorpe, for this event. Whatever this event actually was. Rina found she was still a little hazy about the details.

  ‘OK, I’d better get these into the washing machine,’ Joy said.

  ‘I’ll come down with you. We should talk to that Melissa woman, find out what exactly we’ve let ourselves in for this weekend. Is it my imagination, or has Tim been just a bit evasive about it all?’

  ‘You know, I was thinking the exact same thing,’ Joy agreed. ‘It’s not like Tim. Usually, he’s blinding us with science or explaining everything in minutest detail.’

  ‘Maybe he’s been sworn to secrecy,’ Rina joked. ‘Not giving away the magic secrets or something.’

  ‘Hmm, more likely there’s something going on he thinks we won’t approve of,’ Joy said. ‘Or that would have made us both say no to him.’

  Rina looked at the younger woman in mild surprise. ‘You think it was really important to him that we both came, then?’

  ‘You know, I think it was. I got the distinct impression he’d have cried off if we’d said no. Tim is one of the bravest people I have ever met, but for some reason he had reservations about coming here alone.’

  They found Melissa in the hallway arranging pamphlets and ticking things off on a very long list. She was only too pleased to break off and explain how the weekend would proceed.

  ‘Right, well, first there are the full weekend guests – that’s you and Mr Brandon and about a dozen of the others – and then there are the people just coming over for the talks and lectures tomorrow, and then you full weekend guests will all be involved in the main event tomorrow evening. Then, of course, there’ll be the debriefing and film show on the Sunday. We’re likely to have a full house again for that, I’d have thought.’

  She had emphasized the words ‘main event’ and waved her hands, jazz style, just in case they might have missed the point, but had moved on to Sunday’s itinerary before Rina had the chance to ask her what the ‘main event’ actually was.

  ‘What main event?’ Rina asked when Melissa paused for breath.

  Melissa didn’t seem to have heard. ‘We’re expecting two coaches tomorrow: about one hundred and thirty people, I believe. They’ll be arriving for breakfast and staying for all the talks and so on and then leaving just after dinner when, of course, we hand over to the re-enactors and you, few, special people.’ She giggled.

  Rina and Joy exchanged baffled glances.

  ‘Special people?’ Joy asked.

  ‘Who are staying for the seance, of course. That starts at ten and ends, well, whenever. Then there’ll be the debrief on Sunday and—’

  ‘Seance?’ Rina interrupted.

  Melissa was now the puzzled one. ‘But of course. Isn’t that what you’ve come for?’ She glanced from one to the other.

  ‘Where’s Tim?’ Rina demanded.

  Melissa pointed towards a door at the opposite end of the reception area.

  ‘Thanks, Melissa,’ Joy managed as she fled after Rina, still clutching the plastic bag containing her muddy jeans. She was giggling by the time she caught the older woman. ‘Your face, Rina. You looked . . .’

  ‘I am,’ Rina confirmed, and Joy stopped laughing. ‘Look, sweetheart, you know I adore Tim, I’d help him out with anything, but he should have told us what he was getting us into.’

  ‘Well, we don’t really know as yet,’ Joy said. ‘I mean, do you actually trust a woman who does jazz hands every five minutes, not to exaggerate? Wow, will you look at this place?’

  There was no evidence of Tim in the large room, but, Rina had to agree, it was worth a ‘wow’. The panelled walls were carved in a linenfold pattern reminiscent of much earlier centuries and yet looking ‘right’ for the opulent space. Above that, a fresco of Adam-style plasterwork – which, beautiful and intricate as it was, didn’t quite work with
the panelling. Three massive windows – covered by heavy russet velvet curtains that, to Rina’s eye, looked contemporary with the house . . . and were showing every one of their hundred-and-fifty-odd years – would have provided guests with a view of spectacular gardens. At least, Rina guessed they were spectacular, but today it was impossible to see anything through the damned rain.

  A fireplace that evidently shared a chimney with the one in the reception area dominated the wall opposite the windows, though unlike its blue stone counterpart, some neo-Jacobean woodcarver had been let loose to create a whole forest of trees and swags and unlikely beasts, flanked by mermaid-like creatures, naked from the waist up and wearing the most elaborate headdresses decked out in flowers and fruit.

  Nothing about it was right, Rina thought, and yet she found it strangely appealing. Whoever had the job of making the fire surround and overmantel had been having a wonderful time.

  Joy bent closer to look at the mermaids. ‘She’s wearing one of my Great Aunt Madge’s wedding hats,’ she said.

  ‘Ah, I have yet to meet the redoubtable Aunt Madge, haven’t I?’

  ‘Yes, Mum is saving that treat. Too early a meeting with Aunt Madge would be a test of even the strongest friendship. I bet Tim is through there.’

  French doors opened on to what looked like woodland, and Rina was puzzled until she realized that they in fact gave entrance into a very elaborate conservatory. No, she corrected, more of an orangery, far too grand to be labelled a mere conservatory. Large expanses of window let what light there was enter through the rear of the garden room, and the roof was more glass, supported by the most beautiful and over-engineered cast-iron arches. There was nothing in the least bit temporary about this structure: nothing that, in Rina’s mind, equated with the flimsy UPVC structures people tagged on to the rear of their semis.

  The floor was tiled in what looked like marble; elaborate cast-iron grates ran the full length for drainage. Heavy planters, big enough to hold substantial trees, stood against the piers between the windows and, though the trees themselves were now overgrown and untidy, Rina could see where they had once been espaliered and fanned against the walls.

  ‘There’s a pond.’ Joy was astonished. ‘Oh my God, don’t let Mum see this. There’ll be no peace till we get one.’

  Rina laughed. Bridie’s house comprised a collection of themed rooms – Rina usually stayed in the art-deco suite – and Bridie was a devil for going to auctions and buying impossibly large furniture just because she liked it. She’d given refuge to the biggest sideboard Rina had ever seen and a draw leaf table designed to seat about thirty, the spare leaves of which were carefully stored and regularly inspected against the time when she had to host a meeting of Commonwealth leaders.

  ‘So, where is Tim?’ Joy asked.

  ‘Got to be through there.’ More doors, this time leading to a library and then into a smaller study. These rooms must form a wing at the back of the house, Rina thought, matching the nursery wing where her bedroom was, on the opposite side of the house.

  Tim appeared to be inspecting a large round table. With him were three other people, two men and a woman, setting up cameras in the corners of the otherwise empty room.

  Tim himself was beneath the table.

  ‘Timothy Brandon, come out and explain yourself,’ Joy demanded.

  Four pairs of eyes focused in her direction, only Tim failing to notice her tone.

  ‘Ah, you’ve found us, good. Great location isn’t it?’ He scrambled out from beneath the table, face lit by excitement.

  ‘Seance?’ Joy demanded.

  The young woman with the camera laughed. ‘Oops, someone’s in trouble.’

  Joy glared at her, then back at Tim. ‘Explain.’

  The older of the cameramen extended a hand. Rina shook it automatically. ‘I think Melissa is bringing us some tea and coffee,’ he said. ‘Back in the hall. How about we all go and sit down and I’ll give Tim a hand on the excuses front?’

  ‘Do I need a hand?’ Tim asked, then took a closer look at Joy and Rina. ‘Ah, looks like I do.’

  Joy, in turn, shook the older cameraman’s hand. ‘Toby Thwaite,’ he said.

  Rina had heard the name before. Her eyes narrowed as she dredged up a vague memory. ‘You and Tim were at university together.’

  ‘We were, yes. I took the route into electronic magic, and Tim took the more direct approach. I filmed his Pepper’s Ghost show at Christmas; that’s when I asked him to be the fourth man for this job.’ He gestured towards the unmanned camera set up in the far corner. ‘This is the rest of my team: Robin Hill and Viv Grieves. They’re both students of mine.’

  Hellos all round. Rina studied the younger pair: Robin, with dark floppy hair falling over his eyes and the demeanour of an excited ten year old. Viv, with richly brown skin but unusually light hazel eyes. She was very pretty, Rina thought, noting that Robin seemed to think so too. She guessed they were just a little older than Joy.

  ‘Robin, I think, is hoping he’ll see a bona fide ghost,’ Toby went on, ‘and Viv here is determined she’s going to spot who’s pulling the strings.’

  ‘So . . . ?’ Joy let the question hang.

  ‘Tea,’ Toby said. ‘Hopefully, some sandwiches too. I’m starved.’

  They all trooped back into the main hall. A table had been set up near to the fire, and Melissa was busy dragging seats over. Tim and Viv moved to help. Toby spotted the tea and coffee and hot-water jugs set out on the console table.

  ‘So,’ he said. ‘I’ll be mother, shall I? Mrs Martin, what would you like?’

  ‘Rina, call me Rina, and I’d like some tea, please. No sugar.’

  Sandwiches and cakes had been laid out on the table. Melissa smiled at her. ‘Glad you’ve met people. Dinner will be at seven, but I hope this will hold you all until then.’ Another bright smile and she was gone. Rina was relieved they had been spared the jazz hands this time.

  ‘What does she actually do?’ Joy asked.

  ‘Ah, Melissa, well, she actually runs this place. She’s got caterers coming in for this weekend, but mostly it’s just Mel and some part-timers. She does a fantastic job.’

  ‘Runs this place? As a conference centre?’

  ‘Well –’ Toby continued to hand around the refreshments – ‘believe it or not, in summer they use this as a wedding venue. October to March it will, hopefully, also be conferences, but the company that owns Aikensthorpe has been properly up and running less than a year, and they need to get the secondary accommodation finished before they can really get that off the ground. They’re converting what used to be estate cottages and the stable block. Melissa took over last April, and she’s trebled the bookings since then, prices too. Lucky we booked early on.’

  He sat down and helped himself to a sandwich. ‘Eat,’ he said. ‘Before Viv and Robin get stuck in. Typical students,’ he added, ‘always up for free food.’

  ‘And you’re not?’ Viv objected.

  ‘Oh, I don’t deny it.’ He laughed.

  Viv flopped down in the low chair beside him, and Robin pulled his own seat closer. Joy tucked in beside Rina on the little sofa, and Tim wedged his chair between that and Toby’s seat.

  ‘How much trouble am I in?’ he asked.

  ‘Depends,’ Joy told him. ‘Have a sandwich. You don’t think straight when you’re hungry, and I want this explanation to be a good one.’

  Rina sipped her tea, surveying the little group. The film people obviously knew each other well, and Toby appeared to have some knowledge of Melissa and this house. He and Tim also seemed to have fallen back easily into their old friendship, which was interesting for Rina who knew very little about Tim’s youth. She and Joy were very much the newcomers here.

  ‘So,’ she said. ‘I suggest we start at the beginning and get the context right. What is this place, why are we all here, and why, Tim dear, did you not tell us what was going on?’

  Toby smiled at her. ‘You’ll need more tea,’ he said. �
��This is at least a three-cup story.’

  He waited until everyone had settled with sufficient food and drink before beginning. Outside, the night was drawing in early; looking at her watch, Rina saw it was only four o’clock, but the darkness was profound. She wondered if they could close the curtains. As if reading her thoughts, Viv and Robin got up and pulled the heavy drapes across. ‘Shut the night out,’ Viv said. ‘It’s a bit grim, isn’t it? Makes you wonder why on earth they built a house in such an abandoned place.’

  ‘Ah, there speaks a true urbanite.’ Toby laughed. ‘So, on this dark and stormy night, let us begin.

  ‘Aikensthorpe Hall was built in 1854 by a rich mill owner by the name of Albert Southam. Like many rich men of his age, he was also interested in experimentation, in science and in religion. You’ve got to think of the historical context here. Spiritualism was just getting started, the Universalist Church was suggesting that anyone could be saved, not just the select few, and Darwin was suggesting that we might not be the result of one single, once and for all, act of creation. Science was moving into the seance room and photographing the phenomena, and both the stage magicians and some of the more unscrupulous mediums were making use of early special effects. God and his angels and the possibility of life after death had become legitimate areas for experimentation and investigation. Literally, nothing was sacred any more – or at least not so sacred that it couldn’t be profaned by the scientific nosy parker poking it with a stick. It was a truly fascinating time, and we’ve got some real experts lined up for the weekend.’

  ‘Melissa mentioned coaches arriving tomorrow?’

  ‘Yes, that’s right. There’s been a big conference up in Leeds this last week; some of the delegates are decamping here tomorrow for the lectures. I think Melissa would have loved to stage a full-scale convention, with all the delegates on-site, but the accommodation really isn’t ready. So, we’re bussing people in for tomorrow . . .’

  ‘We?’ Rina enquired.