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Andrew laughed as he switched the camera off. “I think that old doors, old handles and old hinges and one wee draft can explain everything!”
“You don’t believe there are actually ghosts in Garnock Hall?” She was still curious he was so adamant about things. It was as if he didn’t have a single doubt.
“I’ve never thought there were ghosts in Garnock Hall – just a whole load of old wives’ tales.”
She wrinkled her brow. “But you brought me up here to film, saying that this house was haunted.”
He swung the camera low. “I know that. And if you ask anyone in the village they’ll say they think it is. If you do a google search on Garnock Hall, you’ll hear it described as a ‘haunted mansion’. Just because I don’t think it’s haunted doesn’t mean that the rest of the world agrees.”
They were walking towards the kitchen now where they would film the last segment. Juliette couldn’t hide the serious expression on her face. “You don’t believe in ghosts, do you?”
Somehow he knew this answer was important. The tone of her voice, the whole stance of her body had changed. It was amazing what a cameraman’s eye could pick up. When Juliette was getting angry she had the tiniest tick under her left eye. No one else would notice. But Andrew did.
He sighed. “I’m just saying that I’ve never seen anything that’s convinced me that ghosts exist.”
She stared at him. “You mean, in all the houses we’ve visited – all the ruins – you’ve never seen anything, felt anything that made you wonder?”
Now he was curious. “And you have?”
The tick appeared instantly. But it wasn’t the tick that bothered him. It was the slight tremor in her voice. She wasn’t looking at him. She was looking behind him, focusing on something else. Why didn’t she want to look at him? Was he making her uncomfortable?
She hesitated. “It’s just…I’ve never seen anything to convince me. But I’ve never seen anything to not convince me either.” She shook her head, “That doesn’t make sense. Haven’t you ever felt anything when you walk in a place? A coldness. A chill. Just from being in the place?”
He’d always thought that Juliette just treated this as a job. He’d never thought she actually believed. “Lack of heating. A draft. All of those things can be explained.”
“Not when they make you feel something in here.” She pressed her hand to her heart.
He didn’t know what to say. His stomach churned. Did she know something? Had she sensed something in Garnock Hall? Because if she had, this conversation had to end now.
“Where did you go upstairs, Juliette?”
Her face instantly flushed. Now she was looking at him. And the expression on her face told him everything he needed to know.
But he couldn’t deal with this. He’d spent the best part of twenty years not dealing with this.
“Juliette?”
“I wasn’t sure what room to look in. I had to open a few doors…,” her voice tailed off.
“And what? You went snooping? You looked in my mother’s room?” Something flitted across her eyes and his heart lurched. “You looked in my brother’s room?”
He couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe he’d invited her here and she’d done this.
She walked over and touched his arm. “I didn’t mean to. I was just looking for the decorations. I didn’t realise it was Douglas’s room until I was right inside.”
He flinched as she said his brother’s name. “Parts of this house are private, Juliette. I shouldn’t need to spell it out to you. You’re an adult. You should know. There are some places that are only for family.”
She blinked. Her eyes were filling up with unshed tears. “You haven’t touched his room. You’ve left it just the same.”
How dare she? How dare she comment on something so personal? His teeth were clenched. He couldn’t remember feeling so angry. “That’s none of your business!”
She stepped back – looking visibly shocked. Andrew had never raised his voice at her before.
“You’re right. It’s not. I’m sorry, Andrew. I didn’t mean to look in your brother’s room.” She turned and walked towards the kitchen again. “Let’s get this filming finished.”
He let her walk away while he took a few moments to gather himself. The sooner this was finished the better. He needed some time to cool off. He needed some time to collect his thoughts. He shouldn’t have snapped at Juliette. Any chance of a merry Christmas was disintegrating around them both.
Juliette, ever the professional, was looking poised, cool, calm and collected. It was only he that could notice the tremble in her fingers. He gave her the three, two, one countdown with his fingers. “Our final candidate for the haunting of Garnock Hall is ten-year-old kitchen maid, Annie Smith.” Juliette was standing in front of the giant fireplace in the kitchen. “In years gone by, large metal pans of water were heated on the fire. Often the children who were assistants in the kitchen struggled to carry the heavy water. In 1856, Annie was reported to have been ‘scalded’ by an overturned pail of boiling water.” Juliette grimaced as she said the words, “We couldn’t find a death certificate for Annie. But records for the house show that she died from her burns.” Juliette’s face was grave. “I can only imagine how painful and distressing that must have been for a little girl.” She laid her hand on the fireplace. “This is still the original fireplace and flagstones. Standing here today, makes me want to cry. Do you think our ghost could be Annie Smith?”
She was looking at the camera as she said those final words, pain etched across her eyes. The whole world would think it was all part of her presenting skills. But Andrew knew differently. As he moved the camera from his shoulder she gave an obvious shudder.
He couldn’t think straight. Was she shuddering at being here, in Garnock Hall, because she believed it was haunted? Or was she shuddering at the prospect of his flash of temper and being alone with him?
“Is that a wrap?” The pained expression had fallen from her face to be replaced by a hard glare.
“Yes. It was perfect.” She hadn’t hesitated once. She hadn’t needed to refer to any notes. Juliette had read everything she could on the history of Garnock Hall and come up with dialogue that would match whatever they filmed perfectly.
Now, it was his turn to set up the overnight, infrared cameras. He almost couldn’t be bothered. But the audience seemed to like dark footage with no obvious action apart from a flickering curtain or a wayward cat. Strange noises seemed to be the favourites, with opening door latches or the sound of footsteps being the most popular. All of them were edited in later. There had only ever been one occasion where something had appeared on film for a millisecond that they couldn’t explain. It had appeared on every trailer for Haunted Ever After since, along with a scream from a member of the crew.
“Good night then, Andrew. I’ll see you in the morning.” She turned and her heels clicked across the floor. It was like a countdown to everything he’d done wrong so far.
Guilt. That was what he felt right now.
Guilt about not having the guts to enter his brother’s untouched room, and guilt about bringing Juliette to a place he was unprepared for.
Guilt about not acting on instinct earlier and kissing her. Letting a gorgeous, incredible woman, that he’d be honoured to be involved with – and had just been dumped by someone else – think that he might not find her attractive enough to kiss.
He truly needed his head examined.
The lights flickered in the kitchen again. He really needed to get someone to look at the wiring. That would be another fortune.
He switched off the main lights and headed for the stairs.
Tomorrow, was Christmas Day.
He’d make it a success if it killed him.
Chapter Nine
‡
It was midnight and he must have slept for around ten minutes. The house was freezing again and even though he’d four blankets on the bed his feet were icy
cold. He felt like a pensioner.
It was no use. He sat up and pulled on his clothes. There was only one thing for it. His brain had been spinning for hours. He’d forgotten all the instructions for the Christmas recipes. He might be able to cobble together the lentil soup, but he was praying Juliette would remember how to cook the turkey. Didn’t they need to put that on about nine in the morning?
