Page 5 of A Curious Ending

Lara did not know whether to be proud or disconcerted by her rise in status, so just continued, ‘I always say to people if they want to know where to eat in a town, ask a florist – we will have seen all the kitchens.’

‘Fascinating,’ said Abigail.

The room fell silent as Abigail gazed off into the distance for some time, apparently distracted. Through the red wine haze that surrounded her, Lara had a sense of looking down on the two of them as she vaguely contemplated how odd and how natural it all felt at the same time. Perhaps it was like that with a Kindred Spirit. The warmth from the wood burner was making her sleepier and sleepier.

‘Well,’ Abigail said suddenly, making Lara start, ‘so there was no note, which is suggestive. But not, in itself, conclusive. Tell me why you think Lady Porter was unlikely to commit suicide?’

‘It’s not one significant thing,’ Lara conceded, ‘and on their own, each means very little. But put them all together…’ her words petered out.

‘Go on,’ said Abigail.

‘There were all the things she had planned for the future; what she was going to do with her garden, a Christmas cocktail party she was going to hold to raise funds for the church roof. She loved that idea. She thought it would really irritate the vicar’s wife as she’d think it was ungodly. She was even planning to have a full-sized roulette table at it.’ Lara continued in a small voice, ‘We were planning to go to Chelsea Flower Show together. She wanted to visit all the shops on Sloane Street that decorate their windows with flowers for Chelsea week.’ Lara sighed, curling up more comfortably on the sofa and laying her head on the arm. ‘They sound so unimportant now I say them out loud. It wasn’t as if I’d known her for years, I first started getting friendly with her last Christmas, so had only known her for nine months or so when she died. If she really was depressed, the small things I’m talking about wouldn’t make a difference.’

‘Nonsense!’ said Abigail bracingly, as she got up and started pacing about the room. ‘What you describe is a woman with a great appetite for life who was clearly enjoying planning her future. Not only that, but in my experience strong friendships can be forged in a relatively short period of time when one meets…’ Abigail suppressed a smile, ‘… a kindred spirit.’ She paused, thoughtfully. ‘Either something drastic happened that we do not yet know about, or she did not administer that fatal overdose.’

As Lara watched her she was overwhelmed with tiredness. ‘I feel like I’ve been trudging for days through thick snow,’ she murmured, ‘I can’t seem to concentrate but there is so much I want to ask you.’ Lara tucked one foot more comfortably under the other. ‘Oh God!’ she groaned, as the room swam before her in soporific waves. ‘I’m going to feel disgusting in the morning.’ Lara’s chin slipped down until it was hidden in the top of her jumper.

‘It can all wait,’ Abigail said reassuringly, turning to look down at her.

Lara raised her eyes to Abigail’s. ‘You’re not going anywhere are you?’ she asked a little anxiously.

‘No,’ Abigail reassured her with a small smile, ‘I am not going anywhere.’

Abigail watched over Lara in the flickering firelight as she fell asleep. The last thing she heard her say before her head finally dropped into the cushions was a muffled ‘I don’t even know your name…’

Chapter 5

Lara was woken by the sound of her mobile and was on her feet searching for it before she was fully conscious. She found it vibrating on the bedroom windowsill and simultaneously registered that it was Mike the plant man calling and that she must have stumbled upstairs to bed sometime during the night. Had last night all been a dream? She didn’t have time to consider this, she needed to stop her phone that was now trilling and drilling into her brain. ‘Hi, Mike, what’s up?’ she asked, once she had managed to get the phone the right way up.

‘Morning! Sorry it’s so early, but I know you wanted white hyacinth bulbs today but the growers only had purple and pink. I’m dropping them off now. Do you want me to leave a mixture?’ The plant man’s voice reverberated in Lara’s ear.

Lara looked out across her frosty garden to where she could just see the hooded figure of Mike waving to her from the lean-to at the back of the shop. It must be really cold she thought, Mike wore shorts pretty much all year round, but today he was in boots and trousers. ‘Yes, that’s fine,’ Lara replied. ‘So it’s not shorts weather then?’ she added.

‘Gawd, no. Been at the market since four and it’s bloody perishing,’ Mike responded before returning to his van.

It really was freezing Lara thought, suddenly noticing she was dressed in an odd array of yesterday’s underwear, a T-shirt and one sock. Still, despite the cold she stayed where she was, staring out at the silhouette of the apple trees, sharp and dark, against the shimmering lawn and frosted flowerbeds. She rested her head on the icy glass hoping to ease the headache that was now coming at her in persistent waves. She was reluctant to move as with movement came the prospect of facing what had happened yesterday. Was she slowly going mad? Perhaps, she thought, these things start with conversations in your head and end up with hallucinations. Lara straightened up. Whatever it was, it would be better to face it showered, and with coffee inside her.

Half an hour later Lara came down the stairs and into the small hallway off the kitchen. She was wearing her normal uniform of jeans and jumper, but this morning had added a cashmere scarf and fingerless mittens in her favourite sage-green. She had also carefully braided her hair in a loose French plait. As she pushed the kitchen door open fully she spoke out loud in the hope that hearing her own voice would calm her, ‘I can’t believe I’m dressing for a ghost,’ she grumbled.

However, it seemed that the ghost had made an effort too, for sitting at the kitchen table was Abigail, wearing an elegant dress of amber crepe. The top of the dress was hidden by a neat, tailored jacket in midnight-blue velvet with a high upstanding collar. On her curls sat a small pillbox hat in the same midnight blue and at her throat Abigail had a cream silk scarf knotted in the manner of a man’s cravat. A line of gilded buttons decorated the side of her hat and were repeated on the tightly fitting cuffs of her jacket. The gold was also picked out in the cording on her velvet half boots that rested on the rung of Lara’s kitchen chair. ‘I hope you slept well?’ Abigail enquired politely to fill the gap caused by Lara’s stunned silence.

‘So you are real!’ Lara breathed.

‘Ah, that is a somewhat complex supposition and it rather depends on your point of view,’ said Abigail, taking Lara literally. ‘To you I am real. I was also very real to Sheik Al-Khalid, Betty Roberts, Lady Foster and Jimmy Stevenson to name but a few. However to the people shopping for furniture yesterday or to the gentleman who just delivered your plants, I fear I would not be real. For the Bishop of Durham… well, let’s say I am undecided.’

Lara was distracted from the next thing she had meant to say. ‘How can you be undecided?’ she enquired, fascinated.

‘My experience, and it is extensive,’ mused Abigail, ‘suggests that there are some people who cannot see me, but who get a sense of me.’

Lara made as if to sit down, question upon question crowding her mind, but Abigail held up her hand. ‘I think the best plan is for you to have breakfast and get ready for your day and you can talk to me as you do so. It would not do to neglect your health or your work.’

Lara shrugged and turned to put the kettle on, saying under her breath as she did so, ‘You sound like my mother.’

Abigail smoothed out her sleeves with all the appearance of someone who had not heard her.

‘So,’ Lara said, as she reached for her favourite mug, ‘are you a sort of detective? Is that what you do?’

‘Not exactly,’ Abigail tried to explain. ‘We have been drawn together because of our mutual experience of death. As I said last night, I can help you if you wish me to, and naturally, because I have helped people before, you could say that I do have expertise in this area.’