He looked first at Gabe, and then at Eve, as if to make sure they were paying attention.
'An' he told me,' Percy continued, 'lookin' back at the house as he says it, "Percy, livin' in Crickley Hall fer too long will destroy a person's mind. The house's got a secret that'll forever haunt it." That were the word he used, haunt. And he were haunted by it, I could tell. I thought of them poor little mites who had died here years afore, an' I knew he were right. The secret is what really happened to 'em. How could they all've drowned in a buildin' as solid as Crickley Hall? What was the authorities, who came after the flood, what was they hidin' from the local people? An' I, like I told your missus t'other day, think they were terrified if what really happened to them kiddies that night of the flood became known, people in the cities would never allow their children to be evacuated, even though the war were still goin' on. They might figure the children safer at home with their mums and dads.'
Percy gave a sigh, his gaze introspective.
'Mr Templeton told me I still had my job fer as long as I wanted. Much as he didn't like Crickley Hall, he didn't want the place to go to ruin. Cleaners were paid to come in once a month, keep it liveable, like. Mr Templeton didn't like to see anythin' rot away, even if he didn't care for it hisself.'
'Did Mr Templeton ever tell you things had happened here he couldn't explain?' Eve asked quietly.
The gardener turned in his seat to face her. It was a moment or two before he responded.
'Not sure what yer mean, missus.'
'He told you Crickley Hall could destroy a person's mind. He must have had a reason for saying that.'
Percy pondered and Gabe groaned inwardly. Surely she wasn't going to tell the old man about the things that had been happening to them since they'd arrived here? But the doorbell startled them all, so intrusive was its ring.
Eve glanced at Gabe and he rose from the table. 'On it,' he said, glad of the interruption.
He went out into the hall and to the front door, opening it. A woman whose face was vaguely familiar was on the doorstep, an umbrella held low over her head. She was wearing a stern expression and a bright scarf; it was the blue-and-yellow scarf that he remembered.
'Mr Caleigh. We met on Saturday. I was with my husband.' The words were spoken quickly and brusquely.
'Sure,' he said, recognizing the vicar's wife. 'Mrs, uh, Trevellick.'
Her piercing eyes regarded him sharply, her thin unrouged lips set in a straight line across her face.
'Can you tell me the meaning of this?' she snapped at him, slapping the folded newspaper she carried in her free hand against his chest.
Surprised, he took the newspaper from her and unfolded it. The banner told him it was the North Devon Dispatch and the front page headline said in caps: COUNCILLOR RESIGNS OVER EXPENSES.
'Sorry, I—' Gabe began to say, but she snatched the journal back impatiently.
'Page five.' Awkwardly using both hands, umbrella resting on a shoulder, she pulled open the newspaper. Rain spattered its pages as she thrust it back at him.
On page five was a photograph of a surprised-looking Eve standing in the kitchen doorway. It was inset against a larger shot of Crickley Hall itself, which must have been taken from somewhere near the bridge. Gabe quickly read the headline beneath: CHILDREN CLAIM SEEING GHOST IN MANOR.
His jaw dropped. So much had happened when he'd arrived home yesterday that Eve hadn't mentioned any journalist and photographer having been to the house. Surely she hadn't given them an interview.
Before he could read on, the vicar's wife was berating him again. 'Do you realize how irresponsible you're being?'
'Look, I don't know anything about—' he began, but once more she interrupted him.
'Police called to the house, children making up stories about Crickley Hall. A ghost, indeed! And you have to blab it all to the newspapers!'
'Now wait a minute—'
'Do you realize they'll probably track down a poor sick old lady just to dredge up stories that should have been laid to rest years ago! You've started up all the silly rumours again. The whole county will have a field day. There's nothing people like more than a ludicrous haunted-house story. Crackpots will come from miles around just to see the place and take photographs for themselves. Those children the article mentions were drowned in the flood, there's nothing more to it than that!' She was almost spitting at him.
He skimmed through the story: Seraphina, 12, and Quentin Blaney, 14, while visiting— 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.'