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Chapter Text

It was a chilly afternoon, the week before Christmas, and everyone on the Grantleigh estate was in the Christmas spirit. Everywhere was bustling with smiling red faces, gazing in awe at the decorations that seemed even more stunning than last year’s. It was safe to say that everyone was filled with festive cheer. Everyone that was, with the exception of one person.

No one could ever normally described Audrey fforbes-Hamilton as a Scrooge, and her attitude at this time was often far from humbug, however this year was not a normal year. This year, she was not celebrating Christmas in the beloved walls of her manor, something that was completely inexplicable in her eyes, and had quickly translated into her mood. As the doors on the advent calendar became fewer and fewer, her mood soured even further until she was all but ready to petition for Christmas to be cancelled completely.

She had thought to try and avoid the whole thing by hiding in the Old Lodge, her now permanent residence, until about January the fifteenth. It was far enough away from Christmas that she wouldn’t have to sit and listen to the interminable chatter about how wonderful other people’s Christmases were, or the looks of pity she would no doubt receive when she was forced to tell them that she had spent the day alone, instead of being surround by a hub of people as she normally was. But no, her plan had been spoiled and so, due to a lack of supplies and Marjory’s incessant pestering, she had been forced to leave the confines of the Lodge and venture out into the village, which was how she found herself now trapped in a conversation with Marjory and Mrs Patterson and wishing to god that she could afford the nice bottle of sherry that was taunting her from the top shelf.

“We don’t normally do much for Christmas,” Mrs Patterson was saying, and Audrey resisted the urge to roll her eyes. How many times would she have to hear that infernal word? “Just have the family over, my sister and her lot. Turns out to be quite hectic, I can tell you, but I wouldn’t change it. Not for the world.” The older woman cackled, not-so subtly sliding a sign across the desk that read ‘no credit given’.

“Oh gosh, it wouldn’t be Christmas without the whole family gathered round,” Marjory agreed and Audrey visibly flinched, not that the other two women seemed to notice.

“Are you going to visit your cousin again this year?” Audrey asked softly, with genuine curiosity. Like Audrey, Marjory had been born an only child and had grown up close to her cousin, Guy Frobisher, with the pair having been more like brother and sister, something which they had carried with them into adulthood.

“Oh, well not until the New Year, I shouldn’t think,” Marjory replied, a flush creeping across her cheeks. Audrey felt a slight sense of relief at this, so much so that she almost missed the way her childhood friend determinedly refused to meet her eyes. “Actually…I’ve got other plans for the holidays.”

“What are those then, dear?” Mrs Patterson beat Audrey to the chase, the old gossip within her already pricking its ears. She had noticed the frown that the ex-Lady of the Manor had plastered on her face, clearly unaware herself of what Miss Frobisher’s plans were.

“Well,” she stuttered nervously, before taking a large gulp of air and saying in one breath, “I have been invited by Mr Devere to spend Christmas with him and his mother up at the manor.”

“Up at the manor?” Audrey cried indignantly, irritably slamming the tinned goods she had purchased into her basket.

“Oh that’s nice of him,” Mrs Patterson crowed. “It is Christmas, after all. A time for giving as they say.”

“Oh yes, Richard has invited several of us up for Christmas lunch. The Brigadier will be there, oh and the Rector too.”

“Has he indeed.” Audrey’s voice was as cold as ice.

“Oh that’ll be nice, dear,” Mrs Patterson smirked, enjoying the look of displeasure on Audrey’s face as she picked at a fraying label from one of her tins. She turned to the woman, put on her best smile and began conversationally, “No doubt you’ll be celebrating up at the manor, like usual.”

“No, not as usual,” she replied stiffly. It would seem that everyone would be spending Christmas at her home. Everyone but her.

Sensing her friend’s irritation, Marjory tried her best to pacify her, hoping to jolly her up somewhat. “I’m sure Richard hasn’t forgotten about you, Aud. He’s probably just been very busy recently.”

“Too busy to ask me to Christmas dinner, you mean?”

“I didn’t mean it quite like that…”

“Well that’s how it sounded. And besides,” Audrey snapped, giving a haughty toss of her hair. “I don’t think I should have accepted his invitation, even if he had asked me.”

“Got anything nice planned already?”

Never had Audrey found the look of false pity which she received from Mrs Patterson so irritating, that she wished that propriety would dictate that she could just give her a two fingered gesture, just for once. “Not particularly,” she sniffed. “I have decided that I’m not going to bother with Christmas this year.”

“What?”

She took some small satisfaction from the looks of horror on the other women’s faces, allowing herself that one small triumph in what was turning out to be a dismal day. “Indeed,” Audrey continued. “I think Christmas has become a farce, too much crass commercialism. Well I’m taking a stand; I’m done with Christmas and everything it entails.”

“But Aud,” Marjory’s eyes were shinning with despair. “You can’t be done with Christmas, you always used to love Christmas.”

“Well I don’t anymore. You know I’m starting to think that the Jehovah’s witnesses have the right idea. I’m not celebrating it this year, and that’s that. It’s become far too commercialised and tacky. People are selfish and greedy, stuff their faces with badly cooked food which they don’t want with people they don’t like, and don’t even get me started on how expensive everything suddenly becomes.”

And there lay the true cause of Audrey’s foul mood. Having spent all of her childhood, and most of her adulthood, living a life where money was never a concern, she found it hard to adjust to this new world where every purchase brought her closer and closer to that minus figure and a hefty overdraft. Even now she still lay awake at night unable to work out how it had all happened. Upon their deaths, her maternal grandparents had left her with a small fortune that should have been enough to keep the estate running for many years to come, and yet in less than a decade Marton had managed to squander it all away and lose her the one thing left in her life she really cared about. She was still trying to pay off his debts, even now, and it would take a miracle to fix that. Due to this fact, it meant that she could not afford to spend her sparse cash on any luxuries, especially on something as trivial as Christmas.

“But Aud,” Marjory tried again, but was swiftly cut off by Audrey, who had turned her attention back to the elderly shopkeeper.

“How much does this come to please, Mrs Patterson?”

“Four pound and a penny.”

“Ah,” Audrey winced, rifling through her purse. “I’ve only got pound notes with me.”

Mrs Patterson smiled, squinting up through her glasses with what Audrey was sure was a triumphant gleam in her eye. “I’ve got no change at the moment, my dear.”

Audrey sniffed, thinking how many times the older woman must have used that line on unsuspecting customers. Purposefully ignoring Marjory rummaging around for her little bag of coins, Audrey determinedly held her chin up high and handed across four notes. “There you are, four pounds. Just under, but after all, it is Christmas isn’t it? A time for giving, as they say.” And with that she grabbed her basket, flouncing out of the village shop with the little bell punctuating her departure.

She was practically at her car when Marjory caught up with her, puffing and slightly out of breath, having skidded on a patch of ice. “Don’t you think you’re being a bit unreasonable, Aud?”

“I don’t think so,” she snapped in response, shoving her basket onto the backseat of her Rolls Royce and slamming the door shut with more force than strictly necessary. “It was only a penny, and besides the prices she charges I’m surprised that more people haven’t refused to pay.”

“I don’t mean about that,” It was Marjory’s turn to roll her eyes. “I mean about skipping Christmas. You can’t tell me that you’ve got any good reason for not wanting to celebrate.”

“I have,” Audrey drew herself up to her full height. “I have plenty of good reasons for not wishing to celebrate.”

“Oh yes, and what are they?”

“Well I don’t think I want to tell you.”

“That’s because you haven’t got any.”

“Yes I have.”

“Look Audrey,” Marjory decided to try a different approach. “If it’s money…”

Audrey turned her eyes heavenward, letting out a noise of frustration. “It is not about money,” she lied. “Why does everything always come down to money with you?”

“It doesn’t,” Marjory countered. “That’s what I am trying to say, you don’t need money to have an enjoyable Christmas.”

“I disagree. How else will you buy the food, and the lights, and the decorations, and the presents?”

“None of that really matters, it’s spending time with your loved ones that is important.”

“Oh I see,” Audrey said, swallowing the lump which had risen in her throat and trying to supress the bitter thoughts which had been plaguing her mind. “So my just being there is going to make it a merry Christmas?”

“Well not if you carry on being such a Scrooge.”

“Don’t be so ridiculous,” she huffed. “I’m going home, I’ve had enough of all this merrymaking to last me till next year, and the year after that.” Without another word she turned and got into her Rolls and started up the engine, driving of and leaving Marjory frantically waving from the pavement behind her.

“Audrey, aren’t you forgetting something,” she shouted after the retreating vehicle. “You gave me a lift into the village.” When it showed no signs of slowing down or stopping, Marjory glanced down at her shopping bags and muttered, “How am I supposed to get all of these home now?”

Chapter Text

Almost as soon as she stepped through the doorway that lead into the Lodge’s dingy entrance hall, Audrey was assaulted by a pair of tiny paws, scratching at her skirt in a bid to attract her attention.

“Good boy, Bertie,” she cooed, gently pushing the dog away. “Get down.” Kneeling down she scooped up the chaotic pile of envelopes, absentmindedly scratching behind Bertie’s ear as she did. “What have we got here then?” She asked no one in particular, straightening up again as she flicked through the mostly brown envelopes. “Bill, bill, bill.” With each one that she dismissed with this simple word, Audrey tossed them onto the small side table which stood beside the door. She would deal with them later. Her mood was already foul enough without another reminder of just how dire her financial situation was becoming.

“Oh look, Bertie,” her tone perked up somewhat as she held up a white envelope for the canine to see, expecting him to know the handwriting scrawled across the front as well as she did. “It’s from Brabinger.” With quick efficiency she tore into the letter and produced the card, sparing a brief glance at the picture on the front. “He says his family are all well, and he is enjoying spending time with them. Oh, and he wishes us a Merry Christmas. Well, he wishes me a Merry Christmas, at any rate, but I’m sure he hasn’t forgotten about you.”

Bertie blinked at his mistress, tilting his head to the side as his tongue lolled out of his mouth. Heaving a sigh, Audrey realised that she was not likely to receive an answer and so gave up on her one-sided conversation. Regarding the message in the card once more, Audrey considered how quiet the house seemed without Brabinger. Not that she begrudged him spending the time with his family, especially as he was beginning to advance in his years, but she couldn’t help but feel a slight stab of envy creeping into her as she thought of her loyal butler laughing and enjoying the festive season with his loved ones.

The thing was, she didn’t really have any loved ones left, so to speak. Her and Marton had never been able to start a family together, so there were no children who would feel obligated to visit her, and most of her so-called ‘friends’ had abandoned her almost as soon as the ‘for sale’ sign had gone up at the Manor. Most of her family, as well, were long gone by now, with only a few distant cousins remaining, who she would exchange cards with on birthdays and Christmases, and there was of course Marton’s brother and his family who she saw every now and then, but none of them she would say she was close enough with to simply show up and impose on them. No, they would all likely have their own plans, with even Marjory having been invited to spend Christmas with a world the seemed intent on leaving her behind and as a woman who was used to being in control of most situations, Audrey was finding this a hard pill to swallow, the fact that she was not wanted any more.

With another, bitterer sigh she threw Brabinger’s card onto the table along with the bills and stomped towards the kitchen. “Ned,” she called out as she entered the room, searching for the outdoors man who had ventured indoors to help her for the duration of Brabinger’s absence. “Where has he got to now?” she muttered to no one in particular, before calling out to Ned again. This time, there was a muffled reply from the opposite side of the house, which Audrey realised was coming from the drawing room. Turning on her heal and stomping in that direction, Audrey thought how at this time she very much wanted a nice cup of tea and a sit down.

That was until she went to open the drawing room door and barely stopped in time to prevent her face from colliding with the wood panelling, as it became jammed by some unseen object on the other side. “Ned?” She called out again, barely keeping her tone civil. “What on earth is going on?” This day was determined to test her patience.

“Just a minute, Mrs fforbes,” was the muffled reply she received. “I’ll be with you in a moment.”

“Ned I want to get inside, so I can sit down and have some tea.” She tried again in vain to push the door, but it wouldn’t budge. She winced at the sound of something heavy being dragged across her nice wooden floors.

“Oh that would be very nice, Mrs fforbes, thank you. I have milk and three sugars.”

Resting her forehead against the doorframe, Audrey resisted the urge to stamp her foot and instead slowly counted to ten before re-evaluating her strategy. “Right,” she muttered under her breath before exiting back out of the front door and walking around the exterior to the side of the house. She was quiet glad that she hadn’t yet taken her coat off yet, as she felt the cold December air biting at her cheeks. Eventually, she reached the glass doors that lead from the drawing room to the terrace, and went through them, knowing perfectly well that they would still be unlocked.

“What in Heaven’s name is all of this?” She gasped as she took in the bombsite that used to be her drawing room, with Ned stood proudly in the middle of it all.

“It’s Christmas, Mrs fforbes,” Ned replied, completely oblivious to the horrified expression on the woman’s face. “It was only this house that didn’t have any decorations, so I thought I’d fix it.”

“I thought you were going to dig up the dead bushes at the end of the garden?” She said faintly, slowly taking in the monstrosity of glittering tinsel and fairy lights. There was a stack of even more boxes of decorations piled up by the door, which had obviously been blocking it.

“Oh, not with all that frost we’ve been ‘aving,” Old Ned informed her, with an excuse that Audrey was sure he’d made up. “Grounds too ‘ard to go digging about, I’ll have to wait until the warmer weather for that.”

Choosing not to voice her doubts on the authenticity of this, Audrey opted instead to simply nod her head silently, tapping her fingers on the back of the armchair. “Well it certainly is…festive.”

Taking this as a sign of her approval, the old man puffed out his chest and proudly announced, “And I’ve still got enough left over to do the whole house twice over.”

Her eyes widened in horror. “I don’t think we need go quite that far.” Sensing his disappointment, Audrey found herself relenting against her better nature. “I suppose a few lights around the bannisters wouldn’t be too awful.”

Watching as Ned scurried off to complete his decorating with renewed vigour, Audrey shook her head ruefully and went to inspect the brightly coloured decorations more closely. They were a bit old fashioned, and clearly not brand new, but Audrey couldn’t deny that they had a certain charm to them that made her feel almost nostalgic. It reminded her of Christmases gone by, when she was young and her parents would host parties that would fill the Manor with life and joy. She hadn’t been allowed to join the adults, however her grandparents would always sneak her down and, not wishing to cause a scene, her parents would be forced to let her stay.

Perhaps she had been a bit hasty to dismiss celebrating so soon.

“They’re just like the decorations we used to have up at the Manor,” she sighed wistfully, as Ned came back into the room to retrieve another box.

“I knew you’d like them,” he told her proudly. “Why I even told Mr Devere so when he…” Ned suddenly cut himself off, his nerve faltering under the steely blue gaze of the ex-lady of the Manor.

“When Mr Devere, what?”

“Oh, nothing. It doesn’t matter, Mrs fforbes.” He gestured to the boxes. “I’ll get these up then, shall I?” And with that he disappeared once again.

Shrugging slightly, Audrey turned back to her examination, a niggling thought creeping into the back of her mind when she observed that the garland that hung over the fire place was identical to the one that used to be placed in the library at the Manor. Not to mention that the huge volume and size of the decorations appeared overwhelming in a house this size, but up at the Manor….

“Ned,” she called, stepping back from the fireplace. “Where exactly did you get all of these decorations?” She’d had enough trouble with Brabinger and his bell system, but now if she had to deal with this…

Before she had a chance to follow and interrogate Ned further, she was alerted to another presence calling her from the French doors. She turned, feeling a strange and unbidden fluttering in the pit of her stomach. She quickly supressed it, remembering her earlier hurt at her exclusion from his little yuletide gathering.

A charming smile, a flash of mischief in those warm chocolate eyes. “Might I come in?”

“Richard,” Audrey was unable to completely dispel the pleasure from her voice. “Of course, please do.” Almost as soon as the words were out of her mouth, she recalled the suspicious decorations that adorned the room. Clearing her throat, she moved to sit on the settee opposite Richard, choosing to ignore the elephant in the room. “What can I do for you?”

“Can a neighbour not make a social call without an ulterior motive?” The amusement in his voice was clear.

“A neighbour can,” Audrey replied stiffly. “But that’s never really the case with you, is it?” She turned her gaze away from the frown that appeared across his face. She knew that she was being unfair, but he needed to know that he couldn’t just waltz in here with that dashing smile and those rugged good looks and…what was she saying again?

Oh God what was wrong with her?

“Audrey,” he began with concern, leaning forward in his seat. “Have I done something to upset you?”

The genuine worry and confusion that clouded his eyes was almost enough to melt her resolve, however she remained stanch. “Was there a reason for your visit?” She deliberately chose not to answer his question.

“Well yes, actually,” Richard said, no longer sounding as confident. “I came to invite you to spend Christmas day with mother and me.”

“Oh.”

Oh.

And just like that he managed to throw her off kilter once again. Whatever the purpose for his visit, she hadn’t expected it to be that. A smile threated to engulf her face.

“Oh Richard.”

“Mother pointed out that since we’d already invited half the estate that it would be very remiss if we didn’t invite you too.”

Audrey felt her smile freeze in its place.

Oh.

However before she could read too much into his statement, Richard had already changed the subject. “I see that you put the decorations to good use.”

Humming in agreement, Audrey took a moment to admire the decorations, that feeling of nostalgia returning once again. Then it hit her. “What do you mean, ‘put to good use’?”

“Well, just that I’m glad that someone got someone’s been able to get some enjoyment from them,” he replied, cheerfully. “When I was in the village shop the other day, Mrs Patterson remarked that you were the only one who was yet to put up any decorations, and that you’d probably had a lot on your mind since the sale of the Manor and, well, she did say that she didn’t think that you had any. Then it came to me, I was getting new decorations anyway, and mother said that you’d probably enjoy being surrounded by the same decorations that you’d always had, so I had Ned bring them over. It was supposed to be a surprise really.”

Now she remembered. In her haste to remove all her possessions from the Manor as quickly as possible, there had been certain items that had slipped her mind, the decorations being one of them. They had been up in the attic, along with many other items she had wished to spare herself the pain of riffling through. She couldn’t help but wonder what Richard had done with all of those.

“I see,” she whispered faintly, a lump in her throat blocking the air from her lungs. They sympathetic tone in his voice caused her as much pain as though he had physically struck her. She realised now the reason for the invitation for Christmas day, the second hand decorations that had been hers to start with anyway; she was nothing more than another charity case. A good deed to be performed so that he could feel less guilty as he was sat enjoying his extravagant celebrations, because he could afford to. Instead of volunteering at a soup kitchen, or offering a roof to the homeless, he was helping the biggest charity case in all of the Grantleigh estate; her, the poor penniless old widow.

“You do like them don’t you?”

“I wouldn’t have brought them if I didn’t.” Audrey snapped, feeling a sharp stabbing in her eyes. She hadn’t brought all of them, but there was no need for him to know that. She felt her anger boil over when she saw Richard glance at his watch, hastily arising from the armchair. She remained seated, her back growing stiffer and straighter.

“Look I have a conference call,” he informed her. “I only stopped by to make sure the decorations had been delivered.” He fixed her with an imploring look. “You will come for Christmas Day, won’t you? It would mean ever so much if you did.”

Audrey was silent for a while, not speaking until she trusted her voice enough to remain steady. When she finally did, her voice was deadpan and emotionless. “I don’t think I shall be able to make it.”

“Why not?”

Her brows furrowed and her jaw clenched as she fought to keep her emotions at bay. “Because I don’t overly enjoy having to spend my evening with people who only desire my presence to alleviate the guilt they feel at having such a lavish and extravagant life.”

“Audrey, that’s not what I meant when…”

“You need not bother worrying about me, Mr Devere.” Her voice was bordering on being hysterical. “I may not have as much money as you but I certainately do not need your sympathy, nor your charity. And in future I would appreciate it if you allowed me to arrange my own decorations.”

“If that’s what you want,” Richard murmured, and Audrey had never seen him look so crestfallen. She could stop herself from sticking the knife in further.

“It is,” her voice sounded cold, even to her own ears. “Now if you would be so kind, I have a lot of things to be getting on with.”

“Audrey,” Richard tried to reason with her once more.

“I really am very busy, Mr Devere.” By this point Audrey had turned her face away, choosing to focus her attention solely on the task of picking at a stray thread on her skirt.

“Very well,” there was a defeated sigh before she heard his footsteps retreating to the terrace. He paused just before he left, turning to face the stubborn woman once more. “The invitation still stands, if you change your mind. You’ll always be more than welcome.”

Still she refused to look at him, her silence his only reply. With another sigh he left her to it, knowing fully well that he would not get anywhere whilst she was like this.

Once she was sure she was alone again, Audrey let out a strangled noise in frustration. If she still had the Manor, none of this would be happening. No, if she still had money, then none of this would be happening. How could she be expected to enjoy Christmas when she couldn’t even afford to, and she had certainly not sunk to begging for scraps from other people. How could she have even thought that she could have an enjoyable Christmas in her current financial situation? And as for Richard…

Well she didn’t know why she was surprised. She knew now for sure that she was nothing more than a charity case to him, someone that deserved nothing more than his pity. It was good that she found out now, it would save her heart from the desperate hoping that he might…

The twinkling of the fairy lights instead of bringing joy, now only served to mock her. Propelling herself from where she was sat, she went in search of Ned, and found him in the Kitchen carefully untangling even more of those infernal lights.

“Ned,” she snapped, noticing how he jumped when he heard her.

“Er, yes Mrs fforbes?”

“I want you to take all of those decorations down.”

The confusion on the old man’s face was clear. “But why?”

“Because I have said so,” she offered no other explanation, her anger now well and truly taking over. “I want you to take them all down and get them out of my sight. I don’t want to see them again. Ever.” Without giving him a chance to reply, she continued with her demands. “And then I want you to go out into the garden and dig up those dead bushes.”

Now Old Ned looked horrified. “But that’ll take hours Mrs fforbes.”

Audrey raised a slender eyebrow. “Then I suggest you best get started then.”

Without another word, she turned on her heal and stalked out of the room, doing something she hadn’t done since she was a teenager.

She stomped up the stairs to her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

Chapter Text

“Bedrich,” his mother’s stern voice cut through the early morning peace more effectively than even the sharpest blade could. Mourning the loss of his moment of quiet, Richard took another sip of his coffee, which he had added a splash of brandy to. It was Christmas Eve after all, why should he not indulge himself at least once a year.

“Good morning, mother,” he answered pleasantly, holding up his mug. “Coffee?”

She sucked in a breath, fixing him with a disapproving glare. “I hope you do not treat your guests tomorrow with the same discourtesy that you treat your own, poor mother.”

Choking on the hot liquid as he swallowed, he sent her a bewildered look, barely containing a laugh. “What are you talking about? I only asked if you wanted any coffee.”

“Instant coffee,” her thick European accent was filled with as much horror as though he had informed her that he was intending to start a third world war.

“What’s wrong with instant coffee? It’s very good.”

Maria Polouvicka rolled her eyes heavenwards and raised her hands, hoping that any saint would hear the trials she faced. “My son, where did I go wrong?” She sighed once more, wagging a crooked finger in his direction. “What would Audrey say if you offered her instant coffee?”

It never failed to amaze Richard how his mother could swap from such admiration when talking about Audrey fforbes-Hamilton, to instant contempt over the words ‘instant coffee’ all in one breath. He sometimes wondered if she had missed her calling on the stage.

“Well you needn’t worry about that,” Richard informed her, leaning forward to place his now empty coffee mug on the table, making sure to use a coaster so as not to encourage her wrath any further. “Audrey’s not coming for dinner, let alone staying for coffee.”

He counted exactly three seconds before his mother’s horror returned tenfold, and he watched with mild amusement as she staggered towards the opposite settee and dramatically collapsed onto the dark leather.

“Not coming?” She just about managed to choke out, clutching her hand over her heart. “What do you mean she is not coming? Did I not tell you to invite her?”

“I did invite her,” he ignored the older woman’s reproachful glare. “She said no.”

Although he kept his tone calm, and shrugged his shoulder in the hope of conveying that he wasn’t too concerned, the truth was that he had found himself mulling over his last conversation with the ex-lady of the Manor more frequently than he would have liked. He didn’t understand what had prompted her sudden outburst and her rather frosty reaction to his invitation. He had analysed every word he had said in the hope of finding what had offended her so, but so far he had come up blank.

In an instant Mrs Pou, as she was affectionately known, was up on her feet with surprising agility for a woman of her years and was making her way across the room towards the telephone.

“What are you doing?” Richard asked, leaning back in his seat.

“You will ring her,” Mrs Pou informed him, in a way that told him that there was no room for arguments.

“Who?”

“Audrey,” she snapped as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. She turned and pointed at him once again. “You will call her and apologise to her for whatever it is you have done to upset her this time.”

“I haven’t done anything,” Richard propelled himself across the room and swiftly removed the receiver from his mother’s grasp, and placed it back in its cradle before she could dial the number for the Lodge, which he was sure she had memorised by heart.

She glared at him, squinting her eyes as she stuck her chin up so she could meet his gaze. “Then why is she not coming to Christmas dinner?”

“I haven’t got a clue, but it’s not just me she’s ignoring. I don’t think she’s said more than three words to anyone all week.”

“Well something has upset her.” Another sly glance. “Why do you not go round and see if you can help her?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. Audrey’s already made it perfectly clear that she neither wants nor needs my help.”

This was clearly not the answer Mrs Pou had been hoping to receive.

“I don’t think I want a party anymore,” she sniffed.

This time, Richard did laugh aloud. “You were the one who wanted to invite so many people.” He reminded her.

“Yes, but I didn’t expect them all to come,” she sighed, revealing her great master plan. “I had hoped that they would all refuse or cancel at the last minute, so it would be just you and Audrey.”

“And you eavesdropping through the keyholes?” He rolled his eyes, and then grunted in pain as his mother took the opportunity to wallop his arm for his cheek. “Why didn’t you just invite Audrey in the first place?”

“Because I thought Audrey might have been more likely to accept if she didn’t think that she was the only one coming.”

“Well she might have been more likely to if she had,” Richard replied. At his mother’s confused stare, he shook his head lightly. “She kept going on about only being invited so we wouldn’t feel guilty. Said she was an obligation or something like that.”

Mrs Pou’s eyes widened considerably and she drew herself up to her full height. “Audrey fforbes-Hamilton is not an obligation, she is a pleasure to have here.”

Sighing, Richard decided that it would probably be best not to point out that the last time he was in her company was not exactly what he would refer to as a pleasure. “Well it doesn’t matter, she’s not coming and that’s the end of it.”

Not ready to give up, Mrs Pou began to formulate a plan in her head that would get her son and Audrey back on track. “Perhaps if you…”

“No, mother,” she had not heard him sound so tired in a long time. “Audrey doesn’t want to spend Christmas with us and I won’t force her.”

“So you will just give up on her? Leave her alone and miserable?”

He shrugged, what else could he do? “No, but it’s what she wants. If she wants to play this game then she can, the invitation is there but if she’s not interested, then I won’t make a fool of myself.”

Sometimes, Mrs Pou thought watching her son leave the room, he could be so blind. She very much doubted that Audrey was simply not interested, after all she had seen the spark in the younger woman’s eye whenever she challenged and spared with Bedrich. They were perfectly suited, if only they would let themselves see it. And she would help them with this.

With a small smile she sat down, pulling out her knitting from its customary place behind the cushion and got to work, her mind working as quickly and as diligently as her knitting needles.

Yes, she might have lost this battle, but it didn’t mean that she had lost the war.

“Oh come on, Aud, you’ve been miserable all week.”

Poking at the embers with more force than necessary, Audrey gave up trying to prolong the life of the glowing and charred scraps and reluctantly threw another log on the fire, wearily eyeing the depleting pile of wood. There wouldn’t be enough to last her until the next day, let alone until after Christmas when Old Ned would be back at work again, after Richard had so generously informed the labourer that he would not be required to return to work until at least the twenty-eighth. And having turned the heating off in a desperate attempt to save money…

“I have not been miserable,” she informed her childhood friend, trying to ignore the chattering of her own teeth. “I just prefer to have my feet firmly on the ground, instead of walking around with my head in the clouds and grinning idiotically at every person I meet.”

Marjory snorted, fixing her with a disbelieving look. “Oh what a whopper. You’ve been in a foul mood – you’ve been running poor Old Ned around like a madman.”

“He’s an odd jobs man, he’s paid to do odd jobs.” Audrey sniffed.

“You even snapped at the Rector.”

Audrey took umbrage to this, raising an eyebrow haughtily. “I did not snap. I merely asked him what a commercialised donkey, with an advertisement for ‘Cavendish’s Christmas selection’ slapped across its hind had to do with the birth of Christ?” The fact that she had interrogated him about it for thirty minutes straight had nothing to do with the matter.

“You know as well as I do that Richard donated the funds to supply the nativity scene for the village square.” Marjory replied, all but rolling her eyes. Every year, a life size nativity was erected in the village square, beside the war memorial, and Marjory had to admit that it looked much better this year, and less dilapidated, than it had in previous years.

“Donated?” Audrey let out a sarcastic laugh. “The only reason Richard donated anything was to advertise his supermarket and make even more money for himself.”

“Yes and speaking of Richard, I think that you’ve treated him appallingly. He was only trying to help, and you threw it back in his face.”

Audrey decided not to dignify this remark with a reply, instead glaring loathingly at the box of decorations that she had made Ned spend hours taking down again. She was seriously considering using them instead of firewood. At least then they would be put to good use.

Glancing at her wrist watch, Marjory pushed herself up off the settee and turned expectantly towards Audrey. “Right, come on then.”

For the first time in over a week, the scowl that had appeared to be permanently etched across the ex-lady of the Manor’s face gave way, if only for a look of confusion to replace it. “Where are we going?” She asked, leaning further back into the comforts of her arm chair.

“The blessing of the crib,” Marjory replied, clearly aghast that her friend had forgotten one of the most important events of the Christmas calendar. “Everyone will be there, oh come on Aud, it’s not too late to get in the festive spirit.”

A blank expression passed over Audrey’s face as she blinked a few times, staring silently into the softly glowing fireplace. When she finally spoke, her voice was almost too quiet to hear. “I’m not going this year.”

“But why? You always go.”

She gave a nonchalant shrug. “I don’t feel like it this year.”

Marjory felt a sense of despair as she watched her friend turn back towards the fire with unseeing eyes. She’d tried so hard to cheer Audrey up, but so far all her efforts had been in vain. She knew that there was something troubling Audrey, however as was the case whenever the blue blood was upset, she retreated into herself and closed herself off from the world in order to hide the pain she was feeling. She’d pushed everyone away, even shutting Marjory out, leaving her at a loss of what to do about it.

Marjory’s eyes swam with despair. “But, Audrey…”

The lines around Audrey’s mouth tightened as her nostril’s flared and irritation flashed across her face. “Look, Marjory, if you want to go then just go. You’re a grown woman for heaven’s sake, you don’t need me to hold your hand every time you want to do something. How do you ever expect to find someone if you’re constantly depending on me all of the time?”

Audrey kept her eyes fixed on the fireplace, refusing to turn her gaze to Marjory and the look of hurt that she would no doubt be wearing. She’s been harsh at times, she could even be accused of being snappy, but she had never been downright cruel.

“I see,” Marjory whispered, shakily. “I guess I’ll go then.”

“Yes.”

Marjory turned, leaving through the drawing room door without saying goodbye. As she had her hand poised on the front door’s handle, ready to leave the Lodge completely, she felt her own anger boil over and she determinedly spun on her heel and returned to the drawing room once more. “You know, the reason you’re on your own is because you keep pushing people away. They still care about you,” she said heatedly. “Even if you haven’t got the Manor anymore. You think that everyone was only ever interested in you because you had money.”

Finally, Audrey turned to look at her, with an eyebrow raised as she pursed her lips, her voice quivered slightly with barely restrained emotion. “Then where are they all now?”

“I’m still here,” Audrey blinked dumbly at her friend’s words. “I don’t care if you have money or not. And neither do Richard, or Mrs Pou, or even Brabinger. Do you really think he would have left Grantleigh with you if he did?” Marjory waited for a moment, and realising that she was not about to receive an answer anytime soon, she shook her head sadly and left, this time not to return.

Audrey had regretted her behaviour almost immediately and had wanted to apologise, to run after Marjory and explain everything to her but she found that she didn’t have the strength to stand. Guilt washed over her, chilling her even more than the cold December snow ever could. She knew that her recent bad temper was pushing everyone away, but perhaps it was for the best. If they knew, truly how dire her situation was becoming then they would look at her with such pity and she couldn’t bear that.

The sound of the front door slamming jolted her from her reverie, and she found that she could sit still no longer, the walls of the small house seeming even more claustrophobic than usual. Making her way over to the drinks cabinet, she eyed the almost empty decanter of sherry with disdain. That would not do for tonight, she would need something much stronger. Crouching down, she opened one of the doors, reaching inside the cabinet to retrieve a bottle from the back. It was a bottle of Scotch, rather good Scotch in fact, that she had purchased quite a while back so that she would have some handy just in case…someone stopped by to visit. It had only been opened a few times, never offered to anyone else, and she supposed it was her silly way of showing that she could still be considered his equal.

Not that it mattered now. That ship had long since sailed, of that she was sure.

Helping herself to a more than generous glass (she had not yet been reduced to guzzling straight from the bottle) and took a healthy gulp, savouring the smooth burn that blazed its way down her throat. It wasn’t that bad really, and she could quite easily understand why it was his favourite. She still remembered the first time she’d presented him with a glass. He’d popped round for some reason or other, she couldn’t really recall why, and she had just purchased a bottle, having enlisted Brabinger’s assistance in acquiring it. She had eagerly watched from behind the rim of her own glass the pleasantly surprised look on his face as he took a sip.

“It’s just something I found lying around,” she had dismissed it with feigned indifference however, judging by the amused twinkle in his eyes, she could tell he that didn’t believe her for a second. It was one of the little details she remembered about him, like the type of cigars he liked to smoke and his fondness for the ‘Horse & Hound’.

She hastily drained the rest of her glass, carelessly helping herself to another in the hope of burning out the memories, even if only for a little while. Her eye was caught by the glittering of a errand strand of tinsel that had somehow managed to escape the confines of the worn box. With a humourless smile she wandered towards it, clasping the end in her fist and giving a firm tug, freeing it from its cardboard prison.

She cursed aloud as a heavier object, tangled up in the tinsel and dislodged by the sudden movement, was flung from the box and landed with a heavy thud on her foot before rolling across the floor. She narrowed her eyes and cast an accusing glare at the offending object.

A stifled cry escaped her lips as she saw what it was.

Falling to her knees, placing her now forgotten drink on the floor beside her, she reached forward with trembling hands and clutched the delicate object to her chest. How it had not smashed into a thousand pieces she did not know, but she supposed that her toe had been enough to break its fall.

The object was in fact a glass tree ornament, roughly the size of her hand. It depicted an angel, wings folded around its body in a tender embrace and her eyes down cast. Inside the chest, just above where the angel’s hands were clasped, was a small ruby heart, burning brightly in glow of the firelight. Audrey had no idea how she had missed this, indeed she had not seen the ornament for many years, but it was just as she had remembered.

The angel had belonged to her maternal grandparents, and had held pride of place on their enormous tree every year. It had been a gift from her grandfather to her grandmother, and had been given after a rocky period in their long marriage. Audrey had never learned what the argument had been about, but her grandfather had told her that the angel represented how their love had endured despite this.

When it had eventually come into her possession, Audrey had hung the angel on her own tree, hoping that it would bring some of her grandparents’ happiness into her own marriage, but it was not meant to be.

Feeling all of her frustrations and anger become directed at the glass ornament, in a fit of rage Audrey threw it into the dying fire, watching in some satisfaction as it slid into the burning coal. It was almost immediately replaced by a coldness creeping into her heart as she watched the glass become engulfed by the flames.

There was a creaking of the floor boards behind her, and a cold shiver ran down her spine. She was convinced that she could hear the faint sound of breathing behind her and quickly spun around, ready to reprimand whoever it was that had disturbed her moment of peace.

She was greeted by an empty room, with only the shadows dancing across the walls to keep her company.

“Now you’re imagining things,” she croaked, laughing at her own foolishness. Her head felt light and fuzzy and she thought that perhaps she had simply over indulged herself with the drink. Yes, that was it. An over active imagination brought about by too much alcohol.

With a determined nod, she pushed herself up from the floor, picking up the still full whisky tumbler and firmly slamming it onto the coffee table, making a great show of ignoring its call and abandoning it to the night. What she needed was a good night’s sleep to cure her of the effects and she would be right as rain come the morning. Making a quick sweep of the house to ensure all the doors and windows were locked, Audrey wearily trudged up the stairs, longing for the warm comforts of her bed.

For a long time the house remained silent, not a creature stirred as the house slumbered, with only the overtures of Bertie’s snores as he lay tucked up in his basket, echoing in the night. The clock ticked by, hour by hour until it finally struck midnight, its chimes ringing out throughout the house.

Slowly, the door to the drawing room creaked open and a set of footsteps made their way out of the room and up the stairs, towards the first floor of the Old Lodge.

Chapter Text

Having not slept very well over the past few days, Audrey was less than impressed when she heard a creaking and shuffling outside her door. It was gone midnight and she had just felt herself beginning to fall into a peaceful slumber when movement from the landing had rudely awoken her. Grumbling under her breath, she threw the covers back and scrambled out of her warm bed, donning her pink dressing gown to fend off the chill of the night air. She didn’t know what Brabinger was doing up at this time, but she was bloody well going to see to it that he never disturbed her at this ungodly hour again.

Her hand was clutching at the handle when she felt her stomach drop and a wave of nausea rose within her. As the shuffling continued she remembered, Brabinger was staying with his family. Hundreds of miles away. Not at the Lodge. There was Bertie, of course, however the sounds were distinctly un-canine like. In a state of panic, she heard the shuffling grow nearer and nearer, as she realised with horror that whoever it was, was slowly making their way towards her bedroom. Doors opened and closed as they made their way along the corridor, meaning that Audrey could pinpoint the intruder’s exact location from the safety of her bedroom.

The spare room.

The bathroom.

Brabinger’s room.

Hastily, Audrey locked the door as she heard the footsteps stop outside her door. She glanced down at where the light spilled in from under the door and quickly moved to the side, pressing herself against the wall, her hand clamped over her mouth.

She let out a muffled shriek as she heard the handle rattle, the whole door thundering against its frame as the intruder tried to get in. After what seemed like a life time, the rattling stopped and there was a moment of silence where Audrey dared not even breathe. Eventually, whoever it was turned and began to shuffle back down the corridor, their feet scrapping loudly against the floor.

Audrey allowed herself a sigh of relief, her whole body sagging, as she heard the intruder’s heavy footfalls clunking down the stairs. This feeling was fleeting, as Audrey quickly realised that she was trapped up here. No one would know that there was anything wrong and, after the way she had behaved, it could be days before anyone realised what had happened to her. Maybe the intruder was just a petty thief, and they’d take what they wanted and go. She could wait it out up here and…

No, she thought savagely to herself. It didn’t matter what their intention was, she couldn’t simply hide upstairs until they’d gone. How long would it be until they found a way to get past the locked door, and then what would happen? No, she had to raise the alarm somehow.

The only trouble was that the telephone was downstairs, and getting to it would no doubt alert the intruder to her presence. It was a gamble, she knew, but it was the only way she could get help. And if the worse happened, well the Manor wasn’t that far away and she’d been the fastest sprinter in her year at school, once upon a time. Putting on a bravado of more confidence that she felt, Audrey silently turned the lock, opening the door as quietly as humanly possible.

The landing was deserted when she left the safety of her bedroom, only illuminated by the soft glow of moonlight. Creeping along the corridor, Audrey carefully picked her way across the wooden floor making sure to avoid the creaky floorboards that she had become familiar with since she moved into the house. Eventually, she reached the top of the stairs and cautiously peered around the bannister, assessing the darkness below her. She saw no signs of life, heard no movement, and so gingerly began to make her way down the stairs.

She felt a gentle breeze stir beside her ear.

“You know you’re going in completely the wrong direction, girl.”

Audrey jumped in the air, whipping her head round to reveal the identity of the mystery intruder. Her hands latched onto the bannister, barely preventing herself from slipping and taking a rather nasty tumble down the stairs. With eyes wide she scanned the semi-darkness, only to find that there was no one else on the landing with her and unable to locate any possible direction that the intruder had gone.

“Have I got your attention now?”

By now her breathing was erratic, and her legs seemed to have turned to jelly. All thoughts of trying to get to the telephone had long disappeared, instead being replaced by the strong urge to run as far away from this house as possible. Surely Richard would be able to help her? He wouldn’t leave her to the mercy of this madman.

“My word, girl, you are on a go slow. I don’t have all night you know, I have got other things to do.”

The disembodied voice was now coming from her bedroom, though how they had managed to pass her from downstairs and get back to the bedroom without Audrey seeing was beyond her. But now as she listened, for one maddening moment she thought she recognised the sharp tones, but of course that was impossible…

As if by their own accord, Audrey felt her feet carry her back up the steps and towards the bedroom, her hands trembling as she reached up to flick on the light switch. The bulb flickered on, flooding the small room with a harsh white light and Audrey squinted her eyes, taking a moment to adjust to the brightness of the room. Her jaw dropped painfully as she finally saw the intruder was, stood tall and proud beside the end of her bed.

“If the weather changes, you’ll get stuck like that,” the intruder murmured, rolling her eyes.

Snapping her mouth shut, Audrey didn’t know whether she wanted to laugh or cry, for stood before her was none other than her maternal grandmother, Katherine Martha Jane Hartley, every bit as grand and regal as Audrey remembered her to be and seemingly very much alive.

“Granny?” Audrey breathed, her entire body growing cold.

The ghostly figure hummed the affirmative, tapping her foot in what Audrey quickly realised was mild irritation.

“But, but that’s not possible! You’ve been dead for ten years.”

Katherine blinked dumbly at her, before slowly turning her head to survey their surroundings. “My, my,” she spoke with feigned surprise. “And here I thought that there was simply an inordinately long queue at the post office.”

Audrey opened her mouth and snapped it shut again, repeating this action several times.

“Are you finished doing an impersonation of a fish?” the apparition didn’t pause to give her a chance to reply. “Good, now shall we get on?”

Glancing towards her bed and then back at spectre, Audrey shook her head in an attempt to clear this image from her mind. “This isn’t real, I must be dreaming.”

“And what makes you say that, dear?”

“Because you’ve been dead for ten years,” Audrey cried once again. She shook her head with more certainty. “No, no you’re not real. You’re nothing more than an image conjured up in my mind by too much alcohol.”

The ghost laughed, glancing heavenwards as she threw her hands up. “God, alcohol, how I miss it. Do you know I haven’t had a decent scotch in over a decade?”

Observing the older woman, Audrey felt a tightening of her chest and a thickness in her throat. She looked just as she had in life, tall and slim with thick auburn locks, the occasional strand of silver streaking through it, that had retained its rusty shimmer almost right until the end, and pale icy blue eyes that could pierce into the very soul and looked even more unearthly in death. The lady that stood before her was nothing like the broken husk that her grandmother had been in the last few weeks of her life, fighting a disease that had robbed her of her very breath. It was how Audrey had wanted her last memories of her to be.

No, this was nothing more than wishful imaginings.

“You’re not real,” Audrey rubbed at her eyes with the heal of her palms, hoping it would dispel the image before her.

It didn’t.

“Sorry to disappoint,” Katherine sniffed with some offense taken. “However my being real or not does not excuse your lack of manners.” She looked pointedly at the small arm chair that sat beside the wardrobe.

Audrey gestured towards it with a gracious sweep of her hand, then regarded her grandmother curiously. “Can you sit down?”

“I don’t know,” was the stiff response she received. “If I’m imaginary then you tell me.” Regardless of the answer she would have received, Katherine perched herself on the plush seat.

“Well you must understand my predicament,” Audrey replied, sitting on the ottoman at the end of her bed. It was a bit too large for such a small space, however it was a grandeur from the Manor that Audrey could bare to part with.

Audrey received a nod with some sympathy in it. “Yes, you never did believe in tales of ghost and the supernatural.”

“Neither did you,” she pointed out, feeling some unexplainable need to defend herself.

“No,” Katherine conceded. “But then the estate I grew up on, you’d have been unable to move for the sheer number of ghosts that would have inhabited its halls.”

Her grandmother had always spoken so fondly of her childhood home, and Audrey had visited there, once. The village had been quaint and the house itself very grand, but it had felt a bit too grand and lofty. Cold, really. Nothing at all like Grantleigh. “I believe father said something similar about Grantleigh.”

There was that hum again, a noise deep in the back of her grandmother’s throat that always signified her displeasure about something. She’d made it a lot around Audrey’s father. And Marton for that matter. “Yes, but it didn’t stop Marton spinning some elaborate tale about the paranormal happenings at Grantleigh.”

“Yes, I remember,” Audrey laughed with a rare display of softness, her lips quirking with amusement. “When we were children he used to be quite good at making up stories.”

“And as an adult too, so I gather.” Audrey glanced up, feeling a shiver run down her spine. The irises of her grandmother’s eyes appeared to be almost white, snapping with icy rage. “That should have told you immediately that he was not trustworthy.”

She shrugged in response. “Grandpa was always quite good at telling stories as well.”

“Ah, yes but he was in trade,” her grandmother said simply, dismissing it with a wave of her hand. Audrey felt that there was a hypocrisy in this, but decided that it was best not to comment. Her grandmother could have quite a fiery temper, and Audrey was often quite glad that it had bypassed her.

“You still haven’t told me why you’re here.”

Katherine grinned in triumph, a broad and toothy smile that seemed to conflict with her aristocratic upbringing. “So you admit that I am real then?”

Audrey considered this for a moment. “Not necessarily, I presume that this is one of those dreams that seem awfully real until you wake up.”

“Stubborn child,” Katherine tutted, but there was no real venom behind her words as amusement danced in her eyes. “I am here to help you, my dear.”

“Help me?”

“Yes,” the ghost replied, with a sudden graveness. “Help prevent you from making a terrible mistake, before it’s too late.”

“And what mistake would this be?”

Smiling softly, Katherine looked pointedly at her granddaughter. “You’ve not been very festive or charitable this year, my dear.”

“Charitable?” Audrey howled, outraged. “I am the most charitable person in the whole of Grantleigh, dare I say the whole county. I do charity work, I do Meals on Wheels, the Old People’s Club…”

“Yes, yes you do what is expected of you,” Katherine interrupted, waving her hand impatiently. “And that’s not what I mean. There’s a difference, between doing something that you expect to do and doing something that is expected of you.”

Shaking her head, Audrey replied, “No there isn’t.”

“Yes there is, dear.”

“No there isn’t.”

“Yes, there is.”

“No there isn’t.”

“Look,” Katherine pinched the bridge of her nose. “I think you’re missing the point. I’ll be blunt…”

“Like you never are,” Audrey muttered under her breath.

“It doesn’t matter what you had, Audrey, what’s important it who you are to people around you.”

“I’m no one anymore,” she bitterly retorted. “Since I lost the Manor, no one’s been interested in me.”

For a woman who had always held herself up with immense pride, Audrey was quite surprised now to see the spectre of her grandmother slump down in her chair. “Oh, Lord this is going to take some time. Just because you don’t have the Manor anymore, doesn’t mean you can’t still celebrate.”

It took a moment, but eventually Audrey’s face cleared as she finally understood, and then she did something completely unexpected.

She laughed. Hard.

“Oh God, I’ve strayed into a Dickensian novel,” she managed to wheeze out in between peals of laughter. "You think all my problems will simply disappear if I embrace the 'Spirit of Christmas'?"

“You cannot compare me to one of those penny dreadfuls,” Audrey quirked an eyebrow at her grandmother’s disapproving tone. She’d once found a well-read copy of ‘A Christmas Carol’ in amongst her grandmother’s personal possessions. “Yes, well perhaps it wasn’t. But I’m trying to help you.”

“I needed help when Marton died and left me with all his debts.” Audrey leant back, a heavy scowl on her face. “ I needed help when I was trying to save my home, so thank you, but it’s a bit too late now.”

There was a fire in her grandmother’s eyes, a passion that seemed to ignite as she spoke that sent a bolt of guilt through Audrey. “It is not too late,” she informed the younger woman. “But if you don’t change your ways soon then it might be. Our families have kept on making the same mistakes over and over again, but that doesn’t mean that you have to.”

Glancing down at her lap and picking at an invisible thread on her dressing gown, Audrey swallowed before she spoke. “And what mistake would that be?”

She felt a cold pressure on her chin forcing her to look up at her grandmother. The ghost’s touch was feathery light, but icy to the point of being slightly painful. “Money, objects, things, are not important.”

“Then what is?”

Katherine arose, a light smile gracing her pale lips. “That’s something you’ll have to learn for yourself.”

“Is that it?” Audrey asked, watching her ghostly grandmother float towards the door. How the woman had managed to make such a racket before was unimaginable, especially judging by the way her feet appeared to hover just above the surface of the floor.

A mischievous smirk flittered across her face. “Of course not, what do you take me for girl?” Katherine drew herself up to her full height, casting an imperial glare towards Audrey. “You shall be visited by three spirits…”

“I really am in a Dickens’ novel,” Audrey grumbled.

“The first, shall be tonight when the clock strikes one,” Katherine continued, ignoring the interruption. “The second, tomorrow when the clock strikes two, then the third the day after at…well I think you get the idea.”

Rolling her eyes, Audrey stomped back to her bed, muttering under her breath. “What a load of nonsense. I’m pouring the rest of that scotch down the drain in the morning, there’s clearly something wrong with it.” And with that she clambered in, tugging the sheets up over her head, her back turned to her grandmother.

There was a moment of silence, that stretched on as the minutes ticked by. After a while, Audrey had convinced herself that she had simply dreamt up the entire encounter, and was just beginning to lull herself back to sleep when she felt the covers being forcefully ripped from her. Tilting her head so that she could cast her eyes to the end of the bed, Audrey saw that her grandmother was still stood there, blankets clutched in her hands, and looking downright irritable.

“Oh God, it’s not a dream.” Audrey groaned as she moved to sit up, bringing her knees up to her chest and resting her chin on them.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Katherine rolled her eyes in much the same fashion as her granddaughter, dumping the crumpled sheets at the foot of the bed. The pair glanced over to the small clock beside the bed as they heard the grandfather clock downstairs chime the hour.

One o’clock.

Audrey sighed as she glanced back at her grandmother, half expecting her to have disappeared by now. “So who’s this ‘first spirit’ I’m supposed to be visited by?”

An urchin like grin broke out across the old ghost’s face, making her appear more like the youthful girl that Audrey had seen in the old family photographs. “Me.” She said, turning on her heal and heading towards the door as it mysteriously flung open, a pure white light flooding in through the whole doorway.

“Bit unconventional,” Audrey called after her. “You didn’t even tell me the bit about your suffering in the afterlife. And you're missing the chains."

“Get a move on, girl.” Katherine didn’t bother to turn around as she walked through the doorway of light, clearly expecting the younger woman to follow. “We haven’t got all night. And put something warm on, you’ll need it.”

Then she was gone.

Eyeing the still glowing doorway with some trepidation, Audrey debated the merits of rolling over and going back to sleep, pretending that none of this had happened, however quickly decided that there would be no way that she would fall asleep easily after the night she’d had. Concluding that it would probably be best to follow, Audrey climbed out of bed once more and fastened the dressing gown more securely around herself, steeling herself against the sudden nervousness she felt rolling around in her stomach.

“Shoulders back,” she muttered to herself and strode forward with all the confidence of a great queen. She paused at the threshold, however, regarding the light switch on the wall.

“No point wasting electricity needlessly,” she reasoned, snapping the lights off and making the glow of the doorway seem harsher.

With another deep breath, she stepped forward, disappearing from her bedroom and the Old Lodge completely.

Chapter Text

The first thing Audrey experienced as she stepped through the doorway was the sensation that she was falling, that lurching feeling that occurs in the pit of your stomach as you miss a step and go hurtling towards the ground. The second was that she’d landed face first in something very cold and very wet.

“I told you to put something warm on.”

Pushing herself up onto her knees, Audrey glared at the woman stood cheerful smiling at her, irritably wiping the snow from her face and hair. She deliberately ignored the cold biting at her skin through the flimsy material of her dressing gown. “Yes, well you could have warned me that where we were going was covered in snow.”

“I told you to put something warm on,” her grandmother replied, stepping towards her and draping a black fur coat around Audrey’s shoulders. Lord knew where she had got if from. “That should have been warning enough.”

Sliding her arms through the sleeves of the warm coat gratefully, Audrey arose and glanced around her, a crease forming between her brows. “Where are we anyway? It looks as though we’ve wandered through the plains of Siberia.”

“Not quite,” Katherine shook her head, pointing for Audrey to turn around. “I would have thought you of all people would have recognised this place.”

Looking in the direction her grandmother had directed, Audrey gasped as she took in the tall and imposing building that towered over them. Its gothic design and bulky structure made it stand out in the landscape for miles, and the large windows appeared to be more like massive looming eyes, especially at night when the interior was illuminated, burning brightly in the darkness that surrounded it.

The building had been bloody draughty too, Audrey recalled, especially in the winter.

“This is my school,” Audrey gasped, looking in wonder at the building that she had not set foot in for what seemed like a lifetime. Rather than send her to the village school, her parents had chosen to have her privately educated at the most prestigious girl’s school in the area, and whilst she couldn’t really complain about her school years, she sometimes couldn’t help but wonder how different things would have been had she gone to the village school instead. A thought quickly occurred to her. “We shouldn’t be here, technically we’re trespassing.”

Katherine shrugged, clearly not sharing the younger woman’s concerns. “I’m sure no one will notice.”

Spying movement in the windows from the corner of her eye, Audrey whipped her head around to get a closer look, suddenly realising that there were people still inside. It was strange, she always thought that the school had closed for the holidays long before Christmas eve. From deep within the bowels of the building, there was a shrill ringing of a bell.

“About bloody time too,” A voice from beside Audrey made her jump. There hadn’t been anyone stood there before. In fact, where had all these people come from? Milling around her were now dozens of people, all clearly waiting for something. Observing the couple stood behind her, Audrey felt a genuine smile break out across her face.

“Mr Frobisher, Mrs Frobisher, how lovely to see you. It has been some time, how are you both?” She spoke quickly, without taking a breath. She hadn’t seen either of Marjory’s parents for quite some years now and felt a genuine delight, as they had always been very kind to her when she and Marjory were young. It was why now when neither answered her, nor turned to even acknowledge her, that she felt very put out and slightly hurt. “Well I know it has been some years, but there’s no need to ignore me,” she grumbled, waving her hand in front of the pair’s oblivious eyes.

At the snickering behind her, Audrey turned to shoot a withering glare at her grandmother. “There’s absolutely no excuse for bad manners,” she informed her crisply.

“No there isn’t,” Katherine agreed, eyes dancing with amusement. “However they’re not real, Audrey. They’re just shadows.”

“What do you mean they’re not real,” Audrey huffed, gesturing wildly around them. “They are literally stood right there.”

Rolling her eyes, Katherine chuckled and stepped forward. Audrey gasped as she sailed straight through someone, who she recognised to be one of the Plunkett’s. “They can’t see you because this is just a memory, my dear. Look around you, for a start everywhere is covered in snow.”

With a scowl, Audrey closely observed her surroundings, realising that her grandmother was right. When she had gone to bed that night, there had been a touch of frost on the ground, and not a thick blanket of crisp white snow. Not to mention that it had been the middle of the night, and now the sun shone brightly in the sky, dazzlingly reflecting off the frozen landscape. Then there was Mr and Mrs Frobisher themselves.

They had always been older than most of the other children’s parents. After years of unsuccessfully trying and countless heartaches, they’d eventually managed to have Marjory, their one and only child. Audrey had heard talk that it had been a hard birth for Mrs Frobisher and that they hadn’t tried again after that, instead doting on their only daughter. Audrey had sometimes wondered if they hadn’t sheltered Marjory a bit too much, however she could not hold that against them.

No, at present Marjory’s parents must have been pushing their eighties, and the couple stood before most certainly were not. Audrey swallowed, pulling the coat more firmly around her.

“I don’t remember this,” Katherine informed her, glancing up at the old structure.

Audrey shook her head, fitting the pieces together in her head. If this was the Christmas she thought it was... “That’s because you weren’t here. You and Grandpa had gone to visit your cousin in New York, and spent the holidays there. You missed New Year’s as well, because Grandpa was ill.” Audrey sent a sideward glance in the ghost’s direction. “Though if I recall correctly, it was actually because you had met up with friends and were both too drunk to be allowed on the boat.”

She took some satisfaction from the way her grandmother’s mouth opened and snapped shut. She was also sure that she could detect a faint trace of colour on the woman’s translucent cheeks. “How did you know about that?”

“Oh, I can’t remember now. I think my father was ranting about it to mummy once.”

“Yes well if your father spent less time ranting…” Katherine grumbled, but cut off at the look she received. Now was not the time to bring up old grudges.

There was a rumbling, the sound of hundreds of feet stamping on the hard stone floors as they clambered and fought to be the first out of the doors and into the Christmas holidays. Audrey laughed as she recognised the ruddy faces of many of the girls that had been her childhood chums.

“Oh look,” she cried with delight, wagging her finger as she pointed out all the girls from her past. “There’s Cynthia Fitzsimmons. Oh, and that’s Mary Warren, and Joyce Parsons, oh they used to hate each other. Janet Hammond.” As a gargantuan girl emerged from the school, Audrey couldn’t stop her lips from pursing and her nostrils flaring with displeasure. After last winter, she didn’t think that she’d ever be able to look at her old friend, Diana Hodge, or ‘Podge’ as she’d been known then, in the same way again. The woman that had arrived at the Lodge as a ‘gay divorcee’ was nothing reminiscent of the bumbling girl that she had been at school.

Closely following the younger Diana Hodge, was a much smaller girl that brought a whimsical smile to Audrey’s face. Compared to Podge, Marjory Frobisher really did look like a skinny bag of bones. She watched as Marjory skipped beside Diana, before being engulfed in what looked like a bone crushing hug by the larger girl, and then skidded off to greet her parents, all but launching herself at them.

“I’m surprised that Marjory never did herself an injury, the way she used to throw herself at people,” Audrey murmured to herself before feeling a stab of guilt course through her. She’d been unnecessarily cruel to Marjory and no doubt had hurt her friend with her thoughtless words, and said as much as she watched the scene before her. Expecting a reproachful retort on the subject from her grandmother, Audrey was quite surprised when she was only answered with silence. Turning around, Audrey noticed that the ghost’s attention was solely focused on the front door of the school.

Audrey was almost afraid to look, knowing fully well what she would see. A young girl of about nine, her chin held high and her young shoulders already crumbling under the weight of her responsibilities. There would be no loving family to greet the girl this year, or the next for that matter. Audrey watched the little blonde head bob as the girl fought to keep hold of her many bags, whilst looking through the thinning crowd with a healthy frown building across her youthful face.

“Audrey,” Both the past and present turned to look at the person who had called their name.

“Hello Marjory,” the young Audrey cheerfully called back. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen Podge have you? I was hoping to say goodbye before she left.”

Both children took a moment to search, almost as quickly giving up when the efforts were fruitless. “I think she’s already gone, Aud.”

“Never mind, I’ll see her next term I suppose. You off then?”

Marjory nodded, jerking her head in the direction of her parents, who were still trying to catch up with her daughter after she had shot of in a whirlwind of energy. “Just going now, the car’s down the lane.” Frowning, the girl glanced around. “Are you’re parents not coming to get you?”

Audrey winced as she watched her younger self suck in a breath and draw herself up in indignation. “Of course they are, they’re probably just caught up doing something terribly important. They’ll be here.”

“Marjory, I’ve asked you before not to run off like that.” Mrs Frobisher admonished her daughter as she and her husband caught up to them, though her tone was too soft for it to truly be considered a reprimand. Still, Marjory had the good graces to look genuinely remorseful for her actions.

“Sorry mother,” she gasped, worrying her lip and looking just about ready to burst into tears. A smile broke out across her face, however, when Mr Frobisher winked and ruffled her hair. He then turned to smile at Audrey.

“How are you then, Audrey? Are you enjoying school?”

“Very well, thank you Mr Frobisher,” the younger girl answered politely and with great dignity. Her father always told her that she should behave in a respectable manner, which meant grinning like an idiot would be out of the question.

“Are your parents not here yet, dear?” Mrs Frobisher asked with concern clearly written in her eyes. She received another polite smile in response.

“Not yet.”

“Well, can we give you a lift home? I’m sure your parents would be happier to know that you were home safely rather than waiting here all on your own.”

She smiled up at the older woman, a genuine one as opposed to the polite smile that she had performing since birth. Well, in the presence of grown-ups anyway. “It’s very kind, but I’m sure they’ll be here soon. Mummy says that they’re always kept very busy by the work they do in the community.”

Both the adults gave each other a pointed look that was lost on the young girl, but not on Audrey now as she observed the scene. She knew perfectly well what that look meant.

“We’ll wait with you then,” Marjory grinned, plonking her bag down beside Audrey’s. “So that you’re not on your own.”

There was another shared glance between Mr and Mrs Frobisher, however this time it was not lost on the younger Audrey. “No, no, it’s alright,” she informed her friend. “You really don’t have to, they’re probably round the corner right this minute.”

“Are you sure, I don’t mind.”

Another polite smile. It was a wonder her face hadn’t cracked, the number of times she had forced them. “Definitely, I’ll only be waiting a minute.”

It wasn’t until after her friend and her parents had gone, and she was the only one stood waiting that the young girl realised that perhaps this statement wasn’t necessarily true. She watched their retreating figures and for a moment, it looked as though she was about to go chasing after them.

“Go after them,” Audrey snapped at her younger self, frustration building in her chest. “Why don’t you listen, just go with them.”

“There’s no point, my dear,” her grandmother’s voice rang out. “We can’t change what has happened, no matter how much we may wish to.”

“Well I can still try.”

The young Audrey, still oblivious to the squabbling pair, was glancing off into the distance, her shoulders slumping more and more as the minutes ticked by. Eventually, after what seemed like an age, a black vehicle appeared in the distance, steadily travelling down the driveway.

“I knew it,” the girl cried out as the car came to a halt before her. “I told them you were coming.” She shot forward, stumbling on a patch of ice and approached the back door of the car. Before the driver even had a chance to exit the car and do so, she had wrenched the door open, beaming brightly at her parents sat in the back of the Rolls Royce. Only, they weren’t there.

The seats were empty.

With a soft click, the front passenger side opened and a greying man stepped out, the very image of refinement and elegance, however this was not Audrey’s father. He was not even a fforbes-Hamilton. With silent efficiency he stepped forward to claim the cases and place them in the boot of the car.

“Where are they, Brabinger?”

The aging butler looked down at the blonde child, already the very image of her mother. Deep sapphire pools swam with unshed tears, however the girl fought like a lioness to keep them from spilling onto her cheeks. There was a resilient strength behind those eyes and Brabinger could not decide whether it had come from her father, or her maternal grandmother. Perhaps it had come from both however, he privately thought that it was a look that should never have to be bore by a child as young as this.

“I’m afraid that both Sir and Madam have been detained and were unable to collect you, Miss Audrey,” Brabinger informed her. He still held the respectable manner befitting to a man of his position, however there was a distinct softness to his tone that would have been clear to anyone listening. “And so they asked that I come instead.”

“I see,” Audrey’s voice was soft, barely above a whisper. “I suppose they are busy with something terribly important.”

“Indeed, Miss Audrey.” There was the barest hint of a soft smile as he offered his arm to assist her into the car. ”We should begin to head back, I believe that Mrs Beecham has prepared your favourite in honour of your returning home for the holidays. But of course, I can’t be sure as that would ruin the surprise.”

With a soft giggle, the young Audrey gave a determined nod as she accepted his assistance. “Then it will be our secret.” She giggled even more at the grave look she received, but there was still a wistful sadness behind her smile.

“A very wise suggestion, Miss Audrey.”

Audrey felt a tightening in her throat as she watched the scene disappear, melting away as the Rolls Royce disappeared again over the horizon. “I always liked him,” she heard her grandmother say.

“Brabinger?”

The ghost hummed in agreement. “He was always very professional, very respectful, but he was still kind to you. I’m glad you at least had that.”

“Well he was paid well to do so,” Audrey sniffed stiffly, refusing to meet her grandmother’s stare. A shiver ran down her spine and she tried to convince herself that it was caused by the cold.

“Yes, I’m sure that’s why. You must be paying an absolute fortune for his loyalty now.” Before Audrey could retort, Katherine raised her hand and gave a sharp flick of her wrist, her mouth twisted into a harsh line of displeasure. “Perhaps we should move on to a different Christmas.”

The very ground beneath their feat shifted and changed, the snow melted and clouds gathered overhead with the sun fighting to peak through. The building itself remained steadfast, however it began to show subtle signs of its advancing age, paint peeling on a windowsill here, a crack in the wall appearing there. Audrey was unsure of how much time, how many minutes or years, had passed as it eventually seemed to slow and come to a halt once more.

Once again, a hoard of people appeared from thin air, crushing around her but with no awareness of her presence amongst them. It was a strange experience that Audrey could not get used to, having spent her life being someone that people couldn’t help but see and hear.

“Christmas, 1953,” Katherine informed her before she even had a chance to ask. “So I believe.”

It was so similar and yet so different to the scene that she had just witnessed. Once again it showed hoards of children leaving for the holidays, however this time some of the faces were new, and some where the same but had aged several years. In amongst the crush she spotted herself, or rather the shadow of her younger self, chatting to Marjory and Podge quite happily, none of them seemingly in a rush to leave the grounds.

“Oh but you could both come and stay at mine,” Diana Hodge was saying, unwrapping a humbug and popping it into her mouth. They’d been a gift for one of their friends, from an admirer. She had given the sweets to Podge, not really liking them but loath to throw them away.

“Are you sure your parents wouldn’t mind?”

“Well I know mine won’t,” the now teenaged Audrey informed them. “They’re hosting another party this year, so they won’t notice whether I’m there or not.”

“Mine probably wouldn’t mind,” Marjory squeaked out. “But I should ask them, just to be sure.”

“Oh come on, Bone Bag,” Podge huffed, having nearly demolished the small bag of sweets. “It’ll be such fun. We’ll have a sleep over and stay up late, and perhaps we could go riding as well.” The chubby girl gave a slight sequel in excitement, bouncing on her heals. “Daddy’s having a new mare delivered to the stables for my Christmas present. She’s only just been broken in.”

“Mummy breaks in all of the horses at Grantleigh herself,” Audrey drew herself up, giving a haughty toss of her hair as she felt a surge of pride at her friend’s awe filled stares. “She was taught by her mother and she says that one day she’ll show me too.”

“Oh Aud, that’s absolutely terrific,” Podge gasped in delight, accompanied by Marjory’s enthusiastic nodding. In Diana Hodge’s eyes at least, anything to do with horses was absolutely terrific, with the girl being quite mad about them.

“Diana? Diana, where are you? We’re leaving now.”

“Oh, flipping heck, it’s mummy,” Podge cried, hastily tugging her friends in for a bone crushing hug. “I’ll speak to her about it and I’ll ring you after.” She waved, turning on her heels and bounding over to her mother, a rake thin woman who always appeared more bird like than human.

“Poor Podge,” Audrey laughed, watching her friend go.

“Well she does mean well.” Marjory agreed.

“Though I think she has an ulterior motive for inviting us to stay.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” Audrey began, linking her arm with Marjory and leading them away from the crowds. “I hear her mother’s trying to get her on a diet again. I think that she thinks if we’re there, her mother will be more lenient with what she’s allowed to eat.”

The young pair burst out laughing, drawing several glances from those around them.

“What about you Aud?” Marjory said, once they had managed to calm themselves down.

Audrey raised her eyebrow in a way that she would thousands of times as she grew older, however its effect was tempered by the amusement of youth. “No, my mother’s not putting me on a diet this year.”

Marjory rolled her eyes, playfully nudging her friend with her shoulder. “That’s not what I meant. What are you doing for Christmas?”

“Oh. I see. Well, as I said, mummy and daddy are hosting a party on Christmas eve, so I suppose I’ll just go to that.”

“You mean your parents actually let you attend these parties?”

“Of course,” the girl lied, suddenly deciding now would be the best time to start scanning the crowds for her lift home. “Where is Brabinger? He supposed to be picking me up.”

Scurrying after the blue-blooded girl, Marjory glanced up at her with uncertain eyes. “Are your parents not coming to pick you up?”

The present day Audrey recognised the look in the teenage Marjory’s eyes. Pity. She hated it then almost as much as she hated it now.

“No.”

Unbeknownst to the two girls, a sleek Rolls Royce had pulled up just beyond the hordes of people and a mountain of a man unfolded himself from within the car and spotted the pair with relative ease. His blonde hair was just beginning to turn white at the edges, and his darker beard also had flecks of grey streaking through it.

“Bumble bee.” His voice carried easily over the noise, its rough cockney tones easily distinguishable in the given environment.

The young Audrey glanced around in confusion, finally spotting the mystery person in question and abandoned all sense of propriety at the sight of him, abandoning Marjory without a second thought and sprinting through the crowd, beaming brightly. “Grandpa.”

Her grandfather had always been an enormous figure in her past, both figuratively and literally. He had been a towering figure, his bear like frame had dwarfed everyone around him and was matched by an equally unforgettable personality. He was first and foremost a businessman, with his wife once remarking that he could sell a king his own crown, and having been born a pauper in London’s East End, this was where he had developed his recognisable accent. When she had been younger, Audrey had been slightly embarrassed by her grandfather’s common tones, however her grandmother had soon put a stop to that and reprimanded her when she found out.

Audrey turned to look at the spirit of her grandmother as her younger self embraced the man in a furious hug, watching the way the old spirit clenched and unclenched her hands, as though she longed to reach out and touch the memory before her. She’d almost forgotten how the strong woman her grandmother had been, died with her grandfather and left little more than a bitter and broken husk in its place.

“How is my li’le Bumble bee?” It had been a nickname that her grandfather had used for her, coined from her love of honey.

“Very well,” she beamed up at him, her face beginning to ache from smiling so much. “Grandpa, what are you doing here? I thought you weren’t arriving until Saturday?”

Her grandfather laughed, a deep rumbling sound that had never failed to make Audrey smile along with him. “Well, you know what your grandmother is like, impatient ‘til the last. She was gettin’ restless in London so we decided to come down early. Knew you were finishing school today, so we decided to come and surprise you.” There was a mischievous glint in his eye. “But of course we could always go back to London until then…”

“No, no,” Audrey laughed, determinedly ignoring the curious stares they were receiving. “Where’s granny? Is she with you?”

“She is having to fend for herself since her delightful husband decided to go bounding off,” the auburn haired lady appeared through the crowd, accompanied by several hushed whispers, barely audible over the din of noise. Katherine Hartley had been the third daughter of an Earl and Countess and, having married beneath her, she was used to the level of gossip she seemed to be inspired where ever she went. “Your manners are impeccable as always, Albert.”

The burly man let out another belly laugh, eyes twinkling merrily at his wife. “You’re just jealous that our granddaughter said hello to me before you.” He laughed even harder at the scathing glare he received and for a minute, it looked as though Katherine was seriously contemplating sticking her tongue out at him.

“Child,” she muttered under her breath before turning to face her granddaughter. “Audrey, my dear, it’s lovely to see you.” The pair exchanged a kiss on the cheek and it was then that Katherine noticed the individual lurking just at the edge of this scene. “How are you Marjory?”

“V-very well thank you, my lady,” Marjory squeaked, bobbing into a very awkward looking curtsey. She had always been very intimidated by the Hartley matriarch and no matter how many times she tried, Audrey had never managed to convince her that she didn’t need to curtsey as Katherine Hartley, despite all her heirs and graces, was not a part of the royal family.

“Good,” Katherine smiled, turning back to Audrey as Marjory hastily said her goodbyes and scurried off in search of her parents, eager to give her friend some time alone with her grandparents. “Are you ready?”

Audrey’s brow creased as her eyes clouded with confusion. “For what?”

“To go dear.”

“Go where?”

“Back home, girl,” her grandmother chuckled, rolling her eyes.

“Oh,” Audrey’s face cleared as she glanced over the pair’s shoulders. “Is Brabinger already here?”

For a moment the elder couple were silent. “No dear, why would he?”

“Well because Brabinger usually collects me from school. Did he not drive you both?”

Watching the look of horror on her grandparent’s faces, Audrey let out a laugh, earning a withering glare from the spirit of her grandmother. Despite having his licence, Brabinger had never been the most confident driver, and his travels behind the wheel could never be described as anything less than adventurous.

“Blimey, your parents aren’t still letting him drive are they?” Her grandfather roared with genuine shock.

“Albert,” his wife’s tone held a clear warning. She smiled at their granddaughter, though it was quite an unsteady one. “No dear, we came straight from London. Your grandfather drove, we’ve not quite reached the stage where Brabinger is the safer option.” Then she muttered to herself, “Though it’s getting close.”

“Consider me your chauffeur for the day, m’lady.” The girl giggled as her grandfather swept into a mock bow, earning an eye roll from his wife as he accidently knocked into another waiting parent with his grand gesturing.

“I wonder if it is too late to get Brabinger to drive,” she quipped.

Audrey felt her heart constrict as she watched the smile erupt on her younger self’s face, as the happy trio had made their way to the car, with the promise that they would treat her to lunch.

“Somewhere simple,” her grandfather informed them, but knowing him it would be anything but.

“I shall drive,” her grandmother added, ignoring the wide eyed look of mock horror she received. “I can drive perfectly well, Albert, and you know it.”

“Woman, you drive like you ride a horse,” Albert said gravely.

“I’ll have you know that I drove ambulances during the war.”

“Yes and with you behind the wheel it still feels like we’re in one.”

Katherine huffed, linking her arm with the young Audrey, who was miserably failing at trying to hold back her laughter. “I would suggest that we leave him at the side of the road somewhere, but I know if I let him out of my sight for just a moment he’d find some way to get up to mischief.”

“I prefer to think the reason would be that you would miss me too much.” He grinned in response, opening the car door with a flourish and offering to assist her into the vehicle.

The woman paused for a moment before accepting his outstretched hand, her lips twitching as she pretended not to notice that he had opened the passenger side door. “Don’t bet on it, my love.”

Once again the memory faded as Audrey’s younger counter part disappeared into the horizon, albeit under a much more cheery atmosphere. That year had been one of the happier Christmases of her childhood, Audrey seemed to recall. Both Katherine and Albert had made it their mission to make sure that it was a memorable year,  hosting countless parties and events  all of which they had insisted Audrey be invited to, and in the end it had been, but a  small part of Audrey had wondered if part of their reasoning was to wind her father up. The pair had remained at Grantleigh well into the New Year, and despite it not being their home had played hosts alongside her parents and had made anyone they met, whether friend or stranger, feel like a treasured member of the family.

Her grandparents had always had that effect on people, drawing them into their extravagant world with open arms and generosity. She knew now of course, about the darkness that had lurked behind their smiles and shadowed their happiness. It had all been a lie, nothing more than a façade that left a bitter taste in Audrey’s mouth.

“I seem to recall you enjoyed that Christmas very much,” the spirit drew Audrey from her musings and back into reality.

Audrey hummed with disinterest, turning her back on the place where she had spent most of her childhood. “Yes, well I could afford to back then, or rather you could afford to.”

Her grandmother scowled, scrutinizing Audrey with such intensity that for a moment she was sure that the spirit could see past the icy exterior and into her very thoughts. “That’s not what made it a happy Christmas, if we wanted an expensive Christmas then we would have stayed in London.”

“Well you chose to leave London early.” She huffed in response.

“Because we wanted to spend time with you, you foolish girl,” Katherine was now looking at her as though she had grown a second head. A keen observer might have even seen a slight trace of hurt grace her ghostly features.

“I’m sure, but my point still stands.”

Katherine groaned in despair, throwing her hands in the air. “You are completely missing the point,” After a moment, the ghost regained her composure and stepped towards her mortal granddaughter, pale palm outstretched. “Come on, we’re not quite finished. I can see now that I’m going to have to try a different approach with you, stubborn girl.”

“What do you mean a ‘different approach’?” Audrey eyed the pale hand, apprehensively. In response that hand was thrust closer to her.

“I have something else I wish to show you.”

Eventually, she relented, realising that the quickest way to get back to the warm comforts of her bed would be to go along with her grandmother’s plan, whatever it may be. Besides, it couldn’t be that bad, judging by what she had seen already. By this rate she would be back home long before one o’clock, and perhaps she could just pretend to be asleep and skip over the whole two other spirits thing.

“Very well,” she sighed, taking the ghosts hand and feeling the world around them slipping away, the blood rushing in her ears as she disappeared from this place.

Chapter Text

This time at least, she did not land face first into a pile of snow, but rather landed firmly on her feet and hit the ground with such a jarring force that the pain reverberated up through her limbs, causing her teeth to clatter together. “This form of travel was not designed for comfort,” Audrey muttered bitterly, massaging away the painful prickling sensation in her hand caused by the cold grip of the ghost.

“Comfort isn’t really an issue for me, dear,” was the deadpan response she received. “I’m dead.”

“What on earth is this?” Audrey gasped in horror, for the first time taking in her shabby and decaying surroundings. By the look of it, they were stood in the middle of the sitting room of a rather dingy flat, one which had not been afforded the luxury of general maintance in quite some time. It wasn’t that it was unclean, per say, but it was definitely very run down.

“This is someone’s home, Audrey.” Her grandmother replied, clearly seeing something more to this place than Audrey did.

“Well it’s nothing to do with me, so I fail to see how this is relevant.”

There was that knowing smile again, the triumphant gleam in those pale eyes that she had seen hundreds of times when her grandmother was alive but now, in death, they somehow held a more menacing glow to them. “No, you are correct; this place has absolutely nothing to do with you. However I assure you that it is very relevant.”

“I thought you were here to show me memories from my past in the hope of getting me to change my ways,” she quipped sarcastically, hiding her unease as she watched the ghost float to the other side of the room. “You’re not really following the guidelines very well.”

“Patience, Audrey my dear, is a virtue that you really do not possess.”

She huffed, vexed once again by her grandmother’s vagueness and was about to make another retort when she heard a voice filter in from the next room, and the words died in her throat. For a moment she wondered if she had somehow ended up back at the manor, but one look at the squalid surroundings reminded her that she most definitely hadn’t.

“Bedrich? What are you up to?”

It was a voice that over the past year she had come to recognise as well as her own, most particularly for its uniqueness in the English countryside. The accent now was thicker and the words were spoken slowly and with greater hesitation, however the voice undoubtedly belonged to Mrs Pou. With her attention focused solely on the direction of where Mrs Pou’s voice had come from, she was quite startled when she felt a harsh breeze blow straight through her, almost knocking the wind completely out of her.

“What?” She wheezed, trying to catch her breath, tearing her eyes from the doorway to glance down at herself, noticing that a dark haired boy was now running towards what Audrey presumed was the kitchen, his path having cut right through her.

“Hate when that happens,” her grandmother grumbled, following the boy’s trail. “I suppose you get used to it after a while though.”

“B-but he just ran straight through me,” Audrey gasped, trailing after the ghost without any thought.

Katherine paused, glancing back over her shoulder at her granddaughter. With the light shining in just the right way, the ghost almost appeared completely translucent, like nothing more than a fine dust that would blow away in the most gentlest of winds. “How many times do I have to tell you? These are just shadows of things that have passed; they have no conscience nor any awareness of our presence.”

“Well, it’s still not very pleasant having someone walk right through you, I don’t think that I shall ever get used to it.”

“I hope that you never have to,” Katherine whispered, her eyes becoming unfocused and glassy. “It’s so easy to cling on too tightly and become trapped.”

It was like an elastic band being snapped, for Katherine’s strange mood passed as quickly as it had occurred, and her grandmother’s face returned to normal, her eyes sharp and focused as she raised her arm and pointed for Audrey to go ahead. With a determined nod, Audrey did so, ignoring the cold feeling that was rising in her chest.

The kitchen was a slightly more inviting space than the main room had been. It was small and comfortable, the single bulb that hung above the table casting a warming glow that illuminated the tiny space. As far as appliances went, it was very basic, with a small gas stove nestled between a single worktop space and a small ceramic sink. On the other side of the worktop was an old fridge, one that had clearly not been replaced since at least the mid 1930’s. A window was carved in the wall above the sink, and climbing along the wall beside it were three flying porcelain ducks, in pristine condition, that seemed to stick out in the very basic setting.

In the centre of the room was a rectangular wooden table with three chairs around it, however only two of these were occupied. The third was positioned at the head of the table and pulled out slightly, as though someone had just arisen from it. Judging by the way that end was kept clear, however, Audrey guessed that it had not been sat in for quite some time.

Turning to the opposite end of the table, Audrey saw that this was where Mrs Pou was sat, her head bent over whatever task had occupied her attention at the time. However the woman was clearly several decades younger, her face smoother and her hair jet black, with only several strands of grey running through it. Having only ever seen her grey, Audrey was mildly surprised by the lustrously dark colour of the younger Mrs Pou’s hair. She wasn’t sure why, but she had always imagined that the older woman would have had lighter hair, though judging by Richard’s own dark locks, she thought that she probably should have guessed it would have been the same.

And then of course there was Richard himself. She’d seen a few pictures of Richard when he was young courtesy of Mrs Pou, who had confessed that there were not many as they had been too poor to be able to afford a camera of their own. He couldn’t have been any older than about seven or eight and, with a smile, Audrey thought that it must have been one of the few times where Mrs Pou was actually taller than her son. Although much too young to have his signature moustache, he still possessed the dimple in his chin as well as the mischievous twinkle in his eyes that would light up whenever he smiled.

Shaking her head, Audrey turned to look at her grandmother. “But that’s Richard and Mrs Pou.”

The ghost, having moved so that she was stood beside Audrey, smiled at her. “I know.”

“But how do you know?” She cried, gesturing to the oblivious pair. “You’ve never met them before so how could you possibly know who they are?”

Laughter caused her grandmother’s form to ripple. Was it just her, or did the ghost appear to be fading gradually? “Oh come now, my darling. You didn’t think that I wouldn’t check-up on you every now and then?” Her demeanour changed, as she adopted a more serious tone. “Actually, I’ve been at Grantleigh a lot more than you might think.”

Before Audrey could question her further, Katherine pointed for her to watch the scene, effectively and deliberately ending any further conversation. Letting a frustrated sigh out through her nose, Audrey decided to look to see exactly what all the fuss was about.

“Mama, why can’t I use the grown up knife like you?” Richard asked, and Audrey felt a soft smile spread across her lips as she realised that he had a slight lisp when he spoke.

Mrs Pou did not look up from her chopping when she responded. “Because I don’t want you to cut your fingers, Bedrich.”

“But won’t you cut your fingers too?”

“No,” she laughed softly and put down her knife, then captured Richard’s tiny hand in her own and pressed a kiss to each digit. “And your fingers are much more precious than mine.”

After a moment Mrs Pou let go of her son’s hand and returned to her task, picking up the chopping board and using the knife to scrape the sliced carrots into the large pot that was sat on the table before her. Once this was done, she arose and picked up the pot, which appeared to be a similar size to the woman, and placed it on the stove, giving the warming liquid a series of brisk stirs.

“Mama?” She hummed in acknowledgement of her son without turning around. “Why do we have no decorations, like the other houses?”

Audrey watched as still the woman refused to turn to her son, though there was a distinct tensing of her shoulders that was clear to see. “Well, there has just not been the time to do them.” Mrs Pou’s voice was faint, a barely concealed tremor behind her words. It was a lie, but one that the boy fortunately did not seem to pick up on. And besides, it was Christmas Eve and so would be much too late to go out and buy any decorations. Not that she could afford them anyway.

Bouncing in his seat, the boy gave a slight giggle, excitement lighting up his young features as he quickly clamped his hands across his mouth in order to silence himself. It was enough to draw a suspicious glance from his mother, and Audrey recognised that gleam in his eyes well enough to know that Richard was planning something.

“What have you been up to?” Mrs Pou questioned him, narrowing her eyes and wagging her finger challengingly at him.

“Me?” Audrey almost laughed aloud at the boy’s innocent expression. It was curious to see so much of the man that this young boy would grow into.

“Not so much the villainous cad you expected him to be,” her grandmother smirked, reading the emotions that flitted across the young woman’s face with ease.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she sniffed haughtily.

“Yes, you. Come on, out with it.”

They young boy grinned, jumping up from his chair, and gesturing for his mother to wait where she was. “I have a surprise for you.”

“For me?” Mrs Pou clutched a hand to her chest, her eyes suddenly glistening.

Richard nodded enthusiastically, already scurrying out of the room. “Close your eyes, and don’t peek.”

Chuckling softly, she shook her head and did as her son had instructed. A broader smile erupted across her face as she heard him shout “You’re still not peeking are you?”

There was a lot of muttering and huffing from the other room and, after a particularly loud crash, Audrey’s curiosity reached breaking point so she decided to see what exactly the young boy was up to. Her progress, however, was halted by her grandmother’s light touch upon her arm.

“Not yet.”

“Why not,” Audrey huffed, settling back on her heels with some reluctance. “It’s not like they will see me.”

“No,” Katherine conceded, that knowing smile making an appearance once again. “But you’ll ruin the surprise.”

“Oh, really.”

“Alright, you can come in.”

Shaking her head once again, Mrs Pou opened her eyes and stood up, making her way to the sitting room, her movements closely followed by the two invisible figures behind her. As she entered, she gasped in surprise at the sight of her young son, stood proudly beside the surprise he had spent hours concocting in secret, all in preparation for this moment.

“What on earth is that?” Audrey gasped in horror.

“It’s a Christmas tree,” Richard informed his mother. “Well, as near to one as I could get. I didn’t have enough to buy one but the stall owner said I could have any of the scraps I wanted.”

“It is beautiful,” Mrs Pou whispered, coming over to inspect his work more closely. If truth be told, it was a bit of an eyesore. Twigs and bits of brushwood had been tied to the handle of an old broom in such a way that it broadened at the bottom, much like a Christmas tree ought to. There were bits of old string that held it all together, which created an effect similar to a more subdued stream of tinsel, however for all its rough edges and haphazard assembly, Mrs Pou loved it for the simple reason that it was made by her son.

“It’s not got any decorations though,” Richard added thoughtfully, a healthy frown building across his small features as he tried to consider a solution to this problem.

“Ah,” Mrs Pou cried, an idea springing into her head. She left the room, returning a few moments later with her arms full of oranges and scraps of old silver paper. “We will simply have to make our own decorations,” she informed her son, leaning closer to him and narrowing her eyes. “And they will be much better than any of that shop brought rubbish.”

The boy giggled with delight and took a handful of oranges from her mother’s arms. They spent the rest of the evening tearing the paper and orange skins into strips, hanging them on the tree and nibbling on the orange segments that were left over. Mrs Pou entertained her son by peeling the oranges into spirals, trying to teach his little fingers to do the same. A feeling of sadness washed over Audrey as she watched the young Richard hang their homemade decorations on the tree, his mother watching with clear pride and love. Audrey had never thought to have children, had never really thought not to have them either, but it was something that had been expected of her and it had hurt the more time that had passed, with the nursery at Grantleigh remaining as barren as she so clearly was. Or at least that was what Marton had told her, during one of their more heated arguments.

Eventually, she had buried the pain under a fresh layer of paint and the nursery had become another guest room, waiting to be filled by the endless stream of callers in her lonely, lonely world.

“What are you thinking?” Her grandmother’s voice cut through her musings, however she refused to surrender her gaze from the scene before her. Perhaps if things had been different, she would have had a series of little dark haired boys. She would have liked that, she thinks, and perhaps a girl she could have taught to break in the horses on the estate.

“They’re hanging bits of orange peel and silver paper on a broom stick with twigs stuck to it,” she replied simply, devoid of any emotion.

The spirit gave a breathy laugh. “You always were terrifyingly observant.”

“There,” Mrs Pou declared, wrapping her arm around her son and pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. “Now we have a proper Christmas tree.”

Richard smiled up at his mother. “Ready for when papa gets home.”

It was as though the very air was sucked from the room, as a distinct chill settled over all the occupants and this time was not caused by the presence of a spirit. Mrs Pou blinked rapidly, staring at her son. “Yes,” she whispered faintly, her breath catching in her suddenly tightening throat.

“When is papa coming back?”

“I don’t know, Bedrich.” Mrs Pou was grateful that the boy had turned away from her, his attention focused on their tree and fortunately not on her despair.

“Why did he have to go?” Richard continued, confusion overriding anything else, such as hurt, in his voice.

Mrs Pou pressed another fierce kiss to his head and clung tightly to him, as though she were afraid that he too would disappear before her very eyes. “Your father he…he had to help God.”

“Oh,” the boy nodded as though this made perfect sense to him. “But he’ll be back for Christmas? Everyone else gets Christmas day off.”

“No, I’m afraid he won’t be back for Christmas day,” she crouched down, taking his face in her hands and holding his gaze levelly. “But he would not wish for you to be sad, he would want to see you smile. We will all be together again, someday. Now,” Mrs Pou pushed herself up again and directed her son towards the kitchen. “You will go and eat you supper, and then straight to bed. Otherwise Father Christmas will not bring any presents for you.”

With a gasp, Richard sprinted towards the kitchen. Upsetting his mother was bad enough, but to upset Father Christmas as well would be unthinkable.

After a moment, Audrey sighed and turned back towards her grandmother. “You know, you’re not doing a very good job.”

“What do you mean?”

“This is hardly changing my mind about Christmas you know.”

Her grandmother huffed, heading back towards the kitchen where the shadows of Richard and Mrs Pou were now tucking into a bowl of some unidentifiable slop. Carrot stew, she’d find out years later from one of Mrs Pou’s countless retellings of their poorest Christmas. “I am trying to show you that money does not always bring happiness.”

“Rubbish,” Audrey snapped, jerking her head towards Mrs Pou. “Look at her, I’ve never seen anyone look so miserable.” The woman looked drawn and thin, with dark circles under her watery and bloodshot eyes.

“She’s just lost her husband, Audrey,” her grandmother snarled frostily. “He was killed when an unexploded bomb went off. And yet despite not having very much in the way of money, she has tried to make this an enjoyable Christmas for her son, regardless of what they may or may not have.”

Audrey paused for a moment, her chest tightening with apprehension. “How do you know how Richard’s father died?”

“I’m sorry?” Katherine blinked, clearly taken aback.

“Richard never told me how his father died,” she stuttered, her hand trembling uncontrollably as she pointed to the young boy. For the first time she was beginning to doubt if this truly was nothing more than a dream. “If he never told me, then how do you know?”

A sad smile flitted across the ghosts face. “I told you that I’d been at Grantleigh a lot more than you thought.”

“B-but it still doesn’t change the fact that they’ve-“

“Got nothing? That they’re poor?” Katherine supplied, and it took a moment for Audrey to realise that she was mocking her. “My God, when you talk like that, it’s like having a conversation with your father.”

“He was never left wanting for anything,” Audrey said stubbornly. This wasn’t completely true, however that thought was too painful for her to dwell on, even after all these years.

“Yes because money can buy you anything,” the ghost spat, her eyes crazed and not completely human as they settled on Audrey. “But of course, nothing went wrong in your life until you no longer had any money, did it?”

Audrey felt a shiver run down her spine as dread settled heavy in the pit of her stomach. She watched as the shade of her grandmother turned on her heel and stormed towards the front door of the flat, sailing straight through it without another word.

“Where are you going?” Audrey cried, taking a hesitant step forward. “You can’t just leave me here, how am I supposed to get back?”

She almost jumped out of her skin as the door swung open with such a violent force that it crashed into the wall, bouncing off of it several times. For a moment she worried that Mrs Pou and Richard, shadows or not, would have heard the commotion and glanced around wildly as she expected to see them standing there, having come to see what had caused all the noise and finding her stood there. When they did not appear, she took several calming breaths, and then began to approach the door with halting steps.

From somewhere beyond it, she could make out the sounds of faint music and laughter and quickly realised that her grandmother had not abandoned her, but rather had lined up another Christmas of old to show her.

“You know it’s awfully childish to storm off every time something doesn’t go your way,” she called out as she marched through the doorway. She came to a sudden halt when she found herself faced once again with the oversized garland, which had hung over the fireplace in the Old Lodge. Only now it didn’t appear quite so oversized, and the fireplace was not the tiny thing that belonged in the Lodge.

“Well you wanted to be back at the Manor,” Audrey muttered quietly to herself, as she wandered around the library of Grantleigh Manor, which was even furnished with her own possessions once again and was inconspicuous in the absence of her grandmother.

“I don’t know what you’re hoping to achieve, but I’ll have you know that I enjoyed every Christmas that I spent here at Grantleigh,” she exclaimed, hoping to draw the spirit out from wherever she was hiding. She wasn’t lying in her statement, not really anyway. It was true that she had enjoyed Christmas at the Manor for the most part. Of course, there had been the odd one that hadn’t been overly cheerful, and as she thought she remembered several where she had literally counted down the days until the New Year.

With a lethargic boredom, Audrey wandered over towards the telephone table where she always kept her five year diary, hoping to shed some light on the mystery of not so much where she was, but when. However, as her fingers glided effortlessly through the book without so much as stirring a page, she realised with irritation that it wasn’t just people that she was unable to interact with.

“Takes a bit of practice, dear,” she heard the disembodied voice of her grandmother, however the ghost in question was still yet to make an appearance.

From the other side of the room, she heard the door open and shut. Fully expecting it to be her grandmother, returning from wherever it was in the ether that she had stormed off to, Audrey spun around poised and ready to read the ghost the riot act.

Instead of being faced with the older woman, she was greeted by the sight of herself, albeit roughly a decade younger than she currently was. And to make matters worse, she wasn’t alone. Judging by the look of it, she must have been sent to a Christmas in the early 70’s. Well at least this one has something to do with me, she thought bitterly and despite her reservations, she found herself watching the couple, who were completely oblivious to her presence.

“I think you’d better explain yourself, old girl,” Marton fforbes-Hamilton puffed out his chest, glaring at his younger wife. Admittedly the age gap wasn’t enormous, barely a decade in fact, and had been nothing really when compared with that of her own parents, however sometimes she couldn’t help but feel that it had contributed to the failing of her marriage. Apart from Grantleigh, they’d had nothing in common.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the younger Audrey sniffed, settling herself down on one of the settees and resting her arm casually along the back of it. “There is nothing to explain.”

“Nothing to explain?” he guffawed, moving to stand beside the fireplace, his already sparse upper lip pulled back into a sneer. “I find you in a cupboard with a man and you tell me that there’s ‘nothing to explain’.”

The woman rolled her eyes, nostrils flaring with irritation. “Oh for heaven’s sake Marton, we were playing Sardines, it’s what you do in Sardines.” She shrugged a shoulder, seemingly without any concern. “And besides, it was the Butler’s Pantry, not a cupboard.”

“It doesn’t matter where it was; he still had your lipstick on his face.”

“Ah,” she paused, glancing up at him. “Look, if you must know I thought he was you, alright?”

If anything, this seemed to infuriate her husband even more. “A likely story.”

Looking back, Audrey had to admit that this did seem a questionable excuse. With a waistline that had increased almost as quickly as his hairline receded, she couldn’t deny that Marton fforbes-Hamilton had not been the most attractive of men in life. Neither, as it turned out, had been the mystery man in the cupboard, which was probably how she had managed to confuse them. Still, her past-self persisted with a determination that would have been admirable in any other circumstance.

“It’s true,” she huffed. “I’m married to you, aren’t I? So it would stand to reason that I must have found you attractive at some time.”

He leaned forward, narrowing his piggy eyes in her direction. “Yes, and I’m sure the fact that I stood to inherited Grantleigh made me so much more attractive in your eyes.”

There was a flash of hurt in the lady of the Manor’s eyes, however she quickly concealed it beneath a cool exterior. “Perhaps then we should discuss your… indiscretions, shall we call them, with all those young girls that accompany you in your clubs in London.”

It had become an unspoken rule between the two that they did not discuss Marton’s infidelities. However, like with most unspoken things, it had become something that they flung in each other’s faces during every argument, when they wanted to inflict pain, until it had eventually got to the point where the pair would not speak to one another unless they were arguing. It hadn’t always been like that. In the beginning it had been…not necessarily nice, but they had been on more amicable terms.

A sneer curled back the flabby skin of Marton’s upper lip, a look which did nothing to compliment his features. “Well can you blame me? When my wife is inviting half of Somerset into the cupboard for a quick snog.”

“It was the butler’s pantry,” his wife snapped. “And I haven’t invited anyone anywhere. As I seem to recall, you suggested that we play Sardines in the first place.”

“I should have known, of course,” he huffed, continuing as though Audrey hadn’t spoken at all. He’d developed a habit of doing this, to the point where it had been easier just to not talk in the first place. “Your father warned me.”

“Warned you about what?”

Again, he fixed his wife with a scrutinising glare and faltered only slightly under the frosty scowl which he received in response, which had dissolved many a man both before and after him. After all, he had been on the receiving end for many years now, though it never seemed to lose any of its potency. “He always said you had more Hartley in you than was good for you.”

Watching as her younger self inhaled slowly, Audrey realised that she remembered this Christmas distinctly. It had been the year that her maternal grandmother had passed away, a matter of weeks before Christmas. She’d been the only one left, with her other grandparents and even her parents having passed away some years before, leaving Audrey feeling well and truly alone. She’d fought long and hard to find a doctor to cure her grandmother, however in the end there had been no sum of money that could have…

“Oh, very good,” Audrey muttered darkly, turning her attention back to her indignant shadow.

“I take that as a compliment,” she replied haughtily, turning her face away from her husband.

“I can’t possibly imagine why.”

Still Audrey refused to look at him, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much his remark had affected her. She’d always been very fond of the Hartley side of her family and didn’t like to hear ill spoken of them, especially by her husband. “You shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, you know.”

Marton barked out a laugh, a horrible braying sound that grated Audrey, both past and present. “Oh please, they caused nothing but scandals. Your grandparents were the worst of course. It’s a sign of bad breeding, why even that uncle of yours-“

“That’s enough,” his wife snarled, jumping to her feet. She glided angrily across the room, the heals of her shoes reverberating with the force of her steps. For a moment it appeared that she had discovered that they had an audience, as she headed in the direction of her present day self. However, after taking a moment to compose herself, she turned back to Marton and was still seemingly oblivious to the other presence, to which her future-self heaved a sigh of relief. “Arnold called earlier today.”

“Oh?” Marton rummaged in his pockets and produced a packet of cigarettes, before drawing one to his lips and lighting it. He knew perfectly well that Audrey was deliberately changing the subject, however he decided to let it slide this once. It was Christmas after all. “I would think that he’d have better things to do on Christmas Day.”

“He said that he wants to talk to you about the Estate, before the New Year,” Audrey persisted. “It sounded rather urgent.”

A thick cloud of smoke billowed out from the cheap cigarette, as the lord of the Manor continued to puff persistently. It wasn’t his usual brand, Audrey noticed. “Little details, old girl, nothing for you to worry about.” It was the same answer she always received. Marton had never wanted to bother her with the technicalities, or rather he had perhaps never thought her capable of understanding them. In their circles, wives were supposed to be like wallpaper and not for the first time, Audrey wondered if they had ever really known each other at all.

The young lady of the Manor glanced down and wetted her lips, drumming her fingers against her thigh. “Willy said that he’d seen you up at the club last week, and you’d been in a poker game.” When she received no reply, she began to fear the worst. “How much did you lose?”

“Little details, old girl.” He repeated, apparently more interested in the cigarette he was smoking.

“Marton…”

“Pocket money, old thing,” Marton waved his hand nonchalantly. “Now, your guests will be wondering where you’ve got to, you should go and see to them.” And that was that. Knowing that she would be unlikely to receive any answers from her husband, Audrey made to return to the party, who were no doubt by now speculating and gossiping over what had caused their hosts’ latest row. She should go and attempt to control the damage, however she couldn’t leave without securing at least one answer.

“You will ring Arnold back, won’t you?”

“Of course,” Marton grumbled, already turning to prepare himself a drink and draining the glass in one gulp. After a second’s contemplation, he poured himself another.

“Before New Year’s?”

“YES, Audrey.”

Not completely convinced by the bland answer she received, Audrey nodded and left the room, knowing that they’d left their guests unsupervised for far too long.

“He never rang him back, you know.”

With a long suffering sigh, the present day Audrey turned her back on the memory, unable to bear the disappointment she felt as she looked at her now deceased husband. It hadn’t been the lowest point in their marriage, but it was certainly when Audrey had started to believe that their relationship was over. “I guessed as much. He never did have much patience for figures; not much of a head for business. Though, I suppose neither of us really did.” After a pause, she added, “Perhaps if we’d made a few wiser investments.”

“It wouldn’t have made much of a difference,” the ghost quipped. “He still would have found some filly to waste it on, and not just the four legged kind.”

“Are you finished?” Audrey huffed, tapping her toe in frustration.

Her grandmother gave her an impish smile in response. “Well I don’t know dear, that’s up to you.”

“You make it sound as though Marton had a problem with money.” Within her, Audrey felt all the pent up anger and hurt bubbling to the surface. She felt anger at her grandmother, Marton, her parents and even Richard. She was angry at the injustice of it all.

“Didn’t he? I left you a small fortune in my will, and your lout of a husband managed to squander the whole lot in less than two years.”

It was true that the money she had been left by her grandparents should have been enough to keep her and her descendants in relative comfort for many years, however Marton had grand ideas of what being lord of the Manor should entail, and it consisted of more play than work. In hindsight, it was nothing short of a miracle that they had held on for as long as they did, and not lost the manor years before.

“I thought money wasn’t everything,” Audrey responded, frostily.

Katherine let out a slow breath, her entire form rippling and fluttering, occasionally completely disappearing from view. “Now listen to me,-.”

“No, you listen to me,” she snapped, cutting of her grandmother. “You don’t understand what it’s like, you’ve always been wealthy. You’ve never been without.”

“And you think that was what made me happy?” Katherine snarled back. “I suffered in many other ways, Audrey, ways that I hope you never have to experience, and not once did having money make the pain easier to bare.”

Audrey scoffed, rolling her eyes as she folded her arms across her chest. “Yes and we all know your suffering. Is that it then? Why you’re still here? Hoping to save me from a similar fate? Can’t move on until you do? Well you’re too late for that. I couldn’t possibly be more miserable if I tried, so it looks like we’re both stuck as we are.”

Her grandmother’s anger was quickly replaced by horror and she was sure that she saw, if it was possible, the ghost grow several shades whiter. “You insist on pushing those that care about you away, Audrey, but it won’t change what has happened.”

“Well I guess it runs in the family, doesn’t it? Hurting the people we care about. Well, at least I can say that I was faithful to my husband.” Audrey fought to push the words past the lump in her throat. Tears glistened in her eyes, and when she received no reply from the ghost before her, she knew that she’d gone too far. It was a cruel thing to say, but she really couldn’t be bothered to care at this point and besides, there was no taking it back now. “How could you have done that to grandpa?”

The spirit remained silent, lost in memories of a life lost long ago. “He understood that I could never be his in the way he wanted. But that didn’t mean that I loved him any less.”

“You did nothing but lie,” Audrey scoffed.

“I had to protect you from the truth. Your mother wouldn’t have understood, your father certainly wouldn’t have, and it would have ruined her to know…”

“That none of your children belonged to your husband?”

There was a pause, the weight of which caused Audrey to tremble uncontrollably. It had never been said aloud, never spoken of by her grandparents, and Audrey had only discovered the truth after her grandmother had passed away and she had been sorting through the woman’s things. “Yes.”

“And is that why you’re still here?”

Another pause. “No.”

“Send me home,” Audrey hissed, turning her head as she swiped furiously at her eyes. If possible, she felt even more wretched than before and she was so angry; angry at her grandmother for the lies she told and angry at herself for ousting them.

“Audrey, please, listen to me,”

“I said that I would like to go home now,” she replied stubbornly. “If you would be so kind.”

There was nothing but silence, until finally her grandmother sighed and her form began to flicker as she slowly faded away, their surroundings melting away with her. A brilliant white light flooded Audrey’s vision and she watched it for as long as she was able, until it grew so bright that when she squeezed her eyes shut, even then the light still burned through her lids.

“You have every right to be angry at the past, Audrey,” she heard her grandmother whisper. “But it won’t change what has happened. You must let it go; don’t sacrifice your future by holding on to your hurt.”

Gritting her teeth, Audrey squeezed her eyes shut more tightly, hoping that it would block out the ghost enough to make her disappear.

“Oh yes, the next ghost shall appear when the clock strikes two. Almost forgot that bit.”

Audrey huffed, wondering if it was possible to roll your eyes whilst they were shut.

“Goodbye my dear.”

And just like that the light vanished, plunging Audrey into complete darkness. She waited for a few seconds before opening her eyes, slowly inhaling and exhaling through her nose to calm her rapidly beating heart. Once her eyes had adjusted the surrounding darkness, Audrey recognised her surroundings instantly. It was the living room at the Old Lodge. She was home, and the spectre of Katherine Hartley was nowhere in sight.

“Granny?” She breathed, hesitantly glancing around her. When she was greeted by nothing but the sound of silence, she let out a shaky breath, collapsing down onto the sofa with her head in her hands as she laughed at her own foolishness.

“That’s the last time I ever have that much scotch again,” she informed the bottle sat on top of the drinks cabinet. With a sigh, she sank back into the settee and curled her feet up beneath herself, before pulling the thick blanket more firmly around her. “So much for a fur coat,” she muttered sleepily.

She only intended to sit for a few moments, and then return to bed for some much needed sleep, however as the minutes ticked by, she found herself sinking further and further into the cushioned settee and before long she had begun to drift off to sleep once again.

Chapter Text

After a restless slumber, Audrey was awoken once again by the sound of the old grandfather clock, chiming in the hall. Her neck was stiff and her back ached from having fallen asleep in such an awkward position on the settee. Every joint creaked and protested as she moved to sit up, stretching in the hope of elevating the pain of her tense muscles.  

“Give you a back rub if you like?”

Audrey chuckled softly at the deep voice, an indulgent smile playing across her features as she lost herself in nostalgia. The smile froze on her face, her eyes widening with horror as she realised that there was actually someone in the house with her, in this very room with her. In a flash she was on her feet, all previous aches and stiffness long forgotten as she spun around to face the intruder.

“Marton?” She cried, barely keeping her jaw from dropping in shock. The universe, she decided, had a very warped sense of humour.

It was a surreal experience for Audrey, for it was one thing seeing her grandmother again, but it felt completely different now. By comparison, Marton hadn’t been gone that long and seeing her husband stood in her drawing room as bold as brass, it was almost too easy to imagine that the last couple of years had been nothing more than a bad dream.

And that made her waking reality even more painful.

“Hello, old girl,” Marton laughed, loudly. As in life, Marton was exceedingly loud and often obnoxious in spirit, which clearly had not been dampened by death. “Been some time.”

“What are you doing here?” She was glad for the woollen blanket that she had wrapped around herself before she’d fallen asleep, feeling oddly exposed as she stood in her nightdress before the ghost of her dead husband.

The ghost laughed again, that loud braying sound that Audrey realised she must have found endearing at some point, but couldn’t possibly remember why now. “As to the point as ever, eh? Had hoped that absence might have mellowed you a bit.” He surveyed his surroundings, seemingly for the first time, and tutted under his breath. “Place is looking a bit drab, isn’t it?”

“I didn’t feel like decorating. I haven’t exactly had much cause for celebration.” For a moment, she seriously considered just going back to bed. Visitations be damned. “And besides,” she continued. “There’s only so much one can do in a shoe box this size until it becomes overwhelming.”

“Meant nothing by it, old girl, just that you’ve seemed to let things go a bit this year.”

“Look Marton,” Audrey began and then abruptly stopped. Letting out a long sigh, she shook her head at her own density. “Don’t tell me you’re my second spirit of the night?”

“That I am,” he confirmed, reclining himself across the settee without waiting for an invitation and propping his feet up on top of the coffee table. Audrey fought the urge to kick them off, not that she was sure that this would have had much effect. “Was your grandmother’s idea actually.”

“Granny Hartley?” Audrey raised a brow at the nod of confirmation she received. “But she couldn’t stand you.” In fact, they went out of their way to ignore each other in life. She had often, and loudly, announced that being in the same county as him gave her much the same reaction as ingesting a month old prawn. What was she up to?

Marton examined his nails, apparently unconcerned by this. “Yes, and still does by all accounts. The old bat thought it would be a good idea, actually. Said something about if anything would make you grateful for your life now, then it would be me.”

Laughing heartily at the veiled jab, Audrey shook her head and perched herself on the arm rest of the chair opposite the spectre. “Yes, that does sound like granny,” she chuckled.  Glancing up from beneath her brows, Audrey adopted a more serious tone. “You could have said no.”

“Then I really wouldn’t get a moment to rest in peace,” Marton muttered darkly. He glanced over as he heard his wife chortle softly. “And besides, I thought it might be a nice idea to stop by and see how you were doing. Have a catch up, as it were.”

Again, Audrey raised a brow at this. “Why? You were never that bothered about ‘having a catch up’ when you were alive.”

“Audrey, old girl,” Marton moaned, sending her an imploring look. “Can’t we let bygones be just that?”

Audrey hummed, though it was in anything but agreement. There was a lot she wanted to say, however her desire to get these visitations over with trumped this and so she remained silent. “Well you’ve done your pleasantries, now perhaps we could get on with the rest of the night?”

“Ah yes,” Marton cried, jumping up from his seat. “We have a deadline to meet.”

Following his suit, albeit at a more leisurely pace, Audrey rose to stand beside him. “Well, I was more thinking the sooner we get this over with, the sooner I can actually get back to bed.”

“Come now, old girl, you might enjoy yourself. Be just like the good old days.”

“Yes,” Audrey muttered, watching with some trepidation as the spirit opened the French windows, leading out onto the terrace, and stepped through them. She pulled the blanket more tightly around herself. “That’s what worries me.”

Inhaling deeply, Audrey held this breath in her chest, steeling herself as she stepped through the doorway and into the unknown for the second time that night.