Haunted Fields (11 page)

As he reached the final photo he bunched them all together and chucked them down on the sleeping bag. Other keepsakes followed – fridge magnets, a watch, a sixteenth birthday card, a condom. Then, right at the bottom of the box, Freddie struck gold – neatly folded, handwritten letters. It was so wrong, it really was, but he couldn't help but wonder what the letters contained. He unfolded the first and began reading:

Dear Noel,

I can't stop thinking about you, about us. I know I shouldn't, I know it's wrong. You're with her but I so, so desperately want you to be with me. There – I've said it now! I know she's my friend and that it would hurt her if she knew I had feelings for you but I can't hold them in any longer. I need you. What if we were meant to be together? What if you've chosen the wrong girl? What if you're THE ONE? Meet me down by the beck tomorrow at midday. Please. I'll be waiting.

Yours,

Love Dizzy xxx

He picked his way through the remaining letters – eight in all, all signed
Dizzy
, all similar in content. But who was Dizzy? She wasn't Noel's girlfriend – that was for sure! Though she clearly wanted to be. This Dizzy sounded like a stalker. Why had Noel kept them? Had he been seeing this girl too? He stuffed everything back into the box, returning it to the sleeping bag. This box of keepsakes could only have come from one place – the manor! How had the mysterious squatter come about it, and why?

He leaned back, closing his eyes. What were his options? Should he tell someone about this Vincent, or whoever the squatter was? But then something occurred to him, a moment of euphoria he so often associated with alcohol. He nodded.
Of course! Of course!
His nodding became more enthusiastic.
Of course!
This was a camp for one. One sleeping bag. One pillow. One rucksack. A stranger haunted this village, and maybe, just maybe, this was his lair!

17

He'd been spotted too many times already. People were beginning to notice, to talk. He walked around the back of the building as quietly as he could, mindful of the gravel. Every few seconds he'd glance over his shoulder, vigilant. He knew he had to be more careful. It wasn't time to go back, not yet. There was still so much he wanted to see, so much to discover.

He peeked in through the kitchen window. Nothing. Gaining entrance to the manor was easy enough. These country folk seemed to leave more doors unlocked than locked. It was mad really. He desperately wanted to see Mr Davidson again. Hopefully he'd receive a warmer welcome this time, though – it hadn't been his intention to shock the poor bloke. He'd looked close enough to death as it was, another fright might just finish him off! He'd somehow slept through the first visit, when he'd found the box full of photos and letters.

It appeared the lady of the manor was out, as per!

He stayed close to the wall, scratching the back of his hooded head. He'd try the back door, failing that he'd risk the front. This time he'd make an attempt at conversation, explain what he knew, fill in a few of the blanks.

‘Hello?' he heard Ursula yell. ‘Is someone there?'

He froze.
Damn!
he thought. This wasn't part of the plan. Being seen was bad enough, but being seen at the manor caused its own set of problems. He didn't need Ursula increasing security. Should he run? Her feet crunched through the gravel. She was heading straight for him.

But why should he run? He'd had enough of the secrets, enough of the lies. It was time to confront the truth. He turned to face her. She stopped, five metres away.

‘The police are on their way.'

‘Lies,' he whispered.

‘Who are you?' she demanded. ‘Remove your hood. Don't you have any respect?'

‘As you wish.'

He reached up and lowered his hood. Ursula's took a step back, her eyes widening.

‘No!' she said, clutching her chest. ‘No! It cannot be! I went to your funeral. I watched them lower your coffin. You're dead – dead!'

Freddie went back downstairs to the party; whoever had been squatting here wouldn't be returning anytime soon. A fire crackled in the living room's grate, the remaining partygoers warming themselves in a semi-circle in front of the hearth. A
fire
! In June? thought Freddie. This was crazy!

The party seemed to be winding down somewhat, many filtering away since his departure. As he crept back into the room heads turned, and he felt for a moment as if he had been the topic of conversation. But then he remembered where he was, and how terrified they all were. One head that didn't turn was Jess's, her face stuffed deep into Lucas' shoulder. She'd flaked out.

As he neared the group Mike and Scarlett shuffled apart.

‘How's tricks?' said Mike, offering him a can of Carling as he squeezed in between them.

He nodded, focusing on the fire, ensuring he kept his gaze well away from the right-hand side of the room. The flames brought back images of the arson attack on the barn.
What should he do about the camp he'd discovered upstairs?
he wondered. Alert the police? Come back tomorrow and stake the place out, confront the squatter himself? It was a decision best made completely sober.

‘Hey, Mike,' he said, catching a glimpse of something familiar amongst the flames, something that really shouldn't have been there. ‘You're not burning what I think you are, are you?'

‘You didn't think we'd gone outside and collected up fallen branches, did you?'

They were burning floorboards! Half a board, its nails still poking out, tumbled from the grate. It landed on the hearth with a thud, still on fire.

Had they committed criminal damage as well now?
This party's immense!
Standard house party etiquette just didn't apply; rules non-existent. So what if they made a mess? Who cared, really, if a house that'd been empty longer than any of them had been alive, got smashed up a bit? At least they'd found a use for the place, restored some character to it.

‘I have an idea,' Lucas said, Jess's head lolling as he shifted under her weight. ‘What about a game of Never Have I Ever?'

‘Yesss!' said Timmy.

He'd played this game before, many times. He was well versed in using it to stitch Ricky right up (the favour always returned) – easily done when you know each other's secrets. It would be a little trickier here though, amongst people he'd only just begun to get to know, but he'd give it a shot.

‘I'll start,' said Rachel, giggling, her body quivering in anticipation. ‘It's a shame Jess isn't awake, she'd enjoy this one… Ok, here goes… Never have I ever… kissed Jess.'

Oh great!
thought Freddie.
Talk of easing everyone into the game… No! Let's get straight to the day's major talking point – Ravenby's very own love triangle!
Freddie looked on as Lucas raised a bottle of beer to his lips and knocked back all that remained. He glanced around at the rest of the group – no one else drank, though several sets of eyes stared back at him.

‘What?'

‘Drink up, Freddie,' Rachel said.

This isn't fair!
Lucas was sat just a bottle's throw away, with Jess snoring into his shoulder. No matter how much he wanted something to happen between them, it couldn't now. It was clear she wanted Lucas, not him. Why couldn't Rachel leave it be?

‘But I haven't.'

‘
Whatever
… if you're not going to play fairly…'

‘It's the truth!'

‘Ok, ok,' said Mike, sniggering. ‘Scarlett next.'

‘Hmm…' Scarlett scanned the room, clearly searching for a target. What secrets did she know? Who would she embarrass? Her eyes locked onto Mike. ‘Never have I ever… cheated on my girlfriend.'

‘Typical Scarlett,' Mike said, swigging from his can of lager. ‘You need to start coming up with something a bit more original. It's getting tiring.'

So Mike and Scarlett had dated? Awkward!
thought Freddie. This game never failed to cause at least one big dispute. What other secrets could be coaxed out with it? Kids back home would often use the game to highlight crazy, daring, or stupid things either they or their friends had done – but this edition had started very personal. Freddie eyed the group. A lad on the far left of the semi-circle, his face flushing crimson, took a sip.

‘I'll never tire of reminding you what a pig you were, Mike,'

‘Changing the subject…' Mike said. ‘You next, Freddie.'

Hmm. It's time for a change in direction
, thought Freddie. Things were getting way too personal. But what to say? Something funny? Something crazy?
Think! Come on, think!
And then he had an idea. What about…? No. It would be too much, especially for these superstitious freaks.
Still… It would spice things up a little…
Screw it, he'd go for it!

‘Ok. Never…' he said, knowing he wasn't technically lying, because he didn't believe in such things, ‘…have I ever seen the ghost of Noel Davidson.'

‘Freddie!' someone gasped.

He glanced around the room, everyone else doing the same.
Would anyone drink?
he wondered. If anyone had seen the Noel lookalike, as he had, would they dare admit to it? Would they swear blind that what they'd seen was a ghost? A bottle, wrapped in trembling fingers, left the semi-circle. Up it went, its owner's nose pointing towards the ceiling. Timmy took a swig, turning his gaze to the flames.

‘Timmy?'

‘Tim?'

‘I've had enough with grandma going on about it all the time,' Scarlett said, ‘Noel's ghost this, Noel's ghost that!'

Freddie watched Timmy take a deep breath, his lips wobbling as he attempted to speak, ‘He's b-buried near here, so I-I've heard – in the woods, over y-yonder.'

‘Buried in the woods?' asked Mike. ‘You sure?'

‘There's a clearing in there somewhere, that's where he's buried,' Timmy said. ‘It's become overgrown since Mr Davidson fell ill, so I heard.'

‘That's sad,' said Rachel.

‘Maybe that's why he's haunting us,' Mike said.

‘It's not funny,' Timmy said. ‘I used to think everyone who'd said they'd seen Noel's ghost were either crazy, or just trying to frighten people. You've got this lad, a lad whose photo you've seen a hundred times, a lad who you know to be dead, and he just appears in the field you're working in. It freaks you out, man.'

‘Where was this?' Lucas asked.

Freddie felt a shiver run through his body that had nothing to do with the subject they were discussing.

Lucas!

He repelled the visions – he had to, for his own sanity. He turned his thoughts to the matter at hand. He'd seen the lad who so resembled Noel Davidson, leaning against a bale. And even though he hadn't realised until he'd seen Noel's photo in the pub, he did know exactly how Timmy must feel.

‘What if this house was abandoned because it's haunted?' Lucas added, as Timmy's head slumped into his hands.

Freddie wanted to punch Lucas, wanted to bounce him off the walls. But really, deep down, he knew he couldn't hate him. And he
really
wanted to hate him. Thing was, he actually liked him, and they got on well. Had he become a jealous person? It was wrong to dislike someone because they had something you wanted. He couldn't let emotions hinder reasoning. The phrase so often used by Ricky, ‘there's plenty more fish in the sea,' popped into his head. It was a phrase he disliked, yet he knew it held some truth. A few weeks ago he'd been in love with Tiffany, and since then he'd been on a date with Scarlett and started to fall for Jess.
It's complete madness.

‘What if Noel's here, watching us?' said Steve, hunching up, wriggling his fingers.

‘Don't say that,' said Rachel, jumping up, brushing herself down. ‘I felt something then.'

‘Probably a spider,' said Freddie, spotting Timmy resurfacing. He'd shared a similar experience. He felt for the lad. But he wanted to know more. ‘Timmy, tell me about what you saw.'

‘I was setting up an irrigator. At first I thought it was one of our workers taking a pee or something. He was just standing there, next to the hedge, with his back to me. When I got up close to him he glanced over his shoulder, looked me straight in the eye. It was him all right!'

‘Why would he just stand there?' said Freddie, more to himself than to the room. This sounded like the lad he'd seen, but it didn't bring him any closer to uncovering his identity. The name Vincent Burgess swirled around his head.
Could he really be the Noel lookalike?

‘I was down at Rose Farm,' Timmy said, ‘in the field where Noel was killed. He was standing in the exact spot where it – w-where it happened.'

Several people gasped; even the candles flickered. Freddie didn't know how much more of this insanity he could take. He couldn't let himself succumb to the hysteria.
Relax!
he told himself.
You have to relax. Think rationally.

‘You didn't stop your tractor and speak to him?' Freddie asked.

‘Are you crazy?' Timmy said. ‘I put my foot down and got the hell out of there.'

Was
he
crazy? On tonight's performances he was the only sane person in the room. He was starting to regret bringing the subject up at all. He'd quite happily take questions on his love life if it meant not having to discuss this anymore.

‘My mum saw Noel's ghost,' said Mike, grinning stupidly. ‘She had a bump in her car the other week, nothing major like. But she told dad she'd taken her eyes off the road because she'd seen Noel standing on the verge, watching her.'

‘Try explaining that to your insurance company,' said Freddie.

Suddenly the living room door burst open, the draught extinguishing one of the candles. A figure stumbled into the room.

‘I saw him too, this Noel geezer,' spat Harvey, ‘and he did not look happy!'

‘Do tell,' someone said.

‘I was doing a cash job for Ursula Hawkins, down at the manor.'

‘Cash job?' said Freddie, ‘as in, a tax free cash job?'

‘Paying tax is for mugs.'

A cash job?
Harvey did jobs on the side for Ursula? Why would she risk getting into trouble for the sake of a few quid? She was a successful businesswoman. According to everyone he'd spoken to, her company was doing great. It didn't add up. What was she getting him to do? Something illegal? Torching bale stacks perhaps? Had it been Harvey who he'd chased through the fields just yesterday? Had it been Harvey who'd tripped and rolled over and over, narrowly evading him? He didn't look like he'd taken a fall.

‘Is it?' said Scarlett. ‘Taxpayers paid for the ambulance that rushed out to your nan when she had that fall last year.'

‘Don't interrupt me!' Harvey said, striding towards them, fists clenched. ‘I saw him, near the bushes in Ursula's garden, watching the house. Waiting.'

‘When?' Mike asked.

‘About a week ago. I reckon he's after his dad!'

‘We should do a séance,' said Steve, ‘talk to him. Find out what he wants.'

‘No! We can't,' Rachel squealed. ‘I've heard they invite in evil spirits.'

‘Well, we haven't done one yet,' said Freddie, ‘and Harvey's joined us, so–'

‘Ha ha, funny man. Anyways, I'm off,' said Harvey, turning to leave. ‘Better places to be.'

Freddie felt his phone vibrate in his pocket
. Who was calling at this time? It was gone midnight!
He dug about, retrieving the blasted device.

Tiffany!

He might have known!
He accepted the call, sticking the Samsung on loudspeaker.

‘Freddie?' he heard Tiffany say, her voice booming out for all to hear.