Midwinter Mystery - Chapter Six - "The Ghost & Mr Foxe"

_{" The Ghost & Mr Foxe"}

_{John hauled his tired and battered body, with matching luggage, up the last few steps of the narrow dimly lit staircase, while keeping a watchful eye on the large VSOP Brandy 'night cap' that he held tightly in his other hand. The small walled gas lamps flickered wildly, from some unknown draught, casting long distorted shadows to seemingly dance over the stairway's old flocked wallpaper. Approaching his room on a landing that continued the similarly ill-lit theme, a growing sense of apprehension started to deepen, it was as if it's claustrophobic walls were slowly inexorably closing in on him and the dark feelings of despair that he had been trying so hard to hide from everyone, especially himself, during the last few months began to resurface once more.}

   _{After reluctantly placing his suitcase on the threadbare carpet runner, he proceeded to fumble in search of the doors keyhole with a large tarnished chubb key, while uncompromisingly refusing to let go of his rapidly diminishing glass of cherished Brandy. Finally, with the encouragement of a particularly firm shove he pushed the unwelcoming door open, creaking it's objection with rusty hinges as it went, and immediately threw his suitcase inside followed by himself.}

_{The room was in relative darkness, with only the light of the full moon shining through a small bare window offering any illumination. John peered around and quickly made out an old brass oil lamp on top of a nearby chest of drawers, deciding it best to relinquish his burden of transporting alcohol by the means of rapid consumption. Picking up the lamp he made short work of lighting it and was rewarded at once with a bright yellowish glow, turning the wick up higher he surveyed the rest of the room. It was a reasonable size for a single room albeit the sloping ceiling made virtually half of it inaccessible to anyone over the height of 4' ft, the décor seemed to be from the early 'Puritan' period, sparse in number and appearance The furniture consisted of:}

• _{1 x chest of drawers, aforementioned,}
• _{1 x bed - single use thereof}
• _{1 x wardrobe, tilting}
• _{1 x table chair, table not included}

_{John crossed over to the window and stared outside, the streets below were empty and all seemed clear particularly the night sky where he found temporary solace gazing up at the stars as they sparkled like sequins in a midnight blue veil. From gaps in the window frame he could feel the cold icy fingers from outside desperate to get in, so he turned away to face the small cracked porcelain sink. Opening the cold tap – he'd resigned himself to the fact that hot water would not even be an option - fully up he waited for the violent shuddering and spluttering of the pipes to subside their resistance to supplying anything after so long a period of inactivity, and then finally he was rewarded with a virtual ... trickle, escaping from it's unsympathetic spout. Bending over the sink he cupped both hands filling them with the freezing liquid and splashed the lot into his face. As he straightened up he caught sight of himself in the above mirror - which had started to lose some of the silver backing around it's corners - and studied the dampened facial features staring back at him, they were undeniably all his, he recognized every unfriendly line, every scar, every imperfection, but as to the nature of the man returning his gaze from the other side of the looking glass... that man he couldn't truthfully admit to knowing anymore.}

_{Unfortunately, the short cold shock therapy had only a temporary effect, it didn't take long for John to recall that he was still very tired, very hungry and beginning to feel more bewildered than ever before. Turning to his suitcase he decided to unpack just his night wear and wash bag for now, and call it a day – even though it was technically already another day. He pulled out a pair of heavy blue stripped cotton pajamas's from the case and gave them a good shake to open them up.} 

_{“ Lord, are you still using those ? I thought you said that ' that they had deserved their final night of retirement', ages ago ” came a familiar woman's mocking tone from somewhere behind him. “ Ah, yes I did, didn't I ! But, I reviewed...” John's reflex response to the all to familiar disarming voice stopped short as the realization that such a conversation was not humanly possible, he spun sharply around to confront his senses, and came face-to-face with Cathy,} his wife – his long dead wife.

    _{She stood just in front of the window, her straw blond bob with it's flicked out ends seemed to catch the lamp light imbuing her with a soft almost halo like effect, but the rest of her features were more fleeting to the eye, as if constantly fluctuating just out of focus. She was wearing a yellow slightly ribbed wool jumper with a round low neck - John thought how much it resembled one of her favourite ones, and how alluring she always looked wearing in it - with a white large collar blouse underneath, finished by a dark blue pencil skirt.}

_{"I'm sorry darling, this must be something of a shock to you right now, if it's any consolation I'm just as surprised as you are, believe me,” she spoke empathetically. John remained speechless and motionless, his arms hanging down in front of him bridged by the pair of pyjama bottoms held tightly in both hands, any usual reply hampered by an inability to process the supernatural contact. Cathy tilted her head “ Okay John, you really must try to relax darling. Try a controlled breathing exercise, you know the one, out through your mouth, in through your nose, slow deep breaths now” offering her supportive guidance.}

_{John, automatically followed the instructions, but still struggled to verbalize his thoughts and feelings, instead he merely raised his arms – still attached to each other by their cotton bond - and pointed a solitary finger at her and then, “ Cathy ? Is it...you...is it really you ?” he blurted out.}

_{"Yes, it's 'really' me, well in spirit anyway,” she answered, remaining by the window Cathy rested her hands on both hips, John recalled how she would always adopt this pose for a photograph, as she was never too sure what to do with her hands.}

_{"No, no this isn't happening, you can't be here ! Ghosts don't exist...YOU TOLD ME THAT, YOURSELF !” he exclaimed slightly excitable.}

_{"Yes, I know I said that, but obviously the few books that I'd read on the subject hardly qualified me as an expert, while as you were so keen to constantly remind me,' there's no substitute for experience',” Cathy retaliated, then as an after thought, “ Look, darling let's not get caught up in some existentialist debate here, for all we really know I might be nothing more than a manifestation of a memory, a residual of emotions exorcising themselves in this form with this voice. Or, perhaps I'm simply something you ate that's disagreed with you, how did Scrooge put it ….' there's more of gruel than the grave about me 'she smiled warmly at him.}

_{John moved towards his former corporeal wife but as he did so her image started to shimmer and distort, rather like when you look at a reflection in one of those amusing fairground mirrors. He backtracked to his original position and waited to see if she would calm down, although in life this tactic seldom worked, “ I don't understand are you haunting me then or what ?” he pressed. Cathy remained silent for a moment, she merely returned his gaze as if awaiting an answer from a higher body and then, “ Honestly, all I now for sure are what my senses tell me, I can only trust the things that I see and feel, and you John, I know you darling more than anything else. Your eyes tell me that you've lost your way, I feel the pain and the torment in your soul and everything about you calls out for help... more than you've ever needed it before.”}

_{John looked around the room whilst searching his thoughts, trying to make sense of it, but all his years of experience in the force hadn't prepared him for anything like this. He staggered slightly on his feet, the physical hardship of the day, the alcohol, and the onrush of conflicting emotions were finally taking their toll on him. “ Help ! Why now then ? Why haven't you spoken to me before, I've seen you, you know that right ?” his frustration, his anger, his guilt fighting each other to be voiced. “ I thought I was going out of my mind !” he placed the fingertips of his right hand on his temple and set them to work, slowly massaging it around, vainly hoping to relieve the inescapable migraine that was slowly sinking it's own fingers into his brain.}

_{"I don't know, there could be any number of factors, it could be a transitional process for instance, the spirit world isn't exactly a science you know, perhaps a change of location escalated by the break from your familiar environment, or maybe.... it's you John... you just wasn't ready to listen until now !” she estimated.}

_{The wind outside picked up, whipping the thin bare branches of a nearby tree against the window pane, and then from somewhere in the distance a gunshot rang out disturbing the domestic scene.} 

_{“ What was that ?” startled Cathy, turning her head towards the disturbance. “ It's probably just some excited poacher or other,” he dismissed, frowning as the headache and the effort to keep Cathy in focus increased. “ Anyway, what were you saying just then, that you're my guardian angel or something ? If I couldn't protect you, save you, while alive, then what makes you think you can help me....dead ! Look, I don't need anyone or anything okay, I prefer it this way, not responsible for anyone but myself. I can take care of myself, honestly ! ” he gave up trying to stay on his feet and dropped himself down on the bedside and his pyjama bottoms to the floor.}

_{"REALLY, IS THAT SO !” Cathy asserted, she remained steadfast to her location, but her voice became more resolute with it's conviction. “ Let me see if I understand your predicament correctly. You were about to lose your job, so you've been sent to this old lost town, searching for some 'lost' police station or other, you've already lost half of your luggage and a moment ago you stood there and confessed to me that you were worried about losing your mind, does that sound about the shape of things ?” she concluded.}

_{"You missed one, “ he added solemnly. Cathy returned a quizzical look at him.}

_{"What ?” she pursued.}

_{"You ! I lost you,” John answered. “ Everything else is just...collateral damage if you like,” he replied in a purgatory tone.}

_{They both fell silent, looking down at the bare wooden floor – there was only 4 ft between them, 2 x reasonable steps, 1 x life apart - with only the ticking of a small travel clock buried somewhere in John's suitcase, growing louder and louder marking the passing of time without words.}

_{Finally, Cathy opened up, “ John, you have to let go of things ! Please darling, move on with your life, and stop blaming yourself for my death …” at this point she was interrupted by a further gunshot exploding out in the darkness, this one seemingly nearer than before.} 

_{“ That sounded like a rifle discharge to me,” she shared her considered opinion.}

_{"Hmm, you're probably right, “ he replied slightly distracted.” what of it ?”}

_{"Well, I always thought poachers were supposed to be .. well stealthy creatures, more traps than guns sort of thing, not just blasting away at anything that moves. After all, the whole poaching thing is an illegal activity, isn't it ?” she mused.}

_{"Yes, of course it is ! Perhaps it's a gamekeeper shooting off to warn some would-be poacher away !” he chided.} 
"My, poachers AND gamekeepers all prowling around out there, lock, stock and fully loaded. Your little town certainly seems to come alive at night, let's just hope you can say the same about it's inhabitants come the morning.” Cathy looked at the lamp, it's flame becoming more agitated, “ It's late John, you need to sleep now. Tomorrow's another day, my love. Sweet dreams.” a hard draught from between the window frame's timber, found the lamp and distinguished it without conscience, plunging the room into oblivion, not that John was concerned about such things, for he was there already, passed flat out on the bed, his pyjamas if not the world at his feet.

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