The Girl in the Scrapbook by Carolyn Ruffles (reading women TXT) 📕

Fortunately, the start of the quiz precluded further argument and the four of them turned their attention to answering the questions. They proved quite tricky and Jennifer was relieved that she did at least manage to come up with a few of the answers. Her team came a creditable third out of the six teams taking part and, by the end of the evening, she was surprised how much she'd enjoyed herself.

Things were going well, she thought, as she picked up the list she'd been making in preparation for her Christmas visitors. Top of the list was the tree and she grabbed her phone to ring David Brewer.

‘Sure, I can help,’ he said in response to her enquiry. ‘Didn’t think it would be long before you needed me for something.’

She felt the familiar prickle of irritation. ‘Just trying to make you feel important,’ she retorted briskly, ‘so if you could just let me know the name of the best place to go …’

‘I can do better than that. I’m going there myself this afternoon so I can pick one up for you … or you could come along yourself to choose your own.’

Once again, she felt unsettled at spending time alone with him. ‘Er … I had plans for this afternoon.’ That, at least, was true. She had planned to go into town to buy some Christmas decorations. ‘If you could pick one up, that would be very kind.’

‘Oh, out with Jeremy again, are you? The whole village is talking about it,’ he teased.

‘None of your business. A six-foot tree would be fine, thank you.’

‘Ok, I’ll drop it off. I’ll put it around the back if you’re not home.’

‘That would be very kind,’ she said stiffly. ‘Can I settle up when I see you?’

‘No problem.’

‘Right. Well, thank you.’

She put the phone down with a sense of relief. It irked her that he always managed to make her feel so discomfited. She thought back to the quiz night and wondered at how relaxed she had been walking home with him. It must have been the wine, she decided. She would have to have a glass or two before she spoke to him in future!

◆◆◆

She was, however, decidedly sober when she pulled up outside her cottage later that afternoon to find his truck already parked in her driveway.

‘Damn,’ she thought to herself. ‘What bad timing! Another few minutes and he would have been gone.’

As she got out of the car, he appeared from her back garden. ‘Good, you’re back. You can take a look at the tree and make sure it’s what you want.’

She followed him round and was startled to see not only a bushy, perfectly symmetrical fir tree but also 'ghost girl' standing right beside it. She looked quickly at David to gauge his reaction but he had eyes only for her.

‘What do you think? Is it ok?’ he asked anxiously when she failed to comment.

‘Oh, yes … the tree … it’s perfect, thanks.’

‘Are you alright, Jen? You look as white as a sheet.’

‘Er yes, of course. I’m fine,’ she smiled wanly.

Ghost girl was now slowly circling the tree, trailing her fingers lightly over the branches. Surely, he could see her?

‘Right, I’ll be off then.’ David was looking at her strangely and she snapped herself out of her reverie.

‘Oh, let me make you a cup of tea first.’ Her innate good manners surfaced and the words were out of her mouth before she realised what she was saying. ‘It’s the least I can do after you’ve been so good as to fetch the tree for me. I’d have struggled in my little car.’

‘Anytime,’ he grinned at her. ‘I’d love a cup of tea but I’ve got a five o’clock meeting with some clients. Tell you what … I’ll pick you up tomorrow night and we’ll go out for something to eat instead … unless you think Jeremy would be jealous?’

‘Of course, he won’t be jealous,’ she snapped.

‘Good, that’s settled then.’ He got into his truck and wound down the window. ‘I’ll pick you up at seven. Looking forward to it.’ He was grinning broadly as he reversed his truck out of the drive.

How had that happened? How had she let herself be manoeuvred into going out with that man? She shook her head in disbelief as she dragged her bags from the boot of her car and unlocked her cottage. It was because she had been in shock – shock that he clearly could not see the girl standing beside the tree.

As she put the kettle on for a much-needed cup of tea, she rationalised that this was a good thing. The cottage was not haunted after all and she no longer needed to worry about guests being terrorised by a ghost. What was more troubling, though, was the fact that the girl was obviously a figment of her imagination. What did that say about her state of mind?

◆◆◆

Chapter 12

Norah – June- August 1927

Dusk was throwing a gauzy film over the fields of Great Chalkham and the earlier rain had finally stopped when Arthur was awoken from his doze by the fireside. The knock came again - tentative, timid. With a sigh, he got to his feet and crossed to the door. Just lately, Clara the cook from the Chalkham Hall had been finding excuses to pay him a visit and he was already framing his excuses as he opened the door.

His heart skipped a beat. ‘Norah,’ he said, ‘What are you doing here?’

Her face was pale in the gloom and she shuffled awkwardly beneath his gaze. He noticed her cloak and boots were caked with mud and that she was carrying a brown, leather case.

‘I’m sorry for the imposition, Arthur,’ she murmured, ‘but I wondered if I might rest here a while?’

‘Of course, of course. Come in.’ He stepped to one side and allowed her to pass. ‘You know it’s not an imposition; we’re friends. You