Chapter 12: The Next Day

In the morning, after the other guests all went into the village for the day, Ruth was in the library when she struck up a conversation with the electrician Martin had hired to inspect the wiring. He was looking at all the equipment the Morans had set up and she explained about the ghost hunting.

"I'm curious. Does all this," she waved at the cameras, microphones, and laptop, "produce electric and magnetic fields when turned on?"

"Yeah, of course they do," the electrician replied.

"It's just that our resident ghost hunters were using EMF meters, and the husband claimed they got lots of hits from those when we were wandering about the house last night. He said that was an indication of paranormal activity."

The electrician scratched his head. "Lots of common devices give off electromagnetic fields. I think there's an EMF meter company that markets its meters as 'ghost detectors.' Does that actually work? Who knows. Did you experience anything strange last night?"

"Just someone playing a practical joke on us."

"You spend the night here. What about after hours, when it was quiet?"

"There were the usual creaky old house noises," Ruth said. "And I was awakened around 3 a.m. by a strange choking sound. It turned out to be Jack Moran snoring down the hall. I think his wife must wear earplugs."

Over breakfast at Fern Cottage, Martin was listening to Louisa describe the events of the night before.

"And it turned out it was your mother all along, going all Scooby Doo on us."

"What?" Martin had no idea what that meant.

"She was playing a joke on us, covering herself with a sheet to spook us and disappearing through a hidden back staircase, and then using invisible ink for the message."

"Hm," he responded. "I didn't think she was capable of something that imaginative."

"She certainly seems to have a new lease on life now."

"These ghost hunter people seem very gullible and I wouldn't be surprised if they were capable of playing some practical jokes themselves."

"Well, I'll be interested to see what happens when they put on their séance tonight."

"Oh, Louisa." Martin was dismayed. "You're not going back for more of this silliness, are you?"

"It's entertaining, and Ruth is always there to provide a healthy dose of scepticism. Don't worry, I'll have dinner with you and the children, and drive out there afterwards."

Martin walked down the hill to the chemist's to pick up some supplies. In the shop, Mrs. Tishell was nowhere to be seen. While he waited, he noticed she had put up a postcard of the Golden Gate Bridge, along with a small California flag. She came out from the back room and saw him looking at it.

"I never knew what a marvellous place California is," she exclaimed. "There are so many people of Cornish descent there and I met lot of distant relations and they introduced me to a highly respected professor of poetry and he's coming to visit here in Portwenn."

"Er, yes. I heard about that. I've agreed to allow Dr. Parsons' wife's book group to host the event on, er… some land that I own nearby." Martin wasn't at all interested in discussing his recent inheritance with her but to his surprise she just continued to gush about the professor.

"He lost his wife suddenly two years ago and he understands what it was like for me to lose my Clive the same way. He's such a distinguished gentleman and we're all looking forward to his visit and I understand he's written a new poem in honour of Portwenn and he will present it in both English and Cornish and… "

And so on and so on, she continued talking and Martin, though relieved she no longer seemed so obsessed with his commitment to staying in the village, quickly grew bored with hearing about her new obsession. He collected his box of supplies and exited before she could tell him any more.

As he walked though the village centre, Bert Large came up to him. "Doc, I've been hearin' about these ghost hunters investigatin' your new house. I think there's a great opportunity here for ghost tours for both tourists and locals. I'd be happy to arrange something and cut you in for 40… um, let's make it 30 percent as I'd be doin' all the legwork"

Martin scoffed, with a simple "no."

"All right, 40 percent it is."

Martin started walking away but Bert kept pace with him.

"Well then, there's another opportunity I've been wantin' to discuss with you. Folks have been talkin' about these ancient Doctor's Stones with a hole in the middle that you've got on your land. They say they've got healin' powers and they're wantin' to get permission to go out there and try it for themselves. I could arrange tours to bring them out there and explain all about the ancient lore and how it works as they try it for themselves. You'd get a nice percentage of course and you wouldn't even have to lift a finger."

"No!" Martin stalked away.

Back at the surgery, Martin walked through the reception area when a waiting patient stood up and said he wanted to try the "legendary hole-y stone" to relieve his asthma. "You own it now and you're still a doc, Doc, so I thought maybe you could write me a prescription for it."

"Don't be ridiculous, of course not! You need to keep taking your prescribed medication and avoid your known triggers."

The patient left, grumbling, and Morwenna spoke up. "I know it's silly, Doc, but you know I've been trying to get pregnant. And, well, I went down to see Al at the Platt at lunchtime and I saw Louisa's mum and her friend Lamorna the medium and they were saying that the hole stone could help with that."

"Of course they did," Martin replied sarcastically. "They claim it will cure anything. I thought you would have more common sense. Why were you talking about something so personal with them anyway?"

"I didn't. Lamorna just looked at me, and sort of… guessed, I guess. I don't know how she knew, but she did. Spooky innit."

Martin walked away, very annoyed. He went into his office and sat behind the desk to go through the box of supplies. Somehow the word "spooky" caused him a sudden brief flashback of being back in basement chemistry lab when the grey haze approached him. He felt himself retching again, but was able to suppress it. He pushed the box aside and checked his email. As promised, Chris had sent him a link to the research he had mentioned. Martin clicked on it and began to read.

To be continued…