Chapter Three

The Heart of the Matter

Two hours later, Carolyn was well into her interview with the mercurial medium. At times, it was hard to keep up with the wandering and complicated nature of the narrative, but she was doing her best. She took as many notes on her pad as she could while asking questions when needed. Or when she could get a word into the garrulous conversation.

"Don't say I didn't warn you…" the Captain remarked with a smirk, watching them from his stance before the fireplace.

He'd popped back in out of curiosity and more than a little smug satisfaction. "The woman certainly knows how to talk while saying nothing at all. Nothing of note, anyway. Her verbose tongue clatters worse than your confounded typewriter!"

"I see…" Carolyn frowned at him, willing him to leave them in peace.

He ignored her look of reproof as he clasped his hands in the small of his back and swayed up onto the balls of his feet and back again. He appeared to be now enjoying himself and had no intention of leaving.

With her back to his unseen presence, Madame Tibaldi had warmed to her theme well. "Well, the real purpose of that day's séance was to contact Mrs Glick's dear departed husband. She missed him terribly. She said she'd been left with no one to talk to except the cat."

She nodded wisely. "But by the time I came out of the trance and the chills had worn off, I found that I'd contacted Sir Hubert somebody."

She shrugged happily. "So, Mrs Glick had a nice chat with him instead. I really think I kindled something there. The woman paid me several more visits over time and never mentioned her late husband again."

Carolyn looked up from her notes. "Well, what did happen to her husband? Did he ever show up at all?"

"No, in all those sessions he never did," the medium assured her happily. "I figured that if he didn't talk to her while he was alive, why should he want to talk to her after he was dead!" She tittered happily as she drank her third cup of tea.

"I can see the woman is no threat, Madam. Therefore, I shall retire and attend to my sea charts in the alcove. I do not expect to be disturbed by any more of this ghost-calling chicanery!" The Captain rolled his eyes at the ceiling and vanished.

"Tell me, Madame Tibaldi…" Carolyn kept her attention on her guest. "When did you discover you had this… um, gift of yours?"

"Oh, it was about six or seven reincarnations ago," the medium assured her comfortably. "Or is it eight? I've lost track. There have been so many, you see. So many wonderful lifetimes full of romance and adventure."

She sighed. "This present incarnation has become somewhat of a letdown. People are not so ready to believe anymore. If it wasn't for my lovely cadre of spirits who follow me everywhere I go…" She sighed again. "I was so pleased to receive your generous invitation to visit you. It quite lifted me from the doldrums of depression."

Carolyn's brows rose high in astonishment. "You've had more than six reincarnations?"

"Oh, yes, dear. I'm a lot older than I look," the other woman replied, putting aside her empty teacup. "When I was reborn as Madame Olivia Tibaldi it was quite a comedown, I can tell you. I've been a duchess, a baron, a Medici and a Viking chieftain."

She waved one expressive hand. "Why, as a Celtic warrior woman, I rode with Brian Boru against the Norse at the black pool of Duibhlinn. That was a very fine battle and we won. Oh, and I've even been a king of France."

"I see…" Carolyn frowned as she looked up from her pages of notes. "Um, which king of France, were you?" she asked sceptically.

The medium smiled. "Oh, an unknown one, dear. You see, I was quickly murdered by a pretender and no mention of me was made in history. Sad, isn't it? My destiny seems to be that of an unknown one throughout history."

"An unknown one. I understand…" Carolyn murmured, not sure what to believe.

"I was beheaded, you see," Madame Tibaldi said next. "Well, it's no use crying over lost heads." She smiled sadly. "Ah, but when I was with Brian at the battle of Clontarf…"

She sighed in ecstasy. "Now, there was a man, indeed. So tall and commanding with long braided hair the very colour of burnished flame. The gods were surely on our side that day. We thought we would all live forever…"

She swiped one finger at the corner of her eye. "But it was not to be… Sadly, my Brian was murdered by a black-hearted braggard, and Ireland was made the poorer for the dreadful events of that fateful day…" She sniffed. "Nothing was ever the same again…"

"If you say so…" Carolyn nodded dubiously, wondering about all these people she'd never heard of or read anything about. She would need to do more research to verify her article or leave out these more lurid flights of fancy.

That seemed the safer option. "Well, I can't tell you what a wonderful article this is going to make."

She closed her notebook with a small sigh of relief. "I have enough here to maybe write two articles about you. You don't know how much I have appreciated your coming here today. Now, if you're ready to leave, I can walk you out to your car."

"Oh, I'm so glad you asked me here today. Any publicity is good publicity." The medium rose slowly to her feet, fluttering her hands as she returned to her bubblier and more wayward persona. "But I simply cannot go. Not just yet anyway. I do feel I was drawn to this house with invisible threads. I just love this room. The vibrations I'm getting from it. The emanations…"

She floated toward the fireplace, gazing all around. "Can't you feel them? They're quite delicious and so powerful. I do feel someone is trying to come through to me. To touch me in their incorporeal state. It's all quite delicious."

Carolyn looked up. "Emanations?" she asked anxiously. She rose to her feet. "Madame Tibaldi, did you say, emanations?"

"Oh, yes…" the medium declared expansively. "I know you can't feel them, dear, but they're all around us. The emanations of a strong masculine presence just begging to be found. I must find him before I leave. I just must!" She hurried away toward the curtained alcove.

"Oh, but Madame Tibaldi…" Carolyn put out a denying hand as she started after her.

She was at a loss to know how to stop the woman. But it seemed as if two immovable forces were about to collide head on and she was helpless to prevent it from happening.

Seated at his chart desk in the alcove, the Captain was making a final notation on his completed work with a quill pen. He smiled as he studied his chart. He was well satisfied with his new work which had taken him several days to perfect. He wanted to look it over one more time before he rolled it up and added it to all the others he'd made over the years.

At that moment, the curtain behind him whipped open and the medium bustled through, waving her hands all around in agitation. He glared around at her in irritation. "Madam…" he said warningly.

"It's electric!" Madame Tibaldi declared expansively, pointing excitedly in different directions. "Quite electric! It's as if something is drawing me in here. Oh, my stars, there's someone who wants to communicate with me! He's begging to be heard!"

"Begone, woman!" the Captain commanded, striking an imperious forefinger toward the parted curtains.

"Oh, my…" Madame Tibaldi sighed as she picked up the Captain's completed chart, looking it over keenly, while nearly elbowing him in the face. "Oh, look! What a marvellous old sea chart. Why, it looks almost new. But how can that be?"

She leaned forward to replace it on the table and her wayward elbow connected with the ink well, sending a flood of black across the chart. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I don't know how that could have happened…"

"Oh, that's perfectly all right…" Carolyn babbled as she rushed to pick up a brass hand blotter from the writing desk against the wall. "After all, it's just an old sea chart someone left lying around. They should be more careful with such things…" She glanced apologetically at the Captain, who was sitting with his hand over his eyes.

He parted his fingers to glare at her warningly. "Madam, that fraudulent crone needs to be gone! Immediately! Or I will not be responsible for my actions! I will rain hellfire down on her babbling head and turn her to dust! Then you may send her on her way with a broom!"

"Madame Tibaldi…" Carolyn abandoned her blotting to seize the wandering medium's arm. "I know you must be a very busy woman. But, before you go on your way, why don't I show you the rest of the house?" she said, desperate to divert the older woman's attention. "Since you've shown such an interest in it. I'm sure the old captain won't mind if I take you on a little tour."

"Oh, yes! The vibrations are all around here. This house is incredible! It fairly quivers with emanations!" Madame Tibaldi enthused happily. "I would adore to see more of it before I go on my way up-state. I may yet find the source of all this delicious power!"

She clung to Carolyn's arm. "Please, lead on, my dear. I'm feeling quite intrepid today. Quite, quite revived from my recent malaise of ennui. I must be allowed to continue my marvellous quest and you shall accompany me as my intrepid squire!"

"Madam, it is not to be borne!" the Captain raged rising from his chair. But it was already too late.

The two women had disappeared back into the living room. He subsided with a scowl before dematerialising in search of some much-needed peace.

※※※※※

He materialised in the main bedroom and settled behind his telescope with a sigh. The view of the world outside had always soothed him. Ships passing to and from Schooner Bay harbour. They were always a pleasant sight. He enjoyed identifying each and every one and making a mental note of them all. He quelled the distracting yearning to become the master of one and sail her far beyond the horizon once more. It was a forlorn dream.

But his cherished peace was short-lived. Suddenly, the door behind him swept open. "And this is my room," Carolyn declared.

She did a double take when she saw it was already occupied. But again, she was too late. Madame Tibaldi swept past her in fine style, waving her hands around enthusiastically.

"Oh, yes. This room is so wonderful," the medium declared. "I cannot begin to tell you all about the vibrations in here. They're positively seething with portent and delicious masculine energy…"

"Oh, really…" Carolyn hurried after her, trying to block her from the telescope and the Captain's blazing wrath. "I've never felt anything in here. Nothing at all…"

"Oh, my dear, yes! It's all here! Particularly around this object…" The medium grabbed the telescope from the Captain's grasp. "Oh, it's amazing. The walls are whispering to me…"

She left the telescope and set off again, toward the bed. "Whispering and laughing. Such stories of hot conquests and endearing love in this very room. Remember when I told you about the candlelight and all those diamonds, sapphires and pearls? This is the very chamber where I saw with those entwined lovers nestled together in the moonlight on this most marvellous antique bed…"

She leaned down to brush a wistful hand over the pillows. "I can smell lavender and sandalwood. Yes, I can indeed. A very powerful combination. There was glorious magic done between these sheets."

She pressed her clasped hands to her chest. "Oh, there were long nights of endless passion and not a lot of sleeping, I can tell you. Such romance and ultimate heartbreak. Why, there has been a dazzling array of women in here. The Captain was a lover as well as a fighter, it seems. So many redheads, brunettes and blondes…"

She shook her head. "He was quite the insatiable Romeo in his time, your Captain. Oh, dear me, yes…" She shook her head. "If only I had known him, then…"

"Oh, Madame Tibaldi, I'm sure you're exaggerating…" Carolyn felt her cheeks heat uncomfortably as she frowned at the fuming Captain, remembering his boastful claim of many feminine conquests on the first night she'd encountered him.

She didn't doubt a single word of what the little medium had just imparted. Nor did she dare imagine the dream of his kissing her cheek as she lay asleep in that same bed for fear of betraying her inner turmoil.

But the wanton memory of another such alluring dream, where they'd danced so beautifully together one night out on the front lawn, came rushing back into her mind in vivid detail. It had been like heaven to be in the Captain's arms and feel so safe and cared for.

He'd pressed his lips to the back of her hand and then they'd also come oh so very close to a longed-for kiss. Carolyn hadn't wanted that dream to end but it did. She had spent some weeks secretly mourning its inevitable loss.

She was well aware it had all been born of a high fever and a good measure of the Captain's infamous Willow Bark Golden Elixir potion. There had not been any real substance to it. She closed her eyes briefly, not knowing what to think.

She sighed with regret. "But it had all seemed so real…"

'My lips cannot touch yours…' The last line of the Captain's piece of doggerel, that Tim Seagirt had mailed back to her, flitted through her mind. She shivered, despite the warmth of the late summer afternoon.

"Lies! All lies!" the discomforted mariner shouted in a deeply embarrassed tone as he stepped down from the window, waving one imperious arm. "Fantasy, fiction and fable! Get that prying purveyor of poppycock out of here before I'm forced to throw her out!" He vanished immediately in a huff.

"Oh, my dear…" Madame Tibaldi sailed back past her troubled hostess toward the fireplace. She stopped beside the large leather couch that dominated one wall. "And right here, a rich and varied life was sadly ended well before his time. Long before he was ready to go…"

She shook her head slowly as she continued softly in a more masculine tone, "I kicked the blasted gas heater on with my blasted foot. There was a sou-west gale blowing. I had to close the bedroom windows. The coroner's jury brought in a verdict of suicide because my confounded cleaning woman testified that I always slept with my windows open…"

She shivered and frowned. "A deeply unjust verdict if ever there was one. A terrible wrong that has yet to be righted and I shall not rest until it is..."

Hearing again the Captain's words from the night they first met, Carolyn stared at her with one hand pressed to her lips. "How did you know exactly what happened that night? It was over one hundred years ago. Who told you?"

She frowned at the couch as if seeing it for the first time. She couldn't count the number of times she'd sat there reading or working on a story. It made her shiver now to think of the awful tragedy of that long-ago night and how little real thought she'd given to the Captain's agony over the unjust verdict.

The medium shrugged as she turned back to the room and became herself again. "The darling spirits told me. Those who follow me and whisper to me all the time. They tell me all sorts of things."

She waved her hands. "Oh, the stories this old house could tell," she continued brightly, recovering her usual tone. "But she has never had a true mistress until you came along with your darling wee ones. There was only a taciturn master who valued his privacy above all else. You have saved them both from deep despair and oblivion by your very presence here. You must never leave this house."

She frowned. "But there hovers a dark and dastardly force who wishes to sweep all of this away…" She gestured expansively with one hand. "That you must never allow. You were born to live here."

"Saved them?" Carolyn laughed weakly, trying to ease her growing sense of confusion. "Oh, but you do know how these old houses can exaggerate."

"Oh, yes, yes. I know what you mean…" Madame Tibaldi nodded, turning toward the door with a widening smile. "Let's go and see what else is to be seen. I haven't felt so alive for such a long time! My ghastly ennui had quite departed!"

"Oh, help…" Carolyn dropped her face into her hand, not knowing if she should laugh or cry.

She followed the medium from the room, looking apologetically over her shoulder toward the telescope. She was determined to get the woman downstairs again, but it was already too late. The medium had found the door to the wheelhouse and opened it, peering in with deep curiosity.

"And just where does this old set of stairs led up to?" she asked brightly. "It does quite make one shiver with anticipation. No doubt, one would be able to access that delicious widow's walk from up there. I long to walk the battlements and look out over the restless ocean as the Captain must have done. Oh, my, yes…"

She glanced back at her harassed hostess. "Shall we?"

"Oh, I can assure you those stairs go nowhere we need to see…" Carolyn hurried to block her progress. "It's just dust and cobwebs up there. I really do think you've seen enough."

The medium ignored her. "So many secrets. So many stories. This house just keeps getting better and better," she cooed as she moved past her hostess and set her foot on the bottom step.

"It's just a dusty old attic…" Carolyn hurried to get ahead of her, trying to turn the medium back.

But she was already too late. The older woman's enthusiasm pushed her on to open the door. Carolyn groaned when she saw the Captain sitting in his favourite armchair reading a book.

He slammed the book shut at their advent, dropping his head into his upraised hand. Carolyn quailed inwardly as he turned to glare up at them. The Gull Cottage ghost looked ready to do actual murder.

"Just a dusty old attic?" the older woman enthused. "There's no such thing. The past lives in attics. Spirits breathe in them. They stay close to the things they've touched and loved in past lives. The captain must be here if he's anywhere."

She raised her eyes to the shadowed ceiling. "Or up there on his walk. Oh yes, I can quite see him pacing back and forth, back and forth…" She clasped her hands beneath her chin and sighed.

"He most certainly is here…" The Captain stretched out his hands toward the medium's throat, ready to throttle her there and then.

Madame Tibaldi looked all around. "Oh my… the phenomena in here is positively buffeting. Someone is really trying to reach me now. I can feel it in every fibre of my being. Can't you feel it, my dear?"

"No, no…" Carolyn tried to intervene, pushing between the medium and her assailant, glaring at the Captain. "Will you stop that!" she commanded in a terse whisper.

"Oh, but I can't stop it," Madame Tibaldi replied breezily. "I'm tingling all over. Surely, you're not still blind to it all?" She turned to rush away, looking around the attic.

The Captain glared at Carolyn. "Madam, I will not allow that fraud on these premises another instant!"

"Fraud?" Carolyn muttered. "Well, she certainly picked up on your vibrations."

"Fiddle faddle," the Captain grumbled. "She's merely pretending. I'll wager if she had a real supernatural experience, she'd run screaming from the house!"

Carolyn faced him. "Captain, I want a story, not a scandal. You will not harm a single hair on her head. I forbid it!"

"Why not?" The Captain looked her up and down. "Scandals make the best stories. Then you would have a sequel."

"Stop it…" Carolyn pulled a deeply dissatisfied face at him as behind them Madame Tibaldi enthused over discovering a dusty old sea trunk.

"Oh, this lovely old sea chest! Wherever I turn in this wonderful old attic, I feel the presence of spirits!" She clasped her hands together, earning a smirk from the Captain while Carolyn watched with growing unease.

The medium lifted the lid of the chest, peering inside. Suddenly, an early nineteenth-century dress rose from the chest to hover in front of her. It appeared to be dancing as it waved its empty sleeves back and forth.

Madame Tibaldi's eyes opened wide. "Oh, my sainted crystal ball! How marvellous! Oh, I knew she'd show herself! She's been following me from room to room! This lovely old biddy from the nineteenth century! She has such a wicked sense of humour! As if she could scare me into fleeing. I'm made of sterner stuff! I also rode with Cuchulain, you know!"

Carolyn turned to the Captain, smiling her triumph. "Lovely old biddy…" She smirked at him. "She surely has you down right."

He frowned back at her with an odd look in his eyes. "You also did not run from me that night we first met…"

"I…" Carolyn shook her head in confusion. "… have never ridden a horse in my life. And I don't scare easily, either," she finally whispered.

"Oh, I know that, Madam," the Captain replied softly. "If only there was a way to ease your monetary concerns that do not involve digging for treasure in the back garden or interviewing a string of disturbed individuals like this twittering fool of a woman. But we both know Claymore would lay immediate claim to anything you may find on my land. I could not stop him, short of throttling him."

Carolyn's brows rose. "So, you admit you do have treasure buried around here somewhere?"

He smiled at her ruefully. "I admit nothing, Madam. But I will apply my mind to finding another way to steady our foundering ship before it's too late. We shall do our best to avoid the reef and the shallows."

Carolyn swallowed tightly at his sudden kindness. "Thank you, Captain."

Behind them, Madame Tibaldi chuckled as she hurried away from the dress which folded itself back into the trunk. "It's a sign! It's a sign!" she said happily, trotting toward the open door.

She stopped next to Carolyn, smiling at her with enthusiasm. "I must hold a séance here tonight! I just must! You must all come. It will be so exciting!"

She glowed with happiness as she left the room. "Who knows how many more there are who want to talk to us. The spirits are so alive in this house! So alive!"

Carolyn turned to stare at the Captain who looked pensive and chagrined. "Oh, now you've scared her right into having a séance. How wonderful." She turned away toward the door, feeling satisfied she had the upper hand for once. "Next thing, she'll be wanting to stay the night. I'll have to offer her some lunch, at least."

The Captain followed her. "You'd never permit her to hold such an inane sideshow! I will not allow it!"

"But, Captain, it really will make a better ending for the article. Think of the sales. You said I need the money."

The Captain clicked his tongue in annoyance. "I will not allow a séance in my house!" He folded his arms; sure he'd spoken his last word on the matter. "Our agreement stands. You forget, I am still in command here."

Carolyn regarded him in disbelief. "Captain, you're the reason for the séance. Are you worried she might unearth another old scandal or two? Something juicy? I'll be wanting every detail. I'm afraid you're just gonna have to live with it."

She paused, considering. "Or in your case, not live with it."

"Madam, I am warning you…" He glared down at her.

"Don't warn me," Carolyn replied lightly, beginning to enjoy herself just a little after his recent lengthy silences. "You brought the whole thing about. If you'd left well enough alone, she would be on her way up-state, by now. But it seems Madame Tibaldi doesn't scare as easily as you thought she would. And I like her for that." She left the attic quickly before he could reply.

The Captain stared after her. "Very well, Mrs Muir. We shall see who lives with it before the night is out. Yes, indeed, we shall see…"

※※※※※

Claymore staggered along the main street of Schooner Bay. He had one hand pressed to his temple, massaging his fingertips against the pain of his persistent headache. His burning stomach was also in revolt.

He was being torn between his twin demons. His greed and the ever-present spectre of his great-uncle, who would surely tear him limb from limb if he discovered his great-nephew was going against his stern command to leave Gull Cottage standing.

"Why is it always me?" Claymore sighed as he tottered into the general goods store. "Oh, what a head," he complained to the store owner. "Lorrie, what have you got? I'd give anything to get rid of this blasted headache."

Lorrie Hammond leaned back on the fixture behind him, knowing he was not going to make a great sale from the town's self-confessed miser. "Got some powder which never fails. Costs a dollar. Got some pills, work sometimes, and costs thirty cents." He waited, shaking his head.

Claymore's decision was instant. "I'll take the pills for thirty cents. Paying over a whole dollar would be worse than the headache. The dyspepsia I can cope with."

"Yeah…" Lorrie rolled his eyes as he walked behind the counter. "I figured you would. What's given you the headache? Someone want something from you? Like money?"

Claymore followed him, still complaining bitterly. "I got such troubles. Nothing but troubles. All the time and no one cares. I am alone, so alone."

"Okay, I'm listening. What's the matter now, Claymore?" Lorrie asked, not really needing to understand. "As if I didn't know. Someone hasn't paid you their overpriced rent."

"All right, I'll tell you…" Claymore leaned closer. "But this goes no further. I've been offered a small fortune for Gull Cottage and the surrounding parcels of land." He sighed roughly. "But I just can't bring myself to sell it."

"Why not?" Lorrie's eyebrows rose. "You own almost half the town and everything out on Bay Road. What's the hold-up?"

"It's always the same thing." Claymore waved an impatient finger. "I can't sell up because of one stubborn, one hundred and fifty year old man. That's why."

Lorrie looked confused. "A hundred and fifty year old man? What are you on about?"

"Ah ha, that's what I said," Claymore complained. "My life is not my own."

"Seems to me you've got more than just an ache in your head, Claymore. You've had too much sun. It's addled your mind." He looked briefly hopeful. "I got pills for that too."

"Never mind, never mind, Lorrie. You wouldn't understand." Claymore paid for his pills and picked them up. "Where's the water, please? I need to take these right away."

"Over there. Help yourself. It's free." Lorrie waved him toward the water fountain on the other side of the store. "At least, you don't own that yet."

Claymore walked away and kept his back to the store as he poured himself a glass of water and swallowed his pills. It wouldn't do if any passing customer saw he was under the weather. They might decide to try and take advantage of his temporary infirmity.

Consequently, he didn't see Madame Tibaldi as she bustled into the store and stood looking all around with a bright smile. "Oh, young man…" she called to Lorrie as she walked up to the counter.

"Yes, ma'am," Lorrie replied, seeing a more likely customer than skinflint Claymore Gregg. "How may I help you?"

"Well, I'd like some incense, if you please," the medium told him brightly. "Chinese or Indian will do. I'm not fussy and the spirits don't mind. It all smells the same in the end, once it's burning."

"Incense…" Lorrie looked mystified as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Um, I've never had any call for any of that. Mind if I ask what's it for?"

"Oh, atmosphere, my dear man," the medium assured him blithely. "Atmosphere. Why, it conjures up the most lovely things. Oriental princesses and dancing girls. Shadowy rooms and whispered secrets of all kinds."

She giggled. "A body might see anything in the smoke if they look hard enough. It's quite the experience, I can tell you."

"Well, I'm afraid we don't have anything like that around here," Lorrie murmured, backing up slightly. "Not a lot of call for it. But I'm sure gonna get some on my next order."

"Well, in that case, I guess I'll just have to whip up something homemade." Madame Tibaldi looked disappointed but not defeated. "Now, let me see… What was that recipe that the Queen of Sheba always used…" She looked up toward the ceiling in frowning thought.

Lorrie stared at her, wondering if there was something going on in town that he had two customers in a row who seemed not quite right in the head. He glanced at Claymore, but he was of no use. All he did was rub at his temples and groan.

"Ah, that's right…" Madame Tibaldi suddenly declared. "Rose petals, lavender, rue… Oh, no, that was her fertility potion." She laughed at her own foolishness. "Now, let's see. Sandalwood, basil, rosemary… oh, and any old herbs you just happen to have on hand. I can make them work."

Lorrie frowned at her for a long moment. "Herbs…" he wondered, as he wandered away toward the back of the store. "My wife uses them for cooking. I guess they'll have to do…"

The medium hummed softly to herself as she turned to watch Claymore. He was still drinking his water and rubbing his head. He groaned in agony.

"You'll lose that headache if you stop worrying about your cousin and his gout," the medium assured him. "The swelling will go down."

Claymore glanced at her as he huffed a resigned sigh. "My cousin is not a he, Madam. She is a she and she doesn't have gout; she's having a baby." He grimaced. "Another drain on my already depleted purse. Why is it always me?"

Madame Tibaldi tittered sweetly. "Well, in that instance it will take a little longer for the swelling to go down."

"My cursed headache is not from a person, Madam," Claymore continued grimly. "It's from a house I own. It's called Gull Cottage and it's the very bane of my whole existence. I could rid myself of it with a single flourish of my signature, but I can't on pain of death. And I'm running out of time to make up my mind."

"Oh, so you're the one who actually owns Gull Cottage." Madame Tibaldi's eyes grew wide and round with amazement. "Congratulations! Oh, how very marvellous! I've just partaken of a very fine luncheon there with the dear Mrs Muir and her delightful children. That house is chock full of stories and mysteries."

The medium preened a little. "You see, Mrs Muir is writing an article all about me and she's invited me to stay to provide an evening's entertainment. I'm so delighted to be able to oblige. I can tell you that house is a medium's mecca. That's why I'm holding a séance there tonight. There are emanations everywhere. I am fairly swimming in signs and portents."

"Oh, how very lovely for you both…" Claymore replied, not really listening to her as he finished his glass of water.

Then her confession penetrated the pain of his headache. "A séance, you say!" He laughed with hollow humour. "Oh, my dear lady, he would never allow that!"

"Oh, are you alluding to that delicious character, the Captain?" The medium giggled. "Such a man! Such passion and fire! He quite makes me as giddy as a schoolgirl!"

"Delicious?" Claymore blinked and looked shocked. "Oh, it's obvious you've never met him, Madam!"

"Well…" Madame Tibaldi looked unconcerned. "Well, I've had a few manifestations. I'm going to summon him up tonight and have a few words with him. It's about time someone told him to behave himself. He's been alone too long and does not remember how to rightly act in polite company."

"You are?" Claymore leaned closer. "I mean, do you mean you can make spirits appear, at will?"

The medium smiled and looked coy. "Indeed, I can. It's my profession in this life."

Claymore giggled as he patted her shoulder. "Ah, what about… wwwooohhhoooo…" He waved an expressive hand skywards. "Like, disappear into a puff of smoke? As in, gone forever and amen? Adios, compadre, it's been nice knowing you, but you've well out-lived your welcome around here. Don't let the door hit you in the back of your head as you leave, kinda thing."

The medium blinked up at him. "If you're asking, can I exorcise a ghost, well yes, of course I can. That's my speciality. At one séance I got rid of four ex-husbands in a row! Their widow was ever so pleased to get some peace of mind finally. She even paid me double my usual fee."

Claymore put a hand to his head. "My headache is gone! It's wonderful! Oh, Madam, have I got a proposition for you!"

He hurried back to the counter, taking his new friend with him. "Lorrie! Put this lovely lady's herbs on my bill, please!" He took the bag of herbs the shop keeper held out and handed over his empty glass.

"Your bill!" Lorrie looked shocked. "Are you feeling all right, Claymore?"

"Oh, no, no, no…" Madame Tibaldi tried to remonstrate. "I cannot allow you to do that."

"You must have something more wrong with your head than I thought," Lorrie told him roundly.

"You heard me!" Claymore waved an admonishing finger.

He turned to the medium. "My dear, my arm…" He extended his bent elbow for Madame Tibaldi to take. He escorted her to the door, chatting to her as if they had known each other for years.

Lorrie looked after them in astonishment, before frowning down into the empty glass Claymore had handed to him. "Now I know there must be something in the water…"

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