TRUE COLOURS
Lucy had never been one to believe in ghosts, but it seemed this one had something very specific in store for her.
‘And this is the dining room,’ Lucy said brightly. ‘As you can see, it’s set out as it would have been in the 17th century when the Marlings lived here.’
She was finding it hard to concentrate on her tried-and-tested commentary today. Where was Owen? He should have been here. He’d get a flea in his ear from Harry if he turned up now, this late in the day. But what if he didn’t?
‘I ALWAYS HOPED TO SEE THE GHOST’
The visitors moved around the historic room, looking at the portraits that hung on the walls. The long table was laid with a snowy white cloth and a dinner service with a wide, green stripe that seemed garish to modern eyes.
Lucy cast a wistful eye over the array of wine glasses, but a cup of tea would have to do for her when she’d finished taking this lot of tourists round.
Two of the Americans went to stare out of the long windows at the intricate knot garden, exclaiming delightedly that now they could see the pattern which was so difficult to understand at ground level, even when viewed from The Mound.
A bored sigh reached Lucy’s ears. The teenage girl, who was clearly being dragged around by her mother against her will, had done little more than check her phone every five minutes, even though it was quite clear there was no signal in the house. ‘Hardly worth paying the entrance fee for her,’ Lucy thought.
‘Isn’t this a lovely room, Eva?’ the girl’s mother said, a touch of desperation creeping into her tone.
Eva shrugged. ‘Whatever.’
The girl’s mum smiled apologetically at Lucy. ‘I used
