Penmort Castle (Ghosts and Reincarnation #1)(81)

“Yes. You are correct,” Cash was enunciating his words with scary clarity. “Normally, it would be unacceptable. But you appear to have helped yourself to my girlfriend’s house to do…” he hesitated, cast an irate glance around the living room and continued, “whatever-the-f*ck you’re doing and by the looks of it, it isn’t f**king good.”

Abby looked around and realised he wasn’t wrong.

Not only were there candles burning, there were heavy scarves thrown over the shades of her lamps, muting their brightness so much Abby didn’t notice until then they were switched on. More scarves of velvet and silk festooned the table in front of the couch, on which there was a variety of paraphernalia, including burning incense, more candles (dripping onto the cloth, by the way), bowls filled with dark liquid, a huge, clear, round ball on a poofy, tasselled, velvet pillow and what looked, distressingly, like the bones of a small animal (or an infant and, even though neither choice was good, Abby was hoping for the former).

“You weren’t supposed to be home until later,” Mrs. Truman stuck with her earlier theme.

Cash rocked back on his heels and sucked breath in through his nose in an obvious attempt at patience.

Jenny looked at her watch and hesitantly entered the fray.

“Um, Mrs. Truman, I think it is later,” she said.

Mrs. Truman looked at her own watch then up to Jenny and remarked sedately, “Oh, so it is.”

“Time flies when the spirits aren’t talking,” the Gypsy Queen put in.

Cash spoke again and this time he had his anger in check but you could tell, just barely.

“Let’s start this again,” he suggested. “What are you doing here?”

“Séance,” Mrs. Truman instantly replied as if this was an entirely natural thing to be doing in someone else’s living room or at all.

Cash’s eyes narrowed and Jenny and Fenella both took steps back. The Gypsy Queen crossed her arms on her chest, a small smile playing at her mouth and Mrs. Truman went into stare down mode with Cash.

“You’re having a séance,” Cash repeated in a way that said he not only couldn’t believe his ears, he didn’t want to.

“Yes,” Mrs. Truman replied calmly.

“In Abby’s living room,” Cash went on.

Mrs. Truman glanced at Jenny then back at Cash and explained, “It would upset my dogs if we did it at my house.”

“Kieran would totally freak if we did it at ours,” Jenny threw in.

Cash’s eyes cut to her and he gave her a look that said without words, “no f**king kidding?” therefore Jenny took another step back.

Bravely, Fenella spoke up, “And you know Alistair would have a fit if we tried something like this at the castle.”

Cash pinned Fenella with a look. “Would you like to explain why you’re here?”

Fenella’s glance darted around the room then she took in a deep breath and tried but failed to perform a nonchalant shrug. “Well, see, I was in Clevedon the other day, um…” she glanced at Jenny and then said, “shopping. And I thought I’d pop by and say hi to Abby. She wasn’t here because, you know, she was with you.”

When she stopped speaking, Cash prompted, “Yes. I know. Continue.”

Fenella’s mouth moved around like it had forgotten how to form words before she plucked up the courage to go on. “I was knocking on the door and waiting and Mrs. Truman came out and asked who I was. Then we got to chatting then she invited me to tea then she told me about the séance and invited me to come. I’d never been to one and well,” she hesitated before throwing her hands out at the sides and finishing in a voice that was several octaves higher than normal, “I’m here.”

Cash stared at Fenella and it was clear even to someone who hadn’t spent nearly every single day of two weeks with him that he didn’t believe a word she said or at least not the important ones.

Surprisingly, he let it go and turned to The Gypsy Queen. “And you are?”

She lifted her chin while saying, “Cassandra McNabb. Clairvoyant and white witch, at your service.”

Cash watched her for a moment which slid into two which slid into three as all the women stood tense, waiting.

Then he muttered, “Fucking hell.”

“Obviously you’re tired and want a private moment to say goodnight to Abby before you go home,” Mrs. Truman said then continued pointedly, “to your own bed.”

This comment, Abby noted with alarm, made Cash, whose anger had partially cooled, look like he was going to explode.

“Actually –” he started with deadly calm but Abby jumped in front of him, pressed her back to his front and interrupted.

“Actually, why don’t you all just go on home? I’ll blow out the candles and clean up for you tomorrow.”

“Works for me,” Cassandra muttered, wandering toward a fringed bag that lay beside the hearth.

“I’m, um, staying with Mrs. Truman,” Fenella made this surprising announcement, her eyes on Abby looking weirdly like she was trying to communicate something she could not say out loud. “Maybe tomorrow you and I could have a cup of –”

Cash cut her off by saying, “No.”

Fenella’s eyes flitted to Cash and she uttered a strangled, “No?”