Free Haunted Fields by Dan Moore Page A

thought I saw a ghost,’ he said.

9
    Freddie upended his boot, patting the muddy underside with his palm, ejecting needle-like shards of straw which fell like confetti over the rugged doormat. He knew that in the average household this act would be tantamount to high treason. But the back porch of the farmhouse had been reserved for boots, patched-up overalls, hats, winter jackets. What would Rhona have made of all this? He often wondered why she’d never volunteered their house as a show home for the estate.
    â€˜We won’t be back ‘til five-ish so carry on with the tidying up ‘til four,’ said Greg, brushing past Freddie, wearing what looked like a brand new suit.
    â€˜It must be important,’ said Freddie, hopping around on his free foot. ‘Are you off to renew your wedding vows or something?’
    â€˜All will be revealed later,’ said Elizabeth, exiting the kitchen, dressed equally as smartly as her husband, in a long black skirt and white blouse.
    What are they up to? Abandoning work early… dressed-up… acting all secretive…He’d ask Jess if she knew anything about this lunchtime date.
    â€˜Have fun,’ he said, watching them trot sheepishly around the side of the house towards Greg’s truck. He’d wondered why they’d been in such a rush to get the routine, day-to-day tasks out of the way before dinner.
    Greg had left plenty for him to be getting on with, and he didn’t plan on disappointing his boss, especially after the embarrassment of the ruckus which had followed the misunderstanding at the cinema. He’d not put up much resistance when security had expelled him, largely because of how ashamed he’d felt at falsely identifying the lad from the public footpath.
    He cursed his luck. Why did a bloody policeman have to saunter past at that precise moment? Why? He seriously needed his fortunes to improve. And it hadn’t been any regular bobby either, but one who’d clearly had a bad day. He’d tried taking his telling off like a man, he really had. But ten minutes in, with the copper still laying into him, something finally snapped.
    â€˜Just who do you think you are?’ he’d said, loud enough for the growing crowd – which included his three blushing friends – to hear. ‘You’re certainly not my dad, and only he can speak to me like that.’
    â€˜Can he?’ asked the policeman. ‘Well, perhaps I’ll speak with him, then, and see what he makes of your behaviour.’
    â€˜Go for it!’
    He’d regretted the words the moment they’d left his mouth. But he knew he couldn’t take them back, not with the crowd egging him on, and with PC Take-on-the-world on his case.
    Dad hadn’t been impressed, and when Rhona had grabbed the phone from him Freddie’s humiliation had been complete.
    â€˜I’m disappointed in you, Freddie – you’ve really let me and your father down,’ she’d said. ‘First the stealing, now this … I expected more from you…You haven’t been brought up to behave this way… It really isn’t good enough…’
    â€˜Love you too!’ he shouted into the phone. He’d hung up, broken into a smile. He loved cutting Rhona off before she’d had the chance to deliver a verdict.
    He headed for the yard, a dark corner of which needed a good sweeping. He’d helped Greg clear the dingy area the day before. They’d removed rotten pallets, bags stuffed with bale band, and a stockpile of tools (mostly broken) which had more than likely been out of use when Ursula lived at Ridge Farm as a young girl. An epic spring clean was well underway, but as he’d seen and frequently remarked upon, the farm certainly needed it.
    He could see the sweeping brush propped up against a stone wall as he neared the once cluttered corner. He glanced briefly past the sheds and out across the hillside. In