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what it’s like inside.’ 
    Nathan glanced up at the second window on the left on the first floor. ‘Did you see that flash of red?  Looks like someone moving up there – look there on the first floor?’
    Douglas squinted. ‘No – nothing there.  Must have been the light catching the glass, or what’s left of it.’
    ‘Huh, might be the ghost of Muriall.’
    ‘A ghost is the least of our worries.  This is a damn ruin let alone the castle.’  He caught his breath, as they stepped into the central hall, although again sadly in need of repair. It must have been magnificent, as it soared up the whole height of the Manor into a cupola with pillars decorated in trompe l'oeil.  Far above them, the figure moved to the door listening, softly sighing, ‘Stay....’
    Looking up Nathan whispered, ‘Did you hear that?  D’you think it’s her?’
    Douglas grinned, ‘You’d love it wouldn’t you?  But, sorry Bro’ it’s the wind. It’s a big old draughty place. Honestly, that imagination of yours.’
    As Nathan pushed the door open walking into what appeared to be a sitting room, at least sixty feet long by thirty feet wide, he was unaware of a woman’s skeletal hand on his shoulder. ‘Wow this would make a fantastic restaurant.’
    The dining room appeared vast.  The darker spaces on the burgundy wall showed traces of paintings taken down, whilst dust sheets covered the chairs. A magnificent oak dresser with lead lined glass; grey with grime and dust stood to one wall.  Douglas muttered ‘This would seat quite a few people – just right.’  He looked at his reflection in a huge gilt framed mirror with aging black patches, jumping back as the surface appeared to ripple. Blinking his eyes, he tried to readjust his sight.  The mirror must be ancient. It would have to be re-silvered.
    Another door led into what must have been the ballroom with bay windows overlooking the lawns whilst another led into a long rectangular dining room, the rich red brocade wallpaper peeling, again darker patches showed where paintings once hung.
    Nat said, ‘Make a good bar you know.’  He shivered as they entered a long stone corridor, which led to a wood galleried kitchen. Looking up at the carved gallery some sixteen feet high stretching along the whole length of one stone wall Nat said, ‘What’s the gallery for then?’
    Magnificent isn’t it?  Every morning the lady of the house would enter through the door to stand on the gallery and throw down the day’s menu to the kitchen servants.  Didn’t want any contact with them.  In those days, they were afraid of lice jumping on them. You can catch cholera or typhus from fleas.’
    ‘That’s sickening, and they did the cooking. Yuck.’
    ‘The servants would have been clean, but lice lived in the seams and hems of clothes.’    
    Nat gazed up at the gallery, picturing the lady of the house or the maid throwing down the day’s menu.  ‘Life was risky in those days.’
    Douglas turned to the door.   ‘Better see the state of the bedrooms.’
    Together they climbed the central staircase leading to a landing with corridors off both sides. The master bedroom held a magnificent four-poster bed with Tudor roses carved in the central panes of the head and footboards.  Douglas swept his hand over the headboard, ‘Not in bad nick. Needs a polish though.’
    Nathan looked at the vast oak carved wardrobe.  ‘Look there’s a huge wicker basket here, must’ve been for the dogs.’ Strolling over to the wardrobe, he said, ‘Look, the last owners even left clothes in here.'
    ‘Yeah, Pevensey did say they left in a hurry.’      
    Douglas stopped abruptly.  ‘Can you smell that?  It’s like ozone – seaweed?’
    ‘Nathan frowned, ‘Yeah you’re right.’
    ‘Strange.’
    ‘Yeah, but we not far from the sea so maybe the wind’s blowing this way.’

      
     
     
    CHAPTER 4
     

PRESENT DAY – JESSICA
NEW YORK          
     
    She