The King George was, ten minutes, walk from Nina and Rory's house. The outside was a little shabby, chipped paint and more weeds than flowers in the window boxes. Inside was better. Soft colours on the walls, the carpet looked fairly new, and the furniture was mismatched, but of decent quality.
Entering the bar, Rory led them to the end where there was a raised area with tables for dining. Maria and Grant waved to them and they joined their friends. Able to look across the rest of the bar, Nina saw that it was fairly busy. Older customers gathered in the comfortable chairs around the low tables and a group of men were crowded at the bar.
A waiter arrived and dished out the menus before taking their drinks order. Maria suggested a wine that she had tried before and was rather nice.
"What do you recommend food wise?" Nina was looking at the menu with a frown.
"Nothing you fancy?" Rory asked.
"The opposite. It all sounds nice."
"Maria likes the curry, its not too hot. I am man, so I usually have a steak or the mixed grill." Grant said
"Okay, the curry it is. What about you, Rory."
"I am man, too. Bring me steak."
"Oh Lord. The testosterone is strong tonight." Nina said to Maria and they both raised their eyebrows.
Drinks arrived and the chat kept them going until the food appeared. A mouthful of the curry confirmed that it was good and tasting and nodding broke out around the table. Not much conversation happened while everyone was busy eating, apart from comments on how lovely everything was. As the, empty, plates were taken away an old gentleman approached the table.
The frail man must have been in his eighties. His layers of clothes hung on him. Wearing a friendly smile, he moved towards Rory and then held out his hand.
"Young Rory. lovely to see you. This must be your wife."
"Yes, this is Nina. Nina this is Len. He has lived in Fernborough all his life and he is an expert on the town and local villages. There is not a folk tale, or piece of ancient history he doesn't know."
"Not just ancient history. I am fully up to date."
"I wouldn't have thought there was much of note happening nowadays." Grant said.
"There are always things of note. Like your house, Rory. You are the third family to live there since the Phillips left. The last two occupants just couldn't settle. Apparently, there were ghosts afoot. Things were moved around and there were noises at night. I don't know who would be haunting the place, but there you go. Another Fernborough legend in the making."
"Really? Well, we have been fine. No ghostly presence, nothing strange. The incumbent entity must have taken a liking to us." Rory seemed quite happy.
"Had you heard any of this?" Nina asked Grant and Maria.
"A few rumours, but it's all nonsense." Grant was laughing.
"Ah, sceptics. Who knows what the truth is? I've collected stories all my life and there have been some weird ones. Ghosts, demons, aliens, you name it, there's a tale. I'm sure you will be perfectly happy in your new home. Nice to see you Rory and to meet you Nina. Goodnight." Len made his way out of the pub.
"Living in a haunted house, eh. I think that would be quite interesting." Maria said.
"It's all rubbish. Spirits and ghosts. Mind you, if it tidies up and does the housework, I'll learn to live with it." Nina grinned.
Strolling home at the end of the evening, Nina and Rory only talked about the food and the company. Neither spoke about Len and his stories of ghosts. That was a conversation to be had in the morning, in daylight, when they were sober.
Nina got into bed and then lay awake for a while. Rory was breathing deeply beside her, obviously fast asleep. The house was quiet. Concentrating on the surroundings, there was no hint of anything spooky. No footsteps echoing around the rooms, no creaking door hinges, no chill in the air. Satisfied that nothing was wrong, she slept at last.
The next morning Rory poured coffee and they sat at the dining table.
"That didn't worry you. All that talk about ghosts." Rory asked.
"No, not at all. I'm not into all that paranormal stuff."
"I didn't think you were. It's a bit unnerving when you hear a story like that about your own house though."
"Well, I haven't had any bad vibes about the place. If that's even a thing. It's a house. It's bricks and mortar."
"You're right. We will consign Len's story to the junk pile and carry on as normal."