Dream Cottage (13 page)

“No, dear. I’m sorry to say that she too was murdered.”

Greta raised her eyebrows. “Great! So I have a cottage steeped in a murderous past! Aren’t I lucky?”

“Not so long ago, it happened within the last few years. It was a man with the same name… he pushed her… pushed her so hard she couldn’t get up again… the ground was wet against her skin… he knelt over her, where she lay, holding her down… holding his hand over her nose and mouth… he had cold, clammy hands…”

“What do you mean, by a man with the same name? Surely they weren’t both called Barnabas; that would be too much of a coincidence! Anyway, there is a couple of hundred years between them!” Greta’s mind raced.

“Both had the same name, dear. That is what Evie is telling me. Both had the same
surname
!”

Greta looked alarmed. She jumped as her phone began to ring. She pressed the ignore button.

“What’s the surname?”

Nonie didn’t answer immediately. She was in spiritual communication again. She eventually spoke.

“Sorry, dear. They’ve gone. I can’t get any more information from them.”

Nonie flopped back on to the millstone, gasping with exhaustion. Greta was speechless. She held her hand to her head and ran her fingers through her hair. She got up and paced around the garden.

“Are you sure they didn’t give you any clues as to what the name was?” she spoke at length.

“No, dear. They have both gone now. I cannot raise them.”

Greta thought for a moment.

“Nonie, would you mind staying overnight? Perhaps we can continue with this investigation tomorrow? How would you feel about that? How is your diary fixed?”

Nonie considered.

“I would love to, dear, provided I can get some rest. My diary is free for the next few days. I think we have a mystery on our hands that needs to be solved.”

“I can offer you a room at my mother’s house. I just need to make a phone call to confirm things with her,” Greta replied.

“That would be fine, dear. I am feeling rather shattered now and am in need of a lie down.” Nonie looked flushed.

“You’ve certainly proved one thing,” Greta smiled.

“What’s that, dear?”

“You certainly aren’t a fake!”

Greta turned the key in the car’s ignition as Nonie again wrestled with her seatbelt and her large, red handbag. They drove slowly back up the unmade lane. A flock of birds circled around the cottage high in the air; crows cawed in the tops of the ash trees that lined the garden at Greenacres. Pigeons fought for space in amongst the branches as dusk was beginning to fall. The sky was turning to aubergine with flames of red stripes, tinged with pink. The trees in the distance were grey against the failing light.

“Mummy is looking forward to meeting you, Nonie. I found out recently that she is quite keen on paranormal topics. I expect she’ll want to quiz you a bit.”

Nonie smiled. “Most people do want to pick my brain, when they find out what I do. Curiosity mainly.”

“Right.”

They hadn’t seen the dark figure crouching low down and close to the hedgerow along the lane. As the car passed by, it suddenly sprang into life and made a dash towards the cottage. The figure was of a man, dressed in black with an athletic physique as he tore off at a sprint to the back of Greenacres and into the garden. Stopping to catch his breath, he pulled out a mobile phone and dialled a number. Swallowing to compose himself, he spoke.

“Yeah, I’m here. Now what?” He waited as he was given an instruction. “Seriously? You’re not right in the head, mate. Surely not?” he questioned his task that he had been instructed to complete. “I might be fit and healthy, but that’s just outrageous!” He ended the call abruptly and swore to himself. Clearly, he was not happy with what he had been told to do. He shook his head and made another call.

“Yeah, it’s me. Look, I can’t see you tonight. Something has come up. No, not sure. I’ll ring you. Bye.”

The man paced around the garden for a time, muttering to himself in the gathering darkness. He lit a cigarette and took a long, deep draw, so the amber embers were quite prominent against the sky. He pulled a small metal hip flask from his coat pocket and took a swig from it. He made a face as the alcohol trickled down his throat. He paced around the garden for a few minutes and then turned on his heel. He picked up a large stone from the ground and threw it purposefully at the kitchen window. The impact was minimal as the glass fractured into a million pieces, however it held its place within its UPVC frame. The man used his elbow to clear away spent shards, which scattered on to the floor. He reached inside and turned the handle and the frame opened easily.

Once inside, the man held a torch to the entrance to the well and pulled out his phone. He made another call. He spoke in a hushed whisper.

“I’m in; now what?” He awaited further instruction. “Is that possible?” he questioned. “You’re having a joke… yeah, right!”

He leaned over the hole in the floor where the pile of bricks lay scattered and shone the torch down inside. “It’s a long way down; where? Are you sure?” He wildly looked around for a ladder. “There isn’t one; they must
have taken it.” He added, “I don’t know, she’s only just left. Okay, I’ll try…
I said
, I’ll try, I can’t promise anything! You don’t even know what’s down there!”

He ended the call and shone the torch around the kitchen. The builders had taken the ladder with them. The man, in desperation, peered down the entrance to the hole. As he was leaning over, deciding whether to jump, a shadowy male figure, which was stood behind him, rose up and swiftly pushed with such force the man instantly disappeared down the hole.

“Erghhhhhh!” His voice disappeared into the well as he fell. He landed with a smack on the ground and laid still. He was still holding the torch as he tried to move.

“Argh!” he yelped as a sharp pain travelled up from his ankle. “Shit!” His phone rang simultaneously.

“Yeah? No, I’m
not
all right. I don’t know what happened. One minute I was at the top, and for some reason, it felt like something pushed me. I fell down it. I’ve done something to my bloody ankle. It is killing me! I don’t know! I haven’t tried to move it.”

He tried to get up. The pain from his ankle was intense. He had been immobilised. “Sorry mate, no can do. I have done some serious damage to it. I need help!” he panted as the pain from his ankle made him close his eyes in agony. “I think I’ve broken it! I can’t feel my toes. I’m in a bad way! You need to get me out of here, now! You and your hare-brained ideas… you’d better had get me out; I’m telling you, I’m not staying here till they get back! What? You have got to be kidding me!” He was incredulous. “Hello? Hello? Well, fuck you then!” He threw the phone across the ground and it disappeared into a mass of mud and cobwebs.

“Delighted to meet you, Ms Spangler!” Jeanne held out her hand to Nonie. “Do come in. I am Jeanne and this is my husband, Charles.” She indicated to Charles who was loitering in the doorway staring at her in a very dubious way.

Nonie smiled and shook his hand.

“I will show you to your room, dear.” Jeanne fussed Nonie towards the staircase and indicated for her to follow.

“What a charming house, Mrs Standing.” Nonie slowly climbed the stairs and gazed at the paintings adorning the walls as she went.

“Oh! Call me Jeanne, please!” Jeanne cooed. She reached the landing and pointed to a door. “Here is your room, dear. Freshen up and come down for a cup of tea. I will be serving it in the drawing room!”

“Thank you. But if it’s all the same with you, I will have a lie down. I’m feeling rather weak.” Nonie sank down on to the bed and sighed.

“Oh, oh, that’s such a shame,” Jeanne looked disappointed but overcame it with a smile. She took the hint to leave. She quietly closed the bedroom door behind her.

Greta was in the living room with her father. Jeanne spoke in a whisper.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on? Do you have psychic problems at Greenacres?”

“You could say that,” Greta smiled weakly.

“And…?” Jeanne was in suspense. She folded her arms and clutched her sides tightly.

“I think Greenacres is haunted,” Greta announced.

“Oh no! My dear girl!” Jeanne spluttered. “Does Maxim know?”

Greta nodded. “Yes. But he’s so sceptical. He thinks he may have heard or seen something. But he isn’t convinced. I told him I thought it was haunted and managed to talk him around to getting Nonie to investigate.”

Jeanne was perversely intrigued. Her eyes were wide with unmistakable excitement. “Has she found anything?”

“Yes, it is unravelling to be a bit of a crime scene; historically; not in recent times.”

“How fascinating!” Jeanne perched on the edge of Charles’s armchair. “How romantic!”

“I wouldn’t say it is romantic, mummy. Unnerving is more the case and a pain in the bum.”

“Have
you
seen anything untoward?” Jeanne probed.

“Hmmm, possibly. But I need to know for sure; from Nonie.”

Jeanne paused before she eventually spoke.

“But isn’t she a fake, dear? A phoney?”

“That’s what I need to establish. I have an inkling of what is going on at Greenacres myself. But I need to hear it and have it confirmed from someone independently.”

“Good idea, darling!”

“Load of old codswallop, if you ask me, my girl!” Charles dared to air his point of view. He was immediately shot down in flames by Greta.

“So you are an expert on the paranormal now then, are you?” Greta shrieked.

Charles was alarmed at Greta’s outburst.

“Uh… no, but honestly love, ghosts?”

Greta glared at him.

“Dad, you don’t know anything!” She got up and stormed out of the room. Jeanne sighed and stared at her husband. She slowly clapped her hands together in a sarcastic applause.

“Well done, dear! Always one to put your size nines in it!” She left Charles alone. He remained defiant, staring into open space. His lips were in a military pout, almost covering the lower part of his nose.

Greta was stood in the kitchen. She was furious. Jeanne placed a sympathetic hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t listen to him, dear. He has no idea what he’s talking about.”

“Too right, he doesn’t know! Why is he so quick to scorn it?” Greta sniffed.

“It’s because he’s scared, darling. Scared of what might be. Nothing more. He’s a silly old fool.”

Greta blew her nose noisily into a piece of kitchen paper. Jeanne retrieved a tissue and handed it as a replacement to Greta, clearly concerned about her daughter using incorrect paper.

“I don’t want Greenacres to be suffering. I want it to be free from anything evil that’s lurking there. It isn’t fair! Why didn’t the Rev Oli tell us? Why?” she snivelled from behind her tissue.

“I must admit that it wasn’t very clever missing out the fact that Greenacres might have a spiritual lodger.”

“Perhaps he genuinely didn’t know about it. But then, he
must
have known!” Greta tried to reason. “He knew about the deaths, of the two women, one of them was his tenant! He must know about everything that happened there!”

“Being a man of the cloth, he probably didn’t want to
cause a stir. Religious people are very wary of supernatural things, aren’t they? They don’t believe in ghosts, but they do cherish the fact there is an afterlife,” Jeanne tried to reassure Greta.

“Convenient, wouldn’t you say?” Greta wiped her corner of her eyes with the tissue.

“Have you thought about asking him for some more information?” Jeanne asked.

“No, not until now. Now I want to quiz him about absolutely everything.”

“I suggest you get some rest, darling. Perhaps phone the Reverend later and arrange to meet with him?”

Greta distantly nodded. “Okay.”

“I’ll make some tea and take a cup up to Nonie. She wanted to have a rest.”

“I’ll go and make my peace with the father.” Greta raised her eyebrows and walked into the drawing room.

Charles was staring into the fireplace. He glanced at Greta and resumed his defiant, stubborn look.

“You don’t need to look like that any more, dad. I’m sorry for yelling at you. You are entitled to your own opinion and I respect that. I just need answers, that’s all. And if I am wrong about Greenacres, and I sincerely hope that I am, then that will be the end of it. Nothing more will be said about it. Will you forgive me?”

Charles sniffed in an offish fashion and eventually grumbled.

“Yes, as long as you don’t dwell on things. When people die, that’s it; they are gone… forever! Some people believe there’s a paradise; a heaven, when death occurs. I’m afraid I’m not one of them. Probably because my father didn’t believe and he instilled the same into me, as a young boy. Old habits die hard, my dear. Didn’t mean anything by it.” He indicated for Greta to sit beside him on the rug.
She obediently sat at his feet, staring into the embers of the fire. Charles stroked her hair.

“It’s not like you to stand up for yourself, dad.” Greta smiled as she spoke.

“No. Most of the time I tend to humour your mother. She loves to get her own way, so why should I stand in her way? It’s much easier to agree with her. But this; well, it’s something I feel
very
strongly about. Nothing more; it’s nothing against you. But I’m not keen on having that medium thingy… person in our house. Makes me feel like she is taking the rise; like she is trying to pretend she is something that she isn’t. Charlatan, I think, is the best word to describe her.” Charles continued to stroke Greta’s hair.

“Like Lawrence of Arabia?” She looked up at Charles.

“Exactly… complete charlatan!” He smiled and reached over to place another log of wood on the dying embers of the fire.

The following morning dawned grey and overcast. There was a haze of mist over the ground, like a carpet of smoky incandescence. As Greta and Nonie drove down the track towards Greenacres, it couldn’t have looked more sinister or spooky. The cottage walls protruded through the mist in patches, making the whole place appear as though it was floating off the ground. Greta gritted her teeth. She was determined to solve more of the mystery that Greenacres held. She looked across at Nonie, who had her eyes tightly closed.

“Are you sensing something already, Nonie?” Greta was concerned.

“No, dear. I’m just feeling a bit queasy. Probably from the car ride.” Nonie opened her eyes. She shuffled through her handbag and retrieved a bottle of smelling salts. She removed the lid and took a deep breath. “That’s better.” She made a face as the smelling salts, which, Greta noticed, were exceptionally potent. “I’ll be fine… urgh!” she spluttered.

“Well, we’re here.” Greta parked the car around the side of the cottage. She noticed the lack of builders’ vans in the driveway. Greenacres was silent.

“Come on Nonie, we have work to do.” She encouraged Nonie to get out of the car.

Clutching a set of keys, Greta sauntered to the back door and turned the lock. As she opened the door, she stopped. She noticed something wasn’t right with the kitchen window and wandered over to take a look. She yelled in dismay.

“I don’t believe it! Look, the window has been smashed! Oh no!”

She dashed back to the door and threw it open. As she did so, she reached for her phone and dialled Max’s number. It went to voicemail. She didn’t leave a message. As she walked into the house, she was hit by an invisible force that threw her on to the back foot. She staggered to remain upright. She shook her head and blinked.

“Christ! It absolutely stinks inside. It smells like a sewer! Positively foul!” She looked over to Nonie, who was staring at the roof. “Come on, Nonie, help me. We need to get inside, but you will need to put something over your nose and mouth. It reeks!”

“Just as I thought,” Nonie muttered, shaking her head.

“What?” Greta handed Nonie a cotton scarf. “Here, take this, you’ll need it.”

“I don’t know. I am sensing it’s his way of trying to prevent you from going inside. A smokescreen… or something.”

“More like shit screen! Sorry, I don’t mean to be coarse, but it really does smell like it!” Greta draped her scarf across her nose. She held her breath and stepped inside the kitchen. She closed her eyes and made face.

“Oh! It’s coming from the well. Now, why doesn’t that surprise me?”

Determined not to be defeated by whatever barriers
threatened her, Greta strode forwards into the kitchen.

“Don’t think you’ve won this bout, matey; it is only just beginning!” she shouted aloud in hope that something might hear her.

Nonie was a little more reserved in her entrance into the kitchen. She held her scarf tightly across her nose and slowly surveyed the room. She caught a glimpse of a shadow near the entrance to the well and focused on it. She waved in silence to get Greta’s attention.

“Over there!” Nonie whispered and indicated by frantic pointing and waving of her hand. “I have seen something over there!”

“What?” Greta whispered back. She looked puzzled. “Why are we whispering?”

“I don’t know. I saw something over there!” Nonie repeated and waved at the direction of the well.

“Was it him? Was it this
Barnabas
person?” Greta was getting impatient.

Nonie was silent. She shook her head. “I couldn’t tell if it was him or not. It was a black shadowy figure, lurking near the well entrance. I think this issue with the smell is his way of trying to put us off.”

“Well it will take more than that to put me off. If it were a plague of…” she shuddered, “… urgh, spiders, wow, I said it! Well then, it might have more of an effect! Perish the thought. It has an aroma of death about it!”

“Don’t!” Nonie hissed.

“What?” Greta frowned.

“Think of spiders, cos if he is the type of spirit I think he is, with pure evil on his mind, it might just be that he confronts you with… your own worst fear. Clear your mind! Now! Quickly!”

“Okay, I am trying to,” Greta panicked and looked wildly around her. “It’s okay, I’ve not seen any of them yet.”

“Clear, your, mind!” Nonie sounded strange. Her voice had changed. The tone of it sounded deep and sinister.

“Do it now… clear your mind… urgh!” She fell backwards against a granite work surface and struggled to stay on her feet. “Don’t do that! Don’t you dare do that to me!” she shouted into the air. She clung to the edge of the work surface. “How dare you! How dare you!” She regained her balance and stood defiantly in the centre of the room.

“Nonie! Are you all right?” Greta was spooked at Nonie’s action.

“Yes, I’m just dandy!” she replied, with her arms folded. “Is that the best you can do? You know you cannot win! You cannot win this!” She paced slowly around the kitchen.

A groan from below in the well stopped her.

“What the hell was that?” Greta screamed and looked across at Nonie who was holding on to her side, wincing in pain.

“I don’t know, what was what?”

“There was a noise, from the well; a groan. Listen!”

“Ergh, heeeelp me…!” the voice wailed from below. “I need… heeelp!”

“It’s a voice! Someone is in the well! Is it that Barnabas bloke?” Greta shrieked.

Nonie shuffled to where Greta was stood. She listened at the entrance.

“I can’t hear anything. But I am more concerned about what is behind you!” she slowly raised her finger and pointed to the wall. Greta froze and whispered.

“What? You’re scaring me, Nonie! What is it?”

Nonie was holding her own conversation.

“Is that right? Oh do you now? Well, aren’t you the big man? Don’t think you can do the same to us. You can’t hurt either of us. You aren’t living; you are a spirit,
you are dead. You are not of this world. In fact, you are nobody! Nobody wanted you in life, did they? And now, nobody wants you in the spirit world. I’m right, aren’t I? You are a menace, as you were in this world. A complete menace that only survived by preying on other people and their property. That’s what you did, didn’t you? Prey on other people. Prey on women. Poor, defenceless women; it wasn’t just Willow, was it? Who else did you prey on? Who else did you bully? Who else did you… murder… urgh!”

“For god’s sake! Someone help me!” the weak voice called from the well floor.

Nonie fell to the floor like a stone. The contents of her handbag spilled on to the floor. She writhed on the floor, tossing from one side to the other, moving away from an invisible force that appeared to be above her. She inched her way over the flagstone floor by pushing her feet underneath her and struggling to escape for all she was worth. Greta was in shock. She couldn’t comprehend what was happening. She stood in the kitchen with her hands held tightly over her ears.

“Nonie!” she screamed. “Can you hear me? Do you need help?”

“He’s right above me, Greta. It’s Barnabas! He’s stood over me. He is trying to get his hands… oh, hand; he has a hook. He only has one hand! He’s trying to get it around my neck! Get help. Summon the Reverend! Get him over here now!” she gasped as she closed her eyes. She choked as she spoke. “He… is trying to… strangle me… help… help!”

Greta’s mind raced back to the encounter in the drawing room. “He only has one hand…” Realisation hit her. The severed hand! She focussed her mind and grabbed her mobile phone. The signal had died. She ran outside
and a faint signal appeared on the screen. She dialled the Rev Oli. As she did so, she peered through the kitchen window and could see Nonie still writhing on the floor, shouting obscenities to what appeared to be thin air.

“Er, hello? Rev Oli? Yes, it’s Greta Berkley. Yes, yes, I’m fine. Look, I need your help! We need your help. Now! It’s very, very urgent!”

“Why Gretel, you sound so distressed! What in heaven’s name is the matter?” Rev Oli nervously asked.

“There is no time to explain! We have a problem, or maybe several problems, at Greenacres. We need your help in the professional sense. Please hurry! And can you please bring some holy water with you. I think we may be in dire need of it!”

Greta abruptly ended the call. Rev Oli stared at the phone, replaced the receiver on its cradle and ambled towards the door of the vicarage.

Greta dashed back into the kitchen. Nonie was lying still on the floor.

“Oh no! Nonie! Can you hear me?” Greta dropped to the floor beside Nonie and listened for her breathing.

Nonie was motionless. Her breathing was very shallow.

“Nonie! Speak to me!” Greta shook the lifeless body. “Come on! Don’t let him defeat you! He must not defeat you!”

Nonie’s eyes flickered for an instant. She blinked and drew breath. She pointed to her inhaler that was strewn across the floor.

“There… fetch it… over there!” she whimpered.

Greta looked across the room and lunged for the inhaler. She passed it to Nonie and puffed some blasts into her mouth.

Nonie spluttered and started choking.

“More?” Greta shrieked.

Nonie nodded without speaking. Again, Greta puffed the inhaler into Nonie’s mouth. She paused.

“Is that enough?” She glanced at Nonie, whose eyes were flickering.

“Yes,” Nonie whispered. “Enough… enough…”

“Are you okay?” Greta checked Nonie’s pulse. It was very rapid.

Nonie nodded.

“I will be; just give me a minute or two.” She coughed and cleared her throat. “He was pushing so hard on my chest, the air was literally being squeezed out of me. He is very powerful, so very powerful. He nearly throttled me to death.”

“I know, I could see it; I mean, I could tell. I couldn’t see him. I felt so helpless. I really did. I couldn’t help you. But I’ve spoken to the Reverend. He is coming over right away. Hopefully, if you are up to it and he is as well, between you, you can get rid of this Barnabas.”

“Yes, dear. That would be the plan. When will the Reverend be here?” Nonie sat up and reached over for her handbag. She began to refill it with the contents that were scattered across the floor. Her breathing was still irregular.

“He didn’t say; but I said it was very urgent… what’s that?” Greta got up off the floor as she heard a car door slam. It was Rev Oli.

“Gretel, my dear!” he held out his hands to Greta as he rushed through the doorway. He clasped hold of her hands in a reverential fashion.

“Oh, Rev Oli. We are in desperate need of you. We have a problem,” Greta walked the Rev into the kitchen. “This is Nonie Spangler. She is a spiritual medium. She’s here to help me solve a few problems that Greenacres appears to have. But she cannot do it alone. She has found
a troublesome spirit, who is intent on causing harm. Can you please help us, Rev?” Greta looked deeply into Rev Oli’s eyes.

“Well, good day to you Miss Spangler. I cannot say that our paths have ever crossed. Please tell me what is happening here.”

“Oh Reverend,” Nonie slowly rose to her feet and held out her hand. It was shaken limply by Rev Oli. “I am usually quite capable of dealing in such situations with spirits; but I have never encountered such a powerful one as this. I am hoping with your help, we can move this gentleman out of Greenacres for good. Are you willing to help?”

Rev Oli was silent. He looked perturbed. He scratched his head and frowned.

“What is this spirit you have discovered?”

“His name is Barnabas. He…” Nonie stopped dead in her tracks. Rev Oli had turned very pale. He held his hand to his head and spun around. “What?” he yelled in a most out of character fashion.

“What did you say he was called?” he reiterated.

“Uh, Barnabas. But I don’t have a surname. I can’t seem to reach any conclusion regarding a surname.” Nonie puzzled and picked up her handbag from the floor.

“No, no, you must be mistaken. Truly mistaken.” Rev Oli paced around the kitchen, still holding his hand to his head. His face remained pale. The colour had completely drained from him.

“I have been informed by two different sources and they both say the same name. Barnabas. The sources also tell me that he has the same surname. But I can’t fathom out what they actually mean.”

Rev Oli was silent. He paced around the kitchen, avoiding the well. At length, he spoke.

“I think I can answer that question. In fact, I am sure
I can. This Barnabas person is someone that I am unfortunately aware of. However, I wish I wasn’t. His name has plagued me for years. On deeds to Greenacres, I saw the name. In idle chitchat, I hear his name; in my deepest fears, I know of his name. He is, or rather, he was, in life, Barnabas Mowbrie… heaven help me for saying that name.” Rev Oli broke off and stood at the window gazing into the garden.

Nonie and Greta stood in silence, hardly daring to take in what the Rev had just said. Greta shook her head.

“Of the same name. He has the same name…” She looked at the Reverend. “Does this mean… can this mean, that we have a neighbour who is a relation of Barnabas Mowbrie?”

Rev Oli nodded.

“I am afraid so, Gretel. I am so sorry.”

“And you knew about this? About this Barnabas person?” Greta was feeling anger building up inside.

Rev Oli nodded.

“Yes, I am aware of Barnabas, but not of all his ancestral history. I am aware he was a smuggler who lived at Greenacres, in the 1700s. There is talk that the cottage was linked with the Smuggler’s Hide pub and that Barnabas and his accomplices dug a tunnel between the two properties to store smuggled goods… contraband, and travel unseen along it, out of sight of the customs men. I am not sure what he smuggled, but I can only assume it was the usual smuggling booty - alcohol and tobacco.”

“So you knew of his connection with Greenacres?” Greta snapped.

“Yes, my dear. I’m afraid I did know.”

“Did you know what happened to him? How he died?”

Rev Oli shook his head.

“No. Only that he smuggled contraband and stored it
here, or possibly underground. I never knew of his demise. I don’t know if anyone is aware. It comes up for discussion every now and then in idle gossip but any rumour is instantly quashed by Mr Marcus Mowbrie.”