Shiverton Hall, the Creeper
Read Shiverton Hall, the Creeper Online
Authors: Emerald Fennell
For my family – Mum, Dad, Coco, Chris and Daisy
Contents
The message was scrawled inside the crumbling cover in a shaking hand.
And underneath, in an unpunctuated string of quivering letters:
helpmehelpmepleasehelpmehelpmehelpmehelphelphelpme
pleaseplease
please
please
help me
please
please
help me
‘What on earth . . . ?’ Andrew murmured, turning the small book over in his hands.
It seemed ancient, bound in dry, chapped leather, and the paper within was a sickly yellow. Deep claw marks scarred the front and some of the pages had been torn away as though an animal had been at it.
Andrew looked at the warning in the front again:
do not read this book
.
He glanced around his bedroom anxiously; there was his old teddy, Baba, and his striped wallpaper, and the photograph of his family, his mum, his dad and his younger sister, Debbie. All as it had been a few moments before. But the room felt different somehow, colder. His mum usually had the heating up full blast in the winter – much to his father’s annoyance – but Andrew felt a draught whispering from some unseen crack, and something else too that he couldn’t quite identify.
He laughed a little too loudly, to try to dispel the unease that seemed to have lurched uninvited into his cosy bedroom. His parents had gone to watch Debbie’s ballet recital at Grimstone Town Hall. He now regretted begging them to be allowed to stay at home alone for the first time without a babysitter. ‘I’m old enough now,’ he had whined. ‘I’m thirteen.’
It wasn’t his only regret of the day.
Andrew should have known that Ronnie was up to something. Earlier that evening they’d been on a bike ride when Ronnie had grinned and said he wanted to take a shortcut home. Andrew started to suspect something as they reached the crumbling gates of Shiverton Hall, which was shut up for the Christmas holidays, but he wanted to impress Ronnie, so he said nothing.
Andrew didn’t want to admit it to himself, but the mere mention of Shiverton Hall had made the pulse twitch in his wrists ever since he was a boy. Everyone from Grimstone knew the stories about the place. You’d have to be a nutter to want to go to school there.
‘Ronnie,’ Andrew called as they pedalled towards the school’s enormous, stony silhouette, black against the grey sky. ‘What are we doing?’
‘You’ll see,’ Ronnie shouted back and steered his handlebars towards the side of the school, narrowly missing a mossy gargoyle that leaned menacingly out of the wall.
It was growing dark, and not a single light shone out from the vast, turreted heap. Andrew’s eyes flickered upwards for a moment, but he could not bear to look at the windows, for fear of what might be peering out of them.
They arrived at the back of the school, by the main quad, with its hideous fountain, where the pointy-toothed mermaid perched, belching brown water from her half-smiling mouth.
‘Grotty, isn’t she?’ Ronnie said, nodding towards the mermaid. ‘Grotty’ was Ronnie’s new favourite word; he’d heard it on some Australian TV show and couldn’t stop saying it. Andrew agreed that she was extremely grotty, and then asked what on earth they were doing.
‘You’re not scared, are you?’ Ronnie teased.
‘No,’ Andrew replied, puffing out his chest. ‘It’s just it’s getting dark and we might get caught.’
‘Don’t worry, the headmistress is on holiday and the groundsman is in the pub.’ He paused and dropped his voice to a spooky whisper. ‘We’re completely alone.’
‘Cut it out!’ Andrew said.
‘So, do you want to go inside?’
There was a flight of cracked, narrow steps at the base of the school, which led down to a flaky, black cellar door. It stood ajar by a crack.
‘I’m not sure about this,’ Andrew whispered.
‘Don’t worry,’ Ronnie answered. ‘I brought a couple of torches.’
Andrew couldn’t think of a response to this, so he meekly accepted.
‘You go first,’ Ronnie said, giving Andrew a little push towards the door.
‘All right!’ Andrew shrieked, the panic becoming impossible to disguise. ‘I’m going. Don’t push me.’
The door creaked open, and Andrew swept the torch around the room, its weak beam catching on the glimmering threads of cobwebs. The cellar looked as though no one had entered it in decades; a few rusting iron bedsteads were piled up in one corner, and decomposing leaves clumped in rotting heaps on the floor, squelched underfoot. An old beer can gleamed among the dust, making Andrew briefly wonder if some poor soul had once lived there. Or maybe the sixth-formers used the old place as a den
,
he thought, the idea comforting him a little.
Andrew let himself breathe. There was nothing to be frightened of: it was just an empty room.
Then the door shut with a slam behind him and in his alarm he dropped the torch. He could hear Ronnie laughing on the other side. Andrew struggled to yank it open, but the handle was greasy and kept slipping from his grip. ‘Please,’ Andrew begged. ‘Ronnie, please.’ Ronnie held the door fast.
Suddenly he felt the door give, and with a cry of relief he pulled it towards him.
‘I’m going to kill you!’ Andrew said, his voice still shaking.
‘Shhhh!’ Ronnie replied. He had climbed halfway up the steps and was staring at something across the quad.
‘What is it?’ Andrew asked reluctantly.
Ronnie turned to him, his finger on his lips, and then beckoned for Andrew to join him. Andrew did so grudgingly.
‘Keep your head down,’ Ronnie hissed. ‘Look!’
Andrew followed his friend’s gaze, past the mermaid fountain. It was almost dark, and a thin mist had begun to slither across the grounds.
‘I don’t see anything,’ Andrew whispered.
‘Over there,’ Ronnie whispered back.
Once Andrew saw it, he immediately regretted looking. A dark figure, hooded and hunched, was creeping along the path away from them; occasionally pausing to check it was alone. The mist and the long, black cloak made it seem as though it was gliding above the ground.
‘Let’s go,’ Andrew said under his breath. ‘I don’t like it.’
‘Where’s your sense of adventure?’ Ronnie whispered. ‘Let’s follow it!’
‘No, Ronnie, please.’ Andrew could hear the whine return to his voice, but he didn’t care. ‘Let’s go home.’
‘You can go home,’ Ronnie said, tiptoeing up the steps. ‘You’d better just hope that thing doesn’t catch you on your way back.’
Andrew stood paralysed at the top of the stairs. He didn’t want to go with Ronnie, but the idea of cycling alone in the dark seemed equally terrifying.
‘Come on,’ Ronnie urged. ‘It’s getting away.’
Andrew took a deep breath and followed his friend.
The hooded shadow swept through the grounds of Shiverton Hall, past the maze and the woods, past the boarding houses and the swimming pool covered with a slimy tarpaulin for the winter. Ronnie followed as close as he dared, with Andrew holding his breath behind him.
It came to a stop outside a square, red-bricked building, rather cosier than the other houses they had passed. Just visible among the ivy clinging to the garden wall, a brass plaque read
GARNONS
. Ronnie and Andrew ducked behind a bush and watched as the figure approached the building, the door swinging open at its command.
‘How did it do that?’ Ronnie whispered, impressed. ‘It didn’t even touch the door!’
‘That’s enough,’ Andrew said desperately. ‘Come on.’
‘No way!’
Ronnie sneaked into the garden, and peeked in through the window.
Andrew, too frightened to remain on his own, joined him.
They were looking in at a hall. A glass trophy cabinet ran along one wall and a grid of old, wooden pigeonholes was fixed on the other. The figure withdrew a parcel from its sleeve, and slotted it into one of the pigeonholes.
‘What is that?’ Andrew whispered.
‘Shhhh! It’s coming back!’ Ronnie hissed.
Ronnie and Andrew flattened themselves against the building as the hunched silhouette reappeared on the path.
Andrew squeezed his eyes shut, praying they wouldn’t be seen. He didn’t dare open his eyes until he heard Ronnie’s sigh of relief.
The figure retreated into the swirling mist.
‘Phew!’ he said. ‘That was close.’
‘Right,’ Ronnie said, walking towards the house. ‘Let’s see what that was all about, then.’
‘You can’t!’ Andrew said, as Ronnie pushed the door open.
‘I’m going to put it back,’ Ronnie said. ‘It’s not like I’m stealing it or anything.’
Ronnie strode over to the pigeonhole and brought down the parcel, carefully untying the string which held the brown paper wrapper in place. He looked at its contents dubiously. ‘It’s just a book!’ he said, his disappointment audible.
‘See?’ Andrew said. ‘It’s nothing. Now, can we please LEAVE!’
A light suddenly switched on at the top of the stairs and the boys froze. There were footsteps on the landing above them and a man’s voice called out, ‘Is someone there?’
Ronnie panicked, hurled the book at Andrew and bolted. Andrew, unsure which hole to return the book to, shoved it into his pocket and ran after Ronnie as the footsteps started to descend the staircase.
They sprinted all the way back to their bikes, and pedalled home faster than they ever had in their lives. When they finally arrived back at Andrew’s house, Andrew threw his bike down and turned on Ronnie furiously.