The Ghost House (10 page)

Annie turned the computer on in the study and stared at the screen, waiting for it to load. Her mind was overflowing with images of the house – her own personal slideshow – but there was one room it kept pausing on: the schoolroom. She had been inside that room and touched the things that were in the photograph. She had held the tin soldiers between her fingers and felt the cold metal they were made from. But how? It didn’t make any sense. She looked at the diary she had put on the desk next to her. She was desperate to read some more yet at the same time terrified because she knew it was messing with her already battered mind. At least it was keeping thoughts of Mike at bay.

When Google finally loaded she typed in ‘Abbey Wood’. Very little appeared. The first image was the one of the house just like the one she had seen in the records office. There were a couple of articles about the house and family but nothing like what she had expected. Surely the unfortunate happenings at the house had been a hotbed of gossip at the time. Annie began to think it was the most unpublicised haunted house in the world. Then a thought crossed her mind: what if it wasn’t haunted and this was all a figment of her imagination?

Her mind began to spin and her eyes became so heavy it was a struggle to keep them open. She stood up and made her way to the snug and the sofa, which had become her temporary bed, and snuggled down into the duvet that she’d left there this morning. When she had spoken to the doctor he had told her to expect that her body would need to recuperate and she should rest whenever she needed to. She drifted off to sleep and found herself in the house. Annie knew she had come home and that this was the one place she truly belonged. It was hard to describe but she felt as if she’d been away for a very long time and was glad to be back.

Her feet carried her from room to room; everything was as she remembered. The sumptuous velvet drapes that adorned each huge window still felt warm to her grasp. The richly coloured wallpapers brought the house to life. As she found herself in the library she picked up her favourite delicately hand painted vase. The heady perfume of the lilies that she used to arrange in it every week lingered in the air. The chair where Edward had held her brought memories rushing back and tears began to fall from her cheeks: she was so lonely.

Walking the long hallway to reach the kitchen her heart sank to see that Alfie and Cook weren’t there to greet her: where was everyone? She had expected to see them sitting around the battered pine kitchen table with cups of tea in hand, nibbling on the freshly baked biscuits that Cook made every week. Her fingertips brushed the wood, feeling the surface that had worn smooth from so much use. The hours she had spent sitting around it eating and gossiping were too many to count.

The scullery door was ajar and a cold chill rand down her spine as her eyes settled on the cellar door. She was afraid of the terrible blackness down there and something else which was locked away at the back of her mind. She left the kitchen and walked back to the great hall and the foot of the staircase. Why was the house so empty? She felt like the mistress of the house but she knew that it was impossible because she wasn’t Lady Hannah or Alice the housemaid. She looked down to see that she was wearing a beautiful dress of the palest blue silk. A gasp escaped her lips. Running her hand down the jewelled bodice she could feel the tiny pearls that had been painstakingly sewn on by hand. It was the kind of dress that Lady Hannah wore.

She found herself climbing the stairs to be greeted at the top by the most handsome young man she had ever seen.

She looked at him and then rushed up the last few steps towards him, falling into his arms.

Annie, in her dream-like state, was horrified but she was powerless to stop this vision of herself. Strong arms locked around her waist as he picked her up and whizzed her around. She looked into his cold, black eyes and a sickness in the pit of her stomach made her feel ill.

He grinned. ‘I just knew you would come back to me.’ Edward pulled her close to him, his lips brushing against her ear. ‘I can see you Alice, pretending to be someone else, although I have to say it’s quite a good hiding place. Definitely one of your better ones but I know that you are there. Why don’t you come out to play?’

Annie opened her eyes and sat bolt upright. Every nerve in her body was on edge. The voice had spoken directly into her ear it was so clear. She lifted a hand to feel her ear and shuddered; it was icy cold to her touch. She shivered more violently. The temperature in the room had dropped significantly and she buried her head into her hands and sobbed.

Later, when her tears had subsided, she noticed the fire was dying. Forcing herself to move she threw a couple of logs onto it and poked it around. Watching as it crackled, concentrating on nothing except the blue and orange wisps, finding some comfort in them. She thought about the spiritualist church she had visited last week after finding a flyer for it pinned to the noticeboard on the kitchen wall: it had seemed like a good idea at the time.

She couldn’t remember the last time she had been to a church, any church. Sitting around the open circle she followed everyone else and bowed her head. The feeling she was being watched had made her look up to see a middle-aged man staring at her. She had felt her cheeks turn crimson and met his gaze, expecting him to look away: he didn’t. Her hand reached up and tugged at her hat making sure it covered the back of her head. He couldn’t know about her, it was the best-kept secret in the police station. Her own mother didn’t even know. Raising her head again she looked to see if he was still staring and she was relieved that his attention had shifted to the guest speaker who had now taken up his position at the front of the open circle.

Then it had begun, every head looked up at the same time; anticipation and hope making the room fraught with tension. The majority were women who had an expression of desperation etched onto their faces. The speaker was a well-known medium from Burnley, it had said on the poster, which had been tacked to the door. Annie smiled to herself, he looked like a sixty-year-old hippy with the greenest eyes she had ever seen. But they were kind eyes, which made up for his strange taste in clothes.

He smiled at Annie. ‘Do you mind if I come to you first? It’s very important.’

Her eyes widened with fear about what he was about to say but she nodded, he closed his eyes. The atmosphere in the room was almost crackling it was so full of electricity.

‘You attract danger.’

Annie didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Instead she forced a smile and looked to the old woman next to her.

‘Something big is on the horizon and it’s going to change your life, you might never be the same person again.’ He opened his eyes and stared at her. ‘Blood and death find you. All I can see are cold, dead people. You are standing in the middle of them, surrounded by them.’

Annie had stood abruptly, the chair scraped against the parquet floor breaking the silence. One elderly lady gasped in shock, bending down to pick up her bag she briskly walked to the exit. She knew that every person in there was watching her but she didn’t care, she let the church door slam behind her. That should give them something to talk about.
What a load of crap
.

The cold night air embraced her. A single flickering street lamp cast dark shadows across the empty car park. Jogging to her car she got in and locked the doors behind her. With trembling hands she gripped the steering wheel. Suddenly there was a knock on the car window and Annie almost jumped through the roof.

The medium shrugged his apology and she let the window down and inch. ‘I’m so, so, sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. That has never happened to me before and I’ve been doing this a long time. Whatever spirit was trying to talk to you was far stronger than I’ve ever encountered.’

Annie studied him. She was normally quite a good judge of character but she couldn’t decide if he was a total head case or a genuine medium. ‘It’s OK, I’m not having a good week, I’m not sure why but I thought coming here might help.’

‘Sometimes we all need a bit of guidance. Listen, I do need to talk with you but not in front of an audience.’ He passed a small, crumpled business card through the gap. ‘You can ring me on that number. If I don’t answer leave a message. I promise I will get back to you. We need to get to the bottom of this because I have a feeling it won’t go away.’

She watched him walk back to the church, could her life get any more bizarre?

Annie wondered if Derek was still in town. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to talk to him. At least he would believe her. She had thought it was all a load of rubbish but things were getting stranger. Picking up her car keys she went to go and check the glove compartment to see if his card was still there where she had thrown it.

The early evening sun cast shadows everywhere so she didn’t take any notice of the one in the hay barn window.

Picking up the card she felt comforted by it.
Oh Annie, what’s the matter with you? What are you on? Derek of the healing powers?

Her phone began to ring in the kitchen and she jogged back inside to answer it.

‘Please can you open the gates for me? I’ll be too knackered to walk up there all on my own,’ said Will. ‘Oh and is there anything that you don’t like to eat?’

‘Not really, the only things I don’t eat are faggots, black pudding, liver, you get the drift. I’ll leave the gate open. Just snap the padlock shut once you drive through.’

‘Jesus, Annie, do you think I’m some kind of cannibal? The most exotic things I cook are chicken enchiladas.’

‘Sounds like heaven to me and don’t forget a pudding. I’m under strict doctor’s orders not to diet until my head gets better.’

‘Would I deprive a lady of a dessert? Never. But it will be out of a box.’

He hung up and she smiled: not everything was doom and gloom.

For the next hour the mansion and its ghosts were obliterated from her mind as she vacuumed like a maniac. Taking a towel from the laundry basket she quickly polished the downstairs and then filled the dishwasher. Satisfied she ran upstairs to shower, at least she wouldn’t need to spend ages on her hair. Make up, on the other hand, was a big job and would take some time. When she had done the best job possible she sprayed herself in Chanel No 5: if it was good enough for Marilyn Monroe then it was good enough for her. Looking at the clock she still had enough time to walk down through the woods to open the gates exercising Tess at the same time.

He watched her leave, taking the dog with her. He didn’t quite believe it when she locked the kitchen door but slid the key under a painted stone on the kitchen windowsill. He stood up, stretching out his arms and legs then stepped out of the barn and listened for footsteps or any sign that the stupid dog was still around: it was all quiet. He walked over to the kitchen door and paused, did he dare to go inside? Maybe just a quick scout around to see what the layout of the house was. He pulled his sleeve down and lifted the key from under the stone, he put it in the lock, turned it and pushed the handle. The door opened and he stepped inside.

He inhaled. Her perfume lingered in the air and whatever it was it was just right for her. The scarf she had been wearing yesterday was thrown over one of the dining chairs. Picking it up he held it to his nose: it smelt divine. If this was how good she smelt then he couldn’t wait to get close to her. He was tempted to go upstairs and hide somewhere, maybe under the bed. He began to fantasise about what he could do with her and the scarf when the sound of a car engine in the distance brought him back to reality and he panicked.

He exited the house, locked the door and slipped the key back where he had got it from, then ran into the copse of trees out the front, heading for the tree with the thickest trunk. He stood as close to it as he could, not daring to move. The light was fading fast and the woods were already full of dark shadows, as long as the dog didn’t come sniffing around he should be fine.

He held his breath as a car came into view. She was sitting in the passenger seat of a black BMW and the man from the other day was driving. Anger began to form a tight knot in his chest as he watched her throw back her head and laugh at something he’d said. His knuckles bunched into tight, white fists. Trembling, he had to take deep breaths to stop himself from marching over there and killing the pair of them: he knew he was capable of doing it. He looked down to see her scarf tightly clenched in his fist. Lifting it to his nose he sniffed once more – savouring the smell – and then wrapped it around his neck. He waited until they were inside the house then jogged back onto the main path. He pulled the dog lead from his pocket, just in case anyone saw him.

As they entered the farmhouse Annie paused, something felt wrong but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Her attention turned to Will who was emptying the contents of his carrier bag onto the worktop. It was like some bizarre scene from a cooking programme she used to watch on daytime TV before she joined the police. She half-expected Ainsley Harriott to walk in any second.

This was the first time in her life a man had offered to cook for her. Mike was so rubbish in the kitchen she used to have to make his tea and leave it in the microwave for him whenever she was on late shifts. She could get used to this. Opening the fridge she took out a bottle of her favourite rosé.

‘I’ve got this or I can go to my brother’s secret stash in the barn and get a nice bottle of red.’

‘I’ll try a glass of that pink girly stuff you refer to as wine. I noticed that you had plenty.’

She grinned and opened the bottle, pouring out two large glasses. ‘You really are cheeky. Has anyone ever told you that apart from me?’

Will turned to face her and his smile reached all the way up to his cornflower blue eyes, which sparkled in the light. Annie did her best not to sigh: it was too good to be true. Here she was in her favourite place in the world, with a gorgeous man who could cook and even drink the same wine as her.

‘Do you want to chop the salad?’

And just like that her daydream was shattered. ‘Have you never heard of ready-mix bags?’

‘Yes, and now who is being cheeky. They don’t taste as good as when you make it yourself. I’ll have you know that I grew these tomatoes and cucumbers myself and while it may not be up to the standard of The Ritz you are still going to enjoy a decent, home-cooked meal.’

Annie gulped a mouthful of wine. ‘Thanks, it’s very kind of you but I’m doing OK on my own. It’s not as if I’m starving or anything.’

Will turned back to the frying pan adding chopped chillies and spices to the chicken and vegetables. It smelt amazing and her stomach began to rumble just to prove her wrong.

Will took a sip of the wine. ‘You know, this isn’t bad. In fact, it’s much better than I imagined but don’t tell Jake that I drank it.’

Annie decided not to tell him that Jake had said almost the same thing: there was obviously some man thing going on. Taking some cutlery from the drawer she began to set the table. On the floor next to a chair were some pieces of dried straw. Bending down to pick it up she wondered how it had got there when she had vacuumed earlier.

‘Are you ready to have your taste buds tickled?’ Will carried over a serving plate full of tortilla wraps and the bowl of salad. They sat down to eat. Annie forgot about the straw, she was too busy enjoying Will’s cooking. They ate in silence and when they had finished Annie sat back and sighed.

‘That was amazing, what’s your recipe?’

Will finished his wine and refilled both glasses. ‘If I tell you I’ll have to kill you.’

Annie was so happy she thought this would be a good way to go.

‘Come on, we should watch a film,’ he suggested.

Annie led him into the snug and smiled at the look of wonder on his face: this room was probably the male equivalent of a walk-in wardrobe. There was a fifty-eight inch plasma television with every sky channel, a wall that was lined with shelves holding hundreds of films, a roaring log fire and the biggest sofa in the world.

‘Does your brother need a lodger? When can I move in?’

‘He already has one, sorry. But if I ever sort out my sad, pathetic life he might just consider it.’

She looked beautiful and Will felt the blood pump around his heart faster than normal. Picking up the remote he began to flick through the channels to take his mind off her. He wanted to do all manner of things that weren’t really appropriate for a first date, especially as he didn’t even know if this was a date; he was struggling to work that one out.

His last girlfriend, now he had done things with her on their first date he didn’t think should really be allowed on any date. The lust had been the only thing they had in common. After two months he couldn’t stand that she was so clingy and cried every time he talked about anyone from work. When she had left him for the window cleaner he had felt nothing but relief. Annie was so different; a survivor with a great sense of humour, not to mention she was gorgeous in an understated way, plus her cleavage was amazing. His last couple of girlfriends had been so thin there were men in the station with bigger breasts.

Annie came back in with another bottle of wine. ‘I don’t want you to get the wrong idea but I’m just a bit curious about how you’re getting home. It’s a long walk to anywhere from here. You can stay the night on the sofa, if you want. It’s big enough for a rugby team to sit on and it’s so comfy. In fact, I spend most nights sleeping on here. I don’t sleep very well upstairs.’

Will liked the thought of her sprawled out on the sofa. ‘I never really thought about it, I’m too lazy to walk home on my own so if you don’t mind I’ll stay here. I promise not to drool too much but I might snore.’ He watched as her eyes filled with tears and she turned away from him. He stood up and put his hand on her shoulder. ‘I’m sorry was it something I said, are you all right?’

She nodded. ‘I’m just being ridiculous again. I like the thought that maybe tonight would be normal and nightmare free.’

Will pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her, bending until his lips were pressing against hers. He briefly paused, pulling away but she leant up to bridge the gap and their lips met. They kissed and he didn’t want it to end but he forced himself to pull away.

‘I’m sorry, Annie. I don’t know what I was thinking.’

Annie looked down to the bulge in the front of his jeans. ‘Oh I know what you were thinking.’

He felt his cheeks burn and he grabbed her arm, pulling her down onto the sofa with him. ‘You are such a bad influence on me, Annie, fancy wanting to take advantage of my body like that.’

She snuggled into his arms and Will thought that it might kill him but he would show her that he could be a gentleman. For now he was happy to hold her close. He lifted his hand, careful not to knock the back of her head. ‘It’s OK, you can take the hat off when you’re with me.’

‘Will it gives me nightmares, I don’t want to put you off.’

He took hold of the hat and gently tugged it from her head, he bent down and tenderly kissed above the angry red cut and line of staples. ‘I think it’s kind of sexy, it makes you look well hard. I wouldn’t mess with you.’

She turned her attention to the television but he caught the grin on her face.