The Ghost House (7 page)

I have no idea how long we were like that, staring at the awful sight that beheld us but the next thing I knew Doctor Smith and the policeman from the town appeared – Harold had sent for them. I overheard Alfie whisper to Cook that Harold had telephoned for Edward to come home immediately. Poor Edward, he has lost both of his parents in such a short space of time and in the most dreadful way. I feel guilty that I am excited he will be home sooner and I hope that I will be able to comfort him for I have nothing else to offer him.

Edward arrived home to a house of silence and grief. His Lordship’s body has been laid out in a solid oak coffin with the shiniest brass handles in the morning room so that people could come and pay their respects.

Harold asked me to do one final thing for his Lordship, to go in and make sure the room was presentable for visitors, not a speck of dust was to be seen. I was so scared, I did not dare to look into the coffin. I could not bear it. What if he opened his eyes? I placed a heavy book against the door to keep it open for I would have screamed the house down if the door had shut on me and I had been trapped in there with the cold, dead shell of my master’s body. I have never worked so fast in all my life. I just hope that he and Lady Hannah have been reunited; I cannot bear to think of him wandering around a lost and lonely soul for all eternity.

Last night after supper Cook began her usual gossiping. Although it was far more subdued than usual but she took great pleasure in informing us about what happens to your soul when you take your own life. Millie was aghast to think that God would forsake someone because they were so desperate they felt they had no option but to take their own life. I told her later on that if a person was brave enough to carry out such a final task for whatever reason then surely God would not be so cruel as to turn his back on them.

Cook was also fussing about what would become of us now. She is convinced that Edward will want to sell the house, for it holds nothing but bad memories for him, and then we will all be out of a job and a home. I wanted to tell her that it must also hold some good memories but I kept quiet. Everyone would want to know exactly what I meant and I do not want to cause a fuss now: Edward has enough to deal with.

The whole time we were in the kitchen Alfie stared at me with the strangest look on his face. I do hope he is not coming down with some affliction.

Edward found me in the schoolroom last night. I had come up to read and to keep out of everyone’s way. I do not like being downstairs while his Lordship’s body is in the house. I have been awake since the crack of dawn but I could not sleep. All the other servants were sitting in the kitchen around the hearth, drinking a bottle of wine that Harold had opened. I did not want to listen to any more of their idle gossip: I wanted to be alone.

Edward has been so busy with the police, then a visit from his uncle and the vicar that he has not even acknowledged my existence and I have to admit it hurt me deep inside. The door opened and I looked up from my book to see Edward standing there. His face looked so much older than the last time I saw him. His eyes were black and for a fleeting moment I felt afraid; past memories rushed through my mind. It was such a pained smile that I stood from the chair and in three short strides he was across the room and sweeping me into his arms. I felt the warm rush begin in my stomach as his lips met mine. He held on to me so tight that I could not breathe when he kissed me and I had to pull away from him. He stroked my hair and took hold of my hand. I expected him to lead me up to my bedroom but instead he led me towards his. I paused at the door, afraid in case anyone should see me. Edward smiled and told me that he was the master of the house now and would do as he pleased. He told me that after his father’s funeral he would tell the staff that I was no longer to be a housemaid. That we were courting and that I was to be treat like a lady. I could not speak I was so surprised. He laughed and pulled me into his bedroom, closing and locking the door behind me.

I had been in here countless times but never like this. His bed was huge compared to mine. We stood next to the roaring fire that I had built earlier. He began to undress me and before long we were on the bed. It was so soft and the silk sheets cooled my burning skin. I closed my eyes and hoped that the night would never end.

I awoke to the cold light of dawn and gasped: Cook would be furious with me if I were not downstairs in time to set the table. I untangled myself from Edward’s warm embrace and picked my clothes up off the floor. I dressed quickly. There was not time to wash or brush my hair but I pinned it back up on top of my head as best as I could.

I crept out into the hallway only to be greeted by Alfie, who had just run down the servants’ stairs. I knew that he had been sent to look for me and my cheeks flushed. He stared at me with contempt but there was also so much pain in his eyes. He told me that Cook had sent him to see if I was ill because I was late to rise. I pleaded with him not to tell her or anyone else but he did not say a word. Instead he turned his back on me and walked away, his shoulders slumped and his steps slow.

Once again I felt my heart tear a tiny bit more. If this keeps on I am afraid it will rip in two and I will die of a broken heart just like his Lordship.

Derek Edmondson was sitting eating supper with his sister. He was there on a weeklong visit from Burnley. A practising medium since he was ten years old, he liked to travel around the North West to various spiritualist churches giving demonstrations of his psychic abilities. The pay was terrible but it was better than sitting at home with only the dead to keep him company.

Three names were whirling around in his head. They were like a tornado gathering speed and, quite frankly, it was making him ill. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead and he knew if he were to stand up it would make him feel dizzy. Unable to stop himself he began to mumble.

His sister turned to him. ‘What did you just say? Oh Derek, you look awful. What’s the matter? Are you ill?’

‘Annie, Edward, Alice, Annie, Edward, Alice – no, stop this now, I command you.’ He pulled himself from the chair onto unsteady feet. ‘You have to stop this please.’

The whirlwind ceased and was replaced by a vision of a crumbling, Victorian mansion. He blinked twice to clear the image from his mind then slumped back down into the chair. His sister stooped, her hand pressing against his forehead to see if he had a temperature. He brushed it away, not wanting to be fussed over. She was anxious and he felt sorry he had caused her to feel that way, but something bad, maybe even catastrophic, was on the horizon and whoever this Alice, Annie and Edward were they were involved. Given the chance, Derek would have no intention of getting mixed up in whatever this was but he knew it was too late and regardless of whether he wanted to be he was in it up to his neck.

‘I’m fine, Joan, I just felt a bit peaky for a minute but I’m OK now. I do apologise if I scared you.’

Joan arched her eyebrows. ‘Well, as long as you’re sure. It’s not like I’m not used to you acting a bit strange now, is it?’

Derek laughed then lay his head back against the chair and shut his eyes.

Annie stretched and yawned. Tess let out a loud snore. She pushed the diary to one side and got up to check the doors and windows were all secure. Her mind was buzzing. Had that house known anything but sadness? No wonder the atmosphere felt so oppressive in there. She had watched a programme once about past memories imprinting themselves into their surroundings. The old house would be the perfect place to test that theory out: two people had died in the house and gardens and she wondered how many more had suffered the same, if not a worse, fate.

Washing her face and rubbing some of her niece’s moisturiser all over she then checked each of the bedrooms, making sure they were empty. The huge antique brass bed in the master bedroom looked so inviting: she could imagine collapsing onto it in a heap with Will. She carried on along the hallway to the smallest bedroom, which she had turned into a bombsite: tidiness had never been one of her better traits. Leaving the nightlight on and climbing into the single bed she pulled the duvet up around her head and tucked it tight under her legs. One of her greatest childhood fears had been the thought of invisible hands tugging off her blankets in the night and she still felt that way whenever she slept in a strange place.

On his way out of the station Will called back into the community office to see if Claire and Sally were still there. As he walked in the pair of them erupted into a fit of giggles.

‘Here, Will, what you told us before, well it put me right off my cheese and pickle sarnie.’

He nodded. ‘Yep, I can see that it would. Sorry about that but it was good gossip I can’t believe you two didn’t know anyway: you’re losing your touch.’ They both nodded in agreement and he coughed into his hand. ‘I, erm, met Annie today. I haven’t really spoken to her before she seems kind of nice.’ He felt his cheeks begin to burn as the words left his lips and they got hotter when he caught the look Sally gave to Claire.

‘“Kind of nice”, what’s that supposed to mean? Actually she is very nice, had a bit of a rough time lately though.’

‘What happened to her? We haven’t dealt with any assaults against one of our own. Was it an accident?’

‘It never went to CID. Kav dealt with it kind of on a need-to-know basis and, basically, we are not supposed to know. Even Jake hasn’t said anything and he is the super grass of the century. I think Kav has either sworn him to secrecy or threatened him with working the town centre.’

‘Must be serious if Jake hasn’t blabbed. Oh well, see you ladies tomorrow if you’re in. Goodnight.’

This time it was Claire who looked at Sally; she shrugged. ‘Will, I don’t know the details, but all I know is that something happened to her at home.’

‘Oh God, that’s awful, I had no idea. I thought maybe she’d got into a fight at work or a car accident. Thanks, I promise I won’t say anything.’ He left the station with an overwhelming urge to go back and see her but what could he say? He wasn’t supposed to know and he’d look stupid turning up this late unannounced. His stomach let out a loud growl and he realised the need for food and beer was the greater priority at the moment.

He sighed after eating a full Chinese and washing it down with two cans of Stella. His stomach felt like it was going to explode. He flicked through the channels until he found a Bruce Willis film: everyone loves a hero. But he couldn’t concentrate. First he was thinking about Jenna White and then it was Annie. He stretched his legs, resting his feet on the pine blanket box he used as a coffee table. The thought occurred to him that Annie was down to earth and normal, she might even eat in front of him if he took her out for a meal. Not like his last girlfriend who would order a chicken salad and spend twenty minutes pushing it around her plate with a fork until he’d finished his steak and chips. He liked the thought of dinner with Annie and it made him want to phone Jake for her number. He lifted a hand to his forehead to check he wasn’t coming down with something because he wasn’t acting himself at all. He looked back at the screen. Kav was the hero in Annie’s story and he felt his admiration for him increase: there weren’t many supervisors who would deal with a crime and keep it so quiet that no one knew about it.

The woman looked vaguely familiar and, from what little he could see, she was quite attractive. In fact, he liked her a lot. When she had pulled off her hat inside the house he had gasped aloud at the sight of the back of her head. He wondered what had happened to her. He wanted to know exactly how alone this woman was because he felt an instant attraction to her: she looked like an older version of Jenna with her dark hair and pale skin – exactly his type – and he knew all too well what it was like to be lonely. He would keep an eye on her because he fancied her and if she played it right he might even show her his special room.

He had left the courtyard and made his way through the woods to the house, his mind overflowing with ideas. It would be nice to have a proper girlfriend. The things he could show her if she promised not to tell and if not – well, he had a safe place she could stay forever. As he walked around the mansion he realised just where he knew her from: she was the woman from the spiritualist church last week.

Satisfied that no one had been into his secret domain he made his way back to the farmhouse and turned the flash off on his phone. He was pleased to see her sitting at the kitchen table reading and he had managed to get close enough to take a couple of pictures; he doubted they would work but it was worth a try. The way she delicately sipped her wine turned him on and he snuck back into the hay barn to watch her a little longer. It didn’t look as if there was a man around to lock up for her and he began to tingle with excitement at the possibilities. He watched as every single light in the house was turned on for a few seconds and then off again. The one that stayed on the longest was a small window at the side of the house and he felt himself go hard thinking about her alone, in the dark
. How easy do you scare pretty lady?
The urge to try and find a way into the house was overwhelming: he had to begin jogging to stop himself from doing something reckless and stupid. It would spoil his plans if he went in there on a whim. He needed to be practical. She could be his grand finale. If he wanted it to be perfect with her he needed to do a little more practice so it would be just as the voice in his head kept telling him it could be.

He arrived home out of breath and with ruddy cheeks. The house was still in darkness. Thank God for small mercies. She would be in bed snoring like a trooper so he could indulge in his fantasies without being disturbed by the voice from hell. How had he ended up with a mother who wouldn’t die? She was going to live until she was a hundred. He could always kill her but that depended if he got away with everything else he had planned. If he got caught maybe the shock would give her a heart attack: it would be just his luck for her to drop dead when he was going to prison for the rest of his life. Smiling he checked the computer for an email from his next victim. Four more days and Jenna would no longer be alone: she would have another corpse for company. It was shocking to think of the number of teenage girls who were available at the click of a button and just ripe for the picking.