The Haunting of Tabitha Grey (7 page)

The steps continue to come down, one at a time and then when they reach the landing and I’m feeling like my heart’s going to burst . . . they stop.

A dark shadow passes over the oak-panelled wall and fades away.

Then nothing.

I can’t move. It’s like somebody has got a giant glue gun and glued my feet to the tiled floor.

Around me the house seems to take a deep sigh. I swear I feel the walls around me shudder.

It’s dead quiet.

I listen for the sound of the grandfather clock on the staircase but I can’t hear it. I strain for the clank of the central heating pipes or the quiet beep of the movement sensors on the
ceiling.

Nothing.

I look up at one of the security cameras above my head. It’s pointing straight at me and I get the weirdest feeling. It’s like Sid is on the desk and watching me on his computer
screen. Except there’s nobody on reception at this time of night.

So who’s watching me?

The camera gives a little jerk and starts to move back and forth like it’s shaking its head at me.

The spell of silence is broken.

I realise that where I’m standing is so cold that my bones are aching and I find my legs again and run back towards the flat at top speed with my flip-flops slapping on the parquet
entrance hall floor.

I don’t stop to look at anything and I avoid looking at the dining-room door by turning my head the other way. I just run and focus on the brown door of our flat until I’m right
beside it.

My hands are shaking so hard that I can’t put my key in the lock so I just bang and bang on the door until Mum opens it with a scared look on her face and I rush into her arms.

And that’s where I stay.

Dad doesn’t believe a word of it.

He’s annoyed because he has to go upstairs in the manor and get his glasses back, leaving onions simmering and Mum under strict instructions not to burn them.

‘You are silly, Tabs,’ he says when he gets back. ‘Honestly! There’s nobody there on the stairs and it’s not even all that cold. I don’t know where you get
your sensitive nature from.’

He glances at Mum when he says this and she glares back.

‘I don’t care what you think,’ I murmur from inside Mum’s fleece where I’m hiding my head. Mum strokes my hair like when I was little, and Ben sits on my lap and
plays with my earrings. ‘I heard footsteps and that’s that.’

Dad serves up his dinner masterpiece and it tastes good but my appetite has totally vanished and I feel sick and shaky.

‘Can I sleep in your room tonight?’ I say to Mum and she sighs, but nods her head, so I put my blue sleeping bag on the floor and listen to Dad snoring and Mum breathing all night.
At one point I wake up and swear that she’s crying, and another time I wake up and she doesn’t even seem to be there and I almost think that I hear her talking in Ben’s room which
is a bit weird at that time of night but I’m so tired that I go right back to sleep again and when I wake up in the morning it’s Friday and she’s already gone down to the basement
to practise.

Dad’s gone into town to do a food shop and Ben’s curled up watching children’s television. There’s no way on this earth that I’m going to leave the flat and enter
the manor, even though it’s filled with visitors, so I sit up in my bedroom and try to read a book but my heart’s not really in it.

Then there’s a pounding on the door and I freeze yet again and sit cross-legged on my bed wondering what to do. There’s another loud knock and I figure that it could be an emergency
and that Dad would want me to answer it so I creep downstairs to the door and say in a shaky voice, ‘Yes. Hello. Who is it?’ The booming voice of Sid answers so I undo the lock and let
him in, my face flooded red with relief and embarrassment.

‘Your dad in?’ says Sid. He’s so big that he fills the entire door frame in his white security-guard shirt and dark trousers with the mobile walkie-talkie attached next to a
bunch of keys.

‘Sorry,’ I reply. ‘He’s gone into town to buy food. Do you want to wait? He won’t be long.’

Sid glances back to the entrance hall and then gives me his broad grin. ‘If you throw a cup of tea into the bargain, I reckon I will,’ he says.

He sits down next to Ben on the sofa and Ben, after giving him a scared look, decides that Sid isn’t a threat and so sticks his thumb in his mouth and continues to watch
Shaun the
Sheep
without further communication.

‘Ah,’ says Sid, downing tea like he’s the thirstiest man in Britain. ‘That’s nice, pet. Thanks.’

I smile. Sid’s got this broad Geordie accent. It kind of goes with his big body and shiny bald head.

‘You settling in, lass?’ he enquires, leaning back on the sofa and giving me a long stare. ‘Bit of an acquired taste here, isn’t it?’

I’m not quite sure what he means by this so I offer him another Rich Tea biscuit. He takes three and dunks them into his teacup in the way that Mum always tells me not to.

‘Why do the security cameras move about at night?’ I say. I’ve never managed to quite work out what was going on with the cameras.

Sid pauses a moment to scoop some Rich Tea out of his mug with a teaspoon.

‘They’re not supposed to,’ he says. ‘All the outside doors are alarmed at night and that’s how we stop intruders getting in. I probably left the computer on by
mistake.’

I hate it when grown-ups don’t tell you the truth. I know full well that the computer wasn’t even on at the reception desk when I passed by last night. But Sid’s nice and I
don’t want to make him feel awkward so I leave the subject and we talk about Mum’s dancing and Sid tells me he’s been working at the manor for nearly fifteen years now, and then,
as Dad still isn’t back, he decides he’d better get back to work.

There’s a crackle on his radio so he responds and is about to leave the flat when I find this voice I didn’t know I had and I say: ‘Wait. Have you ever heard anything weird
here? Like – footsteps. Or have you ever seen any ladies?’

I go bright red after saying this but Sid doesn’t laugh, like Dad, or shudder, like Mum, or tell me to stop being daft.

He just gives me this matter-of-fact look and speaks into his radio, telling Dawn he’ll be back in a moment to take a crowd of visitors down to the basement kitchens and might they do the
upstairs attics while they’re waiting.

Then he comes back in and sits down on the sofa again.

‘Aye,’ he says. ‘Happen I have. Seen something, I mean. It was a while ago now.’

Although I’ve gone all shivery and I don’t really want to hear what he’s about to say, another smaller part of me is really desperate to hear more so I nod but don’t say
anything.

‘It was when I came in early one morning to unlock,’ he says. ‘Quite unexpected, it was. One minute nobody there. The next she was there in front of me.’

The radio crackles into life again. Dawn sounds like she’s going to blow a fuse. Sid gets up, wipes his brow with a big white handkerchief and gives me a wink.

‘We know who wears the trousers around here,’ he says.

He pats me on the head like I’m about three and I don’t mind because it’s so good to know that I’m not actually going barking bonkers. ‘We’ll talk
again,’ he says. ‘I might be able to explain some stuff about the house if you’re interested.’

‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘Yeah, I am.’

I’m frightened to death as well, but I don’t need to tell him cos I reckon he can see that.

‘Thanks for the tea,’ says Sid. ‘I’d better be off now.’

I don’t know what makes me do it, but I reach up and plant a big kiss on his shiny cheek.

‘Ah, bless you, lass,’ he says. ‘Tell your dad I’m looking for him.’

He disappears off down the corridor, jingling the bunch of keys.

T
he next day Dad bounds into the flat with something clasped behind his back.

‘This should cheer you up, Tabs,’ he says, coming over to where I’m lying on my stomach with my legs up in the air, texting Gemma. ‘Here – give me that.’

He ignores my squawk of protest and whips my mobile phone off me.

‘Dad!’ I say. ‘I need my mobile like ALL the time! What if somebody texts me?’

‘I’m sure you’ll survive five minutes without it,’ says Dad. He slips my mobile phone into the pocket of his jeans and then instructs me to close my eyes.

I’m not too keen on doing that at the moment. Every time I close my eyes at night I see a white moony face and hear the heavy thump of footsteps descending the manor staircase.

‘Go on,’ says Dad. ‘Just for a moment.’

I half-close my eyes so that I can still see a blurry outline of Dad’s face. He puts something cold, small and smooth into my hands and I open my eyes right away and gasp.

‘Dad!’ I say. ‘I’ve always wanted one of these!’

I slide my fingers over the tiny flat screen and it beeps into life.

Dad has bought me an iPhone. It’s black and shiny and new. And perfect.

‘Thanks,’ I say, leaping up to throw my arms round his neck.

‘Hmm,’ mutters Mum who is mixing up a bowl of cereal and prunes behind me. She says it helps her stomach but I can’t see how. It looks disgusting. I’ve got a pile of
toast and Marmite next to me. ‘That must have cost a lot of money. I hope you’re going to look after it, Tabitha.’

I pull a face at Dad and he sparkles back at me.

‘Got it off Kevin cheap,’ he says. ‘He’s put some stuff on it for you, Tabs. Not sure what.’

Kevin is Dad’s best friend from college. They’ve always kept in touch. Nobody’s quite sure what Kevin does for a living but he’s always got loads of electrical equipment
to sell and half our flat is furnished with it.

Mum sniffs.

‘Knock-off,’ she says. ‘That’s nice. Great example you’re setting our daughter.’

Dad pulls a face behind her back and I smother a grin.

Then Mum slopes back off to her bedroom to eat the muesli, and I spend the rest of the morning fiddling about with my new toy and emailing Gemma.

Dad’s helping Mum paint the bathroom this morning but when he’s done a couple of hours he leaves her to it and prepares to go and carry out some jobs in the manor.

‘There was a reason I bought you the iPhone,’ he says as he passes the sofa. ‘I thought perhaps you could take some photographs for me of each of the rooms? I need a rough
picture of all the contents to back up my inventory.’

I freeze.

‘Today?’ I say. ‘Do I have to do it today?’

Dad ruffles my hair.

‘Well as you’re about to go back to school, this is kind of the last chance, isn’t it?’ he says. ‘I’ll be around the house if you need me. It won’t take
you all that long.’

I sigh. My appetite has shrivelled away to nothing.

‘Can I ask Gem to come over and help me?’ I say.

Dad’s smile fades a little.

‘Really, Tabs,’ he says. ‘What’s up with you? You used to be such a strong girl. But yes – if you like. Invite Gemma. I’m sure your mum will give her
lunch.’

He goes out into the corridor and shuts the flat door behind him.

I sit there for a moment trying not to be upset by what he said.

Thing is – Dad’s right. I did use to be strong. I used to be brave and funny and would do anything that anybody asked me.

I shiver and text Gem from my new iPhone and she texts back right away that she’d love to come over and I smile and think,
If Gemma is here then nothing will happen. Things will be
OK
.

Gem comes in all brown and glowing from the sun and wearing a white strappy sun dress and flip-flops.

I see her look for a moment at my faded jeans and unwashed hair but she’s a good mate and says nothing.

I know I look a bit rubbish at the moment. I haven’t slept very well either so I have circles the colour of purple cabbage underneath my eyes and I’ve lost weight, so my jeans are
held up by a belt so they don’t end up down by my feet.

‘You OK, Tabs?’ is all she says. I nod. She reaches out and gives me a gentle hug. She’s good like that, Gem. She knows when something is going on but she’s never
pushy.

The thing about telling stuff to your best mate is that it kind of makes it REAL. Maybe if I just don’t admit to anything it will kind of go away and leave me alone.

Gemma loves coming into the manor. She twirls down the corridor past the vast dining room, getting looks of disapproval from a group of Japanese visitors who are clustered in
front of the Chinese lions and then she does a little tap dance in the entrance hall on the parquet floor.

Dawn laughs when she sees this.

‘I’ll have some of whatever your friend is on, Tabs,’ she says as I run behind to catch up.

Gem has spun off into the large drawing room and is staring up at the crystal chandelier and at the gilt mirrors placed at either end of the room over the ornate fireplaces.

‘They must have had some cool parties in here,’ she says.

I smile.

‘Oh, we still do!’ says Gemma in a posh voice.

Huh?

I turn to Gemma. ‘What do you mean? Why did you say that?’

Gemma frowns. ‘I didn’t say anything, or I don’t think I did, anyway.’

It’s my turn to frown, but Gemma has turned away and is gazing out through the French double doors at the back lawn of the manor. There are groups of kids lounging about all over it, lying
in the sun, listening to radios or fiddling with their phones.

‘You’re so lucky living here,’ she says. ‘My mum’s flat is so boring. And we haven’t even got a garden.’

Seeing the kids with their phones reminds me that I’m supposed to be on a mission for Dad, so I get out my new iPhone and let Gem play about with it for a bit and then I find the camera
application and take a wonky photograph of the blue and green Wedgwood in its case near the door.

We study the results.

‘Bit blurry,’ says Gem. ‘But not bad for an amateur.’

I roll my eyes at her and then we go into the dining room and I take another photograph, this time of the Chinese lions and the photo’s better, with sunshine glinting off their fierce
faces and I feel almost cheerful because at last I’m having fun and being useful and for a change – I’m not feeling scared.