“You won’t drag Abbot Care Home through the mud because of any high-strung delusions, will you? Because if that’s your modus operandi…”
“What in heavens are you talking about?” Ashley knew what Sasha was talking about but she refused to believe it was still an issue after Duke Abbot, the owner of the home had declared faith in her.
“Look, I like this place.” Sasha pointed a threatening finger at Ashley. “Duke doesn’t interfere too much, and this could be a wonderful place for these children. I won’t have you ruin it because you refuse to see a psychiatrist and get meds.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ashley warned. “So I suggest you drop it.”
“As long as I’ve made myself clear.” Sasha folded her arms on her generous chest.
“Crystal.” Ashley turned her back on Sasha and went into her own room.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Misery
“I never touched her. I swear!”
“She’s making it up! Henry wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
“She hallucinates, has fits, or something.”
Ashley sat up in the darkness, drenched in sweat. She peeled off the sheets and reached for the glass of water on her bedside table. She finished it in two gulps. Breathing hard she shook the last of the dream from her mind.
The sky was charcoal grey outside her window, meaning dawn wasn’t far off. Ashley gave up on going back to sleep as a bad job and took her running shoes out of the box she’d stored under the bed. A good run around the mansion would get the bad memories out of her head.
The house was quiet. Dawn light touched the hall and guided her path down the stairs and out the front door. She stood on the front porch for a moment and breathed in the new day, then she took off on a sprint down the stairs and the path that led to the gardens.
The estate was large and ringed by a path that could be accessed by golf carts. Ashley saw it all come to light on her run as the sun rose, evaporating the demons that were Henry and Penelope Thorpe.
When she had been picked up by Henry and Penelope to go live in their home in London, she had been ecstatic. She hadn’t slept the night before in excitement, so had dozed off on the ride. The house had been a modest one, with a yard and a tree that Henry had tied a swing to for her. Ashley had fallen in love with the house.
Weeks had passed and then the abuse had started. It was subtle at first; criticizing her manners, reprimanding her for imaginary slights, then the shouting and slapping. Henry was more physical than Penelope, and would beat her with a belt. He had a special technique which left no scars, no welts. It was because of this she had never been able to prove to any adult that she was being abused, and Henry had found his alibi: Ashley’s deteriorating mental health. When the police had suggested she get psychiatric help instead of arresting Henry, she had run away to Whitney Price.
Ashley had thought she had left them behind; the abuse, the accusations, the lack of faith in her word. But it had been unearthed when she had given testimony against her employers. Henry had taken the stand and discredited her.
“She always had a very active imagination… it’s what drew us to her. We had no idea how active it was until she started making up stories about a friend at school who never existed. Her teachers had never heard of Misha. And then she started to say there was a boy who lived in the house. And we couldn’t see him because he was afraid I would kill him again. The police have been all over my property, Sir. They found nothing. We’ve lived in that neighbourhood all of our married lives. We’ve never had children or adopted any before Ashley. We really did care for her. Still do.”
And then the bastard had cried. He had actually sat in the witness stand and had the gall to cry. Ashely would have laughed at the act if the rest of the courtroom didn’t look on the verge of tears themselves. There had been days after where she had been evaluated by a psychiatrist, who had cleared Ashley as being of stable mental health, but with the instructions to follow up on sessions to deal with her trauma. The judge had dismissed her testimony, but it turns out they hadn’t needed it to convict the hedge-fund.
All of that misery, and to be told I could have done without it at the end.
Ashely wiped the sweat off of her forehead with her arm. It felt good to be out.
***
Ashley rubbed her tired eyes and made to shut the computer monitor when she received an email from the DHSSPS. She had spent all day reading the files on all the children in her charge, and fielded requests by the child care home in the next county to organize a friendly football match.
Ashley was poring over the email when she heard the drag of wood on the floor. Ashley looked up, squinting at the dimly lit room. She looked at the time and gasped. The sunlight was dying, but she had been so engrossed in her work she hadn’t turned any lights on.
Ashley switched on the table lamp, then got up to turn on the overhead lights.
Creeaak
Ashley stopped halfway up in her chair, the hair on her arms standing on end.
The sound was coming from behind her.
Creeeeeeeeeaaak
The sound reminded Ashley of the swing in the Thorpe’s front yard. How the wood had groaned, and the rope had moaned, protesting at the human weight.
The sound a hangman’s noose would make… Or that of a suicide by hanging.
Creeeeeeaaaaaaaakkkkkk
Ashleeeeeeyyy
Ashley was frozen in place, but the sound of her name broke the trance.
She turned around slowly and looked up at the portrait. Daniella dominated the portrait, leaning down over the bloodied body of her baby, she was staring at Ashley with accusation in her eyes. The boy behind her was missing the left side of his face, grinning down at her with only half a jaw. But the little girl was gone. In her place was a severed leg.
“Miss Ridley?”
Ashley whipped around, her head clearing from an icy fog, as if she had been dreaming. Lucy was standing in the doorway; her blonde pigtails were coming unravelled; the old doll in her hands. Ashley glanced at the clock again. That couldn’t be right. She could have sworn it had been a quarter to six a few minutes ago. Had she dozed off for forty minutes?
“Yes, Lucy?” Ashley smiled, and beckoned the girl to her. She began to fix her hair.
“Mr. Pit asked me to tell you that supper was ready.”
“Great! I’m starving. Are you hungry, Lucy?”
“Yes, Miss.”
“I hope Toast has enough roasted hippo because I could eat an entire one!”
“There’s no roasted hippo!” Lucy squealed, her eyes lighting up with laughter.
“Oh, yes there is,” Ashley teased. “You’ll see. Come on.”
She looked back at her office, up at the portrait but there was nothing sinister about it. The subjects of the painting were exactly as they had always been. No sign of blood or gore. Ashley shivered, and turned away from the images seared in her mind’s eye.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Blood Flow
It was her second night in the house and, other than the nightmare and the dozing episode in the office, Ashley was enjoying herself. The children were troubled in their own way, but willing to listen and positive about their futures. Sasha was still a little cold, but Ashley could sense her melting, and the rest of the staff was a fun bunch of people to work with.
In time Ashley was sure Abbot Child Care Home would be the best in the county, if not the country.
The clock struck midnight, and Ashley’s alarm sounded. She shut it hastily, rubbing sleep out of her eyes. She slipped out of bed, picked up her flashlight from the dresser by the door and went out to make her rounds.
The east hall looked empty, but Ashley still checked in the girls’ rooms to make sure they were in bed, and no clandestine playtime was taking place. In her old home girls above the age of thirteen were allowed later bed times, and the occasional late night gossip session was permitted; but the girls here were just too
young for that. Maybe once all the rooms were full, and Ashely had too much on her hands to bother with a few giggling girls.
The moon was out full tonight and Ashley hardly needed to use her flashlight. She stood on the landing of the twin staircase, staring out at the view of the back gardens from the large bay windows. Moonlight bathed the lawns, elongating shadows till the trees looked like they had sprouted groping claws that coveted the mansion. The lights in the groundskeeper’s hut were off.
Ashley made her way to the West Wing. There was an unspoken rule in the home to let the different genders manage their own wings, but if Ashely was going to manage the entire house she was going to have to make the rounds, whether Gregory liked it or not.
Drawing her nightgown closer against the chill, Ashley checked the one room where the boys slept, then made to check the back of the corridor to make sure all windows were locked. This side of the house faced against the glowing moon and was plunged in darkness.
Assured of the security she turned to go back to her room when she saw the tall figure standing at the end of the hall.
“Gregory?”
The figure stood perfectly still, but there was something slack about the way he was standing, as if he was propped up by strings. His hands hung limply by his side.
“Gregory, this is not funny.”
Ashley clicked on her flashlight, but the figure was already moving, opening the door to the right and stepping inside.
“I just checked in there,” Ashley hissed, following Gregory.
The door was closed. Ashley swung it open, and flashed her light around the pitch black room. There was no one there.
“Gregory?” she whispered, stepping inside.
Creeaaak
The door swung shut with a bang behind her.
Ashley’s legs felt like jelly. Panic and fear flooded her brain till she couldn’t breathe. Trying not to scream, Ashley turned towards the door. Cold enveloped her, striking at her face like tiny needles.
This is my house…
You’re not welcome here…
Ashley’s teeth were clenched tight in an effort not to scream. Terror was cascading through her, making any thought impossible. The only thing she could focus on was getting the door open, and getting out of here.
Get out…
Get your children out unless you would like to see their blood flow down the halls of my mansion….
GET OUT!
Ashley gasped, and grasped the doorknob, using all of her strength in pulling it open. The door swung easily and she fell on the hall floor, gasping for breath.
“Ashley?”
Ashley cried out, and scrambled back on her hands and knees.
Gregory stood in the hall holding a flashlight and wearing a confused expression on his face. He was wearing pinstriped pyjamas and loafers.
“Are you okay?” he asked, coming closer, but Ashley was already on her feet. Sweat trickled down her scalp. She wiped it off and got to her shaking feet. “Ashley?”
“Someone was in there,” Ashley stammered though chattering teeth. She was sweating buckets, but she felt cold as ice.
“What?” Gregory was alarmed. He made to reach the door but Ashley stopped him.
“Don’t!”
“It’s okay,” Gregory soothed. “I’m here. We’ll clobber them with our flashlights. Don’t worry.”
Ashley clutched Gregory’s shoulder as he pushed the door open. The door creaked on its hinges. Ashley nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound.
“Ashley,” Gregory said. “There’s no one in here.”
“But that’s impossible,” Ashley stammered. “I heard them. They shut the door.”
Light flooded the room. Ashley covered her eyes at the sudden glare. Gregory had turned the lights on. The room was empty save for a few bunkbed frames. He was right, there was no one there.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Blind Panic
“… she has a history of psychosis.”
“Alleged psychosis. The adoptive couple could never prove she was having episodes.”
“Just like she couldn’t prove they were abusive. I’m telling you there is something not right about her. Duke should reconsider his hire before she taints Abbot Child Care Home the way she did her old place.”
“Shh, she might hear you.”
Ashley stepped away from the kitchen door. Her face was hot, and her fingernails were tearing into her palms, she was holding her fists so tight. She hadn’t slept well and had hoped for a little comradery before the breakfast run, but Sasha had gotten to the rest of the staff before her.
Last night, Ashley had mumbled some excuse to Gregory about imagining things, but she had stayed up all night re-evaluating everything she had sensed in the mansion since she had arrived. The strange knocking, the sounds and oppressive miasma she had experienced from time to time were not normal for her. She hadn’t hallucinated the figure in the hall, he had been real. The staff must be playing a trick on her, telling her horror stories to get her all riled up and encourage her to make a scene so Duke would fire her.
But now she knew of their plan, and she’d be damned if she let them succeed.
***
“Is everything alright?” Duke asked, placing a hand on Ashley’s shoulder. “The rest of the staff are a little concerned about your health.”
“I’m as right as rain, Duke” Ashley smiled. “And I’m surprised you came all the way from London just to check up on me.”
“Gregory said he found you in a feverish state in the West Wing last night. You said you’d seen something.”
“I was checking on the boys, as is my habit from my previous job,” Ashley explained trying not to grit her teeth in annoyance. “I checked a room and accidently got locked inside. It was dark and I panicked. I’m not the bravest person in closed, dark quarters.” She laughed, trying to put a light spin on it.
Duke didn’t look any less concerned.
“Look, I know you’re worried whether you hired the right person,” Ashley said. “But I’ve only been here a week. That’s hardly enough time to judge my performance by, and certainly not by a small fright in the night.”
“You’re right and I’m sorry you feel attacked,” Duke said. “That wasn’t my intention. I’m just concerned that I might be overworking you.”
“With ten children?” Ashley laughed. “I’m used to managing about seventy kids in really small quarters, so this is actually quite easy.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Duke grinned. “But if you need anything, even if it is to talk, please do call me.”
“I will,” Ashley promised. After Duke had left the premises, Ashley told Sasha she was going to Tunbridge Wells on an errand, leaving her in charge. Sasha had looked like the cat that got to the cream when Duke had arrived, but now that he had left and Ashely wasn’t packing her bags, Sasha looked as if she had swallowed a lemon.
That made Ashley very happy.
***
The town of Tunbridge Wells was like any other. The town square held most of the shops, as well as a town hall, post office and a library. The library was smaller than most, a single story building made of red brick.
Ashley had spent the better part of two hours looking through local newspapers circa 1888 for any mention of the Rose Mansion. She had read the report, and grisly details of the murders of Philip and Eveline Abbot. The deranged testimony of Joshua Abbot, claiming the devil was in those children, and an angel had told him to be rid of them. There was nothing for the next two years, and then the murder of the baby George Abbot and Joshua Abbot, and the eventual suicide of Daniella.
So it was all true.
Ashley took a break to get coffee, telling the young librarian that she’d be back in a little while so not to give the old newspapers to anyone else.
“No one comes looking through those anymore,” the girl had laughed. “Enjoy your coffee.”
Ashley bought the coffee and sat on a bench in the square
to sort through her muddled thoughts. Was she really going to believe that Rose Mansion was haunted? She had never believed in the supernatural. Henry’s claims of her seeing dead boys and making up imaginary friends in school were a whole lot of horse shit. Ashley knew exactly what had happened to her… or did she?
She rubbed her eyes, to avoid making a scene and crying in the town square. Small towns were notorious gossips, and word got around fast. She hated this the most about what the Thorpe’s had done to her. It wasn’t the abuse, the lying, the screaming, and toting with her; it was the fact that they made her doubt her own sanity. Whitney had been the only one who believed her, and helped her believe in herself again.
“Lovely day we’re having.”
A large woman in her fifties joined Ashley on the bench, placing a large amount of shopping beside her.
“Yes,” Ashley smiled. “Nothing like a spot of sunshine.”
“You’re new here, aren’t you?” The woman had an open, friendly face framed by short auburn hair. “I know most everyone in these parts.”
“Yes. I’m the new manager at the Abbot Child Care Home at Rose Mansion.”
The woman’s smile faltered. She looked off at the middle of the square, and Ashley wasn’t sure what it was she had said to make the woman so cold. After a few seconds the woman looked back at Ashley, deep curiosity in her eyes.
“My son works there you know, Jamie.”
“You’re Jamie’s mum?” Ashley laughed. “It’s nice to meet you. Jamie is an asset to the Home.”
“I was against him taking the job,” Mrs. Grant sniffed. “But Alfie assured me nothing could happen to him as long as he stayed out of that accursed house at night. Don’t know what Duke Abbot was thinking starting a children’s home in a house that craves children’s blood.”
Ashley was shocked to hear this.
“You can’t be serious.” Even after the things she had experienced in the house, Ashley’s first reaction was disbelief.
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