by Amy Cross
Copyright 2021 Amy Cross
All Rights Reserved
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, events, entities and places are either products of the author's imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual people, businesses, entities or events is entirely coincidental.
Kindle edition
First published: January 2021
The year is 1984, and Sally Cooper arrives in Crowford with her desperately ill son Tommy. Having secured a job in one of the local pubs, Sally hopes to start a new life, but tragedy soon strikes and she's left clinging to the hope that her son's ghost will appear.
As the months roll past, Sally begins to give up hope, until one day a friend makes a shocking suggestion. If the spirits of the Crowford Hoy refuse to show themselves, is it time to do something that might catch their attention? Although she's reluctant at first, Sally soon comes around to the idea, but she has no idea of the dangers that are waiting to be unleashed in the pub's darkest shadows.
What happened to Annie Ashton, the girl who disappeared from the pub many years ago? Why is the spirit of Mildred Weaver out for revenge? And once a connection to the undead has been opened, can Sally ever hope to force it shut again?
The Haunting of the Crowford Hoy is the fifth book in the Ghosts of Crowford series. Each book is a standalone story, and there's no need to read them in any particular order.
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Epilogue
The Haunting of the Crowford Hoy
(The Ghosts of Crowford book 5)
Prologue
January 5th, 1984...
“Jerry, get another round in for everyone!”
A roar immediately filled the room. Packed around the bar area, the Crowford Hoy regulars began to quickly finish their drinks, as Jerry grabbed a couple of glasses and started pouring more pints.
“Hell must've frozen over,” Percy suggested, as he wiped some stray beer from his chin, “if Gary Newcroft's buying us all a drink.”
“Share and share alike,” Gary replied, leafing through a wad of notes. “I said I'd stand everyone a drink if that horse came in, and I'm not gonna weasel out now.”
“Didn't you say you'd buy us all a bottle of champagne?” Stevie Mercer suggested.
“I don't remember that at all,” Gary said as laughter rang out. “No, I definitely didn't say anything about champagne.”
As everyone shouted their orders to Jerry, not one person noticed that somebody was trying to get the front door open. Rain was lashing down outside, and for a moment the figure in the hooded raincoat struggled to get through. Once she was inside, however, she pulled her hood back and stood dripping on the mat, watching the furore at the bar. Out of breath and exhausted, she began to make her way across the room, although the crowd of people meant that she wasn't entirely sure which route to take.
“Excuse me,” she said, trying to dodge between two of the men. “I'm sorry, I...”
Her voice trailed off as she realized that they still hadn't noticed her. She glanced over her shoulder, looking at the window and seeing the lights of her car in the darkness, and then she turned back toward the bar. She knew she didn't have long, so finally she turned and hurried around past the fireplace, taking the long route all the way through the far seating area before stepping over some stools and finally managing to squeeze over to the service hatch.
“I'll be with you in a second, love,” Jerry told her.
“Actually, I'm just -”
Before she could finish, Jerry headed over to the other side of the bar.
“You'll have to forgive him,” Malcolm said, turning to the woman, “he's bloody useless. It's not his fault, though. He's only had eight years to get it right.”
She tried to smile, but she was too panicked, too worried about each precious second that was ticking past. She looked toward the window again, and then she saw that the landlord – Jerry Butler was his name, she knew that much from their phone conversations – was still frantically trying to pour as many pints as possible. She wanted to call out to him, but all the voices around her were so loud, she knew he'd most likely never hear. Besides, the last thing she wanted to do was seem pushy. She knew she couldn't afford to make a bad impression.
“Jerry!” George yelled, before pointing at the woman. “Where are your manners, son? There's a lady waiting for a drink!”
“I know there's a lady waiting for a drink,” Jerry muttered, bending down to take two more glasses from one of the shelves. He glanced at the woman. “I'll be two seconds, love, I promise.”
“He's a charmer, isn't he?” George said with a smile as he looked at the woman.
“I just...”
Again, her voice trailed off. In all the madness of the room, she knew there was no way she could attract Jerry's attention, but she also knew that she couldn't take much longer. She was frantically trying to think of a way to get him to notice her, when he suddenly broke off from talking to two men and made his way over.
“Hang on, lads!” he called out. “I'm serving the lady and then I'll be back to you.” He stopped in front of the woman. “Sorry about that. What can I get you?”
“The key,” she replied. “Please...”
“I beg your pardon?”
She wiped some wet, matted hair from across the face.
“My name's Sally Cooper,” she told him. “We spoke on the phone, I'm your new barmaid. Uh, live-in barmaid. I'm going to be working here.”
“I'm so sorry,” he replied with a sigh, “I completely forgot you were coming tonight. You must think I'm completely disorganized.” He turned and waved at the others. “Lads, this is Sally! She's the new barmaid I told you about, she's moved here all the way from...”
He glanced back at her.
“Where did you say you were moving here from, again?”
“London,” she replied, feeling a little uncomfortable as she realized that everyone was now looking at her. “The thing is, my car's outside and I was thinking I should get my things in. You said there's a side door...”
“There is,” he replied, reaching behind the counter and grabbing a set of keys, which he then handed to her. “It's best to use that door if you want to avoid this rowdy lot, it'll take you right through into the hall and then you can get upstairs. But listen, why don't you grab a drink and meet some of the regulars, and then I'll help you up with your things after?”
“Thanks, but I'd really rather do it now,” she told him.
“Then I'll get one of these useless ingrates to help you,” he replied, turning to look along the bar. “Fellas
, who wants to -”
“No!” Sally blurted out before he could finish. “Really, that's very kind of you, but I'd rather do it myself. Thank you again. I'll be down shortly.”
Without waiting for anyone to try to stop her, she headed back out the way she'd come, politely acknowledging all the people who tried to introduce themselves but making sure to not get held up. She'd already taken far too long to fetch the key, even if she also worried that she might have seemed a little rude. By the time she got to the door, she realized she'd probably made a really bad impression, but when she looked back toward the bar she realized that everyone was getting on with their drinking. Jerry was serving again, and she told herself that there'd be time later to put things right.
Hurrying outside, she put her hood back up and rushed to her car. Rain was falling harder than ever, hammering the car's roof as she opened the back door and leaned in to take a look.
“Mummy?” the little boy groaned, resting on a blanket on the back seat, barely able to lift his head to look at her.
“It's okay,” she told him. “We're here. I've got the key.”
***
Once the key had turned in the lock, Sally pushed the door open and then turned back to her son. She'd laid him down on the floor at the top of the stairs, and it took her a moment to gather him up and then carry him through into the dark, cold bedroom.
“It's okay,” she said again, for what must have been the tenth time since she'd carefully lifted him from the car. “We're here, see?”
In the darkness, she could just about make out the single bed over on the far side of the room. She carried Tommy over and then she very slowly crouched down and settled him onto the bed, as rain dashed the window nearby. Taking care to not hurt him, she listened out for any hint that he was in pain. Or, rather, more pain than normal.
“How are you feeling?” she asked, as she reached over and switched on a bedside lamp. “Does it hurt?”
Wincing slightly, Tommy turned and looked across the room. His skin was a sickly yellow color, and his bloodshot eyes seemed to be having trouble focusing. A smattering of blood was caked around his lips, although Sally quickly took a tissue from her pocket and began to wipe the blood away.
“I'm sorry it took so long,” she said, as roars could be heard coming from the bar area downstairs, “but I couldn't manage it any quicker and -”
Suddenly Tommy let out a gasp of pain and began to clutch his stomach.
“It's okay,” she told him, reaching out and putting a hand on his shoulder. “Listen to me, everything's going to be fine now. The hard part's over.” As those words left her lips, she knew they weren't quite true, but she was desperate to make him feel better.
“There's only one bed,” he whispered, still in a great deal of pain.
“I'll sleep on the floor.”
“But -”
“Don't worry about that now,” she added, moving one of the pillows down and then lifting his head, trying to make him more comfortable. She slipped the pillow into place and then gently lowered his head again. “Mummy's here, and Mummy's going to take care of everything.”
Downstairs, another – louder – roar rang out.
“Is this the place?” Tommy asked, as another trickle of blood ran from the corner of his mouth. “Is this the place you told me about?”
“It is, honey,” she replied, forcing a smile even as tears filled her eyes. “This is Crowford, and I promise you that now we're here, everything's going to be perfect. Forever.”
Chapter One
Six months later...
“Sally!” Eric shouted from the door as he continued his slow, stumbling attempt to get outside. He'd already taken several minutes to get across the empty room, and he seemed to be constantly on the verge of falling over. “You're a diamond, girl!”
“Goodnight, Eric,” she replied, drying a glass as she looked over at him. “Keep safe on the way home.”
“I only live over the road,” he pointed out as he stepped outside, although he managed to bump against the jamb in the process.
“Even that might be a little difficult,” she said, setting the glass down and heading over to the window.
Peering out at the dark street, she was just about able to make out the dark shape of Eric Garner shuffling across the road. She could see that he was searching for his keys in his pockets, and she waited until he reached his front door. Even then, she worried that he might topple over, so she watched as he pushed his front door open and lurched through. Finally, a moment later, the door slammed shut, and Sally realized that the old man should be fine.
“Did he make it without falling and bashing his head open again?” Matt Ford asked, glancing at her as he rolled a cigarette.
“He'll be fine,” she replied, making her way back behind the bar. “Once he's inside, I think he just passes out in his armchair until morning. It's just that little journey across the road that causes him trouble from time to time. He's such a sweet man, though. It must be so hard for him, living all alone after his wife died.”
“Mavis was a legend,” Matt said with a faint smile. “She had the brightest blue hair you've ever seen, and – I kid you not – blue teeth.”
She furrowed her brow as she finished drying some more glasses.
“Blue teeth?”
“Just a couple,” he added, baring his own teeth and tapping at them. “On the side. And a pink one too.”
“How does that work?”
“No idea. Never asked her.” He lit the cigarette and took a drag, and then he pulled one of the ashtrays closer. “So Jerry's left you all alone again, has he? Where's the governor gone, anyway?”
“I have no clue,” she told him. “It's fine, I know he likes to get as far away from the place as possible on his nights off. Most likely he won't wash back through the door until tomorrow. He tends to fall asleep on his friends' couches and sleep the night away. He usually shows up again around lunchtime.”
“And you don't mind being here on your own?” he asked. “Overnight, I mean. In this big old creaky building.”
She set the dishcloth down and headed over to him. Taking the cigarette as soon as it was offered, she had a drag and then passed it back to him.
“I like old buildings,” she explained, glancing at the clock and seeing that it was almost time to shut the place for the night. She handed the cigarette back to him. “They've got a certain charm.”
“You know,” he continued, “if you're being brave and you really are scared here by yourself, I could always stay over.”
“Thanks but no thanks,” she said, rolling her eyes and taking the cigarette again. She had one more drag, before stubbing it out in the ashtray. “Time to go home, Matt,” she added. “I want to get that door locked before Pat or any of the others from the club decide to pop in for one last drink on their way home.”
“But -”
“And I'll be fine,” she said firmly. “There's no ghost here. Really, there's nothing.” She looked up at the ceiling and thought of the dark, empty rooms upstairs. “Not even one.”
***
Stopping at the top of the stairs, Sally kept the light off and stood in darkness, listening to the silence of the pub now that the customers had left and the building was all locked up.
She waited, but she heard nothing at all.
“Hey,” she said finally, “are you here?”
Silence.
Still keeping the light switched off, she stepped over to the door to her room. Her footsteps caused the old boards to creak slightly, but there was still no sign of any ghostly figure. She turned and looked over her shoulder, just about able to make out some of the other doorways at the far end of the landing, and then she pushed her door open and stepped through into her poky little bedroom.
She looked at the neat single bed in the corner.
“Hey,” she said again, “if you're here, give me a sign.”
Struggling to hold back tears, she waited, but she a
lready knew that she was on a hiding to nothing. How many times had she crept about in the pub after closing, hoping that finally she might see or hear some sign that she wasn't truly alone? She wanted to call out again, but at the same time she was worried that she might end up scaring him. Then again, after six months, she was starting to wonder whether something might have gone wrong.
“Tommy,” she whispered finally, “if you're here, there's no need to be afraid. It's Mummy, I just want to talk to you. I just want to see you.”
Again she waited, and again the only response was the silence of the empty room.
Heading over to the bed, she sat down and switched on the lamp, and then she picked up the framed photo that she always kept on the nightstand. She immediately felt tears in her eyes as she looked down at the shot of her son's happy, smiling face. The picture had been taken on his last birthday, right before he'd begun to feel poorly. The final months of his life had been spent in and out of hospitals, filled with various forms of chemotherapy as the doctors had tried desperately to save him. The cancer had eaten away at him from the inside, until eventually he'd died shortly after they'd arrived in Crowford.
And since then... nothing.
Every time Jerry went out for the night and left her alone, Sally tried to find some way to contact her son's ghost. She'd called out to him endlessly, she'd sat and waited in darkness for hours, she'd been so patient and still there'd been nothing. People constantly talked about ghosts that were supposed to be seen or heard in the pub, she'd heard so many variations of the same basic stories, but she'd experienced nothing at all and she was starting to think that the whole thing was just a fantasy.
And fantasies, she knew, had a tendency to crumble.
“Tommy,” she said, as a tear ran down her cheek, “I know it might be hard, or scary, but this is exactly why I brought you to Crowford. This town is supposed to be the most haunted place in the country, there are supposed to be almost more ghosts here than living people. I don't know why that's the case, and I don't really care, but...”
