“Mummy, when’s lunch? I’m STARVING.” Sean tugged at her sleeve with his red and blue coloured paint fingers.
“Shhh,” Jo said. “You’ll wake daddy up.” Jo laughed at his little Smurf-like hands. She grabbed a piece of kitchen paper from the table and dabbed the worst of the paint off him. “I’ll tell you what. If you can go and wash your hands with soap, and without getting any paint on the walls, then I will get you a snack.” Sean’s eyes lit up. He jumped down from the table and ran to the cloakroom. Jo looked to Emily, who was deep in concentration. “Are you ok Emily?” Emily nodded. Jo noticed that Emily wasn’t colouring in anymore. She had found a blank page in her book and was drawing. “What are you drawing?” Emily looked up. She screwed up her face, as if she was considering whether to tell her or not.
“I’m drawing our home,” Emily said.
“Can I see?” Jo reached over and took the piece of paper. Emily jumped down from her chair and ran off. Jo looked at the picture. It was a tall oblong block with four squares on it. Each square had a round face sticking out of it. Two had long yellow hair, two didn’t have any. Jo realised that Emily had drawn a picture of the block of flats that they used to live in, and the four figures were Emily and her family. Jo felt sick in her stomach. Why was Emily drawing her old home and not this one? They had been here four weeks now, she would have thought that Emily would have forgotten about their old flat. Emily had her own bedroom here and a garden to play in.
“Jo? Are you ok?” Gavin walked into the room. His face had more colour in it than earlier.
“I’m fine,” Jo said. She hid Emily’s picture underneath her sketchbook. “I’m just about to make the kids a snack. How are you feeling?”
“Much better thanks.”
Jo hid the drawing that Emily had drawn. She didn’t want to show it to Gavin. There was no point in upsetting him. He was the one who had bought this house after all. She was sure that with time, Emily would learn to love the house. She went into the kitchen and started to chop up some grapes. She listened. The house seemed a bit too quiet. She went upstairs and peeked into Sean’s room. He was sitting on the floor in the corner talking to himself. She listened in.
“No, Henry, I don’t want to do that. I’ll get in trouble.” He said. He carried on talking to himself, but Jo couldn’t hear what he was saying. Sean went quiet as if he was listening. He turned around to face Jo, as if he knew she was there.
“Mummy?” He said in a happier tone. He got up and walked over to her and hugged her legs.
“Who are you talking to?” She said.
“Is my snack ready mummy?” Sean said. Jo nodded, and he ran downstairs. Jo paused for a second. It wasn’t strange that he had an imaginary friend. It was only strange that he has used the name Henry a few days before. Jo decided it didn’t matter. Henry was probably the name of a boy at school. She noticed something on the floor. She walked over to it and picked it up. It was a piece of paper folded into a kite, with a piece of string attached to it. Jo couldn’t remember Sean making one, but maybe it had come from school. She walked downstairs and gave Sean and Emily their snacks.
***
After a day of playing in the garden, Jo went in to clear the dining room of the art supplies from the morning. She took a recycling bag in and put in there most of Sean’s ‘art.’ She saved the best one to put on the fridge. After tidying the children’s stuff, she carefully packed away all of her pastels. She looked at the sketch she had started of the house. She studied the thick black lines of the house, and the pinks she had used for rose bushes outside. As a first draft, it was looking good. It was clearly their house. She had used some artistic licence with the garden by adding flowering trees to it, and she had sketched it as if it was a bright summers day. She looked at the attic window in the drawing. There was a shape there, an outline of someone stood in the window looking outside. She looked at it. It was the outline of a child, their face all in shadow. She felt a lurch in her stomach. It wasn’t her who had drawn the figure there, so who had?
“That’s Henry mummy,” a voice said. Jo spun around. Standing behind her was Sean, watching her.
“What did you say?” She said.
“That’s Henry in the window in your drawing. This is his house too.”
***
Jo sat in the coffee shop by the window on one of those uncomfortable high bar stools and looked outside to the busy main road. A lorry braked as a car pulled out in front of it, and sounded its horn, and a group of students ran past shouting at each other, laughing at their own joke. The café was loud from crying babies, a woman talking on her phone, two men having a business meeting and a group of teenage girls taking selfies. But Jo didn’t mind. It felt good to be back in the city centre and away from the quiet of their house.
It was Sunday, and after Gavin’s rapid recovery from his cold, Jo had convinced him to look after the kids for a couple of hours so she could do some clothes shopping. Well that was the reason she had said, she had other plans for her time in the city too. She finished the last of her coffee and put on her coat. She headed down the busy street and headed towards the library. She went inside and headed to the help desk. There was a man behind the counter wearing a tweed jacket with a superhero t-shirt underneath. His thick rim glasses were electric blue-rimmed. He looked only in his twenties, but he sounded older when he spoke.
“Hi, I need some advice,” Jo said.
“Of course. What service do you require?” He said.
“Umm, I’m not sure exactly. I don’t know. I’ve just moved into an old house, and I want to know more about the history of it.”
He nodded. “Well, you could look in local history books, the newspaper archives, one of the local museums, there is an oral history library here as well.”
“Goodness,” Jo said. “I didn’t realise there would be so many options.”
“Tell me a bit about your house, and I might be able to help you with where to make a start.” He smiled. There was queue building up behind Jo, which he ignored.
‘Well, it’s a house on the outskirts of the city, Mason House. I want to know more about who lived there in the past. It’s been vacant for years.”
“You could start with the deeds. You should look at the information your solicitor gave you first. But whilst you are here why don’t you try the local history books and just see if any of them mention the property, and then take it from there.”
Jo thanked him, then followed his directions to the local history book section. She selected a few books and went and found an armchair to sit on. She looked through them and searched for some information about the property. She stayed there for an hour or so, looking through book after book, but there was nothing.
“Any luck?” She looked up, and the man who helped her earlier was stood above her.
“No. Nothing.” She said, shutting the current book.
“Is this a house of interest?” He said.
“No, not at all. It’s a house that me and my husband have just bought. I really want to know more about it. I’m not sure why even.”
“Well, why don’t you start with what you know? Have you contacted the previous owner?”
“No, he’s in London,” Jo said. She hadn’t thought about the mysterious previous owner. She hadn’t really cared.
“Well, why don’t you give him a call?”
Jo looked at the man. That wasn’t a bad idea at all.
“Magnolia Care Home?” The woman at the end of the line said.
“Hi, I’m looking to speak to a Mr. Mason. Is it possible I could have a word with him?”
“We only put calls through in visitor hours. Is it urgent?” The woman sounded like she wasn’t concentrating on the phone call.
“No, it isn’t, but I would really like to speak to him.”
The woman made an exasperated sigh. She paused for a second. Jo could hear the noise of a patient shouting in the background.
&
nbsp; “You will have to call him back during visiting hours.”
“Could you just pass on that I called him?” Jo said at almost a shout. The woman reluctantly agreed and took her name and number. “Tell him it’s about Mason Manor.”
***
Jo was driving back home when the phone rang with an unknown number. She pulled over to the side of the road when she answered it.
“Jo? It’s Richard here,” Jo took a second to work out who it was.
“Richard Mason? Thank you so much for calling me. It’s about Mason House, or as you may know it as Mason Manor. I’ve just moved in.”
“What about the house? Any problems don’t have anything to do with me now.” The man took a second to breathe. “The place was sold as seen.”
“No, I don’t have any problems with the house, that wasn’t why I was calling.” Jo paused, not really sure what to say.
“I just wanted to know more about the house. There was a lot of history here, and I wanted to know about it.”
The man paused for a minute. Jo could hear his heavy breathing down the phone. “The home had been in my family for a long time. My great grandmother and her husband lived there with her children, but after they left no one wanted the house.”
“Why did no one want it?” Jo asked.
“Well, something very tragic happened there, a long time ago. No one wanted to live there.”
“What happened?”
“My great grandmother, Margaret, had two sons, but one of them disappeared.”
Jo felt her stomach lurch.
“What happened?” Jo asked.
“I don’t really know. This was a very long time ago indeed. I believe that whilst the husband was at work, Margaret was taking a nap. When she woke up, her oldest boy had gone.”
“What happened to Margaret?”
“I don’t know. She and her husband moved away, but they didn’t sell the house. Her surviving son, Richard who I was named after, was my grandfather. He didn’t speak of his parents.”
“I’m asking because some strange things keep happening in the house. I’m starting to get the feeling that there is something not quite right. I saw what I thought was a little boy at the window. I feel like the place is haunted.” Jo thought she might have gone too far, saying her worst fears out loud. But the words couldn’t be undone. She waited for a response. She could just hear the man breathing, his breath quicker than before.
“I didn’t think it was true.”
“What didn’t you think was true?”
“My grandfather once spoke of how his little brother never left the house. Even after he had disappeared, he said they would still play together.”
His words trailed off. His breathing started to get quicker.
“It’s just my son has an imaginary friend. And I know it sounds silly, but I feel that he has something to do with the house.”
“What is the imaginary friend's name?” Richard said.
“Henry,” Jo said. She heard the man gasp. The breathing got even quicker.
“Hello?” A woman’s voice came down the phone.
“Is Richard there? Is everything alright?” Jo said.
“He’s having some difficulty breathing at the moment. He will have to go.” The woman said, before the line went dead.
***
“Mummy!” Sean ran up to Jo and flung his arms around her. “I’ve missed you.” He spoke into her neck. He clung onto her like a limpet.
“I’ve missed you too, darling. But look what mummy has bought you.” Jo took a toy car out of her pocket. It was a wooden car that you could wind up. She crouched down to the floor and showed Sean how to wind it up and let it go. The car zoomed across the floor and into the living room. Sean laughed and ran off chasing it.
“Did you get your shopping done?” Gavin said as he came in from the kitchen.
“Yes, I did thanks.” Jo blushed. She was a dreadful liar.
“Where are your bags then?” Gavin said, folding his arms.
“Oh, all the clothes I liked were out of stock, so they are being delivered.” Gavin nodded, then went back into the kitchen.
“Dinner will be about half an hour,” he called out.
Jo snuck upstairs to the bedroom and shut the door behind her. She got her mobile phone out and called the care home again. The same receptionist answered who she had spoken to whilst she was at the library.
“Hello, I’m calling up to speak to Richard Mason. I was talking to him earlier.” The receptionist went quiet.
“Oh dear, we are supposed to inform family first, but according to our records, he doesn’t have any. I’m sorry dear, but he passed away this afternoon.”
Secret in the Attic
Jo sat in the garden. She had her easel set out in front of her. She looked at the pond she was painting, how a dragonfly danced on top of it. How the sun glimmered off of the water, how little flies gathered around it. So many little details she wanted to pick up. She dipped her brush into her jam jar of clean water and watched as the water turned into dark blue clouds. She had missed this. It was morning, and both of the children were out, Jo at school, Sean at preschool. She loved having this time to work on her art. She dipped her brush into an oily green colour and mixed it with some blue. She made little marks on the easel to show the reflection of some leaves on the water. She looked at her watch. It was nearly lunchtime. She decided to stop.
They had been in the house for three months now. And it was starting to feel like home. Since speaking to Richard, there had been no weird incidences in the house. In fact, she was starting to think that everything which had happened had just been a silly coincidence. Children had imaginary friends all of the time, and Henry was a common name. The garden being wrecked could have been down to local children messing about. Since putting a high fence all around the garden, there had been no trouble. The message on the kitchen floor was no doubt a prank, like Gavin had said. The face she saw in the window must have been her imagination. She packed up her art and headed into the house. It was truly beginning to feel like her home now.
***
The radio was blaring away, and Gavin and Jo sang along (badly) to Kings of Leon as they stripped wallpaper off of the attic walls. The advantage of not having any close neighbours was that no one could hear them. The children were at their grandparents for a few days, leaving them to tackle the attic room. When they had moved in they had decided to wait a few years before converting the attic into a liveable space. But as the rest of the house had been refurbished so quickly, they had decided it would be nice to make more space. The attic room was going to become a playroom for the children, so they wouldn’t trip over toys or stand on legos every time they walked into the living room. They got to the end of the song, and Gavin turned to Jo.
“So what colour shall we paint this room then? I’ll run into town and pick it up, and I’ll get us some food for lunch.” Gavin said.
“White would be nice. It will keep it nice and bright,” Jo said. Gavin gave her a kiss on the cheek and headed out of the house. Jo saw his car drive off into the distance. She turned the radio down. It was still strange being in the countryside, with no one around for miles. But she knew it was a great place to bring up the children. She returned to the wall and carried on tearing off the wallpaper. It was old and damp and came off easily, revealing the lime plaster underneath. As she lifted the paper, she noticed some dark wood running vertically up from the floorboards. This was new. She pulled up another piece of paper next to it, and more dark wood was revealed. She got a wet cloth and wiped it down and saw a metal hinge on one side. She had found a door. She was excited and a little nervous as she revealed more and more of the door. She may have found a cupboard full of antiques. But why would someone block up a whole door? She uncovered a small hole where there once must have been a door handle. She tried to pull it open, but it wouldn’t work without anything to hold onto. She went to the tool kit and
got out a screwdriver, she pushed it into the hole and wiggled it around a bit. Nothing happened. She sprayed some WD-40 on the hinges and around the door frame, in an attempt to loosen everything up. She put the screwdriver in with a bit more force until she heard a click. She held the screwdriver on an angle and pulled it slowly towards her, and the door started to open. She grabbed the edge of the door with her fingers and pulled it open.
She looked inside. It wasn’t a cupboard. It was a whole extra room. She pushed the toolbox against the door to keep it open. The room was dark, she felt on the wall for a light switch but instead felt only spider webs. The room may have been closed up for many years. Jo got a torch and shone it around the room. It was a nursery. In the middle of the room was an old fashioned wooden cot still with bedding on it which had rotted away over the years. There was a nursing chair in the corner and a chest of drawers. She took a couple of hesitant steps inside. Why would someone have closed up a whole room? She walked into the room and up to the window. It had been bordered up from the outside. That was why they didn’t know the room existed. She shone her torch around the room. There were old fashioned toys in the corners. She saw a picture on the wall, covered in dust. She wiped it with her sleeve. It was a sampler, an old-fashioned way of practicing stitches. She looked at it. It had a name stitched at the top. Henry Mason. This was Henry’s room. The little boy who had disappeared from this house. Jo saw something fly into the room. She spun around. It was a paper kite. She shone her torch on it. How had it blown into the room? She was the only one in there. The room started to get darker. She looked to the door to the room as it started to close. The toolbox must have moved. She ran over to the door, just as it slammed shut in her face. She reached for a door handle, but there was no handle on that side either. She shoved and punched and kicked the wall, but it was no use, it wouldn’t open.
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