Ghost Song

by Mark L'Estrange

  “Well, it sounds as if Mr Jefferies ‘as ‘eard the same stories as me, so no one can’t blame me for talkin’ out of turn if a great man like ‘im is willing to speak. Now again, what I’m tellin’ yer I can’t prove, so yer either believe it or not. Me personally, I’ll have no truck with such things, but that’s for me, you can make up yer own mind without my help. We all grew up ‘earing about the young lass what got killed at the Widow-Maker, not that she’s bin the only one over the years, but folks around ‘ere say she might be the first. Well rumour ‘as it she was some sort of gypsy, an’ before she died, she put a curse on your cousin an’ his father, an’ since then, according to local gossip, her spirit haunted the old man, an’ that’s what finally killed ‘im.”

  “I tried not to react too overtly at the sound of his words, but naturally I knew that what he was telling me was true. It made perfect sense that my unwanted visitor was merely a restless spirit continuing to visit the same location she always had done. Whatever the reason for her initial foray back into the land of the living, I would have hoped that now my distant cousin - who it appeared may have had something to do with her premature demise - had passed on himself, she might feel that she no longer had a reason to pay her nightly visits.

  “I had heard it said that ghosts were often the spirits of the dead who, for whatever reason, did not feel ready to pass over. I wondered if the next time she came to me I might be able to convince her that her task was now complete, and that I had never done her any harm, nor wished any on her, so she no longer had a reason to keep reappearing. If that was all it would take to convince her to rest in peace, then I was more than willing to give it a go.

  “Just to clarify the point I asked the old man if he knew anything about my cousin’s late wife, whose grave was in amongst the others. From what he had already told me I presumed that she was not the gypsy girl whom he had mentioned, so presumably she was also not my spirit.”

  “Well, I can’t say for sure as you can well understand, but folks do say that the gypsy girl’s curse did for everyone livin’ at the manor, your cousin, ‘is wife and ‘is old man. But as I say, there’s no way of me provin’ none of it.”

  “I could see the exhaustion etched into his features, and I was increasingly aware of the shadows across the graveyard growing longer by the second as well as the fact that he still had a fair amount of shovelling to do before his task was complete. But the fact that he had not mentioned the name on the last headstone did make me curious. I asked him if Spencer Jethro Hunt was also a victim of the gypsy’s curse, and again he shrugged his shoulders in his matter-of-fact manner before relaying what little he knew.”

  “No one knows for sure, least no one is saying, but I seem to remember being told that ‘e died afore the young gypsy lass, but as to whether it were a result of ‘er curse, I can’t say.”

  “I shook the old man’s hand in gratitude. The information which he had given me was well worth the handful of shillings I had parted with. What’s more, he did not come across as someone who would just embellish a story for the sake of someone to talk to. So, even if what he had told me turned out to have only a slight ring of truth to it, I still felt as if my time with him had been well spent.”

  Thirteen

  “I walked out of the churchyard and began to stroll along the high street. The wind was starting to pick up and some of the dead leaves from the church whipped up behind me, almost as if they were reaching out, willing me not to leave. I buttoned my coat to keep the warmth in and thought long and hard about what the old gravedigger had told me. It seemed somewhat implausible to me that merely a week ago I had such a negative opinion concerning fortune tellers and spirits and the like, and yet here I was, having experienced first-hand such ethereal phenomena, discussing the plausibility of gypsy curses with a complete stranger in the middle of a graveyard, no less. It many ways, the experience had been a humbling one. As someone who had discounted such events outright, I had certainly been brought down to earth with an almighty bump.

  “I walked back past the library and wished that it was already the following morning. After what the old man had told me, Mrs Wilsby’s assertion that there were papers and books housed in her inner sanctum which may allow me to piece the whole story together gave me a fresh enthusiasm to glean all I could before Jenifer came down. I had already made my mind up that I did not want my wife to spend so much as one single night in that house. Although she was a very level-headed person who would not shy away from whatever was happening at the manor, for my own peace of mind I would not feel safe with her in the place after dark, even if I was there with her.

  “I checked the time on my watch. My heart lifted when I realised that Jenifer should be home from work. I made my way back to my usual stop-off for groceries and provisions and made a few random purchases so that I would have change for the phone box. Jenifer answered on the second ring. After all this talk of death, curses, ghosts and spirits, the sound of her sweet voice was like a river of calmness being poured all over me. Within seconds I had pushed to the back of my mind any thoughts about my unwanted visitor, and listened happily as she regaled me with the exciting tale of how well her shoot was going and the fact that they would definitely be able to wrap it all up by the following evening.

  “I made a mental note right then to check the availability at the hotel I had stayed in on my first night in town. It was just as a failsafe, should Jenifer decide to travel down on the Saturday to see the manor - which I felt sure that she would. That way, if it grew too late for us to reasonably drive home, then at least we would have some where to stay for the night. In my mind I could almost imagine the argument that I would have with her about the feasibility of us spending the night at the manor, and, knowing how easy it was for her to wrap me around her little finger, I decided that I might have to play up the fact that Jefferies and Peterson had warned me that the foundations were not safe or something equally as likely. Even then, I knew that I must prepare myself for an argument.

  “Yet again, we spoke until my money ran out, and when I finally replaced the handset on its cradle I felt a deep sorrow emanating from the pit of my stomach, reaching up through my heart and right into my mouth, to the extent that I could almost taste the misery. I was really missing Jenifer, and I knew that she felt the same. I decided at that moment that this was to be the last time we would ever spend so much time apart, regardless of the circumstances.

  “On my way home I stopped off at the Wild Boar to check the availability of rooms for the following night, and was happy to discover that, being out of season, we were literally spoilt for choice. I made a provisional booking and decided to stay for a pint of ale to help fortify myself before the night ahead. My bravado from earlier when I had promised myself that I would challenge my late-night caller, if she came again, was beginning to ebb away, and I decided that some Dutch courage was just what the doctor ordered.

  “By the time I left the hotel the wind had really begun to stir up with a vengeance, and there were even a few spots of rain starting to hit my windshield as I slid into my seat. I took my time driving back, partly because en route the rain really started to pelt it down, but also because the strength of the ale on an empty stomach began to make me feel a little woozy.

  “I managed to make it back to the manor in one piece, taking extra care when I approached the steep bend of the Widow-Maker, due to the driving rain and wind. I heaved a huge sigh of relief as I pulled up outside the house and spent a few moments in the car gathering up my purchases before making a dash for the front door.

  “Once inside, as expected there was a note from Mrs Jarrow informing me that she had baked a pie for their dinner, and that she had left me a slice in the oven. I hoped that any unintended slight she might have felt that morning due to my unwillingness to divulge the events of the previous two evenings was now passed and forgotten. While I thought of it I scribbled a quick note to her for the morning, as I knew that by the time she arrived
I would already be at the library. I mentioned that I would miss her splendid breakfast very much, but that I had an important appointment to keep for which I could not be late.

  “I switched on the lights in the main parlour and lit the pre-built fire. I took much comfort in the light and warmth from the flames and remained in the room for a time to absorb as much heat into my body as possible. Until that moment I had not realised just how cold I was from the night air and the rain.

  “Having warmed myself sufficiently I went down to the kitchen to see what delights the good Mrs Jarrow had left for my dinner. I certainly was not disappointed. Not only had she left me a huge slice of steak and kidney pie, but she had also left me a helping of assorted vegetables to accompany it. I presumed that she and her husband must have dropped it off on their way to work that evening because the meal was still quite warm, and although I was tempted to heat it up I was so hungry that I just carried it up to the parlour and wolfed it down in front of the fire.

  “I buttered a crusty roll which I had bought in town that afternoon, and used it to mop up the meaty gravy the meal had been swimming in. I probably ate too quickly but I was famished, and each morsel tasted like heaven on my tongue. Once I was finished, I took the dishes downstairs and uncorked a bottle of wine. I took the bottle and a glass back upstairs and settled back in front of the fire.

  “By my second glass that evening I was struck by a sudden urge to work. It was true that having been in the house for three days now I had only made the smallest effort to sort through my late cousin’s effects, and with the weekend almost upon me I decided that I would make a start that evening, and hopefully continue the following afternoon, after I had seen the librarian. I almost regretted having opened the wine prematurely as it, no doubt along with my earlier pint, was starting to make me feel drowsy.

  “I decided to save the rest of a bottle as a treat for after my labour was complete, and took myself upstairs and splashed some cold water on my face to help wake me up. I went into the room adjacent to mine and opened the first trunk in the corner of the room. I appeared to be full of men’s clothes. They were all neatly folded and apparently placed into the trunk with great care. I began taking them out one at a time. They were all made of good quality material, although they did appear to be rather old fashioned in their style. Some of them even appeared as if they might have been more suited to a gentleman from the turn of the century.

  “There were several long coats and waistcoats amongst the selection, but definitely not of a style from recent times. I had the distinct impression that the clothes must all have been tailored, rather than just purchased off the peg at a local Burtons or John Collier. At the bottom of the first trunk, underneath the last item of clothing, I found a large leather pouch, bound together with straps. I undid the straps and found inside several papers and documents which seemed to be legal in nature.

  “I scanned through the papers, but even those which were not in Latin I could barely decipher as they were written in a hand which was incredibly hard to make-out. The paper used for the most part had all succumbed to decay, and several of the papers almost crumbled in my hands when I tried to unfold them. I decided that it might be best to leave those for Peterson to go through, and I hoped that I had not destroyed anything pertinent in my haste.

  “Once I had all the papers back in their holder, I secured the straps and began to replace the clothes as neatly as I had found them, back inside the trunk. The second trunk in the room, I discovered, was also full of men’s clothes, roughly from the same period as those of the first one, and again, all neatly folded and placed inside with care. Once more I carefully took out each garment, one at a time, hoping that I might find something more interesting at the bottom. But this time, alas, there was nothing to pique my curiosity, so I replaced them once more and closed the lid.

  “I moved from room to room in the same fashion, and each time I was disappointed to find that all the trunks contained were men’s clothes of the same ilk as my original finds. Feeling somewhat deflated, I made my way up to the attic rooms where I seemed to remember seeing another trunk tucked away in a corner, on my first inspection of the house. When I found it, I was surprised to discover that it was locked. I tried to prise open the clasp at the front, but it refused to give to brute strength alone.

  “I was intrigued by the fact that this particular trunk had been locked, when all the others were not. So, I went back downstairs to retrieve my keys to the house, hoping to find the correct one amongst the others on the bunch. Before taking them upstairs I went to the kitchen and found a stout knife, which I hoped might do the trick should I be unable to locate the key. I went back upstairs and began trying all the keys which looked as if they might fit the lock, and when none of them did I proceeded to use the knife.

  “It took far more effort than I would have believed necessary, but eventually I managed to pop the lock and the catch came free. I lifted the lid and was immediately disappointed to discover more clothes, although these were quite obviously for a woman. I stared down at them, more than a little frustrated by the fact that someone had thought such a prize fit to be locked away.

  “The one thing which did strike me as being a little odd was that whereas all the men’s clothing in the other trunks had been neatly folded and placed in order, these appeared to have been merely chucked in in any old way, almost as if whoever was packing them cared little, or not at all, for the garments or their owner. As before I decided that it might be worth investigating the trunk, so I began removing each piece of clothing, taking the time to fold them before laying them next to me, as it seemed almost disrespectful not to. They were mainly dresses, again rather old-fashioned in style, though I must admit to not being much of an expert. There were also a couple of patterned shawls and scarves mixed in with everything else. As I reached the bottom of this trunk I saw what I believed was another packet of papers, loosely bound with ribbon.

  “I took out the bundle, and upon touching it I realised it was not made of paper but some form of good-quality parchment, and I released the retaining bow before spreading it out on the floor. As I looked down at it, my heart turned cold. Staring up at me from the floor was the face of my nightly visitor.

  “I scuttled back across the floor, as if by some magic she had the ability to reach out of the painting and grab hold of me. As I let go the parchment began to re-roll itself, having doubtless been in that position for some time. I waited from across the room for a moment, feeling completely unnerved by the unexpected experience. I waited until I could catch my breath, before moving back over to what was now an innocent-looking parchment tube lying on the floor.

  “I steeled myself before unravelling it again. At least this time I knew what to expect, but even so the thought of staring into those eyes still gave me the shivers. This time, once it was unrolled, I placed the corners at the top under the trunk and used my bunch of keys to steady the bottom so that I could look at the painting in all its glory.

  “Now that I had had a chance to calm myself down, I had to admit that the painting was beautifully done and the artist, whose name I could not make out at the bottom, clearly had a marvellous eye. The girl was standing in a meadow, surrounded by flowers, with white fluffy clouds drifting above her. Oddly enough she speared to be wearing the same floral-print dress I had seen her in, and her lovely, long, dark hair flowed down around her shoulders. She had a single yellow flower placed behind one ear, and her head was tilted ever so slightly to one side; almost as if she was trying to hear something in the distance.

  “She was, without question, an incredibly attractive girl, and if it had not been for her unwanted visits to me I would have thought no more about her other than that. But the closer I stared at the painting, the more that I could tell, even from here, that her eyes seemed to carry a look of melancholy which was in complete contrast to the rest of her face.

  “I stared at her painting for some considerable time before finally deciding to p
lace it back in its trunk. Only this time I made sure that all the clothes went in first, so as not to crush the painting under their weight like they had before.

  “I took myself back down to the main parlour with an odd, almost heavy feeling in my heart. Whoever that girl had been, gypsy or not, she had evidently cast a spell over me, to the extent that I believed that I could actually feel her pain, whatever the cause. I was now more convinced than ever that if she appeared to me later, as per her usual habit, that I would prostrate myself before her and assure her that I knew she was troubled, and doubtless had good reason to be, and then I would plead with her to allow her spirit to rest.

  “I knew that my intentions were not completely selfless. Although I certainly did want the poor girl’s spirit to find peace there was also the matter of her frequent spectral appearances, which naturally it was in my interest to help put a stop to. I sincerely hoped that my visit to the library the following morning would help to fill in some of the gaps regarding the story behind my sad visitor.

  “The thought of morning suddenly reminded me that I needed to ensure that I would not be late, otherwise the formidable Miss Wilsby would doubtless refuse to assist me in my task. I was grateful to her for offering me the opportunity to visit the library before opening time, and I wondered if it was an offer which she had ever extended before. Although our first meeting had been somewhat brief, she certainly did not come across as the kind of person who was willing to break the rules very often.

  “With all this in mind I went back up to my bedroom and lit the fire, so that the room would be more inviting when I retired. I had no intention of having a late night, although if my visitor decided to call then there would doubtless be a break in my sleep. I rummaged through my suitcase and found my old alarm clock at the bottom. I was relieved that I had remembered to pack it, and I set it for six-thirty the following morning. This would at least give me time for a bath and a cup of coffee before setting off.