Descension

by Shani Struthers

  “Do you want a cuppa?” Kelly asked. “I must say I expected you to be older, although I’ve seen the picture of you and your team on your webpage. There’s one of you that’s quite old, isn’t there, the lady with the pink hair?”

  Theo – she was talking about Theo. “Tea would be lovely, thanks, no sugar though, I’m trying to give that habit up.”

  “Me too,” Kelly confided, “I’ve put on a few pounds recently, come out of nowhere they have, so the sugar’s got to go. Oh, in case you’re wondering, Carly’s out at the moment, with her dad. Whilst I make the tea, do you want to take a look around?”

  “That’d be perfect, thank you,” said Ruby, relieved at an opportunity to get on with the job. “I’d like to start upstairs if I may, in Carly’s bedroom.”

  “Wow, you don’t muck about, do you?”

  Ruby laughed. “I try not to.” There was another thing she needed to know before she set to work. “Kelly, how long have you lived here?”

  “A couple of years, that’s all. That’s how old the house is.”

  “And when did Carly start insisting there was a woman in her room?”

  “Ah, well, that was only a few months ago, about two or three to be exact. Despite the atmosphere in her room, and the reputation of this estate, what’s been here before, you know – the nut house – we thought she was playing us up at first. After all, a lot of kids from round this way swap stories at school; they sort of egg each other on, you know? I feel bad about that. Carly’s a good kid, she don’t lie.”

  “But before that she hadn’t mentioned anything?”

  “That’s right. I’ll tell you what though; it’s got far worse over the last few days. If it isn’t fixed and pronto, she’ll be sleeping in with us ’til she’s a teenager we reckon. And if that’s the case, she can kiss goodbye to ever having a brother or sister!”

  The last few days, Ruby mused, remembering the general feel of the estate, when she’d stood outside Kelly’s house. What was it that was in the air? Expectation perhaps? And why would that be? She still had no idea.

  Given the go ahead, Ruby went directly upstairs. Straight ahead was Carly’s bedroom, and approaching it, all else began to fade; it was just Ruby, the spirit, and the spirit’s anguish. It was as though she were in a tunnel, either that or a long, long corridor, which this may well have been once upon a time, leading to the patient’s room, or cell, as Ruby couldn’t help but liken it to.

  What happened? Why were you at Cromer?

  Pushing the door to Carly’s room open, she was greeted by pink walls, white furniture, and a bed that was suffocating under the weight of fluffy cushions. Despite the typical garishness of a little girl’s room, it appeared remote, unreal. What had been there before was far more pertinent.

  In the centre of the room she came to a standstill. It was cold, as if the seasons had accelerated and they were already in deep winter. Exhaling, she was sure she’d see her breath before her, but the air remained stubbornly clear.

  Rather than speak out loud, she decided to communicate in thought – it seemed the right thing to do, a more gentle approach.

  Hello, my name is Ruby Davis, I’m a psychic, someone who can sense or see those who’ve passed. I can sense a female presence in this room and also that she’s hurting – a great deal. This was once a hospital for people who were suffering from mental illness, the Cromer Asylum. Were you a patient here?

  Still shivering, wishing she’d brought her jacket with her, Ruby waited. There was no way to push the tide with this one, she realised, no bargaining to be had, and nothing to be frightened of either. This wasn’t a spirit prone to violence, of that she was certain. There’d be nothing thrown her way on this occasion. On the contrary, this woman wouldn’t harm a fly, and yet still she’d been locked away.

  And forgotten about… You were forgotten, weren’t you? By those you thought loved you.

  There was an intake of breath from somewhere, as if Ruby had touched a raw nerve. Bolstered, Ruby pressed on.

  Did no family or friends ever come to visit? Did you… die at Cromer?

  Just because her spirit was grounded didn’t necessarily mean she’d died here. She could have been released into society but only as a shadow of her former self. In essence, this was where she belonged, or felt that she did.

  Tell me your name. Let me help you.

  There was a wailing now, most likely only audible to Ruby, at least she hoped so, because the despair in it was terrible to hear. It caused her to shut her eyes, to screw them up tight, to wince. Abandonment was such a curse.

  Whoever you are, whatever you did, or more likely, didn’t do, I’m here now. You don’t have to stay at the asylum, not anymore. A better place awaits you; your true home. A place where there’s no anger and no suffering. You’ll be amongst those who’ll love and protect you, who won’t fail you, not again. Can you see a light shining in the distance? It’s that you need to go towards.

  NO!

  The refusal was louder than the wailing of before. Added to it was the thudding that Kelly said the family sometimes heard. Ruby spun round; where was it coming from? Again, she wondered if Kelly could hear it and would come running. There was another sound now, a more recognisable one – the front door. “Hi, honey, we’re home.”

  It must be Kelly’s husband and Carly, returning from their trip. Ruby didn’t know what to do – go down to see them and introduce herself to the child, or remain with the woman whose despair was growing. It didn’t take long to reach a decision. She couldn’t walk out on her; such an action might be misconstrued. She had to stay.

  All I want to do is help. There’s no peace for you here, not then and not now. Why would you want to stay when that’s the case? Don’t be afraid of the light. Realise what it is. Your way out of here.

  She had no knowledge of how long the woman had been confined, but even so, Ruby would bet she was institutionalised. So many she’d dealt with at Brookbridge were – which could account for the high number of spirits that remained. As afraid as they were of their surrounds, they were even more afraid of being cast adrift. In many ways, and despite any atrocities that had happened to them, Cromer was their anchor. It was better than the nothing they perceived was waiting for them. Ruby didn’t blame them; she understood. How could you believe in heaven when all you’d known was hell?

  That was the difficulty facing Ruby, one she was trying to figure out how to deal with when the door burst open and a child came running into the room – Carly.

  “Are you the lady who can see ghosts?”

  The girl was small for her age with hair as dark as her mother’s. She was also very obviously awed by Ruby’s presence. Ruby began to nod, to say she was indeed that person, when the door slammed shut behind the child. Immediately, the atmosphere in the room changed again; it was crackling with intensity, the pink she was surrounded by, now entirely grey, echoing the original building. Ruby tensed.

  “Carly, go, get out of here.” When there was no reply, she tried again, doing her utmost to keep her voice level. “Carly, please, you need to leave.”

  A good kid, as her mother had said, Carly was actually trying to obey, but having begun tugging at the door, she stopped. “I can’t. The door’s stuck. Why’s it stuck?”

  Damn it! There didn’t seem to be much Ruby could do to help either. It was as if her feet were glued to the floor. Not carpeted, not anymore, it was a cold stone floor with only a threadbare rug covering it. Sometimes this happened; she was able to see what the grounded spirit was seeing – look through their eyes almost; but for it to happen with the child in tow was far from ideal.

  The thudding – rhythmic, she realised, thud, thud, thud – where was it coming from?

  In one corner, by a window that had three bars across it, a figure materialised. She wore a dress of some sort, or a shift, and her hair was short but straggly. It was the woman – her age indeterminate – and she was banging her head against the wall.

 
“Don’t do that! You’ll hurt yourself.”

  The words were out of Ruby’s mouth before she could stop them. The woman was a spirit, she couldn’t hurt herself anymore, but they looked so real, these grey surrounds, and so bleak too with no comforts of any kind on show.

  Torn between the woman and the child, Ruby didn’t know which way to turn.

  She was confused further when Carly’s parents started rattling the door handle, demanding to know what the hell was going on. “Why’s the door locked? Who locked it? Let us in. Ruby, Carly, are you okay? Come on, let us in!”

  Forcing life into her legs, Ruby hurried towards the woman, whilst at the same time trying to reassure the living. “Things are under control,” she shouted. “I’ve made contact with the spirit. She’s not going to harm us; Carly’s safe, quite safe. The spirit, she’s… frightened, that’s all. Please don’t panic. Give me a few minutes with her.”

  The rattling at the door increased, followed by banging.

  “Please,” she raised her voice higher, “everyone keep calm. I… I’ve got this.”

  Hunkering down by the woman, Ruby reached out, touching nothing but thin air. “Please stop. You don’t have to suffer like this anymore. I’m so sorry life was cruel to you. I wish with all my heart it had been otherwise. But it’s just one life and it’s over. Go towards something new, something good. Nothing will harm you in the light. It’s love, pure love. Raise your head and look at it, see for yourself.”

  The Watkins were now issuing threats to call the police.

  “Help me,” Ruby whispered, growing really quite desperate, “to help you.”

  Another sound joined the din – something completely different and standing out because of it: the cry of a newborn.

  Ruby’s eyes widened. “Is that it? Did you have a child?”

  The baby’s cry ceased, just as the woman started to wail. No longer banging her head, she’d begun to shake – violently.

  “A fit? Did you have a fit? Is that what you’re trying to tell me? A seizure of some sort?”

  There was screaming now, a bloodcurdling sound – such horror in it, but more than that, there was grief. The woman was scratching at her face and tugging at her hair, doing everything, anything, to ease the pain that was inside her.

  Having to work quickly, Ruby tried to piece it all together.

  “You had a baby, a healthy baby, but you weren’t healthy; you were prone to fits, epilepsy maybe? It was something like that. Did you… did you have one of these fits whilst nursing your baby? Did you drop the baby? Because of that, did the baby die?”

  It took a moment for Ruby to realise, but the woman had stilled, as if listening.

  “That’s it, isn’t it? That’s why you were incarcerated. People thought you’d killed your own baby, and you were too grief-stricken, too guilt-ridden to defend yourself. Prison first, but then Cromer, and this is where you died.” She looked around her. Were the walls padded? No. By the time this woman had arrived, she may have appeared broken, leading others to think she wasn’t a danger to herself or others anymore, but inside she was still raging at what had happened; at all she’d lost.

  Daring to hope she was getting somewhere with her, Ruby again pleaded with the woman. “It was an accident, a terrible accident. I’m so sorry you were blamed, that you lost your precious child. But please, let go of your grief, because it’s that which continues to imprison you. I know how hard it must have been, I know—”

  The woman sprang forward, causing Ruby’s head to retract in surprise. Her eyes had manifested fully and they held Ruby’s gaze – such fierceness in them. Penetrating so deep that not even Carly or her parents’ yells registered anymore, just three words were spat into Ruby’s mind – three little words that seared it.

  You. Don’t. Know.

  Ruby couldn’t begin to formulate an answer to that. After all, this woman was right. She’d had her own life as well as the life she’d borne, stripped from her; she’d been reviled because of an accident, branded a monster and locked away. Ruby had no idea what that was like, or the mental agony that would follow; no idea at all.

  Time lost all meaning. Ruby was unable to break the hold the woman had on her; unable to do anything but stare back. She was losing herself, inch by inch, as this woman had lost herself; she was drowning alongside her, in such cold, cold waters.

  “You can have my dolly if you like.”

  What? Who’d said that?

  “I’m sorry about your baby, that’s sad. But if it helps, take my dolly. I’ve only just got her, this morning; she’s a baby too. I like her, but if you want to be her mummy instead of me, that’s fine.”

  When Carly had run into the room, she’d been holding something – Ruby had barely registered what, but it must have been the doll she was now offering to the spirit – a doll in place of a baby. Would it work?

  Finally averting her gaze, the woman turned to look at the child.

  “Carly,” Ruby whispered, “tell me what you can see.”

  “Nothing,” replied Carly, the doll held out in front of her. “But you’re kneeling down, talking to her, so she must be in front of you, right?”

  Despite the onslaught of emotion she’d recently felt, by proxy if anything, and that just the tip of the iceberg, Ruby managed a smile. “That’s right, that’s exactly where she is and she’s looking at you, at what you’re offering her.”

  A solution – that’s what Carly was offering. Not the doll, not really – a spirit couldn’t take something material into the light with them. Regardless of that, it was more than anyone had offered her in a lifetime. The child must have heard every word Ruby had uttered, of course she had, and, as the door finally gave way behind the weight of Mr Watkins, Ruby held up her hands to stay him and Carly’s mother. “We’ve got this,” she said. “Believe me, please, we have got this.”

  Incredibly, Mr and Mrs Watkins did as she instructed, staring at them with wide eyes, just as Ruby was staring at the woman and the child – she the one who was awestruck now.

  The woman rose and as she did, she held out her hands too. Gently, she touched the doll, running her fingers over its chubby plastic pinkness.

  “Carly, stay as you are,” Ruby’s voice was barely above a whisper, “go on doing what you’re doing,” but the child needed no such instruction.

  The woman lifted her hand and touched the child too, stroking her cheek. Carly smiled, as if she knew what was happening and what the gesture meant.

  Not taking her eyes of the child, the woman whose name Ruby didn’t even know started to back away, through the wall, into whatever lay beyond – peace hopefully.

  The child’s smile became a beam as the atmosphere changed, but Ruby, still staring at the spot where the woman had disappeared, still reeling from the truth of what had been said, couldn’t smile anymore. Instead, she burst into tears.

  Chapter Four

  The Watkins, despite any earlier concerns, couldn’t have been nicer to her. The fact that Carly had dropped her doll and flung herself at Ruby, in an attempt to console her, probably went some way to softening them. They realised she wasn’t a threat, not if their daughter didn’t think so, and helped Ruby downstairs where she sat nursing a cup of tea, completely unable to stop the flow of tears.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, over and over. “This is so unprofessional.”

  The Watkins, however, wouldn’t accept the apology.

  “I don’t know what you’ve done,” Kelly offered yet another tissue so Ruby could blow her nose, “but she’s gone, I know she has. The house feels so different!”

  “It’s what Carly did,” Ruby explained, “she gave her back her faith in humanity.”

  “How?” Mr Watkins’ fascination was clear.

  “By one simple act of kindness. Sometimes, that’s all it takes.”

  They’d all gone a bit dewy-eyed at that.

  Cash, who’d sent several messages asking what was taking her so long and whether she need
ed help, texted her again when she finally left the Watkins house and was in her car. Rather than text back, she phoned, still in tears about what had happened.

  Immediately, he offered to come and get her.

  “What’s the point, you’ll be in your car and I’ll be in mine. Look, don’t worry; I’ll be back soon. Yes, yes, I’m okay to drive. Honestly, I am. No, of course, I’m not going to crash the car. Will you stop worrying? I wish I’d never phoned you now!”

  She didn’t mean it and he knew it – she needed to hear his voice, to have his support. He was her rock, as much as the rest of her team; as much as her mother and grandmother; as much as Jed, who’d materialised in the seat next to Ruby, not making a fuss of her – somehow he knew she needed time to process what had just happened – but just being there. As she put the car into gear and drove away, she wondered about her newfound father. Would he be supportive too, in the future? Could they support each other? Only time would tell.

  Driving back past the last remaining building, she noticed a couple with two kids. The father was talking to his son and pointing at the empty structure. The mother and her other son were busy taking pictures. Voyeurs. This place attracted so many. They came out of the woods, which the building backed into, hoping for what? To catch a glimpse of someone long gone, a tortured spirit perhaps, dressed in rags and traipsing along the corridors, beating at their chest, still in so much torment? Perhaps she was being too harsh. The family in front of her didn’t look like bad people; they looked very nice. They just loved a ghost story, that’s all; so many did. Better still if it was set at an asylum, it added a certain frisson. Ghosts and madness were fascinating subjects; they brought a gleam to the eye when mentioned, pricked the imagination, caused it to run riot. Brushed to one side was the human cost – the spiritual cost – barely any thought given to the real lives that were torn apart, not always for reasons of madness. Although, could you exist in an environment such as Cromer and remain sane? She didn’t think so. There’d be nothing but the madness of others to distract you. Like with a disease, you’d become infected. Asylums fell out of favour from the mid-60s onwards and ‘care in the community’ was offered instead. A cuddly-sounding term, it was often anything but. She’d once heard it described as ‘couldn’t care less in the community’, which many swore was more accurate. But at least people weren’t wrongly locked up nowadays, for reasons of grief, for God’s sake, as the spirit at Willow Walk had been – a woman who’d been judged so readily, and denounced. At least that didn’t happen as much in these supposedly enlightened times. Not here, not in leafy green England.