“No muffin today?” the waitress asked.
“Oh yeah, I forgot. I’ll have one to take away please.”
Once the waitress returned to the counter, Stephen continued. “Take your time and read all of it, I’ve no need to rush off.”
“Thank you so much. You don’t know how much this will help me.” Sandra took a sip of her coffee, burning her lip.
“You’ve no idea how excited I am by all of this,” Stephen said. “Most people would think I’m nuts, but something is going on in that house.”
She looked at the diary, but was afraid to open it and felt guilty for even thinking about reading another person’s private thoughts.
“Go on, read it”, he urged.
She opened the front cover and read the first page…
This belongs to David Price
January 2nd 1901
It’s been a bad day for me. I miss my family so much and being in this village is lonely as I have nobody to talk to. Bored with my own company, I went out for a long walk. I passed the Whitmores’ and little Maisie was playing alone, as usual. She is the only thing in this world that makes me smile, but I worry so much about her and wish I could take her away from that woman. I know if I tried, Harold would feed me to the pigs, but surely the other villagers can see there’s something not quite right with Samantha Whitmore. I can’t figure out what bothers me about her, but I’ll find out.
I watch Maisie from afar and she always seems so sad and alone. Maybe that’s the reason we connect as well as we do. Never a day goes by that she doesn’t smile at me through the gates of her home. She reminds me of my dear departed sister, Ivy.
I’d never admit this out loud for people would think me strange, but I walk past her gate every day in the hope of seeing that one smile she always seems to save for me. Despite what I think of her mother, Maisie has been raised well and politely thanks me for the chocolates I hand to her before she runs off and hides in the corner to eat them.
I swear, Maisie is the strangest child and knows things. She was happily playing in the garden and suddenly rushed off to the side of the house. Seconds later, Samantha opened the front door and shouted for, Maisie, to come inside. She didn’t respond to her mother and kept silent. I could see the anger rising in Samantha’s at being ignored and as she walked down the steps from the front door she did the strangest thing…
I knew where Maisie was hiding, but there was no way Samantha could have. She lifted her head and began to sniff the air. Within seconds she was charging in the direction of her daughter. She found Maisie and grabbed hold of the back of her hair and dragged her screaming towards the house. I ran towards the gate, intending to help Maisie but Samantha turned towards me and suddenly I could go no further. I lost all the strength I had and held onto the gate post for support as she smiled and slammed the door behind her. I couldn’t do anything to help Maisie and had to return home to my bed. It was more than five hours before I regained enough strength to fetch myself some water.
Something very odd is happening inside that house and I am determined to find out what.
January 3rd 1901
I walked past the Whitmore house again today, but there was no sign of Maisie. After what happened yesterday, I tried to talk to Lawrence and Harold about my feelings, but they tell me I’m concerned for no reason and, whilst the Whitmores are decent people, Samantha was formidable and would not tolerate any interference in regards to her daughter.
I have to do something to help Maisie.
Earlier this evening, I heard screaming coming from the back of their house. Harold told me I was imagining things, and that it was probably a cat screaming, but I know it was Maisie. It keeps me awake wondering what they are doing to their daughter.
January 4th 1901
I was awake at daybreak. I had tossed and turned all night long worrying for Maisie, and set out early in the hope I would see her. I felt instantly relieved for Maisie is safe and well.
As early as it was, she was playing in the garden talking to her doll – it seems that is her only company. She wouldn’t come near the railings to take the chocolates from me, so I wrapped them inside my handkerchief and threw them towards the corner of the garden. I knew she would find them once she was sure her mother was not watching her.
January 5th 1901
I had an altercation with Samantha Whitmore today. I was in the kitchen and heard banging on my front door. I opened it to find her standing there, looking furious. I didn’t have time to speak before she began to shout at me, accusing me of meddling in her family affairs.
I tried to tell her she was mistaken, but she didn’t believe me and told me in no uncertain terms what would happen to me if I didn’t stop interfering.
Her threats didn’t scare me and I told her so. I didn’t care what she had to say and slammed the door in her face. I’m not frightened of her, but I’m more worried than ever for Maisie. There is something unhinged about that woman, and I don’t care what trouble I get myself into. I’ll make sure Maisie is safe even if I have to run away with her.
Chapter 18
Sandra put the diary down and looked at Stephen.
“Why is he so worried for the little girl?”
“Once you’ve read the whole thing, you’ll understand. From what he writes, Maisie was apparently treated appallingly by her mother. By today’s standards the little girl would be in care. If what he says it true, he had every reason to loathe Samantha. Something tells me whatever is going on with that house started with her.”
“This sniffing thing David mentions is weird.” Sandra remembered the recording she’d heard on Jason Lee’s phone.
“Yes, I thought that strange, so I did quite a bit of research and found an old book about witches. Apparently, they would sniff the air when trying to locate someone hiding close by.”
“Don’t tell me you think Samantha Whitmore was a witch.” Sandra stared at Stephen and waited for him to laugh.
“Well, if you believe what Mr. Price has written here, what other conclusion would you come to?” He was straight-faced in his reply.
“I don’t know, Stephen, but this just gets crazier by the second. A man who hasn’t aged in God knows how long, a little girl that died years ago, and now a witch that can sniff people out.”
“Wait until you read the rest of the diary. There are things David describes that don’t make sense at all.”
“But if he thought the child was being mistreated surely he would have tried harder.”
“He probably did in his own way, but David had lost all of his own family and was thought of as strange even back then. They probably thought he had an unnatural interest in the child or that he confused her with his own dead sister.”
“I don’t know how I’m ever going to get to the bottom of this story. No sooner do I seem to have things straight in my mind then I’m thrown a curveball which takes me in another direction.” Sandra rested her head in her hands.
“Look, if I can help you in any way I will, but you’re connected to this house for a reason, and whilst I have no idea why that is, I believe you’re meant to stop whatever is happening there.”
Stephen got up from the table. “I’m going to the toilet whilst you finish reading it.”
Sandra picked up the diary and continued to read.
January 9th 1901
I feel like I’m being watched. I don’t know if I am being paranoid, but since my disagreement in with Samantha, I have been unable to eat or sleep.
My superstitions tell me she’s a witch and that I’m cursed.
Maybe I’m losing my mind, but in my heart I know she’s harming Maisie, and I won’t rest until I get her away from that house.
Sandra felt a connection to David through his words and was lost in the pages. It wasn’t long before Stephen returned and sat down, making her jump.
“Sorry if I startled you.”
“It’s okay. I felt as though I was transported back in time and wa
s seeing everything as he described. I felt…”
“Mesmerised,” Stephen interrupted. “It was the same when I read it for the first time.”
“Yes, mesmerised, that’s exactly the word I was looking for.” Sandra struggled to tear her eyes away from the diary. “Sorry, let me just finish this…”
“Don’t worry. Carry on.”
Sandra finished reading the tatty looking book and placed it on the table. She felt a sense of disappointment because she wanted to know more than what was written in David’s diary. She knew there was no choice, but to return to the lane and speak with him.
“I feel strange now I’ve read the whole thing. I know what you mean about David hating Samantha, but he’s never actually seen anything first hand, so could have been wrong. I just don’t know what to make of it all.”
“You’re going to go back to the house, aren’t you?”
“Why do you say that?”
“I can see it in your face. You’re in too deep.”
“Stephen, I can’t thank you enough for letting me read this.” Sandra placed her hand on the diary and pushed it towards him.
“No need to thank me, but if you don’t mind me asking, why are you so interested in Promised Land Lane?”
“As I told you earlier, my interests are somewhat personal, but since you’ve been open and honest with me, I’ll give you the same courtesy.”
“Go on.” Stephen was anxious to hear the story.
“My sister went missing from that place, and for years I’ve tried not to think about what happened to her.”
Stephen looked shocked. That was the last thing he had been expecting to hear. He leaned forward accidentally knocking his coffee off the table. Both of them watched as it hit the floor.
The waitress jumped into action, rushing from behind the counter with a cloth.
“I’m so sorry, here let me wipe it up,” he said to the waitress.
“No, it’s fine, don’t worry, it happens all the time.”
She cleaned up the mess from around them and retrieved a small dustpan and brush to sweep up the glass, then disappeared behind the counter once again.
“I’ve spoken to him you know,” she said quietly, nervously looking around to make sure the waitress was not aware of the conversation.
“You’ve spoken to who?” Stephen was confused.
“David Price. I’m certain it was him,” Sandra whispered.
Stephen’s jaw dropped as he leaned in even further towards Sandra. “When? What do you mean you spoke to him?”
Ignoring his question. “Stephen, I don’t know what you truly believe, but I’m positive that diary was written by the same person I spoke to. He’s still there. I don’t know how it’s possible after all of these years, but he told me never to return.”
“Why would you ever go back to that place after your sister disappeared?”
“For my sister. That was the only reason.”
“I can understand that much, but so many odd things have happened there over the years.”
“I know, but you saw the news about the young boy killed there recently, didn’t you?”
“It was hard not to see. It was splashed all over the papers, too.”
“It’s all connected,” she was still whispering. “Don’t you see?”
“If he told you not to return then there’s a reason why.” He began to dig into his box and pulled out an old photograph before handing it to her.
Sandra gasped and dropped the photograph onto the table.
The doll stared back at her from the picture. Its eyes seemed to focus directly on her.
Stephen scrambled to pick it up.
“Who took this, Stephen?” Sandra felt sick.
“I did,” he admitted.
“When?”
“Oh, it wasn’t long after the old Gallagher lady had gone back to Ireland. I heard loads of rumours at the time and asked one of my friends, who is a police officer, if he could get me a copy of the report.”
“Smart thinking,” she said impressed by his ingenuity. “But you must have been very young. Were you always into this sort of stuff?”
“I’ve always been obsessed with the supernatural. My mum’s a strict Catholic and said I was inviting evil into the house and barred me from even talking about it.”
“I’m not surprised. A part of me wishes I didn’t know any of this.”
“It’s not too late for you to turn away from all this, but something tells me you’re not going to let it go.”
“I have to find out what happened to my sister and the little boy who was killed there a few weeks ago. But forget all that, carry on with what you were telling me.”
Stephen dropped the subject and returned to his story. “It took me a while and a lot of convincing for my friend to show me. By the time he agreed the fuss had died down, and she’d already gone back to Ireland.”
“Do you have it with you?”
“Yes, everything I have about the lane is in here.” He tapped the box.
“Can I please see the report?”
“Yes, I’ll let you see it, but nobody can ever know. My friend would lose his job if anybody found out he’d given me this copy.”
“I promise. Nobody will know about this.” Sandra didn’t cross her fingers this time.
She could tell he was nervous as he handed her the file.
“Thank you.”
“I’m going to get myself another drink. Would you like anything?”
“An Americano please. No sugar,” she said handing him a twenty pound note. “Let me get this.”
“You can get the next one.” He left the table as she opened the police file.
Contained within the report were photographs of the property both inside and out. It was the first time she had seen the interior and could see how beautiful it looked. It was just how Dianne described. Sandra picked up a photograph of the hallway - it focused on a pool of blood near the stairwell. She grimaced at the image before her and wondered how much Dianne had suffered that night.
Sandra flicked through the file and found a picture of a smiling beauty with vibrant red hair. It took a few seconds to register that she was looking at Dianne Gallagher before the attack. The person she had recently met looked nothing like the glamourous lady staring back at her.
There was another picture taken of Dianne after the attack; her face badly scratched. Her blood red eye looked hideous. The skin around it was a dark purple. Sandra wondered how Dianne had not been blinded.
“Sick, right,” Stephen said placing the Americano down.
“Quite,” she said, looking up at him. “It’s hard to believe what I’m seeing. I met this lady quite recently, just before she passed away, but I never imagined the attack had been so violent.”
“Wow, you really met her. I’d loved to have been there.”
“Yes, but she looked nothing like this.” She held the before picture up.
“Wait until you read the rest of the report. It’s quite disturbing.”
“Do you have enough time?”
“Fill your boots. I’m in no rush to get home. Ian will be watching Eastenders, and I can’t stand it.”
Sandra picked up the report and began to read, the anger rising inside of her. It read like Dianne was a mentally incapacitated old woman self-harming after suffering some form of breakdown.
Words like ‘psychotic episode’, ‘invented assailant’ and ‘self-inflicted’ jumped off the page. They had apparently sectioned Dianne for her own safety.
Dianne had tried to tell them she had been attacked by a little girl, but her ramblings had fallen on deaf ears. Those listening convinced that she was crazy.
The police were so positive Dianne had harmed herself, there was no investigation into her version of events.
The doctors said Dianne’s injuries were too violent to have been from a child and concluded she had scratched her own face before gouging her eye out.
The anger subsided
as Sandra continued to read. It was glaringly obvious that Dianne had played along with the doctors and told them what they wanted to hear. Dianne had played a clever game and recanted her story about what truly happened on Promised Land Lane in order to be released from the hospital. Sandra felt the utmost respect and admiration for Dianne. She knew from meeting the lady, that telling a lie to cover the truth would have been the hardest thing she’d ever had to do.
The report stated that Dianne asked to be moved back to County Cork. Her wishes were granted and she was released under the care of her sister, Agnes.
Sandra put down the report and picked up her coffee.
“What do you think?” Stephen seemed eager to hear what Sandra thought of the report.
“I think Dianne had more brains than anybody mentioned in that police report.” Sandra felt admiration for the way Dianne manipulated everyone around her, and wished life had turned out better for her.
“Exactly what I thought. It’s plainly obvious she told them what they wanted to hear.”
Sandra nodded in agreement.
“Who in their right mind is going to believe a child walked into her house in the middle of the night and tried to rip somebody’s eye out of their head?”
“You believed it!”
“Well, yes I did, but I know more of the story than they do.”
“That may be, but I have to warn you.” She picked up the picture of the doll and pointed. “Now you’ve looked into the doll’s eyes, you’ll never be safe to return to there.”
“Sandra, nothing on this Earth would convince me to go back into that garden. I picked up that doll and it looked back at me. I know it did. Ian thinks I’m mad to believe any of this, but I know what I saw and heard. There’s evil there. I felt it immediately. Thinking about it now, I wonder if it’s the same doll that the little girl whom David wrote about played with?”
“I don’t even wanna think about it right now, but promise me you won’t go back.” Sandra looked directly into his eyes.
Promised Land Lane Page 11
