Ghosts of Yorkshire

by Karen Perkins

  ‘I want everything upstairs in one of the guest rooms. Through that door, up the first set of stairs, then left through the arch. I’ll take it from there.’

  ‘Are you sure you don’t want us to sort it into the right rooms for you?’ the driver’s mate asked.

  ‘No – I have a load of work to do first.’

  ‘Ain’t that the truth,’ the driver said, looking around at the empty, damp and dingy foyer. ‘Not exactly welcoming, is it?’

  I stifled a retort and forced myself to smile again. ‘It will be by the time I open,’ I said. ‘Is there much more to come in?’

  ‘Give us a chance, love, this is only the first load.’

  I nodded, my point made, and went outside, unwilling to spend any more time in the man’s company. A few seconds later, I was in the heart of the village.

  Whatever the removal men’s faults, I had to admit they had a point. These roads had not been built for cars; their narrow blind bends and cobbles were far more suited to slower horse and cart.

  I looked up, startled at the clop of a horse’s hoofs, and waved at the rider – a young girl in a high-vis vest. For a moment I’d half-expected to see a nineteenth-century carrier’s cart loaded with barrels or coal sacks.

  Having left Leeds that morning – for good – I felt like I’d stepped back in time, such was the contrast.

  Instead of a bustling, modern city centre, Howarth Main Street plunged in its full cobbled glory into the Worth Valley below. The moors rose opposite in magnificent frosted green and winter shades of brown – heather, grasses, bracken and gorse – with snow heaped against the dividing dry stone walls.

  Slate roofs slanted, soot-stained and age-darkened millstone grit walls leaned, and cobbles rose to trip the unwary or infirm. Even the accoutrements of modern living – benches, telephone poles, red telephone box (yes, Haworth still had one), lamp posts and the rest – tipped, dipped and sloped, all having to accommodate at least one unexpected angle, rejecting all human effort to tame this wild land.

  Yet people were still here. They carved out a living; they enjoyed a holiday; they walked, shopped, explored.

  It was an uneasy balance, made even more precarious by the flocking tourists anxious to follow in the footsteps of their literary heroines and characters. But something told me Yorkshire was not yet done; the power of the earth was too strong here, too prevalent. Nature would yet prevail over this insidious human invasion.

  ‘Hello? Where the hell has she got to?’

  I sighed at the driver’s distant, grating voice and turned back, unable now to summon even a ghost of a smile for him as I approached.

  ‘All done, you just need to sign the worksheet, then we’ll be on our way.’

  ‘Right then,’ I said, took his pen, and hesitated. Much as I wanted this annoying man out of my dream home as soon as possible, I could not bring myself to sign without checking everything first.

  I led the way back into what would soon be my guesthouse, ignoring the heaving sigh of irritation behind me, and examined the piles of boxes, suitcases, and scraps of furniture, mentally checking everything off.

  ‘And the van is definitely empty, is it?’ I asked when I re-emerged into daylight, my head swimming.

  The driver glared at me, but his mate grinned, slid open the side door and I inspected the interior. If anything had been left behind, it wasn’t in there.

  I signed the paperwork and the driver snatched it out of my hands, clambered behind the wheel, and slammed the door.

  ‘Good luck in your new home,’ the mate said, touched his cap with a grin, then sighed before joining his colleague. I had never been so glad to see anyone drive away in my life.

  I walked back into the building and looked around me. The proud smile drained from my face as the enormity of what I had taken on hit me. I had left everything I knew behind me, and my future was blind.

  2.

  A shriek outside made me jump, then I relaxed and smiled at the sound of high heels and laughter accompanied by the rumble of trolley bag wheels on cobbles. Lara and Jayne.

  Opening the door, I stared pointedly at Lara’s feet as she tottered down the steep, icy ginnel, clutching an enormous bouquet of flowers. Jayne was pulling two cases and wincing at the ferocity of her friend’s taloned grip on her arm.

  ‘I told you to wear flats,’ I said. ‘You’ll break your leg in those things here.’

  ‘I don’t do flats, darling,’ Lara said, unconcerned. She let go of Jayne to swathe me in a floral-scented hug. ‘Welcome to your new life, Verity.’ She handed over the flowers. ‘It’s very ... you.’ She beamed, clearly pleased with her non-committal phrasing.

  I turned to hug Jayne and was almost knocked off my feet by an excited Irish terrier the colour of sandstone who’d been chased from the car park by Lara’s ten-year-old daughter, Hannah.

  ‘You need to keep hold of his lead,’ Jayne admonished, bending to pick up the leather leash. ‘He has no car sense whatsoever.’

  ‘Sorry, Aunt Jayne, he’s just so strong and excited.’ Hannah took back possession of Grasper and tried to pull him away from me and all the interesting smells around the front door. He only acquiesced when I ceased petting him and finally embraced his mistress.

  Accepting a bottle bag with a very promising gold-foil-covered offering inside, I led the way. ‘Welcome to The Rookery,’ I said.

  ***

  ‘So where exactly are we sleeping?’ Jayne asked, perched on her case and clutching a mug of champagne. She peered around the foyer. ‘Are the guest rooms at least serviceable?’

  ‘No, not yet,’ I said. ‘I’ve a camp bed set up in the best one for myself. I thought you three would put your sleeping bags out here – you did bring sleeping bags, didn’t you?’ I eyed their cases.

  Jayne spluttered champagne, Hannah clapped in delight at the prospect of camping, and Lara grinned.

  ‘Nearly had me going there, Verity,’ she said. ‘Now put Jayne out of her misery and tell her where we’re really staying.’

  I smiled. ‘Sorry, ladies, I couldn’t resist. No, I’m not inflicting this place on you – not until it’s furnished anyway. I’ve booked you into the Old White Lion; it’s literally thirty seconds down the street. I’ll take you over in a bit so you can check in, then I thought we’d have dinner there.’

  ‘Cowbag,’ Jayne said, and Hannah giggled. ‘How long will it take to get this place ready for guests?’

  ‘I have three months. I’ll make the website live and sign up to all the booking sites as soon as the wiring is done and I have broadband. With any luck, I’ll be taking bookings from the first of March for Easter onwards.’

  Lara looked around the foyer and Jayne laughed. ‘I hope you have reliable tradesmen – that doesn’t leave you much time if anybody lets you down.’

  ‘They’ve all been highly recommended and they start on Monday. I’ve been speaking to the foreman, Vikram, quite a bit on the phone and so far I’m impressed.’

  ‘Oh yes, Vikram is it? What does he look like?’ Lara said, eyebrows raised.

  ‘They’re starting the week before Christmas, are you serious?’ Jayne said.

  I chose to answer Jayne. ‘Yes, the joiners are in first to wall off part of the back there – they’ll make another guest room, then the remainder of the space will be a kitchen for the guest breakfasts, plus an office. The electricians and plumbers will do their thing too then start on the existing bedrooms upstairs, and the joiners will move up to partition off the en-suites when they’ve finished down here. I don’t have to have every guest room ready for Easter, but I do need the downstairs area, as many guest rooms as possible, and my own living quarters to be ready on time.’

  ‘Then what, you’ll have work carrying on while guests are here?’

  ‘If need be, although only after breakfast hours for as little disturbance as possible.’

  ‘But it’ll all come to a grinding halt before they even get started,’ Jayne predicted.

&n
bsp; ‘Only for a few days over Christmas,’ I said.

  ‘Do you really think it’ll be ready in time?’ Lara asked.

  I looked around me, unwilling to admit my doubts from earlier.

  ‘You don’t, do you?’ Jayne was far too good at reading people.

  ‘Yes, it’ll be ready. Okay, okay.’ I raised my hands to hold off more naysaying. ‘I admit when the movers left and I was here on my own for the first time, I had a moment of doubt, but I can do this, I know I can.’

  ‘Of course you can, Verity,’ Lara said, putting down her champagne mug.

  I really must get some proper glasses, I thought as she tottered across the flagged floor and embraced me.

  ‘Don’t listen to old Grumpy Drawers over there, and don’t be too hard on yourself. You’ve gone through hell with the divorce and everything. This is your new start. It sounds like you have everything organised and you’ll be on site to keep an eye on things – and we’ll help as much as we can. I know the village seems isolated, but it’s really not that far away – it only took us half an hour to get here, we’ll be here all the time!’

  ‘Don’t forget she needs the rooms for guests.’ Jayne joined the huddle. ‘She has a business to run, you know. Sorry, Verity, I didn’t mean to come across grumpy.’ I felt her lift her head to glare at Lara. ‘I was just trying to make sure you’re on top of everything and have a good plan.’

  ‘Always bloody planning,’ Lara said.

  ‘And just as well, too – my planning has got you out of more than one scrape, remember?’

  ‘Enough!’ I laughed. Jayne and Lara were so different on the surface, one a building society manager: practical and stern; the other a complementary therapist and single mum, and one of the strongest women I’d ever met. But both of them had big hearts and matching values, and despite the outward bickering, all three of us had been best friends for years.

  ‘What’s wrong with Grasper?’ Hannah’s voice penetrated our hugfest.

  Jayne swung around in concern, then smiled at her pet’s antics. ‘He’s just bored, probably needs a walk and some attention.’

  ‘Hmm,’ Lara said, digging in her bag for her phone. She ignored Jayne’s scoffing and filmed the Irish terrier as he jumped and twirled about, tongue lolling in delight.

  ‘Have a look at this,’ she said, playing the video back.

  Jayne and I peered over her shoulders.

  ‘There – did you see it? And there – another one.’

  ‘Let me see, let me see,’ Hannah begged.

  ‘Just a moment, Hans.’ She ran the video again. They were still there: two circles of light dive-bombing and circling the dog.

  ‘Those are orbs, Verity. Spirits. You’ve bought a haunted house.’

  3.

  ‘Oh good thinking, Verity,’ Jayne said, sitting down on the padded bench next to me and pouring a glass from the bottle of Prosecco on the table in the bar of the Old White Lion Hotel.

  ‘Well, it’s a celebration,’ I said. ‘It’s not every day you finalise a divorce, complete on a haunted guesthouse, and move to a village where you don’t know anybody.’

  ‘Cheers to that,’ Jayne said with a smile at my attempt at a joke, and we clinked glasses.

  ‘What are we toasting?’ Lara asked as she sat down.

  ‘Verity leaving her cheating husband, upping sticks and moving to the middle of nowhere,’ Jayne said.

  ‘Don’t forget the bit about the ghosts,’ I added.

  ‘Pour me a large one,’ Lara said. ‘I’ll drink to that!’

  ‘Pour your own, you lazy cow,’ Jayne said. Lara stuck her tongue out at her and did just that.

  ‘Can I have a glass, Mummy?’ Hannah asked, and Jayne spluttered over her next sip.

  ‘No, you can’t have wine, Hans. Water, squash or apple juice.’

  ‘Coke!’

  ‘Not at teatime, you won’t sleep. Water, squash or apple juice.’

  ‘Aww, please, we’re celebrating, Auntie Verity said so. Please?’

  ‘Water, squash or apple juice.’

  Hannah sat back, arms folded in a sulk.

  ‘Let me know when you’ve decided,’ Lara said, then turned back to us. ‘So how does it feel, Verity?’

  ‘What? My cheating husband or the haunted guesthouse?’

  ‘Cheating ex-husband,’ Jayne said.

  ‘True.’ I raised my glass in a toast once more and took a long gulp, blinking back unexpected tears. I’d thought I’d already shed all those.

  ‘Did he ever give you an explanation?’ Lara asked.

  I shook my head, thinking back to the day I’d found Antony’s emails and messages not to another woman, but to many, going back years. ‘He didn’t seem to think he’d done anything wrong – once the initial shock of being found out had worn off, anyway. Apparently virtual cheating doesn’t count. Despite the intimate pictures, the webcam sessions, the fact that he proposed to at least one of them, and declared his undying love to a few more. He just can’t understand why I’m so hurt or feel so betrayed.’

  ‘Idiot,’ Jayne said.

  ‘Bastard,’ Lara countered.

  ‘Mummy!’ Hannah admonished.

  ‘Sorry, Hans, quite right.’

  ‘Well, at least the judge understood,’ Jayne said.

  I said nothing, and sipped my wine. Finding out what Antony had been doing for so long had turned my world upside down. We’d been together for years, I’d thought we would always be together. It had turned out that I didn’t know him at all.

  ‘Have you decided yet?’ Lara asked Hannah, and I gave her a grateful glance for changing the subject.

  ‘Juice.’

  ‘Juice what?’

  ‘Juice, please.’

  ‘Okay. I’ll get us another bottle as well, ladies. Might as well make a night of it.’

  ‘You’re a bad influence, Lara,’ Jayne scolded.

  ‘Rubbish, you were both thinking it.’

  I looked at Jayne and laughed. Lara’s observation was spot on.

  ‘This is supposed to be a working trip, not a girls’ weekend,’ Jayne complained.

  ‘The work starts tomorrow,’ Lara said. ‘Tonight is the celebration. Relax and enjoy yourself, Jayne.’

  ‘I hope Grasper’s okay over there. Those light things were freaky.’

  ‘He’ll be fine,’ Lara said. ‘Dogs aren’t allowed in here, there’s no way he can sleep in the car, and the orbs were friendly, they were playing with him.’

  ‘Let me see it again,’ I said, and Lara dug out her phone.

  We watched as Grasper jumped at a ball of light, then spun in a full circle as it teased him before shooting off. I could almost see the indecision on the terrier’s face – torn between chasing the one and playing with the other. The second orb hovered around his head then shot to his tail, where it followed the wildly wagging appendage as best it could – not an easy task as Grasper was also circling madly, trying to catch it. I realised I could see the orbs more clearly each time I watched the video.

  Then the first rejoined the fun and Grasper was truly lost. Snapping at one then the other, he settled for watching them, tongue hanging out in a sappy grin. He only joined in their whirling dance when one approached him.

  A moment later, they were gone, and Grasper settled down on the floor, exhausted but happy, looking up at Jayne with his usual level of adoration.

  ‘Whoever they are, they’re friendly,’ Lara said. ‘Grasper would react very differently if they were dark forces.’

  ‘Dark forces? What nonsense!’ Jayne said in exasperation. ‘They’re flies or something, that’s all. Not spirits or ghosts, and certainly not demons!’

  ‘They’re not flies, Jayne. Look at them, they’re circular balls of light. Have you never watched Most Haunted or Ghost Adventures? They’re orbs – spirits.’

  ‘You’re freaking me out,’ I said before Jayne and Lara descended into a bickering spat. ‘I’m going to be on my own there most of the time – a
t least until I open. I don’t want ghosts around.’

  ‘Ghosts? Oh, you must be the lady who bought Weavers.’

  We looked up at the waitress – blonde, pretty and young; it seemed very strange hearing her talking about ghosts.

  ‘Yes. I’m Verity Earnshaw,’ I said. ‘I’m turning it into a guesthouse, and should be opening in April.’

  ‘Earnshaw? Well, you’ll fit right in round here then.’ The girl laughed. ‘I’m Tess, welcome to Haworth.’

  ‘You know about the ghosts?’ Lara asked.

  ‘Village is full of them, but I only know about one at Weavers, the Grey Lady. She’s not seen very often, but the sightings are consistent – she’s a bit of a celebrity round here. People reckon she’s Emily Brontë.’

  ‘Are you seriously trying to tell us that Verity’s guesthouse is haunted by a Brontë sister?’ Jayne asked.

  ‘No one knows for sure, but she only appears around December 19th, the date of Emily’s death.’

  ‘Next week,’ Lara said, glancing at me.

  ‘Yeah, she’s said to climb up a flight of stairs that are no longer there – the wall that adjoins the row of weaver’s cottages. But she’s always smiling and has never done any harm,’ Tess added quickly, no doubt in reaction to me. I felt cold and horrified, and presumably had paled considerably.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Jayne tried to reassure me. ‘It’s fanciful tales, that’s all.’

  ‘Oh no, that’s where you’re wrong. There’s plenty of ghosts round here,’ Tess said. ‘Nothing fanciful about them – you should go on the ghost tour, find out all sorts of tales you will.’

  ‘Verity, relax,’ Lara said. ‘It’s Emily Brontë – how wonderful is that? That’s why she played with Grasper, she loved animals and even had a dog herself called the same, that’s where Jayne got Grasper’s name from.’

  Jayne nodded in agreement.

  ‘And I told you,’ Lara continued, ‘those orbs are friendly. You’ve nothing to worry about.’