Ghosts of Yorkshire

by Karen Perkins

  ***

  ‘Even the pub backs on to the graveyard,’ Jayne said as we settled into our seats at the Black Bull.

  ‘Worse than that,’ I said. ‘We’re downhill, bordering it, and one of the village’s main wells was in the backyard here.’

  ‘You are kidding me!’

  ‘Nope. The water from the moors filtered through the cemetery then ran into the village’s drinking water.’

  Jayne stared at me in horror.

  ‘No wonder the churchyard is so full,’ I said. ‘Now, what would you like to drink?’

  Jayne pulled a face at me. ‘Something fermented, and preferably shipped in.’

  ‘Sauvignon blanc?’

  ‘That will do nicely.’

  I fetched two glasses and a bottle, which Jayne frowned at.

  ‘I know its lunchtime, but it’s nearly Christmas.’ I smiled.

  Jayne paused and said, ‘It’s strange to think those wonderful books were all plotted and written in that dining room. I could almost see Charlotte, Emily and Anne walking around the table in a frenzy of creativity, skirts swishing.’

  ‘They didn’t have much room, did they?’

  ‘I guess they didn’t need it,’ Jayne said. ‘They needed each other more.’

  ‘Yes, it was interesting to see all that stuff about Angria and Gondal, the fantasy lands they created together as children.’

  ‘I know, and those tiny books!’

  ‘No wonder there’s so much fascination about the sisters and their lives,’ I said. ‘The whole family certainly did things their own way.’

  ‘You can say that again. Can you imagine waking up to your father discharging a pistol out the window every morning?’

  ‘Not really.’ I laughed. ‘That’s one hell of an alarm call!’

  ‘It must have been awful to live every day – and night – in fear, and if the father felt it, the children must have too.’

  ‘Yes, I guess the threat posed by Luddites and campaigners against the working conditions in the mills was a lot deeper than I thought.’

  We both sipped our wine, then I tried to lighten the mood. ‘What did you think about the décor? I want to decorate the rooms at The Rookery in the same style, although keep each different and original.’

  ‘That sounds like a great idea, and very appropriate given the building’s age and location.’

  ‘Yes. I also thought about naming the rooms rather than numbering them, just because everything’s on different levels and numbers wouldn’t flow – they could cause more confusion than assistance. What do you think about Charlotte’s Room, Emily’s Room etcetera?’

  ‘A bit clichéd isn’t it?’ Jayne asked. ‘Might be a bit over the top.’

  I shrugged. ‘Maybe. I’ll give it some more thought.’

  ‘Are you ready to order?’

  ‘Oh, sorry,’ I said to the waitress. ‘Too busy chatting, can we have a couple of minutes?’

  ‘Of course.’

  We sat in silence to study the menu, ordered our food, then I topped up our glasses and looked at Jayne, my eyebrows raised in silent question.

  21.

  ‘It was a definite push, Verity.’ Jayne took another gulp of wine. ‘I felt hands, and they had force. How can that be?’

  ‘I don’t know, Jayne. Maybe Lara can shed some light on it when she gets here tomorrow.’

  ‘Has anything like that happened to you?’

  I shook my head. ‘Just the dreams, which are getting more vivid, and seeing the Grey Lady.’

  ‘But you’ve been touched?’

  I said nothing.

  ‘Verity?’

  I took a deep breath, then a sip of my own wine, then nodded. ‘A couple of days ago. In the shower.’

  ‘In the shower?’

  ‘Yes, but it wasn’t trying to hurt me, it was more of a caress.’

  ‘So, let me get this straight.’ Jayne pressed together her index fingers to emphasize her first point. ‘The Grey Lady, supposedly Emily Brontë, has only been seen occasionally over the years, yet has appeared twice in the last two days to two different people.’

  She moved to her second finger. ‘You’re dreaming about the same man every night, and occasionally the Brontës as children as well.’

  I nodded.

  ‘Three. You’re getting caresses while wide awake and I was pushed by invisible hands. So what does that tell us? Verity—?’

  I’d stopped listening, jumped up, knocking the table, and rushed out of the pub. I stood staring down Main Street when Jayne caught up with me.

  ‘Verity? What is it? You’re white as a sheet.’

  ‘I thought I saw ...’

  ‘Hey!’ The waitress had dashed after us, holding two plates of food. ‘You haven’t paid!’

  ‘Sorry,’ Jayne said. ‘My friend was taken ill. It’s okay, we’re not doing a runner, we’ll be right there.’

  The girl looked at us dubiously, then behind us at our table and realised our coats were still there. She went back inside, carrying our lunch.

  ‘Verity?’ Jayne said. ‘What happened?’

  ‘I just ... I thought I saw ...’ I stopped, not quite sure now what I’d seen. ‘Sorry, Jayne, I thought I saw the man I’ve been dreaming about, but he was gone by the time I got outside.’

  ‘You saw his ghost?’

  ‘No, I don’t think so. He was wearing jeans and a parka, no Victorian costume.’ I shivered. ‘Come on, let’s go back in.’

  ‘Okay, but I want to know every detail about the dreams. Something is going on here and it’s escalating. I have a bad feeling. Oh, and there’s no way we’re sleeping there tonight. If the White Lion’s still booked up, we’ll find rooms elsewhere.’

  ‘Everywhere’s bloody haunted around here. You’ll not get away from Haworth’s ghosts that easily.’ I managed a laugh and followed Jayne back into the Black Bull, though I had lost my appetite.

  I regarded the age-blackened wood panelling which had been hacked into to accommodate modern plug sockets, and the uneven stone flags that had been shined by centuries of shuffling feet and which were now breaking away to reveal more stone beneath. The building was a complex jigsaw of colour, texture, age and use, and I wondered just how many ghosts were resident here, too.

  ***

  The waitress gave us a funny look as she checked on us and watched Jayne pick up her phone despite our half-full plates. ‘There was a bog burst,’ she said. ‘On Crow Hill in 1824. And Patrick Brontë did think it was an earthquake.’ She looked up at me. ‘If that’s true, the rest is likely to be as well, but I don’t see how we can check it.’

  ‘What about the name? Harry Sutcliffe.’

  ‘Nothing comes up online, but it’s a common enough name. We could have a look at gravestones, see if we can find him.’

  I shuddered, remembering the altar grave I had sat on in error. The name on that had been Sutcliffe. ‘But even if Harry is real and I am dreaming real events, that doesn’t explain the caress in the shower or the push last night.’

  ‘No,’ Jayne mused. ‘Oh God, I wish Lara were here, this is more up her street than mine.’

  ‘I know, but it’s good to talk about it now. You know what she’s like, she’ll get all excited and carried away and I could really do with getting my head round it all first.’

  ‘I don’t think there’s much chance of that,’ Jayne said. ‘By the sounds of it, the story your dream man is telling you has only just started.’

  ‘You think he’s telling me a story?’

  ‘Isn’t he?’

  I shrugged.

  ‘Well, whether he is or isn’t, maybe you should keep a dream diary. It might help us put the pieces together and understand what’s happening.’

  ‘That’s a good idea,’ I said. ‘We’ll stop off at the Tourist Information shop on the way back to The Rookery and I’ll pick up a notebook.’

  ‘Verity?’

  I looked up to see Vikram. ‘What is it? Is anything wrong?’r />
  ‘No, not wrong, but Sparkly’s panicking a bit over the security cameras. She needs you to confirm exactly where you want them.’

  ‘Cameras?’ Jayne asked.

  ‘Yes, I’ll be running the place on my own so I’ll need to be able to see the public areas and front door from the kitchen and my apartment. There’s the security aspect too.’

  Jayne nodded, and I scrunched up my napkin.

  ‘Oh, finish your meal first, love. Sparkly will wait – as long as she knows you’ll be back after dinner.’

  I nodded and smiled at him and he took his leave.

  ‘If your dream man is jealous of me, that guy had better watch out,’ Jayne said.

  ‘Oh Jayne, stop it.’

  ‘You like him, I can see it in your face.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. I’m not ready, not after Antony, it’s still all too raw.’ I sipped my wine and shared out the remainder of the bottle. ‘Drink up, it could be a trying afternoon.’

  ‘Things have been trying enough already,’ Jayne said, picking up her glass. ‘I’m not sure I can cope with more just yet.’

  22.

  ‘Coffee, please,’ Jayne said. ‘Plenty of it and keep it coming.’

  The waitress – Tess – smiled. ‘No problem, I’ll bring the pot. And for you?’ she asked me.

  ‘I’ll share her coffee,’ I said.

  Tess glanced at Jayne. ‘I’ll make it a large pot.’ She visibly relaxed as Jayne smiled.

  ‘Are you always this grumpy in the morning?’

  ‘Only until my third cup of coffee. Ah, at last.’

  I glanced up at Tess with an apologetic smile. She really could not have been any quicker. I dreaded to think how Jayne had behaved earlier when she’d taken Grasper out while I was still getting ready.

  Jayne poured, sipped hers – black and scalding – and sighed, her shoulders discernibly lowering to a more natural posture.

  ‘All right now?’

  ‘Much better. I’m so glad there was a cancellation and my room was available a day early.’

  ‘And that it’s a twin,’ I added.

  ‘Definitely. You know we can share for the rest of my visit, too.’

  ‘What, and face a coffee-less Jayne every morning? I’d rather deal with the ghosts over the road!’

  Jayne scowled at me, then laughed. ‘Well, it’s up to you – the offer’s there.’

  ‘Thank you. I do mean that, Jayne. But The Rookery is my home, I need to claim it.’

  Jayne nodded. ‘That makes sense. But wasn’t it a relief not to dream? I’m also worried about that push – if whatever it is, is getting violent, you might not be safe.’

  ‘He’s not been violent to me – quite the opposite – and there’s never been any hint of threat from the Grey Lady either.’

  Jayne pursed her lips. I didn’t want to tell her my nightly visitor could find me here.

  ‘Anyway, this place is haunted too, you know.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Yes, a balloonist who died in the ’20s, Lily Cove. She fell to her death on the moors and apparently still haunts her old room at the White Lion.’

  ‘Which room?’ Jayne had gone very still.

  ‘Seven, I think.’

  She relaxed again. She was in Room Six. ‘Is there anywhere not haunted in Haworth?’

  ‘I doubt it. There’s a lot of history here, and much death over the centuries, much of it ... unpleasant.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, Lily for one. Then there’s a witch’s house up the road connected to Pendle. And don’t forget all the mills, the accidents and lung diseases there, plus horrendous living conditions: overcrowding, bad water, shared privies, TB, cholera and all sorts of other diseases.’

  Jayne shuddered. ‘But it’s such a pretty, picturesque village.’

  ‘Well yes, it is now. Wasn’t so great living here in the 1800s.’

  ‘So what do you think about that Sparkly woman yesterday?’

  I raised my eyebrows at Jayne’s abrupt change of subject, then shrugged.

  ‘She’s normally lovely, I don’t know why she’s been in such a bad mood the last couple of days. I guess she’s just under pressure with such an old and complicated building to rewire.’

  ‘Strange her tools keep going missing, though. You don’t think your ghosts are stepping up their game?’

  Ah, so it hadn’t really been a change of subject after all. ‘I doubt it, it’ll be the lads winding her up – they seem to really like her, but are constantly on her back.’

  ‘Or hope to be.’ Jayne sniggered and I laughed with her.

  ‘Probably, yes.’

  ‘Come on, let’s order some food.’

  ‘It was strange Vikram turning up like that last night,’ Jayne mused, as she refilled her cup.

  I shrugged. ‘It’s a small village – no real surprise we bumped into him in one of the main pubs.’

  ‘I suppose,’ Jayne said, smiled at me, then focused on the rest of her breakfast.

  ***

  ‘Lara’s just texted,’ Jayne said as we approached the door to The Rookery. ‘She’ll be here after lunch.’

  ‘Great,’ I said, then looked up as a flock of birds cawed above us. ‘I wonder what she’ll make of everything that’s been happening.’

  Jayne groaned. ‘I don’t even want to think about it. She’ll be in seventh heaven and having us do all sorts of weird and wonderful stuff. We’ll be like Ghost Adventures or Most Haunted!’

  ‘We might get some answers,’ I said as I pushed open the door to my guesthouse and stopped dead.

  Sparkly was in full flow, ranting about missing tools and cable, the lads shuffling awkwardly, trying to defend themselves, but only succeeding in angering Sparkly further. Even Vikram looked lost for what to do.

  ‘What’s going on?’ I asked, and was ignored.

  Jayne slammed the door and I asked again, this time at the top of my voice, and hush descended over the rabble of squabbling tradesmen and -woman.

  Sparkly took a deep breath, faced me, and opened her mouth, no doubt to begin her tirade afresh, but Vikram stepped in front of her.

  ‘The cameras have disappeared,’ he explained. ‘Expensive ones.’

  Sparkly shouted over him, ‘And I know you guys have done it for a joke, but it’s gone too far. I need to get them all up today. I’ve got everything else finished. There’s only the cameras left to fit, then I’ll be done – I want to finish today. Just tell me where they are, you buggers!’

  Vikram held up a placating hand. ‘I’m not denying we don’t wind you up for a laugh – but none of us want to hold the job up. The sooner we get done, the sooner we get off for the Christmas break. Nobody’s taken the blasted cameras. They must be here somewhere.’

  ‘I’ve looked top to bottom, and in every damned cranny in the place!’ Sparkly stamped her foot and Vikram’s face reddened.

  ‘I suggest you look again, start at the top.’

  She opened her mouth to argue, then shut it again. Vikram had turned away from me so I couldn’t see his new expression. Judging by Sparkly’s about turn, followed by the rest of the gang, it was probably just as well.

  He turned back to me. ‘Sorry about that. Things are just a bit fraught for her around Christmas – family stuff, you know.’

  I nodded, I was feeling a bit fraught myself to be facing my first Christmas as a divorcée – but at least I had good friends around me.

  ‘How is everything else coming on?’ I asked.

  ‘Pretty good, actually,’ Vikram said. ‘We’re a little behind, but not much. Sparkly’s got all the sockets and lights working, and the plumbers are well on with the new pipes for the en-suites. I was hoping to have all that done before Christmas, but we’re not quite there I’m afraid. Nothing to worry about though,’ he added hastily. ‘It’s to be expected in an old building. We’ll have you ready to open on time. It’s just these blasted cameras ...’ he tailed off.

&nb
sp; ‘I’ll help you look,’ I said. ‘Sorry, not much fun for you.’ I glanced at Jayne.

  ‘Don’t worry, I need to take Grasper for a long walk, get rid of most of his energy before Lara and Hannah arrive.’

  I nodded. ‘That sounds like a good idea – he’ll likely tear the place up again if you don’t. Joke,’ I added, seeing the look on Vikram’s face. ‘He’ll be fine.’

  ‘He’d have to face that lot if he isn’t,’ Vikram said, jerking his thumb at the stairs, still flooded by the sound of animosity.

  I grimaced.

  ‘He’ll behave,’ Jayne said. ‘Verity’s just having you on.’

  ‘I’d like to get some mince pies and mulled wine in as well, just as a thank you for everyone working so close to Christmas.’

  ‘They’d like that, although would probably prefer cans of Stella and Black Sheep to mulled wine,’ Vikram said. ‘Have a word with them at the Black Bull, they’ll sort you out. Assuming we find those damned cameras, we’ll be done by two.’

  ‘Great, I’ll sort it for then. Would you split this between everyone too?’ I passed him an envelope.

  He laughed. ‘They’ll appreciate that even more! Thank you.’

  ‘One way to make sure they’ll come back in the new year,’ Jayne said.

  ‘Oh, go and walk your dog. And have another coffee.’ I smiled to take the sting out of my words, realising the atmosphere of the constant arguing was getting to me. ‘Sorry,’ I added. ‘I’m feeling a bit on edge with all this going on.’

  Jayne nodded and gave me a hug, then called to Grasper who, we just noticed, was once more doing his crazy dance – presumably chasing more invisible balls of light.

  23.

  ‘Everyone seems much happier,’ I remarked to Vikram, watching the build team tuck in. The Black Bull had been more than happy to cater the beer and wine, and one of the local cafés had done us proud with sandwiches and nibbles. Everything looked ... festive, despite The Rookery being more building site than guesthouse.

  ‘Yes the cameras turned up, and we all pitched in. Sparkly’s relaxed, and that makes all the difference.’ He swigged from his can and I wasn’t quite sure how light-hearted his comment truly was. I decided to ignore it and mentally apologised to Sparkly for my lack of female solidarity.