The Haunting of Blackwood House

by Darcy Coates

  The entry room was exactly how she remembered it. The aged wood groaned around her as she turned on the spot. To her left, the long-unfinished meal still sat on the table. “Home Is Where The Heart Is” hung on the wall in the room to her right.

  Home. It was such a warm word. Mara had lived in houses before but never a true home. Blackwood felt innately good—innately right—as if she’d found the one place on earth she actually belonged.

  Footsteps behind her announced Neil’s arrival. He carefully placed her portable wardrobe into the corner of the room then crossed his arms as he surveyed the entryway. “We should have hired someone to clean the place out a bit.”

  “I didn’t legally own it until this morning,” Mara said, shrugging. “Besides, no point in wasting money on something I can do myself.”

  To call the house a bargain was an absolute understatement. Mara’s savings, which she’d expected to almost entirely lose on an apartment, had covered Blackwood and left plenty to spare. Even after she paid for spare wood and tiles to repair the aging building, she’d have enough to last her at least four months, provided she didn’t buy too many frivolities. Four months was plenty of time to find a job, and she could spend her spare hours making Blackwood more comfortable.

  “What’s first, boss?” Neil asked.

  Mara twirled then faced the stairwell. “There’s no electricity, so we’d better pick a bedroom before night sets in. Somewhere that will get moonlight through its window.”

  “Good plan. We might find something on the second floor; it’s less cluttered than downstairs and should hold its heat better. I’ll grab some more stuff while you start exploring.”

  “Meet you up there.”

  It wasn’t until she was halfway up the stairs that Mara questioned Neil’s last phrase. More stuff? Does he mean my box of trinkets? Or maybe he brought something for dinner. I wouldn’t complain if he had; tonight feels like it needs something more special than tinned tuna.

  On the second floor, the wide hallway branched to her left and to her right. Mara searched through it and found three empty rooms. The first two had shattered windows, but the third’s glass was only cracked. Mara held her hand near the pane and felt a whistle of cold air. Maybe I can find some cardboard to cover it.

  All of the other bedrooms were furnished, and Mara didn’t want to imagine the insects and cockroaches that might be living amongst the old wardrobes and under the decayed rugs. Her new room wasn’t large, but it was at least clear and didn’t have many cobwebs lurking around the roof. Floral wallpaper—shabby, peeling, and discoloured—coated the wall around the door.

  “Mara?” Neil called.

  “In here.”

  He backed into the room, two stacked boxes filling his arms. Mara recognised the cartons from the back of his car and frowned. “I thought you said that was equipment from work.”

  “Some of it is.” He gave her an apologetic smile. “But I brought some extras just in case.”

  “Just in case of what?”

  “In case my beloved girl didn’t bring anything to sleep on, for instance.” Neil dropped the boxes into the corner of the room. “Or anything to cook on.” He caught hold of Mara’s wrist and tugged her close. “Or to heat herself when it gets cold at night.” Kisses peppered her cheeks, forehead, and nose.

  Mara, laughing, squirmed against him. “I swear you’re like the paranoid mother I never had. I don’t need you fussing over me.”

  “Really, truly?” Neil quirked an eyebrow. “Were you just going to sleep on the floor?”

  Mara tried to worm herself free, but Neil’s grip was too solid to escape. “Of course not. I was going to take one of the house’s mattresses and flip it over.”

  “Ma-ra!”

  The abject horror in Neil’s voice made her laugh uncontrollably. Neil seized on her moment of vulnerability and pulled her closer, pressing her to his chest and lifting her from the ground. His arms wrapped around her, seeming to engulf her. Mara, breathless and delighted, stopped fighting and allowed herself to be held.

  Before meeting Neil, she’d hated feeling vulnerable. To be weak was a source of shame and fear. It made her a target. It hurt. But Neil could make her feel entirely powerless in a way she loved. His arms never squeezed too hard, and his words were never harsh. To be vulnerable around him was to be safe. So she draped her arms around his neck and let her body fall limp as he held her and kissed her hair.

  “Mara, Mara, Mara…” he murmured. The adoration in his voice was almost too sweet to endure. “I love you. So damn much. Please be safe.”

  Mara opened her eyes at the final words. There was a pang of fear in them as though some deep, anxious emotion was inches from escaping its restraints. He seemed so cheerful today. Was it just a cover for this worry? She raised her hands to run them through his hair, and he pulled her closer in response. “Neil. Shh, it’s okay. Everything’s going to be fine.”

  “I know.” Neil took a deep breath, kissed her hair a final time, then gently lowered her back to the floor. He looked a little sheepish but still didn’t remove his hands from her back. “I know. You’re a firecracker. Of course you’ll be fine.”

  Mara pulled him down to kiss her. His lips were hesitant, and she took control, pulling him in deeper. She was hungry for more; her right hand gripped his shirt, and her left slipped underneath it to brush across his chest. He shivered in response, and she spread her fingers to press against the muscles.

  A clatter startled them apart. They turned, both breathing heavily, to see that one of Neil’s boxes had toppled from its partner and spilt its contents across the floor.

  “Huh.” Neil, still flushed, squeezed Mara’s hand before crossing to the box. “I can’t have stacked them properly. We’d better unpack before it gets too late, I guess.”

  “Yeah.” Mara’s heart raced, partly from the thrill of the kiss and partly from the startle. She followed Neil and knelt to open the first box. As she sorted through the contents, intrigue grew into incredulity. There were two sleeping bags—he’d clearly planned to stay with her that night—and pillows. Below those were rolled foam mats and a small gas heater. Then a portable stove and a heavy icebox, toiletries, a compact first-aid kit, and duct tape. “Where’d you get all of these?”

  “What I didn’t already own I bought or borrowed.” Neil was returning the spilt contents to the box that had overturned. Mara caught sight of multiple torches and spare batteries, a radio, an umbrella, gloves, a roll of garbage bags, towels, and spare blankets.

  “Do you intend to move in?”

  Neil pecked her cheek as she leaned too close. “No, but you do.”

  “I was going to buy most of this stuff tomorrow,” she groused.

  “And now you can enjoy it tonight. Hang on; the floor is disgusting. I’m going to see if I can find a broom.”

  Mara huffed as Neil left, then she turned to explore the icebox. He’d packed meats, breads, fresh and dried fruit, and a bag of salad leaves. “Why does he even bother?” Mara muttered, shoving the leaves aside. She restacked the boxes to clear the floor as much as she could then stood and wiped her hands on her jeans. Neil was right; the floor was beyond gross. She was going to have a fun time cleaning her way through Blackwood’s rooms.

  It took Neil several minutes to return. When he did, he carried not only a broom and dustpan but also a rucksack from his car. “The old owners left plenty of cleaning supplies—though the mop would probably make the floor worse. But at least you can make use of the buckets and washtubs.”

  Mara took his rucksack and held it off the ground while Neil swept around her feet. “That’s kind of strange, isn’t it? It’s like they abandoned everything when they left. Not just the big furniture, but blankets, clothes… even their dinner on the table. What would make a family leave so quickly and never come back?”

  He hesitated midsweep. “Maybe you were right about the gas leak.”

  “I don’t think so. Jenny was able to arrange for the
gas and water to be reconnected while the paperwork was still going through. I had an inspector come down a couple of days ago, and he gave it the all-clear for leaks.”

  “Strange.” Neil collected the grime into a tidy pile, and Mara knelt to brush the dust, dead flies, grime, and desiccated plaster into the dustpan. She then carried it to the adjacent room, which had a pane missing in its window, and emptied the dirt into the backyard. When she returned to the bedroom, he had unrolled both sleeping bags and was fastening strips of duct tape over the crack in the window.

  Mara approached him from behind and wrapped her arms around his torso. He was so tall that she could barely reach his shoulder blades, but she kissed them and felt the reverberations in his chest as he murmured happily.

  “There’s still a few hours of sunlight left,” Mara said. “I thought we could spend it making a list of the major stuff that needs fixing. That way I can order some supplies tomorrow.”

  “Sounds good.” Neil broke his strip of tape off the roll, and Mara released him reluctantly. He dropped the tape back into his box and dug out a notepad and two pens. “Want to work together or separately?”

  “We’ll get through it faster if we split up.”

  Neil ripped a sheet from the pad and passed the rest to Mara. “Let’s divide it by floors, then. D’you want the top or ground?”

  “I’d love to see more of downstairs while there’s still light. Just note the major stuff like missing windows or rotten wood. We can worry about cosmetic issues later.”

  “On it.” Neil headed into the hallway. Mara went the opposite direction and took the stairs down to the ground floor. She started in the dining room and jotted down the broken windows and where one section of the wall was decaying from water damage, then she followed the entryway into the kitchen.

  “Cripes,” Mara murmured. The room was a mess. Rat and cockroach droppings littered the benches, and pots, plates, and baking pans lay askew. Judging by the dark stains in the dishes, the house’s old owners had been saving the washing-up for after dinner.

  She’d have to throw the dirty pots out, but the collection in the drawers looked to be high-quality. She thought she could use them after giving them a good wash. The same went for many of the plates and the cutlery.

  Mara turned from the kitchen. Other than the mess, the room’s structure seemed to be sound. She’d have to check if the gas stove still worked, but she could worry about that later.

  Past the kitchen was a laundry. An ancient washing machine and dryer sat against one wall. Mara opened the washing machine’s lid then dropped it back in place as she gagged. Clothes had been left to mould and decay, and the smell was appalling. Looks like I’ll be using the town’s laundromat until I can afford a new machine.

  The laundry had a door leading into the backyard, but it was falling out of its frame. Mara examined it and thought it might only need new hinges and a fresh lock. She noted them in her book.

  She retraced her steps to the kitchen and took its other doorway into what she guessed was a recreation room. It had very little furniture—just a tiny boxy television with antenna sticking out of its hood, two crumbling lounges, a wooden table and two chairs, and a cupboard. Mara opened the cupboard door and gasped as a rat shot past her and scurried into the kitchen. She made a face as she watched its tail whisk out of sight, then she turned back to examine the small collection of games inside the cupboard. She recognised Monopoly and Battleship, but the others weren’t familiar.

  A creaking noise reached her, and Mara closed the wardrobe doors. She listened to the sound for a moment before identifying the steady, repetitive groans as belonging to the rocking chair in the living room. Neil must have come down. He can’t have finished upstairs that quickly, surely?

  Mara followed the noise, moving through the recreation room’s other door and into what she assumed was a library. Solid wooden shelves lined the walls, but they were devoid of books. Past the library was the sitting room. Mara paused in the doorway. The fireplace remained empty and cold as though begging for a handful of wood and a spark. “Home Is Where The Heart Is” hung on the wall beside her. The lounge chairs seemed even more moth-eaten than the day before, if that was possible. And the rocking chair rolled on its struts, back and forward, back and forward as its wood groaned. Mara was alone in the room.

  “Neil?” she called.

  “Everything okay?” The faint reply came from above her head.

  Mara stared at the gently rolling chair for a moment, then crossed to it and placed her boot under the strut to stop its motion. The creaking was silenced. “Yeah, everything’s fine.”

  She backed away from the chair and returned her pen to the paper, writing “Breeze in the living room; source unknown—possibly the fireplace?”

  The room’s windows were intact except for a small crack running across one pane. Mara made a note of that then returned to the foyer. There was some decay around the doorway, and several floorboards were rising. She wrote them down then opened the front door to look outside.

  The sun was already setting. Mara was used to living in the heart of the town, where trees were a luxury. The dark trees around her house were thin but grew high, and the boughs were smothering the dipping sun and welcoming shadows into Mara’s home. Thank goodness Neil thought to bring torches.

  She climbed the stairs and found Neil at the end of the hallway, scribbling notes about a patch in the wall where the wood had been eaten away to leave fist-sized holes. He turned at the sound of Mara’s footsteps and smiled. “All done downstairs?”

  “I got the worst of it. We’ll need to throw a bunch of stuff out, but there’s still plenty of furniture that’s good to use.”

  “What a find, huh?” The warmth in Neil’s voice was genuine though hints of tightness still lingered around his mouth.

  She laced her hand through his as they walked back to their makeshift bedroom. “Ready for some dinner?”

  “Absolutely. I hope steaks are okay.”

  “Never leave me.”

  CHAPTER TEN: Nightfall

  Mara scribbled a list of high-priority shopping while Neil set up his portable gas cooker. She would never admit it to his face, but she was becoming increasingly grateful for his planning. While she’d been prepared to slum it on the least damaged of the house’s furniture for the first few nights, there was something beautifully comforting about having a clean sleeping bag and fresh pillow, not to mention torches and a heater. The air was cooling as night set in properly, and Mara was cocooned in one of Neil’s blankets.

  “I didn’t get time to examine the roof.” He dropped two steaks onto the sizzling cooker. “It looks pretty bad from the outside, but thankfully, it’s not impeding us right now. All of the ceilings on this floor are fine, which is surprising—I would have expected some water damage at the very least. But it’s good news for us. It means we can save the work on the roof until later, after we’ve patched up the holes on the first two floors.”

  “How long’s the whole job likely to take?”

  Neil thought for a moment. “Well—it’ll just be you and me working on it, but the house’s structure is basically solid. As long as we don’t find any larger problems, the bulk of the major repairs should be done within a fortnight, and I’d say we can fix up the small stuff—the repainting and repairing cosmetic flaws—over the next six months.”

  “Six months isn’t too bad.”

  “Not at all. Of course, we’ll need to get electricity run through here, too. That’s going to be a large job, and it’s not something I can do. I’ll ask around my contacts and see if any of them will give us a friend’s discount.”

  The smell of cooking meat permeated the room as Neil flipped the steaks, and Mara inhaled deeply. “You’re the best, Neil.”

  “I am, aren’t I?” His mischievous grin made Mara laugh, and he scooted backwards to sit next to her. “I can’t promise to be here every day, but Joel should be okay with me taking the afternoon off work f
or the next few weeks. I can swing by around three and stay into the evening.”

  Mara rested her head against his shoulder. “I’d really like that, but your mother still needs to see you occasionally, too.”

  He gave a small nod. His mother hadn’t been coping well since losing her husband eight months before, and Neil had moved back into his childhood home to look after her. He said Pam often floated about the house aimlessly and skipped meals unless he was there to watch her.

  It worried Mara. She’d heard stories about couples dying within a year of each other—either from grief or because the change in their life was too great to reconcile—and dearly hoped Neil wouldn’t have to lose his mother prematurely, too.

  It put him in a difficult situation, though. He was an only child, so the responsibility of caring for his mother fell to him alone. He was already juggling his work and home life, and Mara’s new house would place additional strain on him. Even just staying with her for the night was a huge sacrifice. As far as Mara knew, he hadn’t spent such a long stretch of time away from home since his father had passed.

  Neil moved back to the cooker to scoop the steaks off. An idea had been hovering around the back of Mara’s mind during the two weeks between buying Blackwood and moving into it. She licked her lips before asking, “How are things at home?”

  He didn’t look at her, but his voice was cheerful. “Not too bad. The doctor’s talking about weaning Mum off the sleeping pills. She still seems lost sometimes, but she hasn’t had any more major lapses in memory. She knows what year it is and things like that.”

  Mara stared at her folded hands. “Tell me if I’m being horribly rude here, but have you thought that your mother might do better in a new environment?”

  “Yeah, I have.” Neil sighed as he settled next to her and handed her a plate. It was loaded with not just the steak but also potato salad, precooked beans, and a handful of the leaves Mara had found in the icebox. “I suggested it to her the other week, but it upset her too much to pursue it. She’d probably do better if she were somewhere that didn’t constantly remind her of Dad, but at the same time, she’s not ready to let him go. And I don’t think a simple change of house would be enough. She’d need a new purpose in life, too. Right now, she doesn’t have anything to fill her hours.”