by EH Walter
The figure growled and began to float towards me. She obviously blamed me for spoiling her fun.
I looked past her and into the terrified face of Mr X.
"Oh God," he said in a trembling voice, "please help me!"
On my feet again, I ran through the corridor like those girls you see in horror films, panicking and looking everywhere for escape, heart pounding and breathing hard. The door leaving the flat should have been easy to open but my hands slipped and I couldn't think how to open the bloody thing. All I could think about was 'she is going to get me'. I made the mistake of looking back, she was closing in on me.
"Help me!" came the voice of Mr X again.
The image of her fixed in my head like a photograph. She was in one of those old fashioned down to the floor, up to the chin night gowns. She was mid-twenties and had long, long hair. She was also utterly mad. Oh shit, I thought, I'm going to get killed by Bertha Mason.
Her claw like fingers reached out to my neck and I felt a tightening pressure in my throat.
Finally I managed to fling the door open and I fell forward onto my hands expecting her to be on me any second. I steeled myself and turned around to see that she seemed to be caught within the threshold of the door. She couldn't cross it. Her face contracted in a snarl. Then she looked back to Mr X who was now standing in the doorway of his bedroom, clutching the door frame for support. Her lips curled into some kind of wicked smile.
I left them to it. I had to get out, I had to be safe. I ran the length of the building, it was the longest corridor in Europe when built in 1850, and at the end I had to stop because there was no breath left in my body. I leant over, hands on knees, as I tried to get some oxygen back into my body.
I wanted my mum or dad, someone. Someone I could turn to for help and reassurance. It was gutting to realise there was no one in my life that could fulfil that role. All I had was… me.
My hand hesitated on the handle to the stair door. Something was stopping me making my way out. There was only one thing more powerful than fear - guilt. I was leaving Mr X to her mercy - he may have never been conscious before when she... she had her way with him, but due to my actions he was now very much awake and just as scared of her as I was. I could not just leave him to her, I had to help him.
I turned around with bravado I did not feel and began a very slow walk back to Mr X's apartment. With every step I felt sick, but this was something I had to do. I helped people, it wasn't in my nature to let people down when there was something I could do about it. Damn my father, he was right - it was my duty.
Okay, presuming she was a ghost who could physically manifest and, going on what I had seen, that was my best guess, how did I... exorcise her? The only people I could think of who did this kind of thing were priests, Bill Murray and Jensen Ackles. Since I was not ordained into holy orders and was out of salt, I was more inclined to take the Bill Murray approach, only I didn't have one of his ghost buster back packs. I thought hard. I could improvise, it might not work, but I had nothing to lose by trying. Except possibly my life and sanity.
I went to the cleaning cupboard and took out the vacuum cleaner. There was a plug socket near Mr X's door and the cord looked long enough to reach into the bedroom. I fired it up to test it, which also had the benefit of drowning out the terrifying cries coming from Mr X within the apartment. I turned the machine off and readied myself.
Taking a deep breath, I put the key in the lock, turned and crossed the threshold. I began the journey towards the bedroom.
The first thing I did on entering the bedroom was to flick on the lights - there was no need for surprise now. She knew I was coming.
Mr X was on the bed again, but awake and not in a state of sleepy excitement any longer which seemed to annoy her. She was pressing her hands upon him which had the effect of making him cry out in pain.
I took another step forward but was pulled short by the tightening of the vacuum cleaners cord. Dammit.
"Quit it bitch," I said, attachment in hand.
Slowly she turned to me. I felt cold.
She toyed with him, lifting off her hand and then pressing it on to him again. His moans were too much for me.
"I said, quit it bitch. What - couldn't find any men in your time? Got to get a shag by haunting a man in his sleep? Man - that is desperate. That is sad. Shame he doesn't seem to be... up for it when conscious. Not very flattering for you is it? Got to get them when asleep have you Bertha? No wonder Jane Eyre whooped your ass."
She left him and began to approach me. She took her time; she knew by going slower the fear was building in me.
I braced myself and let her get closer and closer to me. I ignored every urge that told me to get out of there. A cold sweat covered my face. I didn't even know if this crazy idea was going to work.
Just as she began to reach her hand out to my face I kicked the start up switch and the vacuum cleaner roared into life.
I pointed the long attachment at her. Nothing happened other than she looked a little puzzled. Then particles of grey smoke began to float towards the end of the attachment. Her surprise then turned to horror as she began to be pulled in towards the attachment. Then with a whoosh and a look of surprise she was gone, sucked into the vacuum cleaner in entirety. It was done.
I looked a little surprised myself and put my eye to the end. I couldn't see anything.
My goodness, it had worked. I had just captured a ghost in a vacuum cleaner.
The warmth began to return to my body.
Mr X looked at me. "Who are you?"
"Your guardian angel, now put some clothes on and I'll make you a cup of tea."
*
Mr X, whose name turned out to be Len Simmonds, had a fairly large and well stocked kitchen and a nice beech wood table by the window. By the time he had put on a pair of pyjamas and a dressing gown I had made the tea and was sitting at the table. I had set a large bowl of sugar beside the tea.
He sat down without a word and I pushed one of the mugs of tea towards him.
"I suggest you put in loads of sugar," I told him, "for the shock."
His hand was still trembling slightly as he put three teaspoons of sugar in his tea and stirred. We drank in silence.
His kitchen window was almost as large as the wall space and looked over the thirty acres of parkland that Princess Park Manor was set in, although it was still too dark to see and appreciate them.
It was late. Scrap that - it was early. On the horizon the sun was just beginning its daily exercise and a tiny band of light was just appearing. There were not many occasions in my life when I have been in a position to see the sun rise and despite the overwhelming exhaustion and the fact my feet were now reminding me they were bloody killing me it was a very beautiful and calming thing to witness. It really felt like the dawning of something new.
The sun was gently lighting the park by the time Len was ready to talk. He pushed back the now empty mug and looked at me.
"What was that?"
I shrugged, "I have to be honest with you - this is not my normal line of work."
"She was a... ghost, right?"
I nodded.
"Look," he rolled up his sleeves, "she caused me so much pain and yet there is not a mark left upon me. How is that possible?"
"I'm sorry, but I really don't know how all this works. I got lucky with the hoover. It would help me if you could fill in any of the details."
He sat back in his chair with a sigh. "All I know is since I moved here I've been knackered. I sleep all night, but never feel rested. I guess that makes sense if she was..."
He pressed his lips together.
I patted his hand. "It wasn't your fault. It would have happened to any man who moved here. She must have been an inmate here, died here probably. I guess she may have been here for her... sex addiction for want of a better word. There is no way Victorian men would have understood a woman with a racing libido."
"No, I suppose not."
"Perhaps we should feel sorry for her then?"
He frowned. "How did you get into my apartment anyway?"
I waved a cleaning cloth from my pocket at him. "Housekeeping!"
"Thank you... what is your name?"
I hesitated. "Yolanda, my name is Yolanda."
"Thank you Yolanda. I'd like to say thank you."
Despite his shock he was prepared for this and pulled a chequebook and pen out of his pocket. Did anyone write cheques these days?
"If anyone hears of this, especially my girlfriend, well... I'm worried what they would think. My girlfriend would definitely not understand. I'd like to pay you for, well for saving me from whatever that was. As a cleaner you can't get paid much."
Nope, not as an investigator either. How could I say no? I had rent to pay.
“I’ll write my name in,” I said as his pen hovered over the first line.
The ink was barely dry as I whipped it out of his hand. Doing ones duty had some payback after all.
"Just tell your girlfriend you were ill. She'll understand, especially if you ask her to marry you."
"Do you think she'd accept?"
"Definitely."
Now he had bought my silence he wanted rid of me and I was happy to oblige. I said goodbye to him and left. I was not sure what to do with the vacuum cleaner so I thought I had better take it with me and pulled it behind me as walked out of the Manor. I went to the security man at the main gate.
"Cleaner checking out."
He looked at me in my uniform and trailing the vacuum cleaner behind me. He buzzed me through. As the gate closed behind me I heard a voice.
"Yolanda!"
I turned. It was the greasy haired cleaning guy, he had run after me and was now out of puff.
"Yolanda! You're never gonna work in cleaning again!"
I shrugged and gave him the finger as the vacuum cleaner and I made our way off into the sun rise.
CHAPTER NINE
The Halloween Collective
I walked in the door and was greeted by the now familiar smells of Bob’s cooking. My stomach rumbled.
In the kitchen Bob was just plating up his latest concoction. He smiled warily and held out a plate to me. I was starving, so I took it and sat down on the sofa. I ate it quickly and without much thought. It was typical Bob fare, 'fusion' you might call it if you were being kind. He had never really gotten a sense of what food went best at which time or what went together properly. I think breakfast that day was jam with curried rice and hash browns. With every mouthful Bob watched me in trepidation, awaiting approval, wringing his hands on a tea towel.
"Is it good?" he asked.
“Well I waas very, very hungry and it nicely filled a gap," I said honestly.
Bob seemed happy with that. He was easily pleased. He flung the tea towel over his shoulder and busied himself with more cooking - it looked like a cake mix from where I was.
After I had eaten it was time to sign off Miss X’s case. It was just late enough to call Miss X without the danger of waking her.
I plugged my mobile on to charge and dialled back the number she had called me on the previous night.
Her phone rang twice before she answered it.
"Hello!" she answered frantically, "Have you got news for me?"
"I do. There's nothing to report. He was ill, I spoke to one of the cleaning staff who said he kept to his bed with 'flu or something."
"No one was there?"
"Not a living creature. Let him recover and I'm sure he'll make it up to you."
"You think? Are you sure?"
"One hundred per cent. This case is concluded. Shall I invoice you the final amount?"
"Yes, yes do."
She hung up. I didn't feel bad about charging her - I had fought a sex crazed ghost to save her boyfriend from succubus style sex. That was worth something plus expenses.
I could probably have done with a shower, but instead I crawled straight into bed and wrapped up warm in my duvet.
What a fucking day.
*
When I awoke later my face had crumpled sheet marks embedded into it. I didn’t know what time it was, but I felt dirty and tired. I plodded straight to the bathroom and climbed into the shower. When I got out I noticed my bottles were arranged neatly on the shelf, labels forward, and I hadn’t done that. When I went back into my bedroom I found that the short period I had been showering was long enough for my bed to be made and all the clothes I had left lying around to be put away in the wardrobe or in the laundry basket.
I dressed in comfort wear – tracksuit bottoms and a t shirt – and went through to the living room slash kitchen towel drying my hair. I stopped short in the doorway. The whole room had been cleaned and tidied. Everything had been put away and the surfaces were spotless. It even looked like the floor had been mopped and the carpet had finally made intimate acquaintance with a vacuum cleaner.
“What...” I began to say, Bob silenced me with a finger to his lips.
“Would you like a cup of tea?” he said loudly and in a rather stilted way, “Come with me to make a cup of tea.”
“Er, okay.”
We huddled together in the kitchen area, Bob filled the kettle and set it to boil noisily.
“You can’t notice them,” he said in a whisper, “Brownies are very shy and don’t like attention being drawn to them.”
“Aw Bob, you got me a Brownie to clean and tidy!”
He nodded. “Her name is Nissa and she is very scared. The last house she inhabited had a Doberman and she barely escaped with her life. You won’t see her but she will keep the place clean and tidy and all you have to do is try not to notice her and leave a bowl of good milk out every evening.”
I surprised myself and Bob by giving him an enormous hug. He didn’t know what to do and his eyes began to fill with tears. I coughed and he continued with the tea making and I examined my nails. Awkward moment over.
*
The next few days were an anticlimax to the action of what I came to know as The Night of Len Simmonds' Succubus. There was no trace of mischief and even Trevor seemed to be getting bored although we kept him in mangoes just in case it was his presence that was affording us this peace. It could have been that the fairies just did not know where to find us, although to be fair they could have just looked in the phone book or googled me.
At Paranormal Investigations the phones were silent and the only disturbance came from Rose munching on her biscuits. Miss X paid her invoice and so for the first time in months the business was solvent again. I paid some of my credit card off and bought Rose some Duchy Originals biscuits as a treat - although I did tell her not to get used to it.
All in all, life was settling into a fairly decent pattern, I didn't even mind sharing my living room slash kitchen with a man goat, as at least he was company and Nissa kept the place clean in return for her milk. The only thing that seemed beyond hope was my love life. Jez did try to call once. I didn't answer. He didn't leave a voicemail message. That seemed to be that.
"I think I'm going to get a job," Bob said suddenly at breakfast on Halloween morning.
My eyebrows shot up to my forehead.
"I know I'm under your feet here," he went on, "I need to get on with my life and put all this nasty business behind me. If I get a job I can find a place of my own."
The truth was, he wasn't really under my feet any more, I liked having him around and I had even got used to eating his food because it was easier than cooking myself and cheaper than calling for take-out. I liked living with someone again, even if that someone was a close relation of a goat and smelled a bit like one.
"Oh," I said, "but what about the fairies?"
He shrugged. "I think they might have forgotten me."
Having met Orla I very much doubted that.
"Okay," I said and fussed with my basil plant so he wouldn't be able to see the tears prickling at my eyes. I was used to being alone, it would be okay. I didn't need any
one. "Well, in celebration of your decision to move on with your life let me sort dinner tonight, okay?"
Bob smiled the widest smile I had ever seen on his face. "You would buy me dinner?"
"Sure, I'll order us pizza."
"Pizza," It was obviously a new word for him and he rolled it around on his tongue, "pizza, pizza, pizza. I like the sound of that."
In all honesty we could have gone out to eat, it was the one night of the year when his horns and hooves would have passed for normal attire. However, even if he thought the danger had passed I was still on my guard. I really didn't like fairies. Even the tooth fairy sounded like a Grade A bitch from what Bob had told me. You don't want to know what happens if you don't leave your tooth out for her.
"Can we ask Trevor?" Bob asked hesitantly, "I think he would like to come and eat nice food with us. It would be a kind thing to do." Then he whispered, "I don't think he has many friends."
That wouldn't be a surprise.
I paused, "Only if he washes first. And I get to choose what we watch on TV. I'm not putting up with another night of Emmerdale."
It turned out that trolls had worse taste in daytime TV than an unemployed chav. Mind you, an unemployed chav probably was on benefits and could afford to pay for Sky, I was limited to free view.
"I think I can persuade him those are agreeable points."
I smiled. Dear goodness, I was looking forward to a night in front of the TV with a goat and a troll. I really needed to start Internet dating again.
*
I ordered a huge selection of pizzas and sides on Len Simmonds' money which was still going strong. It was nice to splurge for once. Miss X had met me in Starbucks to pay her invoice - mainly, I think, so I could 'notice' the huge sparkling rock on her finger. She looked like a different woman and paid me extra for utter secrecy as she couldn't have her new fiancé finding out she had suspected him of having an affair and had paid an investigator to spy on him. I accepted the payment with good grace and assured her I would say nothing. Bertha was still trapped in the vacuum cleaner which I had placed in my hall cupboard with 'do not use' taped across it. I would figure out what to do with her another time.
