by Ben Cheetham
Doug broke off as six black-clad figures piled noisily into the room. There were four men in an array of long leather jackets, tight trousers and thick-soled boots. One was wearing a top hat from below which flowed raven black hair. A black cane with a silver knob was balanced on his shoulder. His arm was wrapped around a willowy twenty-something girl in a laced-up bodice, short skirt and torn crimson fishnets. She had a pretty, white-powdered face. Thick black mascara highlighted her big blue eyes. Her short feathery hair was dyed the same colour as her tights. Adam thought back to the redhead dancing on the beach. Was this her? She was holding hands with a busty older woman in a velvet cape and a skirt short enough to reveal lacy stocking-tops. Laughing shrilly, the women shoved the top-hatted man. He stumbled against Adam.
“Careful,” said Adam as his beer slopped over the brim of his glass.
The man stared at him briefly over the top of red-lensed sunglasses before turning to approach the bar counter.
The barman greeted him with a shake of his head. “I’m not having you lot bothering my customers again. You’re barred.”
“Oh what the fuck?” said the redhead.
“Watch your language. There’s a child present. Now please leave.”
The redhead flicked the barman the finger and twirled out of the door. Her companions followed, laughing. The top-hatted man rapped the floor with his cane, theatrically removed his hat and bowed to the room.
“Sorry about that,” the barman said to Adam. “Do you need a towel?”
“No thanks. I’m fine.”
“They’ve been hanging around for weeks,” said Doug. “Treworder attracts certain types. It’s–”
“Excuse me a moment, Doug,” broke in Adam. With a meaningful glance at Henry, Adam said to Ella, “Will you order the food? I’ll have the crab salad.”
Ella said to Henry, “Come on, let’s go to the bar.”
Adam gestured for Doug to follow him outside. The goths were on the beach now. The women were skipping along the shoreline, arm in arm. “I was going to say it’s an uneasy relationship,” said Doug. “People like them bring money into this area, but at the same time they make a lot of locals uncomfortable.” He pointed towards Satan’s Saucepan. “In the past eight years five people have jumped to their deaths from those cliffs. That’s sort of what my book is about. Not suicide per se, but the way in which areas exploit their folklore for economic gain, and in doing so sometimes end up writing new tragic pages into their histories.”
“My son knows nothing about the history of Fenton House and I want to keep it that way for now.”
“Yes, I’d guessed that. I had no intention of talking about the haunting in front of him. I just wondered if it would be OK for me to have a look around the house and perhaps take a few photos.”
“I’m sorry, but that’s not going to happen.”
“I’d be very discreet. We could do it when your son was out of the house.”
“It’s not that. There are certain clauses in the contract we signed for Fenton House. One being that we don’t allow anyone like you in to investigate it.”
Doug’s bushy eyebrows lifted. “Why do you think Miss Trehearne is so keen to keep people like me out of the house?”
“You’d have to ask her. I really don’t have any answers for you. As far as I’m concerned, Fenton House is just… Well, just a house, nothing more.”
“So you don’t believe in paranormal phenomena?”
“No. What about yourself?”
“That’s not an easy question to answer. I’ve seen things in my life that can’t be logically or scientifically explained, but I’ve not seen anything that definitively confirms the existence of the supernatural. Look, I know I can’t go inside Fenton House, but surely that doesn’t mean you can’t talk to me about it.” Doug wrote his address and telephone number on a beermat and gave it to Adam. “It would be a great help if you could give me your general impressions of the house.”
“I already have done.”
Adam went back inside. Doug followed, but didn’t sit down. He tucked his newspaper under his arm and swilled back the remainder of his pint. “Thanks for the chat.” With a glance at Adam, he added, “Hopefully we’ll have a chance to chat again soon.”
“I’m sure we will,” said Ella. “It’s a small place.”
Chapter 13
After lunch they headed to the beach. Henry ran down to the sea’s edge and skimmed stones across its rippling surface. The goths were nowhere to be seen. Adam and Ella watched Henry from the back of the beach. Adam recounted his conversation with Doug, leaving out the part about the suicides. Then he told her about his parting words with Rozen.
A shadow touched Adam’s expression. “In some ways I wish I was like Rozen. It must be comforting to believe there’s something after all this. At the same time I feel sorry for her. It’s as if she’s been so focused on death that she forgot to live her life. Can you imagine what it must have been like for her all alone in that house?”
Ella hugged her arms across herself as if she felt a sudden chill. “I’d rather not.”
Henry splashed along the waterline and clambered up some rocks to a wave-smoothed platform. Adam ran to climb after him and they sat with their legs dangling over the water, watching tiny darting fish. Adam looked into Henry’s enraptured eyes and felt the shadow lift. He tousled his son’s hair. “We’d better get back to the house. There’s a lot to do.”
They were sweating and out of breath by the time they completed the climb to Satan’s Saucepan. Adam stared into its shadowy depths, wondering what it would be like to jump from the cliffs. Would the fall be fatal? If not, the sea would soon finish the job. Where would the currents take you? Would they carry you out to nameless depths never to be seen again? Or would they wash you up in some nearby cove? He hoped it was the former. He didn’t want Ella or Henry stumbling across the corpse of a jumper.
As they entered the garden, Henry raced off ahead. Ella’s gaze swept over the imposing house and the flower-starred garden. She gave a shake of her head. “I keep getting this feeling, like if I pinch myself I might wake up.”
Adam playfully nipped the flesh of her hip. She dodged out of reach, laughing. He caught hold of her hand and they headed for the backdoor. Ella busied herself in the kitchen. Adam stoked the Rayburn and asked, “Do you mind if I get back to my writing?”
She shook her head, smiling at his eagerness. He hurried to the study. The urge to write was on him powerfully again. The world outside his head melted away as he set to work at the same feverish pace. Scenes flew by like things half-glimpsed from the corners of his eyes. A sudden loud crash burst in on his thoughts. His stomach like a knot of ice, he sprang to his feet and raced from the room. He almost bumped into Henry in the hallway.
“Are you alright?” Adam asked anxiously.
Henry nodded, looking sheepishly from under his eyebrows. Ella appeared from the direction of the kitchen. “What was that noise?”
“I knocked something over,” Henry admitted.
“Where?”
“In The Lewarne Room.”
Ella frowned. “I told you not to go in there.”
Henry lowered his eyes. “Sorry, Mum.”
Adam put a hand on Henry’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s inspect the damage.” His tone was more relieved than angry.
One of the shutters in The Lewarne Room had been opened. A streak of sunlight intensified the reds of the tiles and wallpaper. Adam’s gaze lingered briefly on the muscular man burying the dagger in the infant’s throat, before moving to a fallen serpentine pedestal. The candelabra and Trehearne family photo lay next to it. He dropped to his haunches. The pedestal appeared to be undamaged, but one of the floor tiles was chipped.
“This thing weighs a tonne,” he grunted, lifting the pedestal upright. “How did you manage to knock it over?”
“I was running and I... I dunno I just…” Henry trailed off guiltily.
“What were yo
u even doing in here?” asked Ella.
Henry shrugged. “Just playing.”
“No real harm done,” said Adam. “But we’re going to make a rule. From now on, no running in the house. OK?”
“OK, Dad.”
As Adam picked up the candelabra and photo, he noticed a dent in one of the wooden wall panels. “Did the pedestal fall against the wall?”
“Yes.”
Adam ran his fingers over the dent, wondering if he could get away with sanding and re-staining the wood. The panel shifted ever so slightly at his touch and a breath of cool air tickled his hand. He hovered his palm along the edge of the panel. “There’s a draught coming through here.” He placed both hands on the panel and pushed. It moved a few millimetres inwards. “I think this thing is hinged.”
“Maybe it’s a door to a secret passageway,” Henry said excitedly.
Adam pushed harder. There was a squeak of wood rubbing wood, followed by a whisper of escaping air. A slender gap appeared at one edge of the panel, then the movement stopped. He leaned all his weight against it, but it was almost as if someone was pushing back against him. “I think there’s something blocking it.”
“I’ll help,” said Henry, shoving at the panel. It gave way with a sudden creak and both he and Adam toppled through it. They landed on their hands and knees, stirring up puffs of dust from a flagstone floor.
Adam blinked and coughed.
“It is a secret passageway,” exclaimed Henry.
They were in a narrow brick passageway that ran parallel to the room. A metre-and-a-half or so above them was a ceiling of rough plaster and cobwebby beams. To the left wooden stairs rose steeply into darkness. Adam shivered as a current of dank air caressed his right cheek.
Henry jumped to his feet. “Let’s go exploring.”
Adam caught hold of him, fearing that his newfound courage might cause him to race off into the darkness.
Ella peered into the passageway. “What was blocking the panel?”
“I think it was just stiff. Who knows how long it’s been since it was last opened. We need matches.”
Ella hurried away to fetch them. Adam lit the candlesticks and held out the candelabra. The flames swayed in the draught. Their flicker revealed another set of stairs nine or ten metres to the right. These were stone and went downwards. A brass handle set in a small rectangle of wood at head height on the opposite wall caught his eye. He pulled the handle and the board came loose, revealing a pinprick of light. He pressed an eye against it and found that he was looking through a peephole into the study. He turned and discovered a peephole looking into The Lewarne Room too. He ducked back into the room and searched for the hole. It was camouflaged by the fleur de lis pattern.
“I wonder how many more peepholes there are?” Ella said uneasily.
“Let’s find out.”
“I’ll stay here if you don’t mind. I’d prefer it if Henry did too.”
“Oh Mum,” whined Henry. “Please let me go with Dad.”
“This is an old house, Henry. It could be dangerous.”
“Your mum’s right,” agreed Adam. “I’ll have a look around and if it’s safe you can come with me next time.”
Scrunching his face in annoyance, Henry reluctantly ducked out of the passageway. Adam glanced from side to side, wondering which way to go. He decided to explore the lower passageway first and work his way upwards. Cobwebs brushed his face and shrivelled away from the candles. He found a peephole to the library. Next to it was a wooden panel inset with a brass button. He pressed the button and there was the ping of a spring being released. A bookshelf swivelled inwards, then began to close of its own accord. He realised that he’d probably broken The Lewarne Room panel’s mechanism by forcing it open.
He descended the stairs to a corridor with granite block walls. His footsteps fell dead on mossy flagstones. Water seeped between the joins in the right-hand wall, drawing rusty orange streaks. It pooled in rivulets that appeared to drain away through the base of the opposite wall. He touched a finger to the water, then dabbed it to his tongue. It had a strong taste of iron. He recalled hearing the faint sound of running water when they first looked around the house. He’d thought there might be a leaky pipe, but this suggested the cause was something more substantial – perhaps some sort of natural underground water source.
The corridor passed beneath what Adam judged to be the entrance hall. A second stone stairway led upwards to another passageway. More removable rectangles of wood let him look through peepholes into the dining, drawing and sitting rooms. He located another button – this one in a plaster panel, its external side concealed by a tapestry in the sitting room. Two thirds of the way along the passageway was a flight of wooden stairs that mirrored those by The Lewarne Room. They creaked as he climbed to a passageway that branched off at a right-angle. Long black velvet curtains covered opposing sections of wall. He drew them back, unveiling two-way mirrors that spied on the sheet-draped furniture in the front bedrooms to the right of the landing. The mirrors were fitted with latch locks that allowed them to swing open on hinges.
A third staircase ascended to the attic. A passageway so low that Adam was forced to stoop led both ways along the eaves. He went left first. There were no peepholes to the attic rooms. The passageway turned left at the outer right-hand wall. Yet another flight of stairs returned him to the first-floor, passing below the underside of the attic stairway.
The passageway dead-ended at a blackened brick wall. Adam guessed it to be the chimney stack for the bedroom where Ella and he had made love on their first visit to the house. To its left was the concave interior of one of the stone pillars that flanked the fireplace. A peephole provided a direct line of sight to the four-poster bed. There was no button, but when he pushed the pillar it slid on hidden runners smoothly away from the wall. The peephole was secreted in a cherub’s eye. A handle allowed him to pull the pillar back into place. He returned to the attic passageway and headed in the opposite direction.
At roughly three-quarters of the way along the eaves, a passageway branched off to the right. He carried straight on past it and came to another right turn. Stairs descended to the first-floor where a curtained mirror gave a view of and access to Henry’s bedroom. He could guess now where the other passageway led.
Something on the floor caught his eye. He bent and picked up a book with a hardback red cover and a frayed spine. ‘This book belongs to Heloise Trehearne. Aged twelve.’ was written in black on the first page. The ‘twelve’ had been crossed out and replaced with ‘thirteen’. He turned the page and found himself looking at colourful detailed drawings of flowers. ‘Chamomile at Kynance Cove’ was written underneath a flower with a yellow face and delicate white petals. A fuzzy-golden flower was identified as ‘Carline Thistle at Coverack’. There were more flowers on the following pages, along with birds – including several robins – rabbits, foxes, badgers, fish, insects, shells, rocks and gems, all from various places on the Lizard Peninsula.
Tucking the book under his arm, Adam returned to the unexplored passageway. As he suspected, yet another stairway descended to the first-floor. The mirrors in his and Ella’s bedroom and the neighbouring room served the same purpose as all the others.
A final set of stairs brought him back to The Lewarne Room.
“You were gone a long time,” Ella said as he emerged through the secret panel.
“Mum was getting worried,” added Henry.
“The passageways are a bit of a maze, but they don’t seem to be dangerous,” Adam told them. “There’s water leaking through a wall underneath the house.”
“That sounds as if it would be expensive to fix,” said Ella.
“It probably would be, but I don’t think we need worry about it. Whatever the cause is, I’d say it’s been going on for a long time.”
“Where do the passageways go?” asked Henry.
“They form a circuit of the house. There are secret panels and peepholes everywhere.”
“Cool!”
“What about in our bedroom?” asked Ella.
“The mirrors in the bedrooms are two-way.”
“What kind of person puts in two-way mirrors? Walter Lewarne must have been a real pervert.” Ella mouthed the final word silently. She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t like the thought of someone being able to creep around and spy on us. Mind you, I don’t suppose anyone but us and Rozen know about the passageways. That’s if she even knows.”
“There is one other person who knows about them,” said Adam. He handed the book to Ella. “I found that near Henry’s room.”
“Heloise Trehearne,” read Ella.
“She’s the girl on my bedroom wall,” said Henry. “Who is she?”
“I told you, she used to live here,” said Adam. “She’s Rozen’s niece.” He didn’t elaborate. The last thing he wanted was to spook Henry with stories of missing people. He set about closing the damaged panel as best he could.
“You said you’d show me the passageways,” protested Henry.
“I will, but not now.”
“When then?”
“Maybe tomorrow if you’re a good boy. I want you to promise that in the meantime you won’t go in them alone.”
Henry sighed sulkily. “I promise.”
“Good lad. Now go and play outside.”
As Henry left the room, Ella said, “He’ll go in those passageways the first chance he gets.”
“I know. That’s why I’m going to block this panel shut from the other side.”
“Maybe it’s not only him we have to worry about.” A wry twist appeared on Ella’s lips. “Perhaps you weren’t so far off the mark when you joked about hidden cameras. I’ve got this picture in my mind of Rozen sneaking around in there.”
“Come off it, she’s almost eighty.”
“Just because she’s old doesn’t mean she doesn’t have urges. She might be into all sorts of kinky stuff. For all we know, she could have been watching us last night.”
“Oh please,” laughed Adam.
