Sker House

by C. M. Saunders

  But even though she turned the key several times, the engine still refused to turn over. Eventually she was forced to concede that there was something seriously wrong with their ticket home. “You stay here, Iz,” she said with a sigh. “I'll nip back in and get us some help.”

  “Who in there's going to help us? Did a qualified mechanic check in while I was getting changed?”

  “Well, what else can we do?” Ruth sighed. “You want to stay here in the car park all night? Or do you want to walk home?”

  “Neither, really,” Izzy replied. “I was thinking we could just leave the car here and get a taxi. Sod it.”

  “There'll be no chance of getting a cab this time of night. Not on a Saturday, and definitely not in the rain. They'll all be busy running around taking drunk people home from the pubs.”

  “Yeah, but we can try.” Izzy was already scrambling in her bag for her phone. It was never very far away. She found it and flipped open the cover. It was one of those Hi-Tech Beam-Me-Up-Scottie Phones, as Dennis used to call them. She dialled a number from memory and Ruth heard it ringing the other end, but nobody was picking up. “What kind of bloody taxi service is this?”

  “A busy one,” Ruth said.

  “Okay, then. We'll walk it, and get a taxi back in the morning.”

  “Walk home? Are you mad? The village is miles away. And have you seen the weather out there, my girl? We'll both drown before we get home!” As if to emphasise Ruth's point, there was another crash of thunder and a jagged fork of lightning split the sky in two.

  “I don't care. I'd rather drown than stay here. Or there,” Izzy jerked her head in the direction of Sker House, as if she couldn't even bring herself to look at it.

  “Yeah, well, lets see if any of those gentlemen in there know anything about cars before either of us does anything stupid, shall we?”

  Suddenly Izzy grabbed her arm. “Wait!” she said. “The RAC! We could call them, and then just wait it out. Don't they give women on their own priority or something?”

  “But I'm not on my own, am I? You're with me.”

  “We'll just tell them you're alone. I'll go hide in the bushes while they fix it if it makes you feel better.” Izzy was pushing buttons on her phone again. “I'll get the number off the internet. Give me a minute.” Then she frowned.

  “What's wrong, love?”

  “Bloody battery's dead. I must have forgotten to charge it. Weird though, it was okay a minute ago. I thought it had a full charge when we left the bar.”

  “No worries. Use mine,” Ruth offered as she hunted through the contents of her bag until she found her own phone. It was easily twice the size of Izzy's flash little model and as thick as a sandwich. The sheer size of the thing was actually one of the reasons she didn't want to upgrade. There was a reassuring heaviness about it, and its bulk meant it was easily located in a crisis such as this.

  She pressed the ON button and waited. Nothing happened. “That's funny. My battery seems to be flat as well.”

  “Both our phones, AND the car?” Izzy said in a you cannot be serious tone. “How can that happen? This is like a bad horror film. Maybe one of us can run back in the house and put some charge in one of the phones. Just enough to make a call. I brought my charger.”

  “There's a power cut, remember? ” Ruth said, stuffing her useless phone back into her bag. “That's plan A out of the window, then. I'll go put plan B into action. And if that doesn't work there's always plan C.” Ruth opened the car door, pulling her hood up over her head.

  “What's plan C?”

  “I don't know yet. Let's just hope we don't need a one, shall we? Lock the door behind me.” Ruth slammed the car door shut and turned to face the hulking mass that was Sker House. Lock the door behind me? Why had she said that? They were alone out here. It didn't matter too much, as Izzy didn't question the advice. Ruth heard the whir of the central locking even above the deafening cacophony of noise as she stepped out into the storm.

  Chapter 26:

  Into the Dark

  “So did you find a home for the key?” Lucy asked.

  The landlord visibly flinched, as if the words were physical blows. “What?”

  “The key Dale found in our room today. The one he gave to you earlier.” At the mention of his name, or more likely at the reminder of the bollock he had dropped, Dale shifted nervously in his seat.

  “Oh, that key. No, not yet. But I'm sure I will.” Machen flashed a smile and returned to his dinner.

  “You know, I was thinking,” Lucy started hesitantly. “Maybe it fits one of the doors on the top floor. You know, one of the locked rooms,” she suppressed a shiver as she was reminded of the night before and the incident in the corridor. The key had been playing on her mind, and she was certain it had a role to play in proceedings.

  Machen stopped chewing and looked puzzled. “Locked doors on the top floor? That's impossible, you must've dreamed that part.”

  “How come?”

  “Because unfortunately, locks are usually the last things to go on doors, so none of them on that floor got fitted with any before them lazy bloody foreigners up and left me in the lurch, did they? Most of them rooms don't even have doors, let alone locks.”

  Suddenly the moment of realization dawned on the landlord, happening so slowly it was almost painful to watch. “Hang on,” he said. “When did you go up there?”

  Damn it!

  Lucy knew she should have kept her mouth shut about the key. Almost got away with it as well. Now she was in danger of digging a hole for herself she would never be able to climb out of. Good job the landlord was more than a touch forgetful and half-way crazy. Still, she needed a plausible excuse, and quick. “Last night. I got... lost,” she scrambled. “Went up there by mistake while I was trying to find our room.”

  “Weren't looking for my room, were you miss?” Old Rolly interjected, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. So there was life in the dirty old dog yet.

  “Maybe if I were a couple of decades older,” Lucy winked, glad of the opportunity to deflect Machen's question.

  Unfortunately, it didn't work.

  “Hang on. You got lost? How could you get lost? This isn't the Heaton. Hilton, rather. Bit of a liability you are turning out to be, aren't you...”

  “Lucy,” she finished the sentence for him. Could the man really still not remember her name? It wasn't like there were a hundred guests to keep track of.

  “Right okay, Lucy.” The landlord nodded firmly, making an obvious effort to lock the name in place. “Liability, yes. Liability Lucy, we should call you. Falling out of trees, getting lost. You should be more careful around the place. You might get yourself hurt one of these days, like.”

  If this was a bad movie Liability Lucy may have construed the warning as a threat. But the statement was more likely a genuine attempt to preserve her welfare on health and safety grounds. The last thing a struggling business needs is a potentially expensive compensation claim. “Yeah, I suppose I am coming across as a bit scatty,” she smiled. “I'm usually more on the ball than this, honestly. I don't know what's wrong with me this weekend.”

  “A bit out of sorts, are you? How so?” asked Old Rolly, leaning across and placing his leathery, liver-spotted hands on the table.

  Lucy risked a glance at Dale. How much information should she divulge? Something told her not to mention making contact with spirits using Dale's Dictaphone. At least not until the lights came back on. “Well, apart from the getting lost and falling out of trees, I could have sworn I saw a woman watching us from an upstairs window yesterday afternoon while we were walking on the beach. Plus, I haven't been feeling too well. I feel... I don't know, drained. I just haven't been feeling myself.”

  That last comment, of all things, got Old Rolly's attention. “What do you mean by that?” he asked. “You feel like you're somebody else?”

  “Almost, yes.” Now Lucy thought about it, that was exactly what it felt like at times. She
watched the old man's reaction closely. He remained as stony-faced as always, his skin paper white in the candle-light. Something stirred in his eyes, but he said nothing.

  “Well don't worry about it too much, is it?” Machen chipped in. “Even the best of us make mistakes, don't we?”

  “Oh, I'm sure I'm not mistaken about the room upstairs,” Lucy said assertively. “It was definitely locked. Wasn't it, Dale?”

  “I can't really remember. It was dark and I had other things on my mind. Everything happened so fast. But there's an easy way to settle this.”

  “And what might that be?”

  “A field trip,” Dale continued. “It would only take a few minutes for us to nip up there and find out what the score is.”

  “You mean you want to go upstairs? In the dark?” The landlord looked absolutely terrified.

  “Yeah, why not? There's not going to be much else to do tonight by the looks of things.”

  “No. Absolutely not.” Machen said firmly. “What if someone trips over something and decides to sue me? It's dangerous up there, you know. Especially at night.” He was still shaking his head when he drained the last of the Jack Daniels from his glass and refilled it.

  “Why is it more dangerous at night?” asked Dale.

  “Because it's dark, isn't it? Einstein.”

  Maybe it had more to do with nerves than anything else, but Lucy couldn't help but laugh out loud at Machen's brutal put-down. For a moment Dale was shocked into silence. Finally he said, “We'll be careful, don't worry. You don't even have to come if you don't want to.”

  “The answer's still no, I'm afraid. I don't want any old Tom, Dick or Larry traipsing around up there in a power cut, do I? Anything might happen. There's no hospital ward here, you know. Haven't got around to putting one in yet. It's on the list though, right after swimming pool and helicopter landing pad thingy. You know, to land helicopters on.”

  “A heliport? Why would you want one of those?” Lucy couldn't resist a shot.

  “I don't, do I?” Machen looked like he was confusing himself. He picked up his glass then, realizing it was empty, grabbed the bottle. “That's the point. I mean, the point is, no one goes upstairs.”

  “What, are we under house arrest?” Dale asked. “I could write a different article about that. What's the charge?”

  “How about impersonating journalists?”

  “We're not impersonating anybody. We are journalists, we just haven't graduated yet.”

  “So you're students?” Said Rolly, his tone more curious than accusatory. He turned to Machen, who was busily finishing his meal. “Is that a crime, Mach? Impersonating journalists? I mean, it's not like impersonating an FBI agent, is it?”

  “If it's not already a crime, it bloody well should be.”

  “It would only take a few minutes,” Dale said. He was using his most persuasive tactics; lowering his voice, maintaining eye contact, giving the impression of sincerity. “We could just try the key I found in the lock, if there is one, and see if it fits. Then the matter will be over and done with, and we'll know Lucy here isn't going nutty. Or we might find she is going nutty. You think me and her could be an item? I don't want to go out with her if she's mental. You wouldn't want to be responsible for that, would you?”

  “They're all bloody mental, butt.” Machen said. “The stories I could tell you about my Sandra!” He took another slug of whisky. Dale's plan was working! The landlord was beginning to crumble before their very eyes. He was approaching the stage where he would do anything to be left alone, and if he kept drinking at this pace before long he would be too drunk to even notice what they did.

  Lucy almost felt a pang of sympathy. But another, harder side of her quickly suppressed it. The side of her that got things done, and wasn't held back by little things like compassion. The vixen saw the wounded prey and went in for the kill. “We won't damage or steal anything, we promise. It would really mean a lot to me.” She fluttered her eyelashes, not knowing if that would work, or even what it looked like, just that it felt tickly. People always wrote about fluttering eyelashes in books, and like most girls she wasn't adverse to exploiting her feminine charms when the situation called for it.

  Machen let out a defeated sigh. “Okay, have it your way. Let's go up and see. Put your little minds at rest, is it? Then maybe a man'll get some peace around here, like.”

  At that moment, the door opened sending a ripple of harsh wind circulating around the bar, and Ruth entered. Everyone turned to stare, but it was Old Rolly who said what they were all thinking. “What the hell brings you back? Forget something, did you?”

  “Not exactly.” Ruth answered, pulling her hood down. “Bloody car won't start, will it? I know its raining. But I was wondering if any of you kind gentlemen would care to look at it for us?”

  Lucy silently thanked Ruth for calling out the 'gentlemen' and leaving her out of it. Most people automatically assumed girls didn't know anything about cars, and in Lucy's case those people would be absolutely right. She often wondered how good it must feel to be able to stand up and prove those people wrong but on nights like this, the men were welcome to the dirty car-fixing duty. She watched as Dale, Machen and Old Rolly all silently evaluated each other. The latter was too old. It would be a surprise if he could make it across the room without falling over and breaking a hip. Machen seemed like the kind of bloke who was frightened of his own shadow. That left...

  “Sure, I'll pop out and take a look.” Dale said. “I'm not sure how much help I'll be, but I should check my car while I'm out there.” He patted his pocket to make sure he had the keys. “Have you phoned a garage yet?”

  “Can't. The battery in my phone is dead, and so is Izzy's. We can't understand it.”

  Lucy instinctively reached into her pocket to check her own phone, and saw Dale doing the same. She wasn't at all surprised to find that the battery was completely flat, and the look on Dale's face told her his device had suffered the same fate. “Did you try the land line?” he asked.

  “No, didn't think of that! I'll go check,” Ruth said as she plucked a candle off a table and hurried off.

  “Wouldn't worry too much. 'Appens all the time, it does,” said Machen. “Power stays off a coupla hours then comes back on and we can charge everything up off the mains. I got jump leads somewhere, and re-chargeable batteries are a God-send. Used to have a generator out the back, but that packed up the other week.”

  “Didn't say that in the brochure,” said Lucy.

  “What brochure?” Machen replied, in all seriousness.

  “It's the storm,” explained Old Rolly. “I told you it was coming.”

  “How can a storm drain a car battery?”

  “A storm can do many things. And in this case it's not the cause of our problems, more of a catalyst. Now hadn't you best run along and help that poor damsel in distress?”

  As Dale passed he mouthed the words won't be long at Lucy, who was left in no doubt as to his sincerity. He probably knew even less about cars than she did.

  Chapter 27:

  Shadow People

  The wind blew the rain in sheets. Dale didn't bring his jacket. He contemplated running upstairs to get it, but figured that would be more trouble than what it was worth. Plus, he didn't want to make that journey alone. He would wait until they all went up together and take a quick detour to his room to get changed. Even if he did have his jacket with him, the rain would probably necessitate a change of jeans anyway.

  What are you scared of?

  The question hit him like a punch in the stomach. And the answer was; fucking plenty of things. The ghostly voices and hand-written messages were only a part of it. He was actually more excited about that. There was trepidation, yes. But he wasn't in fear of his safety. When was the last time somebody got physically attacked by a ghost? Whatever they were, they had undoubtedly been around longer than him. In that sense he and Lucy weren't on the brink of a discovery, but a re-connection. No, he wasn't scared
of ghosts. It was something else. Something deeper, bigger. The longer he spent at Sker House the more he became convinced that this was the cause of it all. He didn't normally consider himself insecure. Quite the opposite, in fact. But the old house seemed to accentuate every negative emotion he was capable of. It was a breeding ground for mistrust and resentment, and he found himself questioning everything.

  Ruth suddenly appeared behind him. “I tried the land line. That's dead, too.”

  Dale should have expected as much. “Right then. Let's see what we can do with this automobile of yours.”

  “Listen,” Ruth put a hand on Dale's arm to stop him. “I just wanted to thank you. I really appreciate you doing this. Izzy does, too.”

  “You'd better save your thanks until later. I can check the oil and plugs and stuff for you, but that's pretty much it.”

  “I know, dear. Just do your best, will you? Maybe you could give us a push to get it started?”

  “If the battery's completely dead, Mrs Watkins, I don't think bump starting it will work.”

  “Let's go see. Come on.” Ruth grabbed Dale by the arm and led him into the storm, holding one half of her coat over him to keep off the worst of the torrential downpour.

  “Pop the boot, I'll be over in a minute!” Dale yelled over the howling wind, as he jogged over and opened his own car door. Sitting in the driver's seat, he slammed the door shut behind him. The car rocked on its wheels as a huge gust of wind hit it head-on, and the rain cascaded down the windscreen in rivulets. He turned the key in the ignition and pumped a fist in the air when the dashboard lights sprang to life. That wasn't so hard.

  But his joy was short-lived as the dashboard immediately died. After that, the engine wouldn't turn over at all. He wasn't really surprised. If everything else was out of order, from torches to telephones, there was no practical reason why his Astra should be left unscathed. The idea that they were trapped in a secluded bubble in a raging storm miles from civilization didn't occur to him until later. Right then, all he could think about was how much money it would cost to get the damn car fixed. If the situation called for a visit to a local garage, it would mean spending another night at Sker. There might not even be electricity, and he and Lucy would both miss a days classes. Fantastic.