‘Do you really believe that, Alex?’
I took a moment. But of course I didn’t believe it. However, none of it made any sense to me. These thoughts threw their shadows on my face. He read them.
‘Look, what if it really is something you wouldn’t understand?’
‘Well, what? You can tell me anything.’
‘Alex, if I reveal something of it to you – just something to consider – will you promise to not ask about it again? At least until I am ready to tell you more.’
‘What if you say something that just confuses me more?’
‘I don’t intend to confuse you, but it is a fact that you won’t be able to handle it right now. Even the snippet I’m unhappy to confess will be a great deal for you to digest.’
‘Fine. I’ll accept that.’
‘And you promise – you give me your word, Alex – that after I reveal this snippet you’ll not ask me again until I’m ready to tell you more, or even all of it?’
‘I do.’
‘Shake hands on it then!’ He walked right up to me, eagerly outstretching his hand.
I put my fingers in his.
‘So warm!’ His eyes widened. ‘And for a pintsized girl you’ve got quite a grip! Did I tell you that before? Give me your other hand, too. Ah, good, I see your cut has healed very well. I’m relieved.’
I had trouble keeping my breathing paced while he felt my hands. And his scent… his scent was that powerful I’d forgotten all others in the world! He released me, but then stood so close before me that we would almost have been nose-to-nose, if my nose did not come up to the well-toned contours of his chest. Placing his hands firmly on my shoulders, he looked down into my eyes.
‘Listen carefully,’ he began, massaging my shoulders gently. ‘Give yourself time to absorb what I’m about to say. Put all your little questions and comments to one side. I know how you like to get your word in before I’m finished!’ His gaze intensified. ‘This old house is not all it’s cracked up to be. I think you’d admit that much. Now don’t become all agitated and cross, as I know you like to do, when you hear what I’m about to tell you. I’ve already an idea how you’re going to react. It won’t be pretty. Are you ready to hear this?’
My curiosity heightened. I was engrossed. ‘I am.’
‘Outside, at the crossroads, to one side of the roundabout, there’s a signpost and it points to this old mansion. What does it say?’
‘Halton Cray.’
‘Is that all?’
‘I think so.’
‘There’s nothing written beneath it? Nothing else scratched out in worn black lettering?’
‘I’m not sure. Perhaps it says Old Bixney Village?’
‘No, that’s not it. Nothing else?’
‘No – I think that’s all it says.’
‘You’re certain that that name Halton Cray isn’t accompanied by the words Lunatic Asylum?’ His hands dropped from my shoulders, he shook his head and turned away slightly. ‘Oh dear. What are we going to do with you?’ He turned quickly to me again. ‘Look here on my shirt pocket.’ He pointed to it. ‘Do you see that badge?’ He tugged at the bare pocket. ‘You don’t see it, no? I thought not. Well, there’s a badge there and it states that I’m a doctor.’
‘A doctor of what, fairy tales?’
‘Of the human mind! and all its peculiarities. But you don’t see it, no?’ – I folded my arms. – ‘Pity! I thought we were making progress. Now, now, don’t pull those faces as if I’m winding you up! That is a common symptom of your disorder, Miss Turner. You’re a patient here, don’t you know. I’m your doctor, and I’m here to help you. You’ve been an inmate for some time now, trying to convince me you’re sane. I’ve been nodding along, striving to keep you docile, because of your aggressive and unpredictable nature. But you’ve very little hope of recovery I’m sorry to say. Trapped inside your own fantasy world, you’ve been walking around convinced that you work here amongst colleagues, when actually they are other lunatics. I could easily name a few! You keep inventing people who aren’t real – funny looking, fat people – who you fancy have been murdered. You’ll likely have to remain here, in my care, for some time ahead.’
He ended on this strange idea with a soft, dark laugh. Then looked at me in a peculiar way, that for a split second I felt sure it was entirely possible.
‘Could easily be the truth, couldn’t it? Come on, Alex! You do trust me, don’t you?’
For some reason I did trust him. Perhaps it was only because I wanted to. I couldn’t be sure. That was exactly why I questioned him. I threw all my sensibilities into question because of that theory. But he was not going to keep me at my word, not after that so-called snippet of the truth!
‘So you didn’t intend to confuse me, Thom. You only intended to provoke me. I see.’
‘I couldn’t help it, Alex. You looked so serious.’
‘I am serious. Something’s not right about that strange man. Is that who scared Tess? Something to do with him?’ – I more asked myself this, from the sudden thought.
‘No – it wasn’t,’ he replied, when I least expected it!
‘Then what was it?’
He walked to the door and closed it, saying, ‘This place has ears!’ before continuing. ‘This is just between us? Don’t bother to answer; I know you don’t talk. – Tess fell in with the wrong crowd.’ He remained by the door, keeping hold of the handle. ‘Her boyfriend convinced her to let him rob the gift shop – for a measly few hundred pounds – and possibly burgle the house, on an evening when she was left to cash up alone. I was meant to be away, but I hadn’t left yet. She didn’t realise I was still here, nor that he’d brought along a gun. I intervened for certain reasons you might not understand. He threatened to kill me, but I talked him down, after a struggle, and let them both go. Since she took off with him, I assumed she was hiding out somewhere for fear I had called the police. No doubt she didn’t want to face charges. I didn’t realise it’d scared her to the point of hiding in her own house. Things must be bad when a runaway does that.’
‘She hid in her loft, Thom, which is very odd, you have to admit. Obviously she must have been very scared. Maybe her boyfriend was angry with her, because she didn’t realise you were around. But I’m still stuck on why you intervened in the first place? No, wait – it’s the bit where a madman is waving a gun around, whom you didn’t call the police on!’
‘Well, I took the gun off him first, obviously.’
‘Oh, like a lollipop from a child?’
‘Something like that.’
‘He could get another!’
‘No. He won’t do that,’ he said confidently. ‘I didn’t want the police involved. There’s already been talk of management installing cameras in here. I don’t want that.’
‘So what about the stranger then? You’ve still not given me any explanation.’
‘Questions, questions,’ he sighed.
I told him plainly, ‘I’m not going to let it lie.’
‘Alex, it’s something I don’t want to discuss right now.’
His mood was still moderately good as I persisted prying into his business. I told him I was uneasy about it. I needed something to put my mind at rest. After walking about the room for a minute, he stopped at last, sticking his hands in his pockets.
‘He came here looking for me, the stranger, as you call him. On behalf of an old associate, someone I haven’t seen for many years,’ he said this as if he was fifty-odd. ‘When our acquaintance came to an end we harboured ill feeling towards each other. The stranger watched me go up into the attic and he followed. We did fight, and that you saw. You didn’t see him leave because he’s a very sly thing. But he’s not in any real danger from the injuries I gave him. The blood across my knuckles that day was in fact his. I’ll admit it because it was the worst of it. I broke his nose. Alex, I don’t like violence, but some people speak no other language, and it’s sometimes too late for them to learn. The whole situation
conjures up bad memories. He won’t come back here again. And not because he’s dead and rotting in the attic or anywhere else. He’s learnt a lesson, a valuable one. Alex, I do promise you that I’ll explain it all to you one day. Soon.’
Sixteen
THE GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PARTY
‘Some have won a wild delight, by daring wilder sorrow; could I gain thy love to-night, I'd hazard death to-morrow.’
– Charlotte Brontё, Passion
The following fortnight took us into December, during which I didn’t see Thom at all. Those last words of his echoed in my ears, yet faded with every passing day. I felt certain his idea of soon differed greatly from mine. Still, I expected he would stroll by at any moment, commenting on my psychological state. But it never materialised and the disappointment made me long all the more to see him.
The weeks flew by and I began to see Thom occasionally for nothing more than a brief ‘Hello’ (of which my variant was ‘Hello, sir’). He’d utter nothing more in my direction. The distance he put between us made me feel that I should never have forced him to confess anything before he was ready.
During these weeks the Cray had never felt so strange – always mysterious, even ghostly at times, but never unnervingly creepy. Noises I couldn’t account for came from directions I couldn’t identify. It wasn’t the heating system or doors banging far off down corridors. It was a systematic sequence of beats, which sounded as if someone struck a blunt object against something hollow, or threw it to a stone floor. Often they were so distant or buried that you just about caught the sound, and yet the sharpness of it made you jump. Moreover, they would continue, on and on once it’d started. I dealt with numerous complaints from visitors claiming they’d been frightened or even intrigued by the ‘invisible workmen’. People assumed it was a new attraction at the Cray.
It was mid-December and the day of our work Christmas party, of which Mrs Evans organised with stringent dedication. She encouraged everyone to wear festive colours and take part in every tradition she could conjure up. Our party could begin at closing.
One of the last visitors to leave was a middle-aged woman, dripping in gold, who wore her hair like a hat. She stopped at the front desk to ask me about the noises, which had been banging on all day.
‘That new attraction seems a bit tacky for here. What’s it about?’
‘There is no new attraction,’ I said.
‘But the hearth in the Great Hall!’ she snapped. ‘It growled at me! Is it on motion sensors?’
This was new. I must’ve looked confused.
‘It sounded like this!’ The woman bore her teeth and growled.
I had to verify. ‘The fireplace growled?’
Impatiently, she took a deep breath. ‘I know a growl when I hear one! So what’s going on; has the place been turned into some kind of theme park?’
‘Not that I’m aware of. Did you see anything?’
‘No. It was just the sound of an intense growl, possibly from behind the fireplace.’
‘Did it echo?’
‘Yes – yes, I would say so.’
‘Maybe it’s an animal, a rodent perhaps, trapped in the flue. Some of the flues are still open. An echo can make a mouse seem like an elephant.’ (I didn’t intend to patronise her, though she may have taken it to be deliberate.)
‘That’s all very well, miss!’ She placed her hand firmly on the desk. ‘But as you know, mice don’t growl!’ With that she stormed out, clearly convinced I was in on the prank.
‘Frightening off the punters?’
I turned to see Daniel walking over.
‘She thought the fireplace in the Great Hall growled at her.’
‘Well now I’ve heard it all! What next? Will the chairs sprout teeth and start biting people?’
‘She thought we’d introduced a ghost theme to increase popularity.’
‘It’s not so farfetched. Lots of places do it.’
‘The point is, Dan, we haven’t. Or have we?’
‘Not as far as I know. But I have to agree, things are much weirder than usual around here. And usually it’s pretty weird, so that says it all.’
‘It’s not just the noises though, is it. It’s a feeling, too. Something’s different here.’
He nodded. ‘I don’t know where the noises are coming from. God knows what it’s like for Thom. He has to sleep in this place.’
‘I can’t imagine anything worrying him, Dan.’
‘That’s true! It’s more like the other way round.’
‘Mrs Evans is going spare,’ I told him. ‘Every time she hears a thud she bolts to find it. That woman isn’t scared of anything.’
‘Do you think axe murderers are scared of other axe murderers?’
‘Well, she isn’t!’ I chortled. ‘She once chased some thudding into the toilets and came back saying that the lights were flickering like mad, and it’s a good thing she’s not epileptic.’
‘Thank God she isn’t! If she started having a fit, how would we tell the difference? She already foams at the mouth like a Doberman with rabies!’
‘Who’s got rabies?’ Thom’s voice floated in on the wind.
I automatically straightened up in my chair, but tried my best to look unaffected.
Dan was always glad to see him.
‘We were just talking about all the crazy noises in the house lately. What do you make of the crazy noises?’ He smiled and directed Thom with his eyes towards me.
‘Oh, great!’ I said sarcastically, flicking open a brochure on the desk. ‘Now I’ve got two of you starting on me.’
Thom laughed, but added sincerely, ‘No one calls her nutty but me, Dan.’ – He turned my way. – ‘Right, fruitcake?’
‘Thanks, Dan. Now you’ve got him started, I won’t hear the end of it.’
Thom was smiling – somewhat irresistibly – but he didn’t continue ribbing me yet.
‘A woman was just here,’ said Dan, ‘getting out of her pram with Alex, because she thought the fireplace in the Hall growled at her.’
‘Really?’ Laughed Thom. ‘It never pays me any attention. Speaking of which,’ he said, looking back to me. ‘Good afternoon, Alex,’ he spoke very purposely. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten me again so soon? I may have to start enforcing penalties.’
‘There’s no need for that, sir.’
‘What’s going on?’ quizzed Dan, looking between us.
‘Alex has finally come to her senses. She’s giving me the respect I deserve.’
‘We had a bet, Dan. I lost and have to call him sir for a while. It’s no big deal, is it, sir?’ I set my teeth.
‘Certainly not for me.’ He smiled, rubbing his hands together. ‘Isn’t she unique, Dan? And fiery! Look at the fury in those eyes!’
I tried not to smile.
Thom was dressed all in black, which was a little out of the ordinary, even for him.
‘What are you wearing?’ Dan looked him up and down. ‘I’m sure the dress code was festive, not funeral. What’s with the Zorro outfit?’
Thom here silently produced a red tie from his back pocket and knotted it perfectly under his collar.
‘Festive enough for you, Dan?’
‘It’s more than I thought you’d bear. So what about you?’ He looked to me. ‘You can’t wear grey to a Christmas party! Or do you have a red scarf to put on, too?’
‘No, Dan. I have a dress to change into.’
Thom smiled. ‘A dress?’ he said, looking to Dan, before leaning over my desk. ‘Just to verify, fruitcake – you’ll be wearing a dress? I had no idea you owned one.’
Just then we heard a high-pitch scream! I knew it instantly: it was Stacey. She ran our way, out of her senses with fright, white as a sheet – or as Stacey would often get confused and say, white as a sheep.
‘What the hell’s the matter?’ Dan questioned first.
‘Help me! Help me!’
She leapt round the desk and grabbed hold of me. Her body shook like a
washing machine on a spin cycle.
‘Alex, I’m so scared! There’s a ghost, a real one, in the De Morgan Gallery! I was walking past just now. I heard this awful noise in there!’ She gulped heavily. ‘It sounded like a man in pain. I thought an old person had fallen over or something and called out for help. So I went in and there was–’ She began to sob. I couldn’t understand her.
Dan was staring at her in utter confusion.
Thom approached and half sympathetically asked, ‘Can anyone translate it?’
I shook my head and stroked hers.
‘I’ll go and have a look,’ Thom announced.
Stacey’s eyes followed him, wide and transfixed. The moment he was out of view, she again became inconsolable – though I knew her to be like this in these kinds of situations. I had seen her react in this manner to literally nothing at all many times. I felt this terrible urge rising up within me to give her a good slap round the face; you know, just to snap her out of it. No matter how effective it seemed in the movies, I thought better of it. If I began, who knows when I might be able to stop?
‘Okay, Stace, calm down. Tell me what you saw?’
‘No one! There was no one in there! But I could still hear him crying out for help.’
‘Are you sure you just couldn’t see him in there? Perhaps he was under something, if he needed help?’
‘No – there was no one in there, I swear!’
‘What was he saying?’
‘They weren’t words. He was just moaning and making noises like he couldn’t speak. Then the footsteps began! running back and forth across the room.’ Her eyes made this motion. ‘He could have stomped on my foot they were so close! I know it was a ghost – I just know it! I’m sorry for calling Thom a ghost. Now I know what one’s really like! I thought it was gonna get me, Alex! I thought it was gonna lock me in with it!’ She broke down in tears again.
‘Dan, I’m going to take her outside for some fresh air. Could you do me a favour and tell Mrs Evans where we are?’
‘Sure thing.’
It was a bleak day, grey and very windy. From experience, whenever I wake from a bad nightmare, nothing soothes me more efficiently than to stick something light and fluffy on the T.V. – Since we had nothing like this to hand, a change of scenery was the next best thing.
Halton Cray (Shadows of the World Book 1) Page 16
