The Haunting of Shadow Hill House

by Caroline Clark

  Just as she had the thought, the handle turned and she rushed in. The sight before her took her breath away. The hallway was almost as big as their old flat. It was decorated in a deep, dark, red. Sangria red according to the contractors and it was so open and bright. The floor was rich mahogany wood with a deep red and blue carpet that covered most of the floor and swept up the huge staircase that curled around the back of the hallway. Hallway, how could she call this a hallway? It was huge and magnificent and she imagined it full of guests. Of excited artists all chattering and getting to know each other. It was a dream come true.

  Four dark paneled doors lead from the room and a magnificent chandelier hung from the ceiling. It was so high up that Jenny felt her neck crick as she took in the view.

  She had almost forgotten Abby until she heard a shriek of delight from upstairs. Quickly she raced for the sound, her mother’s instincts unable to hear the joy in the squeal and her heart pounded in panic.

  “Abby,” she called as she stopped at the top. The hallway was long and there were so many doors.

  “In here Mum, bagsy my room.”

  Jenny followed the sound down the corridor to the furthest room. She stepped in and was overwhelmed with the beauty of the décor. The walls were decorated in wallpaper with small pink flowers. The carpet was a deep pink and the bed spread complimented the walls. There was a sheer pink canopy over the bed and the same sheer pink material surrounded the windows. Abby was stood looking out of the turret window, a huge grin on her face. Then she turned and jumped onto the bed.

  “This is perfect,” she said. “Thanks, Mum.”

  “I guess this is your room,” Jenny said, pleased that something had gone to plan and yet, she distinctly remembered telling the contractors that the rooms must be decorated in a neutral tone. Until they arrived they could not know which room Abby would take and the builders had taken a huge risk decorating this one for a child. What if Abby had wanted another room? Shaking her head she supposed it didn’t matter. Abby was happy and they would work around that.

  Jenny wanted to explore the house, she wanted to look around and was so excited to do so.

  "The movers are here," Mason shouted from below. Jenny could tell that he was still angry.

  "Why don't you stay here and enjoy your room while we get everything moved in." Jenny said to Abby.

  Abby just nodded. She was lying on her bed, tablet in hand and didn't seem too worried about anything. Breathing a sigh of relief, Jenny made her way back to the stairs. Now if only it was that easy to make Mason happy. She smiled at the thought of him sitting on a princess’s bed.

  By the time she got downstairs Mason had already got everything organized and the men were busily unloading boxes.

  "The essentials are in the kitchen. Why don't you get the kettle on and I'll see to this," Mason said.

  Jenny gave him a smile and for a moment he just stared. So she widened her smile and stuck out her tongue. This always worked, this always made him smile. For a long moment nothing happened and she felt her spirits sag. Was he so angry with her, so hurt that he would not make an effort? Before she could answer a smile broke his face and suddenly they were laughing. She wanted to say something, to tell him it would be all right and yet she knew she mustn't. So she stuck her tongue out even further and then turned and raced to the kitchen.

  The kitchen was a medley of old and new. The dark wooden cabinets looked as if they had been there forever. As if they belonged in the house and yet the work surfaces were a black marble that gleamed at her. There were three windows looking out at the garden. On one of them a blind was fitted. On the next one the blind had been fitted at one end but was draping down at the other and the third window the blind was waiting on the floor. This must be one of the jobs that the contractors didn't finish. If this was all it wouldn't matter. Mason could soon fix up these blinds and it would give him something to do.

  The floor was made of black slate and at one end of the room was a small breakfast table. The kettle was next to an old ceramic sink. Quickly, she filled it and turned it on. While the kettle boiled she began to unpack boxes. There was so much cupboard room, so much room everywhere and she could not help but smile. As she unpacked she remembered first seeing the house. It had been three weeks before Mason was made redundant and even then she was drawn to it. She had been flipping through an old magazine when she saw the property for sale and instantly she wanted it. Yet, even if it hadn’t already sold there was just no way they could hardly afford the house they were in. To buy a property of this size and to move away from Mason’s and her job... It was nothing but a dream. Only she had had this dream for years. An artist’s retreat she used to call it. A place where she could teach art to people who really wanted to learn. Her job at the college was teaching art but most of her students were just there for an easy ride. They were not interested, they were not passionate, and the work did not fulfill her. In her retreat, she would teach people who wanted to learn. She would mix with like-minded individuals who loved color and perspective. People who wanted to learn, who wanted to see behind what they painted and wanted to develop their art to the next level.

  Once he was made redundant, the idea just kept coming back to her. It was a new start, a new beginning. Mason had a small redundancy pot and so one day she rang up about the house. Amazingly, it was still for sale and they were prepared to lower the price so she spoke to Mason. At first he was angry, but eventually she talked him around to at least listening. Before he would even consider the move and purchasing such an expensive property he had insisted that she ran adverts. That she tested the water to see if she could get clients. He had been amazed at the response. Jenny would only teach five people at a time and she was charging them enough to make that viable. The first advert she placed was oversubscribed by 200%. The bookings came in so fast that she was already booked up for the following year. In the end, she raised her prices even more because there were so many people that she could not cope with the demand.

  Once she had the clients it was just a matter of buying the house, having it renovated and now here they were. Four months later, deeply in debt, it was all down to her to make a go of this.

  It had taken just two hours for all their worldly goods to be moved into the house and for the men to leave. Now she knew she had to face Mason and yet she did not know what to say. What could she say to bring him out of his mood? They were here now, they had to make the best of it. Fried chicken was cooking in the oven and so she had some time. Stepping out into the hallway she could see a pile of boxes but no Mason. So she started to explore.

  From the front door the first room on the left was the ballroom. It sounded grand and as she opened the door she was assaulted with a musty smell. It was almost as if something had died in there and she had to bite back the urge to vomit. This was just what they needed. Only she would not let it get her down, whatever happened they would cope with it and they would make the best of this. Ignoring the smell she walked in. It was a beautiful room, not as big as she expected but big enough to get 5 artists with easels and plenty of room for all of them to work.

  The floor was dark wood paneling and the walls were paneled at the bottom and once more painted in a deep, dark red on top. There were five windows and the corner of the room was round and obviously part of the turret. It was beautiful and the light should have been perfect and yet the room seemed dark and a little dismal. Jenny felt uncomfortable there and yet she could not put a finger on why. So she left the room and carried on exploring. Next was the dining room. It was a good size and she could see it filled with her guests, could almost hear them talking. It was also wood with a blue and red carpet that matched the hall and dark mushroom-colored walls. As she left the dining room a shadow crossed over her and she felt herself shiver. Suddenly, she felt alone and so empty. It was as if no one was here, as if Mason had taken Abby and left but that idea was just silly. As she turned, for just a moment, she saw a figure hanging from the ceiling
and then it was gone. A gasp left her and her hand flew to her chest. What had she just seen? It didn't make sense. Then she laughed, it must just be a shadow, maybe the sun passing behind a cloud or even her own shadow. How could she be so silly? And yet in her mind she saw the figure of a girl, a young girl hanging and it was hard to shake it from her mind.

  BANG, BANG, BANG.

  Abby jumped at the sound behind her and for a moment she could not work out what it was. Then she let out a laugh. It was simply someone knocking at the door. Maybe it was a neighbor coming to welcome them. Though she didn't know where they'd come from for the closest neighbors were several miles away. With a hand trying to steady her pounding heart she walked across to the door and pulled it open. An old lady stood there, she must have been in her 60s, maybe even early 70s. Gray hair topped a wizened face and yet the eyes were hard as slate.

  "Leave, you have to leave this place," the woman said as soon as the door was open.

  "We only just moved in," Jenny said, not sure what the woman meant. "We just bought the place. My name is Jenny, Jenny Evans, and I’m pleased to meet you." Jenny held out her hand.

  "I've warned you," the woman said. "Shadow Hill is cursed, you have to leave."

  Jenny knew she was staring, that her mouth was open and she could not formulate the words to reply. The woman was trying to peek around her, trying to look into the house and Jenny stepped across to block her view.

  "You have no right to tell us this," Jenny managed. "We bought this house, we intend to run a business from it. If you can't be pleased for us just go."

  "Oh, my Lord," the woman said. "You have children?"

  Jenny didn't know what to do and she answered without thinking. "Just a daughter, Abby."

  "Abby will die unless you leave," the woman said.

  Jenny felt as if she had been hit. To hear someone say that about her daughter was worse than being assaulted.

  "Mason, Mason, get down here please, quickly," Jenny shouted. At least Mason could chase this woman off. Would make her go. She could hear him moving on the floor above. Only, when she turned back to the door the woman was gone. Jenny rushed out of the house and yet she could not see her. There was no one on the drive, no one on the lawn and no car in sight. How had the woman got here? Where had she come from and why was she threatening her daughter?

  Suddenly, Mason was at her side and she just wanted to be in his arms, just wanted him to hold her and for things to be back as they had been. Had she made a big mistake buying Shadow Hill House?

  "What is it?" he asked.

  "There was a woman, an old woman, she threatened Abby."

  Mason ran outside and looked around, but there was no one there.

  "There's no one here," he said. "What do you mean a woman threatened Abby?"

  Jenny did her best to explain but she could see he did not believe her. Where could the woman have gone? It didn't make sense, the ground was open, there was nowhere for her to hide and yet she was gone. Jenny didn’t know what to think and had to bite back tears. She knew this was going to be difficult. That there was hard work and hard times ahead but she never expected her beautiful Abby to be in danger. The thought that a mad woman could be out there, after her daughter, chilled her to the bone.

  Chapter 2

  Mason turned around and went back inside almost dismissing her and her fear.

  "I've had our clothes and things put into the main bedroom," he said. "Do you want to unpack while I work on the study?"

  Jenny nodded and he led her up the stairs and turned right towards the bedroom. They walked all the way along the corridor further and further away from Abby's room. With each step Jenny felt more nervous. Why were they taking a room so far away from their daughter? Mason showed her into the room. It was beautiful. Dark red walls and a dark red carpet. The bed was a four-poster made of hardwood and the drapes were a deep crimson. Jenny shivered as she walked through the door, it was cold in here.

  "We're a long way from Abby," she said.

  "I don't see that it matters," Mason snapped before he turned and left the room.

  Jenny felt as if he was shutting her out and yet she knew there was nothing she could do. This had happened before and it was always best if she left him to it. Since being made redundant he had changed and she knew she needed to give him time. To let him discover his purpose once more. Hopefully, this move would help, they could work together and build something great.

  So she looked around the room. It was obviously the master bedroom just as the one she had been in before was obviously a child's bedroom. Why did she feel nervous being so far away from Abby? Maybe it was just the strange woman, maybe it was the new house. She didn't know but before she decided to unpack she was going to check the other rooms. To see if they could move closer.

  She went back out into the corridor and started looking at the other rooms. The one next to them was smaller and plainly decorated, the only furniture was a crib. That seemed really strange. They hadn't asked for a crib or for anything for a baby. It didn't matter, the room was not suitable for Abby. She spent the next 20 minutes looking into all the other rooms. They were all designed for guests and quite obviously so. They were plainly decorated, smaller, with a small wardrobe, desk, and an ensuite shower and toilet. Some of them were not finished. A few had doors that needed hanging and one needed painting. The tin was still on the floor along with dust sheets. The lid was off and a dried up paintbrush had stuck to the carpet. Jenny let out a sigh, still it would give Mason something to do. She took a last look around. There was no way that Mason would move into one of these rooms of that she was sure. So she walked the full length of the corridor back down to Abby's room and knocked on the door.

  "Hey, Abby, how are you doing?"

  "I'm fine, Mum. I love my new room." Abby barely glanced up from her tablet.

  "Do you mind that you're a long way away from us?"

  Abby raised her head and gave her a look that was entirely too old. It said, be serious!

  "No, I'm a big girl now and fine all alone."

  Jenny wanted to laugh but she knew that would not be a good idea so she nodded and walked back to their own room. It really was a long way and it worried her thinking about it. Yet, why should it? What could happen?

  With no answer to her question she started to unpack. Only she felt uneasy in the main bedroom, as if the atmosphere was heavy and weighing her down. As she packed away their clothes and toiletries she pushed the feeling aside. Her little girl was growing up, becoming more independent, that was why she was feeling sad. Then there was Mason. He had disappeared and was keeping himself scarce. It was almost as if he was sulking. She knew he would be setting up the morning room as an office. They had talked about it before. As a chartered accountant he was hoping to get a few clients. How the world had changed; a few years ago, he was in demand and now he had been thrown away like yesterday’s news. She understood how he felt and how much it hurt him to not be able to support his family. Maybe he would get work here. Maybe he would soon have a thriving business.

  Jenny closed her eyes and wished it so. Taking a moment, she relished in the move and let her dreams and hopes seep back in. Let the belief that she could do this take over. It felt good. She imagined walking amongst the artists, first in the ballroom, and then outside on the hill. It was such a perfect position, there would be so much light and views in every direction. The peace and quiet were perfect for deep concentration. She saw herself looking after her clients, encouraging here, and assisting there and a smile turned up her lips. They could do this. All she had to do was keep her head.

  Opening her eyes she felt a shadow cross over her and she watched it flit over the wall. It was just the clouds, but even that was a delight. In their flat, surrounded by other taller tower blocks they rarely received direct sunlight. This would be so great for Abby, the countryside and all this fresh air. Turning, she saw a patch on the wall at the side of the bed. For a moment she thought it was the shad
ow but that couldn’t be right. Then she gasped, it looked like blood. It looked slick and wet. Slowly she approached the wall and the stain grew as she watched. How could this be?

  Jenny looked around, it was not the sun. Of that she was sure. Turning back the blemish filled her vision and seemed to pull her eyes to it. Tentatively she reached out her hand. Stopping just millimeters from the wall. For some reason she didn’t want to touch it and yet she felt drawn to it. With her breath held she touched the wall and let out a chuckle. It wasn’t wet, cold maybe, but not wet. Maybe it was a damp patch? Maybe this was another thing the contractors hadn’t finished.

  Feeling the sudden urge for some company she turned and left the room.

  Downstairs, she saw the morning room door shut. It felt like a snub and she hovered with her hand above the handle. Maybe she should just walk in. Ignore his behavior and shame him out of it. At the last moment she changed her mind. She had to give Mason time. Had to let him come out of this on his own.

  The smell of burning drew her to the kitchen. She checked her watch. There were still 10 minutes before the chicken should be ready and yet the smell was getting worse. Rushing in she saw smoke coming out of the oven and she turned it off and pulled open the door. The room was filled with thick black smoke.

  Coughing, she opened the back door, grabbed a towel and pulled the pan from the oven. It seared into her skin as she rushed out the door and dropped the hot pan onto the ground. Blackened chicken rolled onto the paving and she rubbed her scalded fingers. They were starting to blister and yet that shouldn’t have happened. How many times had she picked up a pan with nothing more than a towel? It was too many to count and she had never burnt herself before!