The Haunting of Shadow Hill House

by Caroline Clark

  Jenny sat up in the bed, it was morning and blessed light flooded the room and chased away her dreams. It all seemed so foolish in the light of day. She tried to remember the dream but it was sketchy now. There was a blonde girl with gray eyes, it must have been Victoria. The child was holding a teddy bear, the one that Abby called Mr. Good Bear. That was the name the girl in her dream had called it. A shudder ran through her as she wondered where Abby got the name from. Surely, she must have transferred the name into the dream. It was the only logical explanation for Abby could not have known the original name of the bear.

  Jenny remembered the attic from the dream and as she thought back she remembered seeing boxes of photos and old journals. Maybe she should visit the attic and see if they were there. She shook her head, just the thought of going up there was more than she could bear.

  Knowing she would not sleep anymore she snuck out of bed and wandered down to the kitchen. Quickly, she made some tea and then she went into the ballroom and set up her easel. The light was perfect, bright and fresh and full of color like only natural light can be. She had every intention of painting the view from the window. It was idyllic. The sun shining down on the rolling countryside spread out like a patchwork quilt of green before her. So she closed her eyes and breathed in and then when she opened them she let her mind empty and let her arm paint. It was a technique she taught people when they got blocked. It was called free painting. So while her eyes looked at the canvas she let her hand simply paint what it wanted.

  The brushstrokes came easily and fluidly to her and color was soon covering the canvas but she did not focus on the whole, just on the point that she was painting. Soon, over an hour had gone, her cup of tea was cold by her right arm. She had completely forgotten she had made it as the urge to create overtook her. Now she could hear Mason and Abby in the kitchen and knew that she had to stop, to help them make breakfast, and yet her hand painted faster and faster. The canvas was just a blur, she could not focus on the whole, just on the tiny bit that she was painting. On the startling gray of the watercolor on her brush as it glided across the canvas. Then she chose another color and again her arm and hand were not her own as they danced across the painting. This was art at its best, it controlled her, it devoured her and she let it flow through her.

  "Breakfast's ready," Mason called from the door.

  The words broke Jenny's trance and she put down the brush. It was a long time since she had lost herself in a painting like this and she felt euphoric and full of hope. If Shadow Hill House could give her this wonderful feeling then she knew she had made the right choice. It was the perfect place for an artist retreat.

  "Thanks, honey, I’ll be right there," Jenny said.

  "Mummy, Mummy, Mummy, there you are," Abby said as she ran across the room. Her small feet thudded with each flat-footed step as she raced towards her.

  Jenny could hear the sound of her feet on the wooden floor and she turned in time to catch Abby as she jumped into her arms. Twirling in a circle she spun her in the air before putting her down in front of the painting.

  Abby drew in a deep breath and covered her mouth with her hands. Then she was laughing and pointing at the painting.

  "It's Victoria," Abby said.

  Jenny turned to look at the painting and her blood ran cold. Though she thought she had painted the countryside, the view from the window, the canvas actually showed a young blonde girl with malevolent gray eyes. There was a knowing smile, almost a sneer on her face and she was holding Mr. Good Bear.

  Breakfast was bacon, eggs, and mushrooms and normally Jenny would have been ravenous and appreciative of Mason cooking. Only this morning it all looked greasy and a little burnt. Just the thought of the food turned her stomach and she had to force down every bite. Abby was chattering away to either the bear or Victoria and Mason was trying to engage in conversation but she could not take it in. All she could see was those cold gray eyes and that unfriendly smile. How had she drawn a picture of the girl, of Victoria? No matter how she tried her brain would not comprehend it. Maybe it wasn’t a likeness of Abby’s friend and the child had simply made the image in her mind fit the painting? Even so, that didn’t explain where the girl had come from.

  Jenny forced down another mouthful and had to swallow a second time as her stomach rebelled.

  “Jenny, did you hear me?” Mason asked and as her mind came back to the table Jenny realized it had been for the third time.

  “Sorry,” she managed as she tried to push those eyes from her mind. “I must be tired, what did you say again?”

  “I have been offered a job in town,” Mason said, his eyes drawn together as concern lined his face. “I will be gone for most of the day. Do you need anything?”

  Gone for most of the day?! Suddenly, she didn’t want to be alone in the house. Alone with that girl and yet she knew it was ridiculous. It was just a painting. “No,” she managed. “I’ll drop Abby at school and then maybe take a look around the countryside.”

  “You should paint some more. That picture is so life like, it’s really good,” Mason said, only he was no longer aware of her mood and was back to eating his breakfast. Didn’t he wonder who it was? Didn’t it disturb him that she had invented a mean looking girl and painted her in a fugue state? Of course, it wouldn’t, for she hadn’t told him and he maybe thought it was one of the children she had met. Yet, why would she paint someone else’s child and not her own?

  Breakfast carried on much as normal. Abby was excited about going to school and Mason was excited about his interview. It would be good if he got a job and yet it was not what they had planned. In her dream, he worked from home. Taking on just enough clients to keep him busy and that way he was there to help her. To look after the guests and to help cook the meals. Suddenly, she didn’t want him working outside of the house. Was she being selfish? A shudder ran down her back and she pushed her plate away. The food had hardly been touched and yet she could not face it anymore. It wasn’t that she was selfish, it was a fear of being left alone in Shadow Hill House. Being left alone with Victoria.

  For some reason. Jenny was nervous on the journey back into Crick Howell, though nobody noticed. Abby was chattering away and Mason was also talking. It was good to see him excited at the prospects of work and she had to admit that an income would certainly help until she got things up and running. It would also help Mason. He had been sullen and uncommunicative. Maybe he needed this.

  First, she dropped him off with a kiss on the cheek. A smile crinkled his lips and the sparkle was back in his eyes. He was expecting to be here most of the day and he would simply amuse himself in the town if he was ready before school was out. Jenny waved and turned toward the school. It wasn’t much further and she soon found a place to park. As she got Abby out of the car she saw that she was holding the bear. His right ear was stuffed into her mouth and she was sucking on it. The confounded stain down the front of the bear made her skin crawl.

  “I think you should leave the teddy in the car,” Jenny said and watched as Abby’s lip began to tremble.

  “He’s my friend,” she said.

  “I know, but soon you will find new friends and he is rather dirty still. What sort of a mum will they think I am?” Jenny knew that was a low move but she wanted to separate Abby from the toy. Only it was more than that. The last thing she wanted her daughter to do was to sit in the corner and talk to the bear. The other kids would most likely tease her. If she had the toy she would be less likely to make friends.

  Reluctantly, Abby kissed the bear and put it back on the seat. Breathing a sigh of relief, Jenny helped her from the car.

  Soon she was walking past other mum’s who smiled and nodded. At the gate a woman smiled and came over.

  “You must be Mrs. Evans and this must be Abby.”

  Jenny nodded at the woman who had long brown hair and was in her late twenties. Brown eyes smiled and as she stepped forward a young girl stepped out from behind her. “I’m Julia and this is
Fiona. She will be introducing Abby around today and seeing that she has a wonderful time.”

  Jenny let out another sigh of relief. They had a mentor for her daughter. That was such a good idea. Starting a new school was a difficult time and this would make it so much easier. Giving Abby a quick hug and a kiss she handed over her lunch box and said goodbye.

  As Abby disappeared into the throng of children Jenny felt tears prickling at her eyes and turned away. There were a group of three women all staring at her and she smiled and swatted at the tears.

  “Don’t you worry,” a brunette in her thirties with rosy red cheeks and a nice smile said. “She will be well looked after. Fi is a good child. I’m Banon and this is Awena, and Elen.”

  “I’m Jenny,” she managed and wiped away her tears. Soon, they were talking about children and the school and they found themselves at a local café. Banon treated her to a coffee and told her all about the town. It seemed so friendly and it was good to talk to women her own age. They all had children; Banon three, two boys and a girl; Awena, just the one; and Elen had a girl and a boy.

  “Where are you living?” Banon asked as they sipped on the strong coffee.

  Jenny had already explained she was an artist and was setting up a retreat in the area. “We just bought Shadow Hill House,” she said.

  The conversation stopped dead and the three women shared a glance.

  “Really?” Banon asked after several seconds of uncomfortable silence. “I never thought I’d see the day.”

  “I don’t understand,” Jenny said and once more wondered if the locals didn’t like people moving into the area.

  “Ack, no you wouldn’t,” Elen said. She was the smallest of the three women, petite and pretty but there was a strength in her smile.

  Again the three women shared a look and seemed to confer. They nodded and it was Elen who let out a sigh and began to tell the tale. “No one in the local area will go near the place,” she said. “It has a history, you see. Now, do you wish to hear it?”

  Jenny found that her heart was pounding and her palms were sweating on her coffee mug. Did she want to hear it? To be honest, she didn’t and yet she knew she must. She opened her mouth to speak but her lips were dry and the lump in her throat would not allow words to escape so she simply nodded.

  “I suppose to an outsider it will sound a little foolish,” Elen said.

  Jenny wasn’t sure if she wanted a response or if she was just plucking up the courage to tell the story, so she smiled and nodded for her to go on.

  “It was 1690 I believe, when the trouble started. There was a family living there, with one young child. I can’t remember the name.” She turned to her friends but they shook their heads.

  Victoria, Jenny thought, it was Victoria.

  “The legend goes that the father was a mean bully. That he beat his wife and terrorized his daughter. She took to hiding in the loft to escape him. One night, in a drunken temper he killed his wife. They say he beat her to death in front of the child. Victoria, that was her name, I remember now.”

  Jenny gasped as her fears were confirmed.

  “Then the story is a little unsure. Some say that the child hung herself, others that he killed her. Either way, she was found hanging somewhere inside the house. He was arrested and committed to a mental asylum. However, on the anniversary of their deaths he escaped and went back to the house. It is said that he hanged himself in the same place as his daughter. Though some say it was the child. That she forced him to it and that she haunts the place to this day. The locals hate the house. Many wanted it burnt to the ground.”

  “Really!” Jenny said and despite the pounding of her heart, her mind refused to believe it and she didn’t feel so bad. One family had died there so many years ago. They were saying there was a ghost. That was impossible, and after all, it was just 3 deaths. How many houses of that age would not have a few deaths in them?

  “Oh, there’s more,” Elen said. “Four families have lived in the house in the intervening years. Every one of them has suffered deaths and mental illness. Usually, the father kills the family and is then committed himself, or he kills himself. You would not catch me spending even an hour in that place and I know most of the locals feel the same.”

  Suddenly, it seemed very cold in the café and she could see the women before her were not laughing. Part of her wanted to believe that this was some sort of hazing. That maybe they wanted to scare her from the house, and yet she knew it wasn’t. Hadn’t she felt strange things at Shadow Hill already?

  “Which rooms did it happen in?” she asked.

  Banon leaned towards her. “You’ve seen things, haven’t you?”

  Jenny shook her head. “No, of course not. It’s just a big old house.”

  “Well, trust me,” Elen said. “If you value your family’s life you will leave and you will leave quickly.”

  Jenny found herself nodding as she tried to stop the shaking of her hands on her coffee cup. They couldn’t leave. They had nowhere to go and a mountain of debt all tied up in Shadow Hill House. Yet the thought of going back there turned her stomach. What was happening to Abby? Was it the house or just the move? Could she really let her little girl go back to that house, to Victoria?

  As the ladies left, Jenny knew she had to find out more. Maybe this was just local gossip and a touch of sour grapes. Yet the house felt wrong and something was different about Abby. The ladies had mentioned the loft, she had dreamed of the loft. Picking up her keys she made a decision. She would look into the loft and see what she could find. Maybe there would be something up there, something to explain how she felt. If not, she would do more research. There had to be a logical reason for all of this.

  Soon, she was back in the car and driving back to Shadow Hill. As she left the town she passed the small church. The sun was shining down on it. The quaint little building was spotlighted with glory. Maybe this was a sign. Jenny laughed, she did not believe in such things. It was just sunlight and yet where she was heading, the house on the hill was covered in shadow.

  Chapter 7

  Jenny stepped into the house and was surprised that her hands were still shaking. As she glanced around the large and magnificent hallway, she no longer saw it filled with excited artists. Now she saw a malevolent little girl with dead gray eyes. Her hands were down by her side and one of them held the teddy. Mr. Good Bear. The front of the bear was splattered with blood and droplets dripped onto the carpet. Onto that confounded stain, the one that would not go.

  Jenny shook her head and cleared the vision. This was just silly and yet, even though the girl was gone, the stain on the beautiful carpet was more noticeable than ever.

  The empty house seemed to mock her. It was silent, too silent, and the atmosphere was oppressive. It was as if the house didn’t want her there. For a second she turned and looked at the door. Maybe she could go back to town, spend the day shopping or in the library, and yet, that would be running. Jenny had never run from anything and she was not about to start now. She would work out what the problem was and she would solve it.

  The minute she had the thought she felt better and the air seemed to clear. Maybe this was all in her head. Maybe it was just a manifestation of stress and worry. After all, Mason had lost his job, they had lost their income, and they had moved halfway across the country to a big house that had put them in debt. When she spelled it all out in her mind there was no wonder she was stressed, and it was all her fault... all her idea.

  She needed to think, to work out what to do and so she went to the kitchen and ran the tap to fill the kettle. The water sputtered and then fired into the pristine ceramic sink a deep red. It splattered across the white like blood and she wanted to scream. For a moment her stomach heaved and she wondered if she would lose her breakfast. Why was she always feeling sick? Biting it down she clenched onto the sink. This house would not beat her.

  In her head she imagined Mason. He was so cool and understood these things. Hadn’t h
e told her it was just because the house had been empty for a while? Even so, she no longer wanted to drink that water. Leaving the tap running she got a bottle from the cupboard and filled up the kettle. Slowly, she prepared her teapot. Warming it with a touch of water, before rinsing that away in the sink. It looked better. The tap was running clear and there were just splashes of blood... red rust around the sides. Ignoring them she put in the strainer and spooned in two spoons of Assam tea leaves.

  When the kettle boiled she added the boiling water and left the leaves to seep. Now she turned back to the sink and swilled away the rest of the rust, or whatever it may be. Seeing it made her stomach roll again but it was nothing to fear, just another problem with an empty house and contractors who failed to finish the job.

  The tea was made and she picked up a newspaper and decided to have 20 minutes just chilling. The first sip of tea was uplifting and she let herself relax with the small ritual of silence, the tea, and the paper. It was good, and normal, and it was just what she needed... and yet the house was so quiet that she found it hard to settle.

  Instead of reading, she was listening for noises, for anything to tell her that something was wrong... or even right. Nothing. The house was silent, outside was silent. There were no cars, or shouting neighbors, no sirens, no laughing children. How would she cope living here?

  At last the tears came and she let them fall onto the newspaper and smudge the print. Though she did not know why she was crying she knew it felt good. Just to let go of the stress and the move. Maybe it was leaving her friends, maybe it was the worry about Mason or Abby. Maybe it was that darned teddy bear or this house that was supposed to be perfect. Gradually, the tears stopped and she felt better, stronger, and she had an idea. She would go to the loft and she would see if she could find anything. So, she drank the rest of her tea and, ignoring her nerves, she made her way up the stairs.