haunted
CHAPTER 1
To most people, winning the lottery would be a dream come true. For me, it ruined my life.
Technically, I did not win the lottery. My parents did. Forty million dollars to be precise. At first I had dreams of clothes and cars and endless vacations on the beach, life in a big mansion with servants and a huge bedroom of my own with my own bathroom. But my parents had other ideas.
“You’re going to go to boarding school,” my mother announced to me a few weeks after the big win. “Your father and I have been discussing it and we think it’s in your best academic interests.”
I stared at her uncomprehendingly. “What academic interests? I’m doing well in school – I’m on the honor roll. There’s no need to send me away.”
“We know. And that’s why we want to send you to a better school. The best school. We can afford it now.”
Panic began to rise in me as the implication of what she was saying sank in.
“Where? Where is there a boarding school around here?” I demanded.
“There isn’t. We’ve been looking at a few schools in other states.”
It was like a punch to the gut.
“You never discussed this with me! I don’t want to go away to school! I grew up here! All my friends are here! My life is here! How dare you decide that I’m going to move away? I have to move away but you don’t? This is ridiculous!” I was crying now.
“We are moving as well, actually. Your dad is going to retire and we’re going to sell the house and find somewhere south. Where it’s warm.”
“You’re going to sell the house?! I grew up here! My childhood is here!” I could not believe that my parents had been plotting behind my back to send me away and sell the only home that I had ever known so that I would not even have a place to return to for holidays. My world was falling down all around me and my mother just sat there as calmly as anything sipping her coffee. She had always been like that: emotionless and unshakeable. Pragmatic, she described herself. Cold hearted, as I thought of her now.
But it had been decided and no amount of screaming, crying, cajoling, or persuading could convince them otherwise. I was allowed to finish out the school year and then I spent the summer at the new house in Florida, which was in a wealthy retirement community and nearly bored me to death. I fell into a state of depression and suffered from black moods and general despair. My parents were unconcerned. They simply thought I’d get over it.
At the end of August my mother accompanied me on the flight north to my new school.
“It’s a wonderful school. It’s near the mountains and there are stables – you could have a horse and do equestrian if you wanted. You’ll be out in the fresh air…I would have killed to go to boarding school when I was your age. Give it a chance, Catherine, you’ll only be as happy as you let yourself be,” she advised me.
But I was not interested in hearing it and I turned my head from her and would not acknowledge that she had said anything. I had already spent the summer missing everything that I had grown up with. I had made great attempts to stay in touch with my two life long best friends via email, but our correspondence rapidly dwindled. As much as I tried, they obviously didn’t miss me as much as I missed them. To me they were a link to my neighborhood, my school, my life. To them I was just one less person to pal around with. I missed my room, I missed the garden in our backyard, I missed the view from our front window...everything. A tear slid down my cheek and I wished for the plane to crash as we came in for landing. But of course it did not. I was just not having any luck with anything these days.
It was nearly a three hour drive from the airport to the school. Three hours of stony silence between me and my mother in the rental car. Periodically she would try to say something positive or encouraging but her attempts only served to make me angrier at her. As far as I was concerned, life as I knew it was over because of her and I wanted her to feel as miserable as I was feeling.
Finally we pulled up to Brandenhurst School. The driveway off the road leading up to the school itself was long and curving and flanked on each side by deep woods. I had to admit (silently, to myself only) that the countryside setting was breathtaking. As the car rounded the final bend and the school came into view, I was taken aback by a large complex of brick buildings in, what? The Victorian style? I didn’t really know except to say that it all sort of resembled my idea of a great English country estate embedded in immaculately landscaped grounds with lush green lawns. After months of heartache and inconsolable longing for life the way it was, I experienced a tiny glimmer of hope. It looked like something out of a gothic romance novel or a movie and although I would rather have died than let my mother know I was the tiniest bit excited, I was. I actually was.
We found the Registrar’s Office in the administration building and after filling out some forms and being given a welcome package we were directed outside across the grounds to the dormitories, my mother and I struggling to lug one each of the gigantic suitcases I had packed. I neglected to tell her that the one she was lugging had most of the books in it.
“We’re rich now. You think you could have paid someone to do this for us!” I huffed as I heaved my suitcase up over a curb and onto the paved walk.
“Funny, I was just thinking the same thing myself!” My mother smiled wryly at me, and for the first time in what seemed like months, I smiled back.
My dormitory was breathtaking from the outside. It was different from the rest of the buildings: I had never seen architecture like it in real life. Again, I was reminded of England or some other country in some other era – all slate grey, rough and uneven stones like a castle and kind of gloomy and mysterious. I couldn’t wait to see the interior.
“Look,” I said breathlessly as I pointed to the visitor’s parking stalls in front of the building. “We could have driven the suitcases here!”
My mother and I both groaned in unison.
We pulled the suitcases up the stone steps in front, both of us breaking a sweat now in the late August heat. We finally found our way to the office on the ground floor where we checked in and were given the keys to my room and my mailbox as well as a little map of the campus and a welcome pamphlet.
“Why is no one else here? It’s so empty, I was expecting chaos,” I queried as I realized we had not had to wait in an endless line of students and their parents and all their worldly possessions.
“Most of the students don’t check in until later this week. You’re one of the first. Enjoy the peace and quiet while it lasts!” the woman who handed me my keys explained. “But watch out for the ghost! They say that Rufford Hall is haunted!” she grinned mischievously at me.
“Great,” I muttered and was almost about to start a fight with my mother over why she had insisted I come and get “settled in” a full week before school even started, but I was too exhausted from the journey to bother.
We took the elevator up to my room. I was on the top floor at the end of the hallway. The room was sparse: lacquered hardwood floor with a faded oriental rug on top, two antique looking desks, two antique bureaus and two narrow little beds, each with a set of linens and blankets folded on top of naked mattresses. There was a small lavatory off to one side which consisted of a toilet and a sink only. Showers were communal at the other end of the hall.
Up until this moment I had not even considered that I’d have to have a roommate. But when I saw that every piece of furniture had a twin, it dawned on me, and the excitement I had felt at seeing the pretty campus instantly withered and died. I’d probably get stuck with someone horrible and never have any privacy again. I collapsed with a sigh on top of the little twin bed underneath the window.
I fingered the itchy wool blanket on top of it forlornly. As
if reading my thoughts, my mother said, “Don’t worry. I’ll send your own sheets and your own comforter as soon as I get home.”
“Thanks,” I muttered.
“Well, let’s get you unpacked and then we can drive into town and get something to eat, okay?” She tousled my hair as she pushed a suitcase onto its side to open it. “I think it’s really great here! You’re going to love it once you settle in. I know you are.”
We unpacked all my clothes and books and made up my chosen bed near the window. We stashed one suitcase inside the other and stowed them away in the closet. Then we drove away into the neighboring town and had lunch at a cute little bakery-slash-sandwich shop. We walked down the main street and my mother even bought me a pretty sundress I saw in a shop window. In the early evening, she accompanied me back up to my small room and we said our goodbyes.
“I’m sorry I can’t stay longer, honey. I’d better make a start, I don’t want to miss my flight.”
“It’s fine,” I forced out through gritted teeth.
I didn’t say I’m glad you’re leaving because you’re the one ruining my life right now and you don’t even care. The truth was that a part of me didn’t want her to leave, or rather I didn’t want to be left alone, and since she was all I had in the world right now… Instead, I swallowed the lump in my throat and forbade the tears I could feel welling up from spilling down my cheeks.
“Here.” She was rifling through her handbag and pulled out her wallet. She pressed ten crisp twenty dollar bills into my hand. “Consider this your allowance for now. Spend it wisely! Let me know when you start to run out – but NOT too soon!”
“Thanks.”
“And here. Now this is for emergencies only. You’re to hide this away someplace, and I mean it – it’s for emergencies only. You’re not to use it unless you absolutely must.” She handed me a check, signed and made out to me, but with the amount left blank.
“Okay. I won’t.”
“I’m trusting you.” But the warning tone in her voice and the admonishing look on her face were telling me she had her doubts.
“Alright, I’d better get off now. Call anytime for anything. I love you.” She hugged me tightly but I just stayed limp and focused all my energy on not letting her see me cry.
She waited a beat for a response. “Alright. I’ve done my best. Now the rest is up to you.” And with that she was gone and I was all alone in my little room.
CHAPTER 2
I think this was my first night alone in my whole life. The floorboards in my room creaked whenever I so much as shifted my weight and it spooked me. As the sun went down and the room grew dim, I spent most of the evening cross-legged on the bed with Jane Eyre and only a little light from the lamp on the bedside table to read by. Why couldn’t there be a big overhead ceiling light in this room? The descriptions of creepy old mansions filled with secrets and intrigue did not help me in the state of isolation I was feeling myself in, and I was just thinking that I should perhaps forego Jane Eyre in favor of something cheerier when suddenly I heard what sounded like a door down the hall bang shut. My heart stopped in terror for a moment, but then I realized it must mean another girl was here, and excited at the prospect of someone to talk to, I dropped the book and leapt across the room to open my door and peer down the hallway. But there was no sign of anyone.
I was going to be bored out of my skull here by myself for the next week and I hoped that other students would start to arrive very soon. (Just not my roommate. I did not relish the thought of sharing such a tiny space with another girl who might be noisy or sloppy or mean.) I had never imagined that there could be a place more boring than Florida, but now I found myself trapped in it.
I read for a while longer. Eventually it started to rain – one of those heavy, pelting summer storms with big fat raindrops. Tired of my book, I switched the lamp off and decided to scrunch myself down under the covers and watch the lightning. Electrical storms usually thrilled me, but this one filled me with melancholy for all the friends I was missing back home. And not just my friends, but my house and my room and my own bed. I could feel the tears coming again for the umpteenth time that day, so I took the top pillow and turned it vertically so that I could put my arm around it and nestle my cheek on it as if it were a person. I pretended the pillow was Brad, a boy from back home I had had a terrible crush on. I inhaled deeply and tried to recreate how his shirt had smelled that one time in PE when we were playing touch football and I crashed into him accidentally on purpose and we tumbled to the ground together. His smell wholly intoxicated me: I was insensible to anything else in that one brief moment, until he broke the spell by shoving me roughly off of him and yelling at me that there was no tackling.
“I’m sorry, I tripped,” I mumbled, but I didn’t even care that he was mad at me. I just kept recreating that close, secret smell of him in my mind for the rest of the day and for as long as I was able to remember it for weeks afterward.
Eventually I fell asleep like that, but I was not to stay asleep for long. The storm had gathered nearer and a great crack of thunder woke me suddenly. The immense trees outside were bending and groaning under the wind and I was terrified of a heavy branch ripping through the window and impaling me. The floorboards in my room creaked. Or did they? Or was it just the trees? I could swear the noise had originated from inside my room, but with the wind crashing and lashing at the trees and the rain and the thunder I couldn’t be completely sure. All alone as I was in this big strange empty building I was paralyzed with fear. Was someone there? A flash of lightning that was gone before I realized it had happened illuminated the room for a split second – was that the silhouette of a person? Of a man? Adrenaline surged through me and I bolted upright fumbling for the lamp as I gasped horrendously for air. Mercifully I found the switch and was able to see. The room was empty. Or was it? I tentatively pushed the covers back and gingerly stepped down onto the floor. I lowered myself onto my hands and knees and inspected underneath both beds. Nothing. I crept across the room to open the closets. Nobody. But there was the little bathroom. Had I left the door shut like that earlier? I couldn’t remember. I crept stealthily across the room and steeled myself for who or what might be in there. I flung the door open and….empty.
Filled with relief, I flopped back down into my little bed. But what had I seen? I tried to think rationally. It must have been the tail end of a dream and I was getting confused thinking that I had actually seen something after I had woken. And because I had been reading all about crazy old vengeful women creeping about empty mansions right before I fell asleep... it was no wonder I thought I was seeing people in my room during a storm! I felt ridiculous for being so frightened by nothing, by a dream, but I left the lamp on anyway for the rest of the night.
I awoke early the next morning to the bright sunshine streaming in through the window. I realized I could open it to let some fresh air into the musty, stale room. The window opened out wide enough for me to easily push my head and shoulders outside and I could see the ground was littered with leaves and twigs and even some bigger branches from last night’s storm. A lot of the trees were probably a hundred years old and taller than the building. There was a good mixture of conifers and deciduous varieties and one was even so close to my window I thought that in a pinch I might be able to climb out onto the ledge and into it and down onto the ground if I ever needed to. A dangerous escape route, but like my mother’s blank check, good to have in case of emergency.
I tiptoed down the hallway in my bathrobe to the communal shower room. The large white tiles and chrome shower heads were terribly institutional looking and I couldn’t imagine enjoying long, lingering hot showers in there. Get in and get out would be more like it. I reached out and twisted the tap for the water to come on. Nothing. Had I turned it the wrong way? And then a blast of icy cold water! I jumped back but it was too late – the front of my robe was soaked! I retreated some more and found a hook to hang it on as I waited for the water to heat u
p.
And there I was, as naked as the day I was born, clutching my little wire basket of shampoos and soaps, when I heard the door to the shower room open. This time there was no doubt. It was not dark, there was no gathering storm and I hadn’t just finished filling my head with spooky tales of gothic mansions. But who could it be?
“Hello?” I called out as I dropped my toiletries and pulled my cold, wet robe around me.
“Who’s there?” the voice of an older woman with a vaguely foreign accent demanded.
I poked my head around the wall and saw the cleaning lady. Oh thank goodness! Just the cleaning lady!
“Hello,” I smiled awkwardly, “You frightened the life out of me!”
“YOU frightened ME! What are you doing here, young lady? School doesn’t start for several days. Nobody comes to the dorms so early!” Her tone was accusatory.
“Oh. Well,” I searched for an explanation. She seemed so irrationally angry that I was here! “I’m from out of state. It was my mother, it was hard to get flights...” Why was I here so early?
“I see,” she looked me up and down. “Just mind you don’t make too much of a mess. You clean up after yourself now.” And with that she began muttering to herself in her own tongue and banged out of the room.
Well, I thought, at least the water’s hot now.
After I showered and dressed, I decided to walk around the campus and explore the grounds. They were beautiful – sprawling green lawns edged with hedgerows and canopied with beautiful trees of all kinds – massive oaks, chestnuts, walnut trees, pines, cedars, and sugar maples – and those were just the ones I could identify. The lawns were connected by a network of curving stone pathways that wound around and through all the sections of the campus. My heavy heart was lifted some by how pretty and green and fragrant it all was, but when I happened upon an exquisite English rose garden tucked away behind one building I rested for a while on a stone bench and indulged myself in a little weeping for my missed life.
Haunted Page 1
