by Amy Cross
Closing my eyes, I whisper a prayer of thanks to God.
“So what are you saying?” Jonathan asks, sounding extremely irritated. “Do you believe her wild stories?”
“You didn't bring me here to make a determination as to whether or not such creatures exist,” he replies. “You brought me here to determine whether your wife is sane. I believe that she is, and I cannot imagine any circumstance in which she would hurt your daughter. Beyond that, I cannot explain what is happening. I wish you and your wife nothing but the best.”
Jonathan mutters something that I do not quite catch, and then I hear the front door opening.
“I very much hope not,” Doctor Havenhand says, responding to whatever my husband just told him. “That approach is clearly not working. Locking your wife away will solve nothing, Mr. Lannister, but I respect your right to determine what happens in your own home. I only hope that, sooner rather than later, you decide to leave this house. Perhaps a change of scenery would be beneficial.”
I do not hear what Jonathan says in response to that suggestion, but I know full well that he would never countenance our departure. Lannister Hall is his family home, and there have been Lannisters here since the house was built more than two hundred years ago. Why, I believe that if the house caught fire, Jonathan would sooner burn than abandon the property.
A moment later, I hear the front door swing shut, followed by the sound of footsteps, and I realize with a hint of dread that Doctor Havenhand must have left.
I am at Jonathan's mercy once more.
I remain at the door, listening as his footsteps come this way. I can hear him muttering to himself, and I am quite certain that his conversation with Doctor Havenhand must have left him feeling rather troubled. I am sure that he expected the good doctor to confirm his suspicions. Indeed, it most likely did not cross his mind that he might possibly be contradicted in his belief that I am insane. Now he must come up with another solution. I am quite sure that he will not be -
Suddenly I hear a scream of rage, and something smashes against the other side of the door.
Startled, I step back as I realize that Jonathan must have thrown something. One of the vases, perhaps. Indeed, when I look down, I see a puddle of water slowly starting to spread through the gap at the door's bottom.
I listen to Jonathan storming away, and then to the sound of him going up the stairs, and finally I hear a door slamming somewhere far off in the house.
Hearing laughter outside, I suddenly turn and look toward the window. I hesitate, but then I hear the laughter again, and I hurry over just in time to see my darling Milly playing at the far end of the garden. She's chasing a butterfly, laughing as she goes, and for a moment my heart is filled with joy.
She knows nothing of my troubles.
Does she ask after me?
She must, and I wonder how Jonathan explains my absence. Milly is a clever girl and she must be aware that I am here, that I am locked away in this side of the house. Joy turns to fear as I begin to wonder whether Milly thinks that I am choosing to stay away from her. The thought makes my heart break, but then – as I continue to watch her play – I try to reach out with my mind and reassure her.
If she would just look this way, I could offer her a smile and a wave. Then she'd see. Then she'd know.
She runs out of sight, although I hear her laughing for a few more seconds. Evidently she is enjoying herself, and it is as if she barely thinks of me at all. Perhaps that is for the best, at least while I am isolated here in this side of the house.
I only hope that soon we are reunited, and that we can all put these horrible days behind us.
V
“Mummy, help me!”
Startled away by the cry, I sit up in darkness. Rain is crashing down, hitting the window beside me, and for a moment I tell myself that Milly's scream was all part of some dreadful dream.
And then I hear it again.
“Mummy!”
Scrambling out of bed, I almost trip and fall as I hurry dazed and terrified across the room. I have no idea of the time. I know only that I spent many helpless hours trying to sleep, only to drift off and then to be woken by the sound of my daughter in distress.
“Mummy!” she screams in the distance. “Help!”
“I'm coming!” I shout, hurrying along the dark corridor until I reach the door at the far end.
I try the handle, but of course the door has been nailed shut. I try several more times, before taking a step back as I try to determine what – if anything – I can do to break my way through. Finally, realizing that I am far too weak, I determine that my only option is to escape via the window.
I head through to the old pantry, and then I take hold of a chair and raise it above my head. I bring the chair crashing down against the window, shattering the glass, and then I immediately throw the chair aside and begin to climb out into the rain. In my haste, I press my hands against pieces of broken glass that remain stuck in the frame, but I ignore the pain as I finally drop down into the flower bed and then stumble out onto the path that runs along the side of the house.
I'm already soaked by the time I get to the kitchen door, which of course is locked.
Somewhere deep inside the house, Milly screams again.
Realizing that I shall have to break another window, I look around for something that I can use. I should have brought the chair with me, but a moment later I notice one of the small statues that Jonathan insisted on placing out her many years ago. I hurry over and pick the statue up, struggling with its weight, and then I slam the base against the window, breaking the glass.
“I'm coming!” I shout as I start climbing through.
Again, my hands cut against shards of glass.
Again, I ignore the pain.
I let out a gasp as I drop down onto the floor, and then I immediately get to my feet and start hurrying across the darkened kitchen. Reaching the doorway, I stop for a moment and listen to the silence of the house. For a moment I hear only the rain outside, and I begin to wonder whether I was mistaken when I heard Milly's voice.
“Mummy!” she sobs, and I turn to look at the staircase. “Get it off me!”
I hurry across the hallway and up the stairs, desperate to get to Milly. There is precious little light in the house, but I can just about see as I head along the landing. I can hear a series of loud bumping sounds now, and when I get to Milly's bedroom door I see that her bed is empty.
“Mummy!”
Startled, I realize that she's under the bed, so I head over and drop to my knees.
“What happened?” I ask, reaching for her. “Are you okay, my darling?”
“Make him go away!” she yells.
“Make who go away?”
“The scary man!”
“What scary man?”
“He was in my room!” she cries. “I woke up and he was standing by my bed! He was laughing at me!”
I look around the room. It's dark in here, of course, but I am reasonably sure that there is nobody in here. After a moment, I glance at the open door, and I suddenly realize that Jonathan should be here. He is presumably in the master bedroom, which is only across the hall. If I heard Milly from all the way through in the other side of the house, then Jonathan most certainly should have heard her even if his door is shut.
“Mummy, is he still there?” Milly sobs. “Please, Mummy, he was so scary!”
“It's fine now,” I tell her. “Please, come out. I'll protect you.”
“Are you sure?”
“With all my heart and more,” I continue breathlessly. “My darling, you must trust me and come out immediately.”
I wait, and after a moment she begins to crawl out. She looks utterly terrified as she glances around, and then she looks up at me.
“I'm here,” I tell her calmly. “See? Mummy's here.”
She looks around again, as if she expects some fearful creature to come rushing at her from the shadows at any moment.
&nb
sp; “Where's your father?” I ask.
“I don't know,” she whimpers. “I haven't seen him since he put me to bed.”
I look around again, and I cannot understand where Jonathan can be. He would surely have come running if he had heard Milly, and he could not fail to hear her from anywhere in the house. At the same time, I know that he can be nowhere else, especially on a night when the weather is so bad.
“Come along,” I say finally, scooping Milly up into my arms and then lifting her from the floor. “It's okay.”
“Mummy, you're wet.”
“I know,” I reply as I begin to carry her from the room. “I'm sorry. Let's just get you out of here and then -”
Before I can finish, I hear a sudden loud bump coming from the master bedroom. I look over at the door, which is slightly open now. Was it that way before? I'm sure I saw that it was closed, but perhaps not. I hesitate for a moment, with Milly still in my arms, and then I hear another bump, this time accompanied by what sound like a faint gasp.
“Mummy,” Milly whispers, “I'm scared.”
“It's okay, darling,” I reply, hoping to hide my own fears as I step toward the door.
Milly clings to me even tighter than before.
Reaching the door, I use my right foot to gently nudge it open, and I'm immediately shocked to see that everything is in disarray. Items have been thrown from the dressing table, and several chairs have been left overturned. When I look at the bed, I'm horrified to see that the sheets have been pulled away and left on the floor.
A moment later, hearing a faint sobbing sound, I turn and see that the wardrobe door has been left open.
“Jonathan?” I whisper, before stepping closer.
“Mummy, please!” Milly cries. “I want to go!”
I open my mouth to tell her that she's perfectly safe, but at that moment I realize that my worst fears are coming true. There is indeed somebody hiding in the wardrobe, and when I ease the door open I'm horrified to see Jonathan cowering in the dark, his eyes filled with horror and he trembles violently.
“Help me!” he sobs. “He was by my bed! Catherine, please... Don't let him get me!”
Part Six
Katie Sinclair
I
Thick fog hangs low across the garden. It's almost 7am and I'm sitting on a step at the rear of the house, drinking a cup of coffee and watching as the world slowly brightens.
I saw a ghost last night.
A real ghost.
I've been waiting my whole life for something like this. For the chance to believe that the dead are still around. That they can maybe be contacted. And now that the opportunity is here, I feel as if I should be jumping for joy. In reality, I'm absolutely terrified. Not of seeing more ghosts, however.
I'm terrified of not seeing one particular ghost.
***
“Hey,” I say as I stop in the doorway and see Josh working at the other end of the room. “Busy?”
He glances at me, and I can instantly see that he's still troubled.
“Just the usual,” he says, turning back to the wall, which he's scanning with his phone. “I thought it might be nice to be boring for a few hours this morning.”
“I brought you some coffee,” I say as I set a cup down on the dressing table. “I wasn't sure if you prefer that or tea.”
“Coffee's great. Thanks.”
“So this was a bedroom, right?” I continue, stepping further into the room and looking around. “The master bedroom, judging by the size. I guess most of the other bedrooms were abandoned a long time before the house itself was sealed up. So much for a family that used to have lots of servants, huh? I guess, by the end, the Lannisters were shadows of their former selves.”
I see an old, oak wardrobe at the far end, and then I turn and see a pretty striking four-posted bed. I guess this must be where Jonathan and Catherine Lannister slept. Given all the drama surrounding their lives, it's quite sobering to think of them going about their ordinary lives in here.
“It's okay to be a little freaked out,” I say, turning back to Josh. “I'll be honest, I didn't really sleep last night. Not much. I mean, I had a scanner next to me. I would've been woken if the ghost of Catherine Lannister had come within twenty feet of me, I'd have been properly warned, but still, I felt...”
My voice trails off as I think back to the figure we saw last night.
“After we're done here,” I continue, “I'm going to go and look for my mother.”
He turns to me.
“She died when I was a kid,” I explain, and I must admit that I'm surprising myself by being so open. “She always said that if she could come back and see me again, she would. I've never seen or heard anything, but after she died I was sent to live with my grandparents at the other end of the country. So I've been thinking that now we know ghosts are real, I'm going to go back to the house where my mother and I lived. Where she died. Maybe she's still there. Maybe she's waiting for me.”
“Not everyone comes back as a ghost,” he points out.
“I know.”
“And you wouldn't be able to talk to her.”
“I know that too. I think.” I pause for a moment. “Just seeing her would be enough. My memory of her is slightly hazy. I have photos, of course, but I'd like to see her again. Even if it's just one final time. I'd be like seeing a movie.”
“And you don't mind the idea of her haunting some place?”
I open my mouth to tell him that I'm fine with the idea, but then I realize that I shouldn't kid myself.
“Maybe I think I can talk to her, then,” I say finally. “You got me. I admit it, I still harbor a hope that we can somehow communicate with ghosts. That they're not just... echoes of people who were once alive. That they're still somehow conscious. I guess I just want to believe that somehow my mother's still out there somewhere. I don't know what form she might have taken, or anything like that. I just want to know that she's somewhere.”
“Is that why you're here?” he asks. “To check that out for yourself?”
“Partly. What about you?”
“I'm just here for the CV bump,” he replies, turning back to the wall and tapping gently against the plaster. “Working here, with Carter, could really help me get a good job.”
“And that's all it's about for you?”
“Don't pretend you're not interested in career advancement too,” he says, before tapping at the wall again. “Everyone has to eat.”
“Do you really think she looked at you last night?” I ask.
He glances at me, and the answer is in his eyes.
“Did you do anything in particular that you think might have attracted her attention?” I ask. “I'm not saying that I disbelieve you. I've had all night to think about it, and I'm sure you're right. I just can't help wondering what made the ghost of Catherine Lannister look at you.”
“Besides my boyish good looks?”
I can't help but roll my eyes.
“I'm just trying to get to the logic of it all,” I explain. “Catherine Lannister didn't look at me, or at Doctor Carter. But she looked at you.”
He shrugs as he continues to tap at the wall, and after a moment the tapping sound suddenly changes.
“Hello,” he says, setting his phone down and picking up a set of tool from the floor. “I was right. We have a secret panel.”
“What made you look for a secret panel here?” I ask, stepping closer.
“The layout of the room wasn't right. The layouts of several rooms were off, actually. This is just the first one I've been looking at.”
He takes a chisel and starts chipping away at the wallpaper.
“Are you sure we're allowed to do that?” I ask. “I'm pretty sure Doctor Carter specifically said that we're not allowed to cause any -”
Before I can finish, a section of the wall comes away, revealing what seems to be some kind of hatch. Stepping closer, I see that the wallpaper's intricate pattern must have hidden the hatch's edges,
and I watch with a growing sense of curiosity as Josh carefully pulls the section of wall aside.
“There's something in here,” he says, setting the piece of wall on the floor before taking his phone and shining a beam of light into the dark space. He leans down to get a better look. “It's some kind of -”
He stops suddenly, and for a moment he says nothing.
“Crap,” he says finally, his voice filled with shock. “What's going on in this place?”
“What do you mean?” I ask, heading over and kneeling next to him.
And then, before I can ask another question, I peer into the gap behind the wall. To my horror, I see a withered human face staring back out at me.
II
“Absolutely fascinating,” Doctor Carter says a short while later, as he leans further into the gap. “Obviously this was a child. There's some hair left and it's long, which would suggest a girl.”
He leans even closer.
“I'm no medical examiner,” he continues, “but even I can see that there's distinct damage to the neck. A rather nasty break, it would appear. I suppose we at least have a candidate for cause of death.”
“Why is there a little kid hidden in the walls of the house?” Josh asks, and it's clear that he's once again freaking out. “Did nobody think to warn us about this?”
“I imagine the child has been left undisturbed for many years,” Doctor Carter replies. “Millicent Lannister, the daughter of Catherine and Jonathan, was never accounted for. Just like her father. Obviously we mustn't jump to conclusions, but it's not difficult to assume that this bundle of bones, hair and dried skin must indeed belong to young Millicent.”
“Millicent had a peg leg, according to the historical records,” I point out. “That should make it pretty easy to identify her.”
“Plus, we have descendants of the Lannisters who are still alive today,” Doctor Carter says. “A DNA test shouldn't be too difficult to arrange I'm sure the family would like to get come closure on this matter.”
