Colton Manor

by Carroll, Francene

  His words were reasonable enough, but his tone was condescending and Ursula felt another flicker of annoyance. She guessed he was used to talking to students this way and of thinking of himself as the fount of all knowledge, so she tried not to take it personally. “You don’t need to concern yourself with any of this or you’ll never get to sleep. I still can’t believe Bonnie told you at all. What was she thinking?”

  “She thought she was doing the right thing.”

  “By scaring you out of your mind?”

  “You know, just because you don’t believe in ghosts or anything supernatural it doesn’t mean they don’t exist. Plenty of people have experiences that can’t be explained and believe that spirits can become trapped on this plane.”

  He titled his head back and appraised her for a moment. “When you say ‘plenty of people’ I take it you’re referring to yourself?”

  “As a matter of fact I am.”

  “Don’t tell me you’ve really seen the ghosts of Colton Manor? I was only joking earlier. I guess that explains why you were so keen for me to move in straight away.” He laughed and shook his head in disbelief at her naivety. This time Ursula felt more than a flicker of annoyance.

  “What makes you so certain ghosts aren’t real or that there aren’t things out there we don’t yet understand?”

  “When science can prove beyond a doubt that ghosts exist, that’s when I’ll believe in them. Until that day I will continue to be sceptical about everything to do with the supernatural.”

  “Isn’t that a little narrow-minded?”

  “Not at all. I’m a scientist, and on top of this I saw my own mother sucked in by psychics and mediums who milked her for every cent they could get. It got to the point where she wouldn’t make a move without consulting one. I grew up completely rejecting all of that.”

  “That’s understandable, I suppose, but haven’t you ever had those experiences where you think about someone and then out of the blue you see them or they call? Or what about dreams that come true?”

  “Yes, everyone has those, but there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for them. Do you know how many thoughts run through your mind every single minute of the day? According to the laws of probability it’s only to be expected that every now and then you’ll think of someone or dream about something that actually happens. In reality it’s just coincidence, and there’s nothing mystical about it.”

  “What about haunted houses where dozens of people have seen the same ghost? I’ve been to one of these houses and you can just sense there’s something there, it’s in the air.” She sounded like she was grasping at straws even to her own ears. The wine had numbed her brain and she couldn’t put her words together very well. She just wanted to wipe the smug expression off Damien Knight’s face, but if anything she was confirming everything he thought about people who believe in ghosts.

  “Seriously, Ursula, you need to grow up and stop being so gullible.” Her eyes widened in shock at his words. Even though he was smiling she couldn’t help taking offence at being called gullible by someone she barely knew. She stood up abruptly, knocking her empty wine glass over and nearly sending it flying off the table.

  “Maybe you’re the one who should grow up and stop being so judgemental of people who don’t think exactly like you. I’m going to bed now.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you,” he called after her, but she didn’t bother to reply. “Goodnight then, watch out for the ghosts.” She could hear him laughing to himself as she made her way up the stairs in the darkness. It was only when she was halfway up that she realised the significance of what he had told her. One of the women who was rumoured to haunt the house had died when she fell from a cliff, and just that afternoon she had drawn a picture of a woman who seemed to be falling. Behind her a dark figure had loomed.

  Ursula quickened her pace, trying not to let her imagination get the better of her or she knew she wouldn’t get any sleep that night. Once in her room she distracted herself by listening to music as she got ready for bed. It took a while for her to calm down, and she was very glad when she heard Damien pass her door a short time later and go into his own room.

  He’d chosen the bedroom right next to hers because it had the best view, and despite his very annoying know-it-all attitude, she was very glad he was so close by that night. His scepticism also helped to put things into perspective. Maybe she really was reading too much into things and being gullible. It wasn’t the first time she’d been accused of this.

  As she closed her eyes she couldn’t help thinking about how sexy he was, even when he was talking down to her. He hadn’t mentioned anything about a girlfriend, and she wondered if he found her attractive too. When she realised where her thoughts were going she rolled over and tried to think of something else besides his blue eyes and killer smile, but she didn’t have much luck. He was still in her thoughts as she fell asleep.

  ****

  It seemed she’d just drifted off when Ursula was woken by a loud crashing sound from downstairs. She sat up with a start. When she heard nothing more she got out of bed and opened the door slowly to peer out. There was nothing in the hall and after listening intently for a couple of seconds she made her way to Damien’s room to find out if he’d been woken up by it too. His door was wide open, and Ursula laughed out loud with relief. He was probably just fixing himself a midnight snack and had knocked something over in the unfamiliar kitchen, she told herself. She decided to go downstairs to check on him anyway.

  When she got to the bottom of the stairs the whole ground floor was in darkness, and there was no strip of light showing under the kitchen door as she’d expected. She pushed it open and turned on the light, not knowing what she was going to find. The kitchen was in exactly the same state as they had left it, and Damien was nowhere to be seen. For a moment she stood there helplessly, unsure of what to do next. When she remembered that one of Edward Stanton’s wives had died in here, a cold shiver ran through her.

  “Damien, are you down here? Did you make that noise?” Her words echoed in the silence but there was no reply.

  She was about to look in the living room when she noticed that the door to the cellar was slightly ajar. Usually it was closed and the key was left in the lock. She’d never been in there before because there was no need, but when she heard a muffled sound coming from the darkness she had no choice but to investigate. Damien could have gone down there and hurt himself. He could be lying down there injured for all she knew.

  With trepidation she pulled the door open and saw that there was a very faint light at the bottom of the steep stairs.

  “Damien,” she called again, holding onto the wooden railing tightly as she descended into the musty space. “Damien, are you down here?” Again there was no reply, but Ursula thought she saw something moving in the dim light, then Damien emerged from darkness and walked up the stairs towards her. She was relieved to see that he wasn’t hurt but her relief did not last long as she got a better look at him. The expression on his face chilled her to the bone. He seemed like a completely different person to the man she had eaten dinner with just a few hours earlier.

  “There you are,” he said, advancing towards her aggressively. Ursula began to back up the stairs in alarm. “What have you done with it?”

  “Done with what? What are you talking about, Damien? Why are you down here?”

  “Don’t play games with me, woman. What have you done with my money?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re really starting to freak me out.” He just stared at her for a long moment and then he shook his head and looked around in confusion.

  “What’s going on? Where I am?”

  Ursula didn’t reply but quickly backed up the stairs into the kitchen. He followed her, and in the light he looked disoriented but much more like his normal self. He rubbed at his eyes and then pulled out a chair to sit down.

  “Please tell me what’s going on,” he said
. “How did I get here?”

  “I heard a noise and when I came downstairs to find out what it was I found you in the cellar, at the bottom of the stairs. You kept asking me what I’d done with your money. Don’t you remember?”

  “I have no memory of anything up to a couple of minutes ago. This is crazy, I’ve never walked in my sleep before in my life. I’m sorry, Ursula, that must have been terrifying for you.”

  “A little. Let me make you a cup of tea, you’ll feel better” Damien still looked dazed as they sat at the table sipping tea a short time later.

  “I finished off the rest of that wine after you went to bed, so I think that must have had something to do with it. I was a bit drunk. Plus being in a strange house wouldn’t have helped either,” he said. He was obviously trying to reassure himself, and Ursula did not want to upset him by bringing up the subject of ghosts again.

  “Yes, I’m sure that must be it,” she replied, smothering a yawn.

  Damien focused his eyes on her face properly for the first time since she’d found him in the cellar. “Sorry for waking you up, we really should go back to bed now. It’s lucky neither of us have to work tomorrow.”

  “True, but I need to get up early and get some painting done or I’ll never be finished in time for my exhibition. We should definitely go to bed together.” For a moment there was a stunned silence between them as Ursula struggled to come up with a way to extract her foot from her mouth. “I meant to say we should definitely go to bed now, to sleep, that is. Separately, not together. You know what I mean.”

  Damien just smiled at her clumsy attempt to recover, and Ursula suddenly became conscious of the fact that she was dressed only in a sheer nightgown. She’d been so spooked by the noise downstairs she hadn’t even thrown a dressing gown on, and Damien was wearing just a pair of boxers and a t-shirt. Sitting with him like this in the middle of the night was starting to feel very intimate.

  “Yes, let’s go to bed. Separately that is,” he said with a grin as he got up and pushed his chair in. Her little Freudian slip had at least helped to take his mind off sleep walking. Ursula followed him out of the kitchen and to the stairs. They climbed the stairs side by side, their shoulders brushing together lightly, and it really did feel to Ursula as if they were if they were going to bed together. When they neared the landing they glanced at each other at the same time and then quickly looked away. This time the chill that ran down Ursula’s spine was much more pleasant. They paused awkwardly when they reached her bedroom door.

  “Listen, thanks for being so understanding about my sleep-walking episode,” said Damien. “I doubt it will happen again, but just to be on the safe side maybe you should lock your door.”

  “Oh don’t worry about it, it was just one of those things and I’m sure you’ll be fine. See you in the morning.”

  “Goodnight.” They both lingered for a few seconds, and then he reached out as if to give her a friendly pat on the shoulder. To Ursula’s surprise he pulled her in close to him and his mouth found hers. Before she could decide if she was ready to take this step with him she was already returning the kiss. At first he was gentle but his kiss grew harder, more demanding, and his hand moved down to cup her breast. She felt her nipples grow firm under the insistent pressure of his hand, but when he started to pull her nightgown up she snapped back to her senses. This was moving way too fast for her.

  “I think we’d better stop there,” she said, pushing him away. “This probably isn’t a great idea considering we just met today and we have to live together.” His other hand was wound through her hair but instead of releasing it, his grip tightened. She feared he wasn’t going to let her go, and for just a second she thought she saw the same look in his eye she’d seen in the cellar.

  A bolt of fear shot through her. Who was this man really? The truth was she’d let a complete stranger into her home and she had no idea if Bonnie had told her the truth about anything. She didn’t even know if Bonnie was who she claimed to be. She’d let her fear of ghosts overcome even basic common sense. She couldn’t believe she’d been so utterly stupid, but in the next second the expression was gone and his grasp relaxed, leaving Ursula to wonder if she’d just imagined it.

  “God, I don’t know what’s wrong with me tonight. I’m usually not like this at all,” he said, looking genuinely embarrassed.

  “It must be this house causing us to behave in ways that are out of character. Maybe it’s the ghosts,” said Ursula, only half joking.

  Damien chose to ignore her comment. “You’re a very attractive girl, there’s no doubt about that, but you’re right, it’s a bad idea to get involved with a housemate, and you are much too young for me anyway. Please forgive me for overstepping the mark.”

  “Hey, I wasn’t exactly repulsed, in case you didn’t notice, but we really shouldn’t get involved with each other, it could get very uncomfortable. Goodnight.” With a quick smile she ducked into her bedroom and closed the door, remembering his advice to lock it behind her. As she climbed into her bed Ursula had very mixed feelings about the events of the evening. She knew from past experience that getting romantically involved with housemates nearly always ended badly, but despite his strange behaviour she couldn’t help toying with the idea of having some fun with Damien Knight.

  It wasn’t like they had to live together indefinitely; she was only here for just over five weeks and then she’d probably never see him again. She deserved to get some enjoyment out of her holiday, and there was nothing wrong with a harmless fling with a sexy older man. Then she remembered the expression on his face when she found him in the cellar, and the way he’d gripped her hair so tightly for a second that it hurt. First thing in the morning she was going to call the real estate agent and confirm Bonnie and Damien’s identity before she did anything else.

  Chapter Three

  Ursula had a hard time falling asleep after her encounter with Damien, and when she woke up the next morning he was the first thing on her mind. He really was a very good kisser and the idea of being with an older man intrigued her. She’d only ever dated boys her own age but Damien had so much more life experience, and he was so different to the type she normally went for. She was looking forward to seeing him, and she hoped things wouldn’t be too awkward between them after their kiss. She made some breakfast and then boiled the kettle, expecting him to appear at any moment, but by ten o’clock he still hadn’t surfaced.

  She took the opportunity to phone the real estate agency, and Yvette confirmed that everything Bonnie had told her was true. Damien had also left his wallet on the kitchen bench and she couldn’t resist taking a peek inside. His license showed that his name really was Damien King and he lived in town.

  When he still hadn’t made an appearance by eleven Ursula went into her studio and tried to do some painting. Her major inspiration was Monet and she was working on an impressionistic picture of a garden in bloom, but for some reason she just couldn’t get it right. Usually her pieces were bright and upbeat, but lately she’d found a lot of darker colours creeping in. She assumed it was because of the depressing weather, which was grey and rainy once more. She let out a sigh when she realised she probably wouldn’t make it down to the beach again today.

  It was almost midday when she finally heard Damien’s door open down the hall. Not wanting to look too eager to see him, she waited till a few moments had passed before she went downstairs to join him in the kitchen.

  “Good morning,” she said cheerfully as she pushed open the door. Damien was still dressed in boxer shorts and a t-shirt, but he’d put a blue dressing gown on over them. He looked tired and groggy. “Or should that be good afternoon?”

  “Morning,” he mumbled.

  “You look like you need a coffee.”

  “Yeah, I’ll make it.” He busied himself filling the kettle and setting out two cups. “What time is it anyway?”

  “Almost midday.” He stopped what he was doing and turned to stare at her.

  �
��You’re kidding? I never sleep in late.”

  “Check if you don’t believe me,” she replied, pointing at the wall clock behind him.

  He rubbed his eyes and ran his hands through his hair. “Wow, I must be coming down with something because I don’t feel very well at all.” When he didn’t mention anything about the previous night, Ursula decided he was probably embarrassed about the whole thing and she didn’t say anything either. He seemed to be in a bad mood, answering her questions in monosyllables and burying his head in an old newspaper. Taking the hint she went back upstairs to her studio and continued to paint. After a while she heard him go back to his room.

  They didn’t cross paths for the rest of the day, and he left the house at around three o’clock without saying anything to her. Ursula watched him get into his car and drive away. It was almost seven by the time he returned. She was in her bedroom when he knocked on the door. He looked much better than he had earlier in the day, and seemed to be in a much cheerier mood.

  “Hey, I know this is late notice but I was wondering if I could shout you to dinner in town if you haven’t already eaten. It’s my way of saying thanks for last night.” Ursula did not need to be asked twice. She had only been into town once since she’d arrived and she really needed to get out of the house and socialize.

  “Sure. Just give me a few minutes to get ready.” Opening the wardrobe door she picked out a pink and white polka dot 1950s halter neck dress with a white belt, teamed with a pair of kitten-heeled shoes she’d found in a flea market. It was the most conservative outfit she owned, but it was hard to look too conventional with multi-coloured hair. She and Damien would definitely make an odd looking pair, and she wondered if people would think they were a couple.

  She could tell from the look he gave her when she entered the living room that he approved, and when he held the car door open for her it felt like they were going on a real date, not just a dinner between housemates. The conversation was a little stilted at first, but as they drove around the winding road away from the house they both began to relax. The sun was setting over the ocean, and the mist had cleared for once, making it a lovely evening.