The Good Sisters

by Helen Phifer

  ‘Holy mother of God, what is happening in here? It’s like a bad day at the house of horrors.’

  It was Beatrice who spoke. ‘I can’t say exactly. What I do think is happening is the evil in the house has just been sent back to its hiding place for now by Agnes and Ellen – and because of your appearance, Joe. However, it’s getting stronger and they won’t be able to keep it at bay for much longer.’

  Kate groaned and Ollie gently patted her cheek. Her eyes flickered open. ‘What happened?’

  Father Joe stepped forward. ‘I have a feeling that the battle has commenced. There is a demon that lives in this house. It wants you, Kate. We need to get you out of here and somewhere safe until we can decide what to do about it.’

  Ollie nodded his head. He scooped Kate up into his arms. ‘I’m taking her to the hospital, then we’re going to my house. I’ll phone you both when we’re home and she’s feeling better. Thank you. I don’t understand what’s going on, but as soon as Kate is feeling better I need you to tell me everything.’

  ‘No hospital, please, Ollie. Take me to yours.’

  ‘Beatrice, can you phone and cancel the ambulance. Tell them she fainted, please, and we don’t need them. I live in the black and white Tudor house on the corner of Hollybrook Lane, if you want to follow us there you’re more than welcome. I think we need your help – both of you.’

  She nodded her head. Father Joe went first, followed by Ollie carrying Kate and Beatrice followed behind. They left the house to get into their cars. All four of them were terrified of what was happening and feeling helpless because they were involved whether they wanted to be or not. There was nothing they could do about it. Ollie managed to get Kate into his car for a second time.

  ‘I’m so sorry; I don’t even know what happened. I saw the blood and everything went fuzzy.’

  ‘You don’t need to be sorry. I think we have a much bigger problem with the house than either of us could ever have anticipated. Can you believe that Beatrice could see Ellen? It’s all so strange.’ He didn’t want to upset Kate by talking about Ellen too much. She was a big part of his life though and if they were to make a go of it he wanted to be able to mention her name. Kate reached out and grabbed his arm.

  ‘I really do believe the things she said. Ellen sounds like she was a lovely lady and I feel very privileged that she thinks I’m good enough for you. It’s so sweet that she wants you to be happy.’

  ‘She was amazing – and thank you for saying that. Who’d imagine my dead wife would turn into a matchmaker from the other side.’ He chuckled to himself.

  ***

  Kate sighed. She wished she knew what to do about the darkness inside her house. As she leant back against the leather car seat she felt the sharp corner of the diary that she’d put into her jeans pocket to show Beatrice.

  27 June 1940

  As Tony swung the car into the drive up to the convent, the sun was shining so brightly through the trees both men had to lift their hands to shield their eyes. As the car approached the house nothing looked out of the ordinary. The front gardens were filled with children and nuns. The laughter, shouts and screams were so loud you would never know the tragedy waiting behind the closed front door. The only sign anything was wrong was an older nun standing guard, wringing her hands and crying silent tears. The children, who were oblivious to them, carried on with their game of chase. Crosby got out of the car and hurried across to the distraught woman. Tony, who had no idea what was happening, followed him.

  ‘Thank you for coming so soon. I don’t know what to do. I can’t let the children go back inside the house because none of us are able to lift her down. Why would such a lovely young girl with her whole life ahead of her choose to end it so suddenly, without warning?’

  Isabella’s voice whispered in Crosby’s ear, ‘I did warn you though, didn’t I? But you were too scared to do anything and now you’ve had to come back to the house anyway and look at my cold, dead body.’ He shuddered.

  ‘I’m sorry for your loss. If you show me where she is, Constable Price will assist me in getting her down. I’ve asked for the local undertaker to come as soon as possible. Did Sister Isabella have any family?’

  The nun looked at him, her pale blue, watery eyes staring straight into the depths of his soul. ‘How did you know it was Isabella?’

  Crosby felt his skin burn as his starched white collar began to feel far too tight for his generous neck. He also saw Tony watching him closely from the corner of his eye. That’s right, how are you going to explain this one without letting the world know what a complete selfish, heartless bastard you are?

  ‘I, erm, I spoke to her earlier. She called at the church to speak to Father Patrick.’ As much as he didn’t want to tell them he had no choice.

  ‘What did she want, Sergeant?’

  ‘She came to ask about this place.’ He said it with such disgust it came out as a hiss. ‘Sister, this place should never be lived in. It’s not a good place to be. Things have happened here in the past – bad things – and we need to see about getting these children moved somewhere far more suitable before anything else happens.’

  ‘I’m not too sure what you mean. Are you saying that we’re all in danger?’

  Tony, whose mouth had dropped so far open he could catch flies, looked from his boss to the old woman, not believing what he was hearing.

  ‘Yes, Sister, I think you all are. We need to find suitable accommodation. I’ll tell the church this house is a crime scene now and until we’ve investigated Isabella’s death thoroughly no one can live here. Now let us go and pay our respects and make her more comfortable. Do you want to contact whoever it is you need to speak to? If needs be we can move you all to the village hall for now.’

  She nodded. ‘I’ll try. I’m not so sure they’ll agree, but I’ll try my very best. You know I’ve been having nightmares for the last few nights. I wake up in a cold sweat and my heart is racing, yet I can’t remember what they’re about.’

  Crosby felt his heart go out to this frail woman who reminded him of Agnes.

  ‘You don’t have to believe me, but I have no reason to lie. I’ve been to more deaths in this house than I have the entire village. Please make sure you leave as soon as you can.’

  He reached out and patted her shoulder, then turned and walked inside the much darker hall. It took a minute for his eyes to adjust to the gloom. Inhaling sharply when he saw the dangling figure of the beautiful Isabella, a pain shot through his heart. This was his fault, all his fault.

  ‘Jesus Christ Almighty, what a waste. Should we check to see if she’s still alive?’

  Crosby turned to look at Tony.

  ‘Really? If I thought she was alive I’d have run up there and dragged her back over single-handed. Do you think she looks as if she’s alive?’

  Her eyes were half open, her mouth slack with her tongue protruding from between her soft, full lips. Her beauty had been stripped away from her and she would forever be remembered as a grotesque marionette. Crosby began to walk up the stairs, his heart heavy. He felt so bad that he wanted to join her. His life was over now. What was there to live for? The guilt he felt over Isabella’s death would never leave him. A movement from the direction of the attic doorway caught his eye and for a split second he thought that Lilith was standing there watching them, having the last laugh. He wouldn’t be surprised if she was. He knew then that they hadn’t banished her, it, whatever it was for good, because it had been too easy.

  ‘Come on, stop gawping and give me a hand to pull her over. It’s not right. She looks…’

  ‘She looks scary; I’ll be having bad dreams about this for ever.’

  Crosby glared at him. ‘Will you have some respect? Less than two hours ago she was the most beautiful young lady I’d ever had the pleasure to meet.’

  The two men began to tug on the sheet, trying to pull her back over. Although she was only little she was a dead weight. The sweat was pouring from Crosby’s brow. />
  ‘I can’t do it. We’re going to have to wait for the funeral director and see what he suggests. Probably need a big ladder and a strapping, muscular bloke to cut her down and give her a fireman’s lift. Actually that’s not a bad idea. Ask if you can use the phone and ring the fire brigade. They might be able to help.’

  Twenty minutes later the undertakers arrived followed by the fire engine. The commotion outside of excited children signalled its arrival. Crosby, who was sitting on the top stair feeling ill, signalled for Tony to go and meet them. Minutes later the hall was filled with the sound of male voices. Once they realised the nun was still hanging there the silence was louder than the noise. Between them they managed to get her body down in as dignified a manner as they could.

  The undertakers had a coffin ready to put her in. Crosby, who couldn’t breathe properly, watched, unable to help. The nuns who were now aware of poor Isabella’s demise had ushered the children around to the back of the house so they wouldn’t have to watch her being carried out and put into the waiting hearse. The mother superior had come back inside and reached out for Crosby’s arm. He turned and she whispered, ‘They won’t let us leave until tomorrow. What are we to do?’

  ‘They have to. You can’t be here any longer. It’s not safe for anyone. Look at all these innocent children who they’re putting at risk. You need to get what supplies you have and we’ll go to the village hall. I’ll get Tony to go and open up, warm the place up a bit. I’ll see if I can get a bus up here to move everyone. Leave it with me. If we get the children away from this place first, you can send some of the nuns back up with me and some more of my constables to gather the supplies.’

  A piercing scream made Crosby freeze to the spot. Afraid to turn around and see what had happened, he forced himself to move. He ran to the front door and stared out into the gardens. Under the huge oak tree in the distance was a group of children and nuns. One of them was on the ground cradling a child. Crosby began to run towards them as fast as his bulky frame would let him. As he got nearer he had to push his way through the crowd to see the lifeless figure of a boy, no older than ten, being rocked back and forth by one of the nuns. He shook his head.

  ‘Come on now, you all need to move away and let me have some space.’

  Tony appeared.

  ‘Go get everyone from the station now. Call me an ambulance and tell the undertakers to come back. And get these kids away from here now.’

  30 June 1940

  Crosby, Tony and the mother superior stood outside the convent watching. They had already been inside to check nothing of importance was left behind. It had been the quickest walk-through of a property Crosby had ever conducted. The joiners had turned up in force, huge sheets of wood for every door and window. After some heated conversations between the archbishop and Crosby, it had eventually been agreed that the house would be emptied, boarded up, left secure and never inhabited again. Well not as long as Crosby was alive it wouldn’t. He would personally make sure of that.

  If anyone had told him that a house could harbour so much evil and kill such beautiful innocent people he would have laughed and told them they were nuts. He’d seen it though – more times than he wanted to remember. That house or that woman, demon, whatever she was had taken more lives than he wanted to believe could be possible. It was a house of death, a house of horrors and for some reason even God would not set foot inside it.

  The best thing would be to have it demolished, but the church wouldn’t agree to it. They said it was unethical. He’d argued that so was letting innocent people live inside there and die horrific deaths, but that hadn’t worked. The house would stay as it was, boarded up, and hopefully whatever evil lurked inside would eventually move on, get bored, and go find another house to overtake. He didn’t care as long as it wasn’t in this area. He was done with the convent. It had aged him and ruined his life.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Never had Ollie’s house looked so welcoming. All the way there he’d kept stealing glances at Kate who had sat with her head pressed against the glass, staring out of the window. He was at a loss. He didn’t know what to do about the situation. It wasn’t as if he could go into her house and tell whatever it was to get the hell out before he called the cops.

  All these years he’d watched horror films with Ellen, scoffing at how ridiculous they were and here he was in an actual situation like the ones he’d laughed at. It didn’t make any sense. He had no idea if Beatrice or the priest would follow him here. As much as he wanted to forget any of it had ever happened he was worried about Kate. She looked dreadful. Her arms needed dressing. He could smell the strong, coppery smell of the blood, which had seeped through her clothes, and it was making his stomach churn. As he parked outside he reached out and shook Kate’s arm.

  ‘Hey, how do you feel?’

  She shrugged. ‘Tired.’

  He got out and walked around to her side. He opened the door and helped her down, having to catch her as she lost her footing and almost made them both fall to the floor. One arm around her waist, he supported her as they walked to his front door. Once they were inside he took her to the kitchen where he then proceeded to turn on every light in the house. He ran upstairs to the bathroom to get the first aid kit, hoping he could patch her arms up once more. He also got one of his spare T-shirts for her to wear; he couldn’t stand to look at the dried, bloody mess that covered the one she had on. He went downstairs to find her slumped across the table.

  ‘Kate, please can I call the doctor to come and check you over? I’m worried about you.’

  ‘No, Ollie, I’m okay. I just need to sleep. I’m so tired and my arms are fucking smarting like a bitch. I don’t need anyone, okay? Just leave me alone.’

  Shocked by her change in behaviour he turned away. He was worried. This wasn’t the woman who he’d got to know and love over the last couple of months. He’d never heard her speak like this, not even when she was in the hospital or after that argument with Martin. She was always so upbeat, so determined not to let anything get her down. Yet here she was either sinking into a deep depression or there was something else wrong with her and he didn’t know what he should do.

  ‘Well at least let me clean up your arms and put some new dressings on; you can’t leave them like that.’

  She lifted her head so he could look at her arms. Ollie thought she looked different. Her eyes seemed much darker and the way she was watching him made him feel uncomfortable. He gently tugged off her top and she let him. The bandages on her arms were covered with now drying blood. After filling the washing bowl up with warm water he carried it over and began to bathe the blood around the wounds. When he’d finished he patted it dry and took two fresh bandages and began to wrap her arms up once more. When he’d finished he slipped his sweatshirt over her head. Her skin was so cold to the touch it shocked him.

  ‘Come on, Kate, why don’t you come upstairs and get in my bed? Snuggle up under the duvet and have a sleep. You might feel a lot better when you wake up.’

  He pressed two paracetamol out of a blister pack and handed them to her. ‘Take these. They should take away the smarting pain in your arms.’ He filled a glass with water and watched as she swallowed the tablets, along with a huge gulp of water.

  ‘Thank you, I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Ollie. I don’t feel right; I feel funny.’

  He wanted to tell her that she looked funny, but didn’t want to upset her any more than she already was.

  ‘You’ve had a busy few days, well few months. You’ve never stopped working since you bought the house. You’ve stopped drinking, which on its own makes anyone feel like shit. You’re amazing. A couple of hours and you’ll be right as rain.’

  She nodded. He reached out for her hand and began to lead her upstairs to his bedroom.

  ‘Are you coming to bed, Ollie?’

  He shook his head. ‘Nope, you need some undisturbed sleep. I might start snoring and then you’ll wake up and not be able to
get back off. I’ll come up in a few hours though if that’s okay.’

  ‘I’d like that.’

  He pulled back the duvet and he watched, feeling helpless and scared as she climbed in. Tucking her in, he bent down to kiss her forehead.

  ‘Sweet dreams.’

  She murmured, ‘I’m scared.’ Then closed her eyes.

  Ollie whispered, ‘I’m scared too.’

  He went back downstairs and saw two figures standing at his front door. He let Joe and Beatrice inside. Lifting one finger to his lips, he pointed upstairs and they both nodded. He led them into his kitchen at the far end of the house, waited until they were inside and then shut the door to muffle out the sound of their voices.

  ‘Kate’s gone for a lie-down. She doesn’t feel well and if I’m being honest she doesn’t look well. She looks different: her face doesn’t look as soft as it did. Her features look… God this sounds stupid, but they seem much harder. I sound as if I’m mental. I wish I knew what was going on and what I could do about it.’

  He breathed out as he finished speaking; it had come out without him stopping for air. Joe reached out and patted his arm.

  Beatrice spoke first. ‘We have no choice. That house is possessing Kate. I’ve never in my entire life come across a situation like this. I normally tell people their nearest and dearest loved them – even though they’d fallen out ten years ago. I’ve never been caught up in anything so intense and I’m not going to lie to you, I’m scared and not sure of the best way to go. This isn’t going to be straightforward. We need to exorcise the house.’