The Haunting of Caldgrave House

by Amy Cross

  The door shudders, but Maisie manages to keep it shut. Then there's another shudder, followed by another, and finally the cupboard door swings open. Maisie screams again, but I feel a rush of relief as I see that Linda is on her hands and knees, staring in at us with a shocked expression.

  “What's wrong?” she asks. “Maisie, what are you two doing in here?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Just take it,” Linda says, holding the glass of water out toward Maisie. A moment ago, she dissolved a small white pill in the water. “It'll do you good.”

  “But I'm not lying!” Maisie sobs. “I really did see a woman in the kitchen!”

  “Drink, honey.”

  “Why won't you believe me?” Maisie whimpers, kicking her legs on the beg in frustration. “Hugo saw her too! There was a woman in the kitchen and she -”

  Suddenly she bursts into tears, and Linda pulls her close for a hug. I want to go over and lick Maisie's hand, but ever since we came up to the master bedroom I've been watching the door and waiting to make sure there's no further hint of the broken-jawed woman coming after us.

  “Shush now,” Linda whispers as she holds the still-sobbing Maisie. “You had a fright, that's all. It must have been very scary with the lights off, and it's easy to get scared and think you've seen a -”

  “I didn't imagine it!” Maisie hisses, pulling away from her mother. “There was a woman in the kitchen! Her face was all horrible.” She reaches up and touches her jaw, trying to twist it to the side but not really succeeding. “The bottom of her mouth was all wrong and wide open, like this.” She opens her mouth even wider for a moment. “She was staring right at me!”

  “Have you been reading something you shouldn't?” Linda asks, reaching over and stroking the back of her head. “Or have you just got a very lively imagination?”

  “Why won't you believe me?” Maisie asks, sniffing back tears. “Why didn't you see her?”

  “I heard you calling out,” Linda replies, “and I came running. When I got to the kitchen -”

  “She was right there!”

  “Honey -”

  “No!” Maisie yells, pushing her mother's hand away. “You don't believe me! You never believe me! There was a woman in the kitchen with a cracked jaw and you think I'm making it up!”

  “Let's not fight,” Linda replies.

  “Hugo saw her!” Maisie continues, turning to me. “Didn't you, Hugo? You saw the woman!”

  She seems upset, so I let out a low, grumbling growl.

  “See?” Maisie says, turning back to Linda. “He did.”

  “Drink this,” Linda replies, holding the glass out to Maisie again. This time, Maisie reluctantly takes the glass and drinks the water. “That's good, honey. You'll feel a lot better after a night's sleep.”

  “It tasted funny,” Maisie says, handing the glass back to her.

  “Don't worry about that.” Linda reaches out to stroke Maisie's hair again, and this time her hand isn't pushed away. “We'll talk about it more in the morning. I'm sure you'll see things differently then. I'm not ignoring what you said because you're a little girl, Maisie. I'm just trying to get you to understand that sometimes we all have these little moments when we get fuzzy in our heads. You're over-tired, sweetheart.”

  “I know what I saw,” Maisie replies, sounding tired now. She turns away from Linda and settles on her side, and her eyes quickly close. “Can I sleep in here with you tonight?”

  “Sure you can.”

  “And can Hugo sleep in here too?”

  Linda sighs. “Sure. He has to go and do his business outside first, though.” She reaches over and tucks a curl of hair away from Maisie's face. “Sleep tight. This is all going to seem like nothing in the morning, I promise you.”

  She climbs off the bed, and I walk over to settle next to Maisie. Before I can do that, however, Linda suddenly picks me up and carries me across the room.

  “And you, Mr. Hugo,” she says as we reach the landing and head toward the stairs, “have to go for a wee before bedtime. I'm not having you peeing all over my nice new sheets.”

  ***

  “No no no,” Linda says as she puts a leg in my way, blocking my path as I try to go back into the house, “pee first, and then you can come in. Go on, Hugo. Do me a wee-wee.”

  I try to slip past her leg, but she's too quick for me.

  “Hugo,” she says firmly, “wee-wee.”

  Realizing what she wants, I turn and head across the porch, and then I go down the wooden steps until I reach the muddy yard. It's freezing out here and there's a lot of fog around, which means I can't even see the trees in the distance. I glance in all directions, to make sure that there's no sign of anyone, and then I sniff the air. There are plenty of smells tonight, but they're all things that I'd expect to be out here. Mud and plants and bugs, just normal stuff. Still, I sniff for a moment longer before turning around and starting to inspect the bottom of the steps, and finally I lift my leg and wee as high up the side of the wood as I can manage.

  This house is protected.

  Once I'm done, I hurry up the steps and then I stop to look out again across the yard. There's no sign of anyone, and there's definitely no smell to indicate that someone is close, although I keep thinking back to the fact that some of the people around this house seem to have no odor at all. That makes it so much harder for me to know if they're close, and tonight I really let my guard down and allowed the broken-jawed woman to creep right up behind Maisie. It was my fault that my owner almost got hurt, and I have to make sure that I don't make any more mistakes. Still, there's clearly no-one out here, so I finally turn and head back into the house. I'll go up and sit next to Maisie all night, and I won't sleep until I'm certain that the broken-jawed woman is gone forever.

  “Hey, Hugo,” Linda says as I pass the kitchen door, “have you been fed this evening? Do you want food?”

  As soon as I hear that word, I turn and look over at her.

  She's sitting at the table with one of those bright screens in front of her. A laptop, I think is the word that she and Michael and Maisie use for those things.

  “Sorry,” she says, getting up and going to one of the cupboards, “I was just doing some reading. Let me sort you out with a bowl of food. I think in all the craziness, I forgot earlier.”

  Food.

  She said that word again.

  I want to go up and sit with Maisie, but Linda's already scooping some food into a bowl and I suppose I could spare a few seconds. The smell is already wafting over to me, and I take a few cautious steps into the kitchen as Linda mashes the food.

  “Busy night, huh?” she mutters, sounding tired. She puts the tin of food away, before turning to me. “You know, little dude, sometimes you're the only one I can talk to. I've been having this recurring dream lately, and do you know what? You're in it. So's Maisie, but she's different. And you're both in here, and I don't remember all of the dream but there's something about the basement and -”

  Suddenly the lights flicker off again, but only for a second.

  “You've got to be kidding me,” Linda says with a sigh, looking up toward the ceiling just as the bulb flickers again. “Sometimes I feel like this house is testing me.”

  As she says those words, the lights flicker off again for a few more seconds, leaving her silhouetted against the window.

  “And there we go again,” she says, sighing again. “Great house, isn't it? Almost -”

  Suddenly I see a hand outside, and I immediately start barking as the hand taps against the glass. Filled with fury and anger, I race toward the window and continue barking as the hand pulls away, and then Linda starts to turn just as the lights flicker back on.

  “Hugo, what's wrong?” she asks. “Hugo, be quiet! You're going to wake Maisie.”

  Ignoring her, I bark at the window for a few more seconds before hurrying through to the hallway and stopping in front of the door, which is still open. I bark at the night air, before Linda comes t
hrough and swings the door shut.

  “You're giving me the creeps, Hugo,” she says as she slides the bolt across. “What's gotten into you?”

  As I continue to bark, she turns and cups her hands around her eyes, and then she peers out at the dark yard.

  “There's nothing out there,” she continues, turning back to me. “Hugo, you're not helping here. I've just managed to get Maisie off to sleep, so will you please be quiet?”

  With that, she picks me up and starts carrying me up the stairs. I bark a couple more times, but then I realize that I must have scared the hand away. Still, my heart is pounding and I'm convinced that the odorless people are around, so I know I'll have to stay by Maisie's side all night. And then tomorrow, Linda and Michael will have to realize that something's very wrong in this house.

  Chapter Nineteen

  I hear a car door slam shut, and then the sound of footsteps in the yard. My ears twitch slightly as I stare at the bedroom window and watch the curtains blowing in a sunlit breeze, and then I hear the front door shuddering.

  And then a knock.

  I sit up as footsteps move in the hallway, and then a moment later the door swings open.

  “You're locking me out now?” Michael asks, sounding annoyed.

  “I bolted the door,” Linda replies, and then I hear the door shut again. “We had a bit of a crazy night here last night.”

  “Where's Maisie?”

  “Asleep?”

  “Still? It's almost midday!”

  “I gave her one of those pills.”

  “You did, huh? Well, I guess it wasn't such a bad idea after all.”

  They continue talking as they head through to one of the other rooms, but I lose interest in their voices as I turn and look at Maisie. The sun has been up for hours and she's still fast asleep, and her breathing is slower than usual. She seems fine, and I suppose it's a good thing if she's sleeping through the morning, but at the same time I don't like it when she breaks her routine. Finally I turn and start scratching my ear, making plenty of noise in the process in an attempt to wake her up. When that doesn't work, I yawn loudly, and then I realize that she really doesn't seem like she's going to stir any time soon.

  I really need some water, but there's no way I'm willing to leave Maisie's side, not after what happened last night.

  She needs me.

  Turning around, I settle next to her again, just as I realize I can hear Linda and Michael coming up the stairs. They're still talking to each other, and they still sound annoyed, and a moment later they stop in the open doorway and stare in at us.

  “She's a kid,” Michael says with a sigh. “Of course she's going to get crazy ideas, especially if there was something that sparked her off.”

  “She hasn't used my laptop,” Linda replies.

  “Still, she might have looked over your shoulder or -”

  “She doesn't know anything!” Linda snaps. “Can you please not make out that this is my fault? I'm sick of being blamed for everything that happens around here.”

  “You're sick of being blamed?” Michael says, raising his eyebrows as he turns to her. “That's rich.”

  “Let's not do this in front of her,” Linda replies with a sigh, turning and heading back along the landing. “If you'd actually been here last night, you'd have seen how terrified she was. She really believed she saw this woman, and if my research is right, then the woman she described sounds a hell of a lot like this Helena Waterfield person.”

  They keep talking, but now they're going back downstairs.

  Good.

  I like Linda and Michael, but they make a lot of noise sometimes and they have a tendency to make Maisie upset. Even now, I can tell that there's tension between them, and I'd rather wait up here until they become more friendly with each other. Sometimes that only takes a few minutes, although other times it can take days and days. Overall, I think I prefer days when Michael isn't around.

  “Did Daddy come home?” Maisie murmurs suddenly, and I turn to see that her eyes are open.

  I lean over and start licking her face. She smiles and sits up, but she seems pretty groggy.

  “My head hurts,” she says, rubbing the side of her head. “I feel like I've been asleep for a million years. I feel a bit sick, too.”

  Reaching over, she strokes my back for a moment before getting to her feet.

  “I'm really thirsty,” she adds, heading toward the door.

  I immediately jump down from the bed and follow her. There's no way I'm letting Maisie out of my sight again, not while there's still a chance that the broken-jawed woman might show up. As we get out onto the landing, I look both ways to check that there's no sign of her, and then I follow Maisie as she slowly, stumblingly makes her way down the staircase. She still seems out-of-sorts and half-asleep, as if she might even collapse. Nevertheless, we make it almost all the way down the stairs before she suddenly stops, and then she sits down as Linda and Michael's voices drift up from the kitchen.

  “Quiet, Hugo,” Maisie whispers as I sit next to her on the step.

  “So Helena Waterfield was Elizabeth's mother,” Michael is saying. “So what?”

  “They lived in this house a long time ago,” Linda explains. “After a while, there were rumors about what Helena was doing to her daughter. Apparently Elizabeth was seen with bruises, but the police of the day didn't really do anything about it. Even when complaints were made, the police insisted their hands were tied. Everyone was convinced that Helena was beating her daughter, though. It was basically an open secret in the area.”

  “But -”

  “And people said Helena Waterfield was a witch,” Linda adds.

  “A witch,” Maisie whispers to me. “Did you hear that?”

  I don't know what those words mean, but they don't sound very nice.

  “That'd all be fine,” Michael says with a sigh, “if witches were real, but even you can't be starting to get into that paranoid rubbish.”

  “Even me?” Linda replies. “What exactly do you mean by that?”

  “Well -”

  “What about this bible Maisie found?” Linda continues. “Look at it, Mike. It's filthy, but some of the pages have been cut out and put back in upside-down. I read on a website that witches sometimes used to do that in an attempt to change the power of an individual bible. If a bible had a kind of purity about it, and could be used for protection, a witch would turn some of the pages upside-down in order to get rid of that power. It was seen as a way of corrupting the book's ability to offer protection.”

  “And you're seriously suggesting that this is what happened here?”

  “I'm suggesting that it's a sign of witchcraft. What if the rumors were true? What if Helena Waterfield was a witch, or at least she thought she was?”

  “Witches aren't real,” Maisie whispers to me. “Are they?”

  “And, what, she was abusing her kid in the process?” Michael asks. “Seriously?”

  “Elizabeth Waterfield disappeared a long time ago,” Linda explains. “The police searched for her extensively, but they never found any trace of her. And then Helena -”

  “Let me guess. Helena Waterfield flew away on a broomstick?”

  “Don't be an ass, Mike,” Linda replies. “About a month after her daughter's disappearance, Helena Waterfield committed suicide right here at the house. Or at least, her death was ruled a suicide. She jumped from the roof.”

  “Good riddance, from the sound of it,” Michael says. “This all sounds very melodramatic, but I fail to see how it's relevant to us.”

  “Maisie saw a woman in the kitchen last night,” Linda continues.

  “You mean she imagined a woman in the kitchen.”

  “She said the woman was wearing an old-fashioned black dress.”

  “So?”

  “And that her jaw was twisted to one side, like her jawbone had almost been wrenched away.”

  “Delightful.”

  “Now look at this picture. On the lap
top. Look at it.”

  “Why would -”

  He pauses for a moment.

  Maisie leans down a little. I do the same, and now as I look between the railings I can just about make out Linda and Michael at the kitchen table, staring at a screen.

  “That's an autopsy photo that was taken at the time,” Linda explains. “Look at Helena Waterfield's jaw. Apparently when she jumped, she landed with her face against the stone wall next to the front steps. Look at what it did to her jaw, Mike. It damn near ripped it off.”

  “Nice photo,” Michael says, sounding uncertain, “but all it proves is that Maisie caught sight of it at some point and got upset. I mean, what kid wouldn't get upset if she saw a picture like that. You need to be more careful about leaving your laptop out where she can see this stuff, Linda.”

  “She didn't see it on my laptop.”

  “Of course she -”

  “I didn't even see the picture until after she told me about the woman!”

  Michael sighs.

  “I didn't!” Linda says firmly. “Listen, you can come up with all the explanations you want, but I am telling you that something's going on here. Maisie was terrified last night, and Hugo was barking his head off. I'm not saying that there are ghosts wandering around in the house, Mike, but something isn't right.” She pauses. “If you'd actually been here, instead of gallivanting off with someone else, you'd know for yourself.”

  “Is that what this is?” Michael asks. “Your way of punishing me?”

  “Get over yourself,” she replies. “Maisie saw this Helena Waterfield woman in our kitchen.”

  “Sure she did.”

  “I did!” Maisie yells, before clamping her hands over her mouth as if she suddenly regrets saying anything at all. She turns to clamber back up the stairs, but then she freezes as footsteps hurry into the hallway.

  “And what were you taught about eavesdropping, young lady?” Michael asks angrily. “Are you not aware of how rude it is?”

  “I did see the lady!” she yells, almost in tears. “I did, I did!”

  “For God's sake,” Michael says with a sigh, “how many -”