‘Well … it’s just that you said pop’s brother Harold disappeared … and I wondered, well it’s a bit of a mystery, isn’t it, and I wondered if Harold had anything to do with it?’
Nanna’s face became serious. She didn’t say anything, just sat there looking at Jessie. She could see that Nanna was thinking it over, while she was almost bursting with anticipation. She so wanted to know about pop’s brother - it might help her solve the mystery of the haunted portrait.
‘Oh, Nanna, can’t you please tell me?’
Finally Nanna spoke. ‘Well, Jessie, it’s been a kind of secret in the family for many, many years,’ she took a deep breath, ‘but I suppose it doesn’t really matter any more. According to your pop, his brother Harold was … well, he was … very fond of me.’
‘Of you?’
‘Yes. Well, that’s what Fred told me, although I find it hard to believe. Harold was so much younger than me. Anyway, Harold went up into the loft late one night, and their father - your great-grandfather - followed Harold up the ladder, to talk to him. Fred said they had a discussion about me. Apparently Harold was going to try to steal me away from him - even though we were engaged to be married at the time.’
That’s what the conversation had been about! Jessie couldn’t take her eyes off Nanna as she continued.
‘Your great-grandfather started to argue with Harold. I imagine he told him he was being ridiculous, that I was already promised to his brother. But no matter, an argument started and became fairly heated. Harold apparently pushed his father and he fell, all the way down the ladder, and well …’
Jessie gasped. ‘Did he die?’
‘Yes, Jessie, he died. Right there in the hallway,’ Nanna said, pointing towards the portrait, ‘Just about where the portrait is hanging’.
A shiver raced down Jessie’s back.
She thought back to last night; to the glow and the voices. This certainly explained a few things.
‘Jessie, are you all right? I probably shouldn’t have told you.’
Jessie snapped out of her thoughts. ‘No, that’s okay Nanna. I was just thinking … about how awful it must have been for … everyone.’
‘Yes, well it was. And then Harold just disappeared, and nobody ever saw him again. It’s certainly a sad tale. And I would never have brought that portrait down but the time just seemed right, somehow. I thought it would be nice having your pop up there on the wall.’
‘It is, Nanna.’
‘Well now, are you going over to see Harmony?’
‘Yep, right now. And I was wondering … I haven’t said anything to her yet, but would it be okay if she stayed over tonight?’
‘Of course, sweetie. ‘I’m pleased you two are getting along so well now. She wasn’t quite as bad as you first thought?’
‘Well, she’s not easy to get along with, but I thought she might enjoy being somewhere else for a night.’
Nanna smiled. ‘I so enjoy Fleur’s company, its wonderful having her as a neighbour. They can’t be too different if they’re mother and daughter, can they?’
Jessie rolled her eyes. ‘You’d be surprised.’
‘You’re so like your mum, Jessie, and I really miss her.’
Nanna’s eyes started to mist over and Jessie was determined hers wouldn’t do the same.
Then Nanna brightened and said, ‘Well, you just have a good time with Harmony and come home when you feel like it.’
Jessie kissed Nanna and said, ‘Thanks Nanna. I’m having a great time.’
Nanna smiled as Jessie turned and headed out the door, the screen door swinging shut behind her.
Well, Jessie thought as she walked across the property towards Fleur’s house, the conversation I heard between Harold and his mother was because he pushed his father down the stairs - that’s why he couldn’t tell the police, or he would go to prison. His mother said he should go away, and, well, he must have.
And the portrait is in the exact same place where great-grandfather died. So, it makes sense now, why they were saying what they were saying.
But why are they still saying it now, after all these years?
Jessie could feel an excitement all through her body. A haunted painting. Unbelievable. And it was up to her to make the voices go away. But how?
And although she wasn’t all that enthusiastic about having Harmony stay the night, she needed someone else to see what she had seen, she just needed to know it had all actually happened.
CHAPTER 8
Fleur was in the garden with her easel when Jessie arrived, painting what looked to Jessie like a house. Maybe it was Fleur’s house, she thought, surrounded by orange and pink flowers. It was still hard to tell with Fleur’s paintings because there was so much colour and the shapes of the object weren’t very clear. Sometimes Jessie thought they were flowers and they were actually people.
‘It’s such a beautiful day out here again, Jessie. These are gerberas’, Fleur said. ‘Gerberas are a bit like big daisies, only they are much more vibrant in colour. Do you like them?’
‘They’re pretty,’ Jessie said, proud to think she had actually picked them as flowers.
‘Harmony went for a ride on my bike earlier, but she should be home any minute. You just go in and make yourself comfortable.’
As Jessie expected there was another email from Katie, saying how sorry she was Jessie wasn’t with them on the Coast.
This time Jessie happily replied that she was really enjoying staying with Nanna and that she’d learned a lot about an old family mystery. She couldn’t say much but the mystery involved a portrait of her great-grandparents. Jessie ended her email with ‘Maybe next holiday you could come to the farm with me - there’s heaps to do here and Fleur is a really good artist. And Harmony is okay too, we’ve been doing stuff on the computer. I’ll see you at school next week.’
As soon as the Internet was up and running Jessie Googled the word ‘ghosts’.
Just then Harmony came into the room, glanced at the computer screen and sat down next to Jessie.
‘So, what happened?’ she asked.
Jessie turned to her. Today she had coloured her eyelids a really dark blue colour and Jessie noticed she had repainted her fingernails, again, dark blue this time to match her eyes. She really must be bored, Jessie thought, if she has to paint her nails every day.
‘Well,’ Jessie said, ‘That portrait is definitely haunted. But please don’t tell your mum, I have a feeling my Nanna doesn’t want people to know.’
‘As if I would ever tell my mother anything,’ Harmony said as she rolled her eyes.
Jessie looked at her curiously and then continued. ‘Well, my grandfather’s brother Harold had an argument with his father one night. They were up in the loft and Harold pushed his father and he fell down the ladder and died, right there on the floor.
‘Wow, dead, right there in the hall! Cool.’
‘So now I know why the portrait is haunted but I don’t know how to stop it. Okay if I do some research on the Internet?’
‘Sure. I’ll watch, maybe I’ll learn something.’
Jessie’s search had brought up thousands of websites. Next she typed in ‘ghosts and hauntings’ but there were even more entries. But she decided to scroll down the page a bit to see if anything in particular stood out.
There were a couple of interesting articles on the first couple of pages - one that listed a number of ‘hauntings’ in Australian hotels, another that listed first hand witness accounts of meetings with ghosts.
Further down she came upon a link to a website that talked about a haunted painting.
‘Look at that!’ she said, ‘Nanna’s isn’t the only one.’ Jessie clicked on the link and went into the website.
Jessie and Harmony both sat closer to the screen while Jessie read that a man named Bill Stoneham had painted a boy and a girl in the 1970s called ‘Hands Resist Him’. The painting had come alive and the children had fought.
‘I was right,’ Har
mony stated, ‘Paintings can be haunted.’
Jessie shook her head. Of course you were, she thought as she continued to read, ‘The article says that the people who owned the painting had set up a hidden camera to try to capture the boy and girl in action, and had actually filmed the little boy ‘leaving’ the painting.’
‘Wow, that’s unreal,’ said Harmony.
‘But how do I stop it?’
‘Stop what?’ Fleur asked from the hallway. Jessie and Harmony both turned around, their faces flushed.
‘Umm, nothing. We were just … trying to get out of a computer game, that’s all.’
‘Sounds a bit stressful to me,’ Fleur laughed as she continued down the hall.
‘Thanks,’ said Jessie.
‘No problem. Even though mum believes in ghosts and everything, if she heard us she’d probably tell your Nanna.’
Jessie nodded a big yes. ‘Can I print this?’
‘Sure. I never really believed when mum said there were haunted houses around here. It’s so boring around here. But I’m starting to change my mind.’
Another website called ‘All About Ghosts’ grabbed their attention then.
‘Look at that,’ Jessie said, ‘That’s what we need - to find out about ghosts and why they haunt.’
Finding it difficult to read together, Jessie said, ‘Can I print this one as well – it’s seven pages.’
‘Sure.’
‘I can read it later,’ Jessie said, ‘Maybe there’ll be some explanation about why Nanna’s portrait is haunted - and maybe, just maybe, there might be some way of making the ghosts go away.’
‘I might even read it myself,’ Harmony said.
‘Did you want to stay over at Nanna’s tonight’? Jessie said, ‘Then you can see for yourself, about the ghosts I mean.’
‘Yeah, why not?’
Fleur arrived as Jessie was leaving.
‘Finished so soon?’
‘Yes, I just needed some information from the Internet,’ she said, holding out the articles she had printed and then quickly turning them over so Fleur couldn’t see what they were about.
And before Fleur could ask what sort of information it was Harmony said, ‘Jessie’s asked me to stay over there tonight. Okay?’
‘Of course,’ said Fleur. Just pack your overnight bag and I’ll walk you over after dinner.’
Nanna helped Jessie carry a spare single mattress in from the garage and they set it down on the floor of Jessie’s room.
‘What time will Harmony be here?’ Nanna asked, as she made the mattress up with sheets and blankets.
‘Fleur said they’d be over after dinner.’
‘She could have had dinner with us, in fact they both could.’
‘But they’re vegetarians, Nanna. They don’t eat what we eat.’ Nanna always served meat, whether it was in a casserole or just plain chops or sausages.
‘Oh, I hadn’t thought of that. Fleur has only ever been here for morning tea. Well, I’ll just have to find some recipes for vegetarian dishes so I can invite them both over in the future.’
Harmony and Fleur arrived just before 7pm and Fleur and Nanna chatted in the kitchen while Jessie took Harmony into her room.
‘When can we read the stuff you printed out?’ Harmony asked.
‘Nanna takes out her hearing aids and falls asleep in the lounge room every night,’ Jessie said very matter-of-factly. ‘As soon as your mum goes she’ll probably take a cup of tea in there and turn on the television.’
Fleur called goodbye and they heard the back door close.
‘Are you girls okay in there,’ Nanna called up the hall.
‘Yes, Nanna, we’re fine.’
‘I’ll be in the lounge room if you need me.’
Jessie nodded and Harmony grinned as Jessie picked up the articles and they both settled on top of Jessie’s bed. As soon as one finished reading, the other started until they had both finished the articles.
‘So,’ Jessie said as she pointed to a particular paragraph in the article, ‘It says here that hauntings are associated with spirits who show some strong emotion for the past - remorse, fear or terror of a violent death.’ She shivered again as she reread this section and thought about her great-grandfather falling down the loft ladder to his death.
‘What does remorse mean?’ Harmony asked.
‘I don’t know. We need a dictionary,’ Jessie replied, ‘Nanna must have one somewhere.’
‘Does she have a bookcase?’
‘No,’ said Jessie, ‘but she crossword puzzles in the kitchen and I think she uses a dictionary. I’ll be right back.’
As Jessie passed the lounge room she saw that as usual Nanna was asleep in her favourite chair and her breathing was heavy. She smiled as she thought about the mystery that was unfolding right here in Nanna’s house, but about which she knew nothing.
CHAPTER 9
The dictionary was on the sideboard. Jessie looked up the word ‘remorse’ and then walked back to her room.
‘Well, that makes sense,’ she said as she got back onto the bed. ‘Remorse means deep and painful regret for wrong-doing. And Harold would definitely have felt that, for accidentally killing his father.’
‘It also says here that the spirits of the dead can hover between life and death for a very long time, until they find their peace,’ Harmony said, ‘I wonder how they find their peace?’
They read on together. Apparently a ‘glow’ was quite a normal occurrence - hauntings could be associated with lights, sometimes moving, sometimes flickering, sometimes standing still. Even changes of temperature could be associated with hauntings they read, sudden cold or even just a strange atmospheric feeling.
‘At least,’ Jessie said, ‘There was only the light, and the voices. Although it was really cold out there, but then in the middle of night it would be, wouldn’t it? It says too that haunting ghosts seem to return to re-enact some crisis from their former lives - usually their own death. But some stories tell of ghosts appearing because of something dramatic that had happened to the person before their death.’
‘That would make sense, wouldn’t it?’ Harmony said, ‘if Harold killed your great-grandfather then he would have been in all sorts of crises, wouldn’t he.’
The article said that people had tried to communicate with ghosts over the years in various ways, some successful, some not,’ Jessie said, ‘It says they mostly they communicated using a medium. Do you know what a medium is?’
‘Yeah, it’s a person who talks to dead people. I heard mum talking about it once with someone.’
‘Dead people?’
‘Yeah, their spirits. They usually go into a sort of trance and then the spirits of the dead people talk through them.’
Jessie’s eyes opened wide. ‘Really?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Sounds … interesting.’ She had almost said scary but she didn’t want Harmony to get the wrong idea about her.
‘Anyway,’ Harmony said, ‘That’s what a medium is.’
‘But we don’t have one,’ Jessie said, ‘So how are we going to communicate with my … ancestors?’
Harmony yawned and stretched her arms out wide. ‘That bike ride really wore me out today. Can we talk about this tomorrow?’
‘Sure. We’d better get some sleep.’
Harmony changed into black silk pyjamas. Jessie shook her head as she turned off the bedside lamp. Does she ever wear anything that isn’t black? she wondered.
The room had plunged into darkness except for a thin line of moonlight that streaked through the window and across the floor. Jessie could hear the wind outside, and tonight the shadows on the wall weaved back and forth, with the trees. She realised she could no longer hear the television.
‘Are you girls okay in there?’ Nanna yelled as she poked her head in through the open doorway.
‘Yes Nanna,’ Jessie yelled back, knowing Nanna wouldn’t be able to hear her if she didn’t yell, ‘We’re just tired.’
‘Fine then, you both have a good night’s sleep and I’ll have breakfast ready for you in the morning.’
It didn’t seem to matter what time Nanna went to bed, she was always up earlier than Jessie. It must have something to do with living in the country, Jessie decided.
‘Why were you yelling?’ Harmony asked in the darkness.
‘Because Nanna can’t hear without her hearing aids.’
‘Oh. Well, I just wanted to say I’m a pretty heavy sleeper. You’d better wake me if you hear … anything.’
‘Okay,’ replied Jessie as she settled back onto the pillow and closed her eyes.
Now that she knew who the voices belonged to and why they were speaking, she wasn’t worried anymore. She just wanted to find a way to help them. Maybe a good night’s sleep would clear her head and an idea would present itself in the morning.
But before long she was woken again.
She sighed.
I have to do this, she thought, not just for Harmony but for myself.
The moonlight silhouetted Harmony asleep on her side as Jessie walked over and gently shook her shoulder.
‘What?’ Harmony said, her voice thick with sleep.
‘Sshh,’ Jessie whispered. ‘It’s the voices, do you want to hear them and see the portrait?’
‘All right,’ Harmony whispered back.
‘C’mon. But we have to be very quiet or they’ll stop.’
‘Okay.’
Jessie led the way out to the hall, as if this was the most normal thing in the world. Great-grandmother was speaking.
‘Can you hear her?’ she whispered so softly she barely heard her own voice.
‘Yes,’ Harmony whispered back.
Still whispering, Jessie said, ‘We need to move further down the hall, but we mustn’t make a sound. Okay?’
In single file they crept along, one careful step after another until they were within a metre of the portrait. The portrait was glowing and Harold was speaking and gesturing with his hands. Jessie stopped and Harmony ran into her, knocking her to the side and forcing an ‘ouch’ from her lips. The glow went out and the voices stopped.
Jessie's Ghosts Page 4
