He thanked her and stepped out of the shop.
Dodging the traffic he dashed over the road to take a closer look.
A rusty padlock secured the door. He turned his attention to the window and squinted as he peered into the darkness of the shop. Old newspapers and junk mail littered the floor. Against the back wall stood a refrigerator which had once dispensed drinks. He could see a peeling sticker showing a faded Coca-Cola logo.
With the palm of his hand he wiped away grime from the window.
He looked again and saw the same damp patch and flaking paint he’d seen earlier.
He took the ring from his pocket, looked at it and quickly put it back.
I must be going mad.
He glanced across the road and noticed he was being observed by the lady from the newsagent.
Finn shook his head and returned his attention to the interior of the shop.
And then he saw it.
He grabbed the ring and gripped it in his palm.
It was there, hanging from the wall, just where he’d seen it that morning.
He cleared more grime from the window to get a better view. The wooden frame was split, and the glass was thick with dust.
He trembled as he stared at the painting on the wall. There was no doubt in his mind.
It was the same landscape painting he’d seen that morning.
The painting in which a huge raven soared high above the trees.
Chapter 11
Mid-September
Over the weeks, the Maynard’s adapted to their new arrival.
Jack was developing well. Sophie and Finn were back in the routine of caring for a baby. Rosie was four, and it seemed an age since she had been as tiny as Jack.
She had shown signs of jealousy, which her parents had expected. Finn made the effort to spend extra time with her.
He returned from paternity leave in August and found work a struggle. His mind was preoccupied with his family. He’d loved nothing more than spending time with his wife and children and was desperate to get home each night.
And there was something else which preoccupied him. The mystery of the ring and the antique shop.
He’d spoken to a few people and had trawled the internet for photographs of the High Street. None of those with whom he’d spoken had remembered the shop and the pictures he’d found weren’t much help either.
If it wasn’t for the gold ring which he kept in a box on his bedside table, he would have wondered whether he’d made the whole thing up.
Why had the thing been so difficult to take off, and why later in the day had it slid off as if it were two or three sizes too big? And what was the story behind the mystery shop?
It was a late Friday afternoon in September and the sun beat upon the tarmac.
Finn stepped out of the car, wiped his forehead and looked at his house.
I need to start work on that ugly garden he thought and slammed the door.
He liked the hawthorn tree which grew smack bang in the middle. He wanted to keep it, but Sophie insisted it should be chopped down. She had told him it was an eyesore.
Suddenly, he heard a lady’s voice.
“Hello, I’ve not introduced myself.”
Finn looked up to see his neighbour Ruth, the lady whom Kieran had told him to be wary. Finn recalled how he had described her. Kieran referred to her as a harbinger of doom.
Finn swallowed hard and walked over and offered his hand.
Ruth smiled and introduced herself. Finn didn’t let on that he knew her name.
“I should have said hello earlier, but what with your new baby and things, I thought it best to let you settle in.”
“Don’t worry. Besides, we could have knocked on your door to say hello. I’m Finn, Finn Maynard”
Ruth nodded.
“So, how are things going?” asked Ruth.
Finn detected an air about the woman which caused him to distrust her. Maybe Kieran had been right when he warned him not to take too much notice of her.
“Things are good. We’re settling in well thank you.”
“What do you think of the road?”
“It’s just what we wanted. A nice quiet cul de sac, it’s great for the children.”
Finn sensed awkwardness, but felt compelled to keep the conversation going.
“I'm considering what to do with this garden,” said Finn.
“Good luck with that.”
“Why?” asked Finn with a nonplussed expression.
“Nothing grows, other than that old tree. I’ve lived here since the late seventies, I was one of the first to move into these houses soon after they were built. In the years I've lived here, I’ve seen nothing grow…… everything dies.”
Finn looked at his garden and then to Ruth’s which had an abundance of roses and was a picture of colour.
“Do you have any idea why my house is detached? The others on this side are terraced.”
Ruth shrugged her shoulders and turned away. He sensed she was hiding something.
“My house was built much later than the others wasn’t it?”
“The builders finished in eighty-four, they started work in nineteen eighty.”
“They took four years to build it?”
Ruth nodded.
“Why did they take so long?”
Ruth looked nervy.
“I’m sorry, I'm busy, I have to get back. We’ll speak again soon.”
He watched her disappear indoors.
Strange woman he thought to himself.
Finn opened his garden gate and walked over to the hawthorn. He scuffed the ground with his shoe. Ruth was right. There was nothing, not even a weed. He crouched down and ran his fingers through the arid soil. He pushed his forefinger in as far as he could. There should be moisture, but the soil was dry.
“Hey Alan Titchmarsh, what you doing?”
He looked up and saw Sophie holding Jack.
“I’m thinking about the garden, what we should do with it.”
“God only knows when you’ll find time for gardening?”
“Maybe not just yet, but it would be nice to have something popping up by the spring. Maybe daffodils or something.”
“You can chop down that tree….. It's horrible,”
“Why? It has character.”
“It’s ugly….. get rid of it….. grow some nice flowers instead.”
He huffed and followed her into the house.
Finn stepped into the lounge and saw Rosie engrossed by the television. She glanced up and saw her father.
“Daddy, you’re home.”
The little girl jumped up, ran across the room and threw her arms around him. He picked her up and spun her around.
“You’re making me dizzy,” she giggled.
He hugged her and put her down.
Rosie was excited to see her daddy and told him about her day. He knelt at her level and listened to what she had to say.
“Can I have a drink daddy?”
“Wait there, I’ll get us both a nice cold drink.”
He opened the fridge door and turned around to see Sophie stood behind him.
“So you’ve been speaking with our nosy neighbour.”
“Yeah, Ruth said hello, and we had chat.”
“What do you reckon, is she okay?”
“I think she's fine, but I'm sure she’s hiding something.”
“Like what?”
“If I knew, she wouldn’t be hiding anything would she?”
“You know what I mean.”
“She seemed a little reserved…… well actually a lot reserved. I asked her about this house and she went quiet. She made her excuses and went.”
“About this house, what did you ask?”
“She told me about the garden. It seems no one has ever managed to plant anything that didn’t die.”
“Apart from that tree?”
Finn nodded.
“I asked whether she had any idea why this house stood
on its own and was not part of the terrace…… and that was when she didn’t want to talk any more, she clammed up and went in her house.”
“Did she say anything?”
“No, not really. Oh, hang on, she did say it took four years to build this place.”
“Four years, that’s a long time isn’t it?”
“That’s what I thought. That was when she started being odd and went inside.”
“Daddy, where’s my drink.”
“I’m coming Rosie.”
Sophie wore a puzzled expression.
“Don’t worry, it’s fine,” added Finn.
Sophie said nothing. She only nodded.
An hour later Finn read Rosie a bedtime story. Finn was about to turn to the last page when he noticed she’d fallen asleep. He kissed her on her head and tucked her in.
He was going to leave her room when he heard hushed voices coming from the road. The conversation sounded heated.
He pulled the curtain, looked out and saw Kieran and Ruth arguing. He strained to make out what they were saying. Even with the window open he couldn’t hear. Every few seconds Ruth pointed towards his house.
He opened the window more and caught the end of their argument.
“Someone needs to tell them,” said Ruth. Her hushed voice became louder.
“You do what you want, but leave me out of it. I want nothing to do with it, or them,” replied Kieran.
They looked up when they heard Rosie’s window creak and saw her curtain move.
Finn watched through the gap in the curtain as Kieran went back inside and Ruth strutted across the road.
Sophie was feeding Jack when he returned from Rosie’s room.
“There’s something going on,” said Finn as he looked out of the window and across the road.
She looked at him without speaking.
“I'm not sure what it is. Maybe I’m being paranoid, but I reckon there's a conspiracy against us.”
“A conspiracy, why?”
Finn explained what he’d seen and heard from his daughter’s window.
“Why don’t you speak with Kieran? He appears to be nice enough. Ask him what’s happening and tell him to be honest with you.”
Finn nodded.
He felt uncomfortable knocking on Kieran’s door and asking what was happening. Instead he sat by the window overlooking Kieran’s house on the off chance he came out.
“Oh for God’s sake Finn, be a man please! Just ask him.”
He didn’t answer.
“Jack’s sleeping. I’m taking him upstairs and I'm going to lie on the bed. You do whatever you want.”
She felt tired and crabby and her husband’s procrastination annoyed her.
Finn huffed air through his cheeks and continued to watch from the window.
He’d been sitting at the window seat for half an hour and become drowsy when he heard a clattering.
It was Kieran emptying bottles into the recycling crate and making a lot of noise about it.
Finn jumped up, grabbed his keys and left the house.
Kieran looked up and saw Finn marching across the road.
Uh-oh thought Kieran.
“Hi, we need to talk.”
The colour drained from Kieran’s face.
“And you know why. I heard you and Ruth earlier. What were you saying?”
“Okay, you’d better come in. I’ll get you a beer. You may need it.”
He followed Kieran and passed Linda in the hallway. She smiled, meekly said hello, and went upstairs. Finn sensed an atmosphere.
“Sit over there, I’ll get you a drink.”
Kieran returned from the kitchen with two ice cold cans and handed one to Finn.
“What can I tell you?” asked Kieran.
Finn held the beer and looked at the floor. He remembered the brief conversation he’d had with Ruth.
“You said that Ruth was the street gossip and someone I shouldn’t take too seriously.”
Kieran nodded.
“I spoke to her for the first time this morning. I'd expected to her to tell me all the juicy stuff, but she hardly spoke. We made small talk, and she appeared desperate to get back indoors.”
He nodded again and sighed.
“She’s changed. She likes to gossip and as I said before, she’s our own harbinger of doom. But I reckon she’s had enough,” said Kieran.
“Enough of what?”
“Bad things.”
“Sorry, you've lost me. I only asked about our house. Is there something bad about it?”
“She told me you asked about your house and why it's not terraced.” said Kieran.
“I did. It seemed a simple enough question. Sophie and I wondered why.”
“Okay, well the truth is, the building contractors refused to work on your plot of land.”
“Why?”
“They refused.”
“Is that it? They just refused?”
Kieran cleared his throat.
“That’s right Finn.”
“Kieran, I’m not a fool. What are you not telling me?”
An air of tension filled the room.
“You’ve started, you may as well tell me everything.”
Kieran placed his beer on the floor and sat next to Finn.
“Okay, I’ll tell you what I know, but it’s not the kind of thing you’d have found in the estate agent’s blurb when your house was for sale.”
Finn perched on the edge of the settee and waited for Kieran to begin.
“Back in the nineteen seventies Newbold Housing had been granted permission to build on this land. Their intention was to build a row of fifteen terraced houses on your side of the road and detached houses on my side.”
Kieran paused for a swig of beer and continued.
“Everything was going to plan until work commenced on the plot of land earmarked as number thirteen. Things began to go wrong. Some of the contractors brought in by Newbold Housing said they wouldn’t work there. The contractors included a team of Spanish workers who refused point blank to build there. It wasn’t clear what was wrong, I think there may have been a language barrier. The Spanish guys couldn’t be understood.”
“Were the Spanish workers sacked?” asked Finn.
“No, I understand that after heated words they upped tools and left.”
Finn nodded.
“After the Spanish had gone, they were replaced by Brits. They didn't have a problem and began with the foundations. The day the excavator dug the foundations is when things went wrong. Something wasn't right with the pneumatics and the driver couldn’t control it. I’m not sure of the full details, but the bucket on the digger swung round, hit a worker and killed him.”
Finn gasped.
“Everything had to be put on hold and an investigation took place, and eventually work recommenced. But things continued to go wrong. Every builder who set foot on the plot became ill. I don’t just mean they got sick and had to take a week off, I mean really sick. One had a stroke, two were diagnosed with terminal cancer, one attempted suicide and another became depressed and within a day he’d killed his wife.”
“I guess it happened over a long time?” asked Finn.
“No, it happened within forty eight hours after work recommenced.”
Finn rubbed his eyes and lowered his head.
Kieran continued.
“After what happened, Newbold decided not to build on the plot, but continued building the other houses. They needed to, they’d invested so much money. When the houses had been finished and were being sold, the buyers wondered why there was a gap the size of a house between eleven and fifteen. The lady in the sales office said something about building permission, or mines or some bullshit, but she didn’t tell anyone what had really happened. Newbold told her not to mention it, in case it put people off buying the houses.”
“So how come you know so much?”
“My father was a builder. He worked on these houses and he was there when
it happened.”
“Jeez!” exclaimed Finn. “What about my house, did Newbold change their mind?”
“No, they wouldn’t touch the land, it gave them the heebeegeebees. Those who worked for Newbold were affected by what happened. Staff left and in the early eighties Newbold went out of business.”
“Because of what had happened?”
Kieran shrugged his shoulders.
“So how did my house end up being built?”
“Newbold needed cash, they were getting into financial difficulty. They sold the land at a knock down price to a private builder who built your place.”
“So he didn’t have the same problems that Newbold faced?”
“Oh, he did. Building work started in nineteen eighty, but the house wasn’t completed until nineteen eighty four. It wasn’t quite as severe compared to what had happened to the contractors who had worked for Newbold, but still, there were big problems.”
“What problems.”
“A few of the builders Drake-Butler employed became ill, a few left, and there were fights. But eventually, your house was built. And there you have it. That’s the story behind why your house is detached.”
“Who’s Drake-Butler?”
“Sorry?”
“Who’s Drake-Butler? You just said the builders Drake-Butler employed became ill?"
“Oh yes, Drake-Butler, they bought the land and built your house.”
Finn finished his beer and gazed at Kieran.
“It’s an interesting tale, but I don’t understand why you or Ruth wouldn’t have wanted to tell me.”
“Well, you have to admit, it’s not the nicest thing to know about where you live.”
“But that was over twenty years ago. It’s old news.”
Kieran sighed.
“Is there anything else?”
He shook his head.
“I don’t wish to sound rude, but I have to be getting on with things.”
Finn stood up to leave.
“Okay, thanks for the beer and thanks for telling me the creepy tale about my house,” said Finn sarcastically.
“You may find it laughable now, but believe me, at the time people were scared.”
Finn nodded.
“I’m sorry, it’s just………“
The Third Skull (Book one - The Discovery): A Paranormal Mystery Thriller Page 6
