Dream Cottage

by Harriet J Kent

  “Yes, all is well, thank you, Gretel. Nothing to concern yourself about.”

  Reverend Oli stood away from the wall and placed the sodden tissue back into his pocket.

  “Ah, here comes your architect fellow, I believe. Perhaps you would like to introduce me?” He smiled cheerily.

  “Of course!” Max stepped out of the back door and met the architect, shook his hand and pointed in the direction of the back door.

  “Mike, how are you?” Max smiled.

  “Very well, thanks Max. Hey, this place is certainly a find and a stunning location too,” Mike reciprocated.

  “This is Rev Oliphant, the owner. And this is Greta, my wife,” Max indicated towards them.

  “Pleased to meet you Reverend, and you too Greta.” Mike awkwardly removed his hand from the Reverend’s limp grip and wiped it on his jacket pocket.

  “May I have a walk around inside?” Mike asked. “I need to get some measurements and gauge the current layout and hear Max’s intentions for its renovations.”

  “Of course, please do go on in.” Rev Oli smiled and bowed forward. “I will wait outside,” he added.

  Greta followed Max and Mike and listened to their discussions. They moved from room to room with Mike taking photographs, notes and measurements by pointing a laser instrument at each wall, as Max described their intentions and the talk became technical. Greta slipped into her daydream bubble, trailing behind them in a trance. Through the darkened passageways from the still boarded up windows, from room to room, she drank up the atmosphere Greenacres was offering her. She stopped in the drawing room and stared into the fireplace. She visualised how it would look in daylight. With a roaring fire, logs piled up on the hearth. Perhaps even a dog lying in front of the dancing flames on a rug, fast asleep, with the winds howling on a cold winter’s night. She paused by the window and noticed an old gilt-framed mirror hung on the wall. It was ornately carved, however the glass was covered by a thick layer of dust. She dipped into her coat pocket and took out a paper tissue. She lightly dragged the tissue across the surface of the glass leaving a clean, clear line across its diameter. She looked at her reflection and smiled. She momentarily closed her eyes and opened them once more. Her intention was to gaze back into the mirror. As she focused back on her reflection she gasped in horror. The mirror revealed that she was not alone. Greta’s eyes were wide with fear as she could quite clearly see a severed hand suspended by her left shoulder. Entrails and tendons hung from flabby strands of skin. It dripped with blood and gore from the hand. Spots of blood begin to seep into the fabric of her coat and on to her shoulder. It was stationary; then its fingers began to move upward with the palm fully extended. Greta touched the top of her shoulder in what appeared to be slow motion. She turned around and screamed at the top of her voice; her heart was racing and her breath was suspended.

  Max heard her scream and rushed downstairs. He was quickly at her side.

  “What’s wrong? Are you all right?” He held Greta’s shoulders as she tried to regain some sort of composure.

  “I… I don’t know; it was horrible Max, just horrible! I have never seen such a thing!” she whispered.

  “Do you want to sit down? Are you feeling faint?”

  “No, no; I’ll be fine.” Greta’s heart was thumping in her chest.

  “What did you see?” Max persisted.

  Greta thought for a moment. Not wanting to dissuade Max or make him think she was imagining things, she blurted out, “It was a s…” She felt the air expel from her body.

  “Don’t say it; it was a spider, wasn’t it?” Max surmised.

  Greta nodded. She closed her eyes and bit her lip.

  “Thank heavens for that; you really scared the shit out of me, screaming like that! I thought it was something really awful!” He sounded relieved.

  “It was!” Greta protested. “It was gross! Inhuman! Horrific! Can you see anything on my shoulder? I felt something on it; I’m sure of it!”

  “Most spiders are pretty gross, love. But this is the countryside, an old cottage and no doubt, Greenacres will have a few more of the little critters hidden within its walls.” Max checked Greta’s shoulder. “No, there’s nothing on your coat or your shoulder.”

  “But…” Greta felt faint. “I think I’ll go outside and get some fresh air. I will check on the Reverend, whilst I’m out there.”

  “Okay. You’ll be fine. I will only be upstairs with Mike. We shouldn’t be too much longer.” Max kissed the top of Greta’s head. “Take it easy.” He squeezed her hand. Greta flinched as he touched her. She couldn’t get the vision of the severed hand from her mind. She took a few deep breaths and stumbled to the back door. She held on to the doorframe and closed her eyes. Her mind was still racing. “What if there is something much more to this place than we realise?” she thought and stepped out into the garden.

  Rev Oli was sat on a dilapidated wooden bench. He was thumbing through the pages of a pocket-sized bible. As Greta approached him, he marked the page from where he was reading with a bookmark in the shape of a cross. He hurriedly snapped it shut. He smiled up at her.

  “So much to learn; one can never glean enough,” he concluded. He indicated for Greta to sit beside him. He looked concerned. “Everything all right, my dear?”

  Greta faked a smile.

  “Yes, yes of course. I’ve just had a bit of a shock,” she replied and looked at the long, grassy lawn.

  “Yes, there is a lot of work to be done; it will be a challenge for you and Maxim. But I know you will achieve your goal. You are both young and very ambitious!”

  Greta sighed.

  “Yes, there is a lot to do. Um, Reverend, can I ask you something?” She turned to look him squarely in the face.

  “Ask away, Gretel,” Rev Oil assumed the clutched hand position, awaiting the question.

  “Is Greenacres… haunted?”

  Rev Oli smiled dispassionately. He shook his head.

  “No! Not that I am aware.”

  Greta was taken aback by the abruptness in his reply.

  “Okay, it’s just that…”

  “Ah! Maxim and the architect are here!” Rev Oli interrupted and launched himself upwards from the wooden bench. He galloped towards the back door where Max and Mike were stood, leaving Greta open-mouthed. She got up from the bench and walked across the garden to join them. Max locked the back door. He tried the handle several times to confirm the door was in fact locked.

  “How are you feeling now, darling?” Max put a protective arm around Greta’s shoulders.

  “Yes, fine, I suppose,” she replied unconvincingly.

  “I’ll get the plans drawn up for you, Max, and email them through. I’ll put the hard copy in the post.” Mike shook first Max’s and then Greta’s hands. He declined the Rev Oli’s outstretched palm by waving a salute at him instead. “Good to have met you, Reverend!” he offered.

  “Thank you, Reverend, for your time this afternoon.” Max turned towards Rev Oli, handed him the door key and risked a handshake. “We’ll keep in touch with you on the progress of the sale.”

  Rev Oli closed his eyes and slowly nodded.

  “Very good, Maxim. Gretel; I wish you well. Goodbye!”

  They watched as the Reverend clambered into his car and drove up the grassy track.

  Max turned to Greta and placed his hands on her shoulders.

  “Now, are you going to tell me what you really saw in there? I know you, funnily enough, and you looked way too freaked out for it to be a spider.”

  Greta feigned a smile.

  “It was nothing; nothing more than a hideous… you know what. It probably looked worse because it was dark in there. You know what my imagination is like,” Greta mumbled.

  Max wasn’t convinced.

  “I will get the truth out of you; even if I have to extract it from your lips forcibly!” Max drew Greta close to him and gently kissed her lips.

  Greta stood firm.

  “Seriousl
y, it was nothing to worry about. Come on, let’s go. Tell me what Mike said on the way back.”

  Chapter Eight

  Greta’s mobile phone was ringing. It was Max. Nearly three months had passed since the property negotiations and sale had commenced. He had some important but exciting news.

  “Hi, are you sitting down, Mrs Berkley?” Max asked.

  “Yes, I’m ready, fire away.” Greta sat down and placed her cup on to the coffee table.

  “We are now the proud owners of Greenacres Farm! Contracts have just been exchanged with completion early next week!” Max announced with the faint air of excitement in his voice.

  “Oh Max, that’s fantastic news! I am so very happy! Ooh! I could cry!” Greta whooped. “I must tell mummy straight away; you know she’ll want to throw a party in celebration, don’t you?”

  “Of course. Right, now the next step is we get hold of Mike the architect and arrange for his team of elected builders to start the renovations. I will let you know more info when I know it myself. Better go, there’s lots to do!” Max ended the call.

  Greta hugged her sides in excitement. Greenacres now belonged to them. She phoned Jeanne to tell her the news and was greeted with a deafening scream and a distant whoop from her father. She then phoned the Reverend Oli to let him know. He too congratulated them on the successful sale. Greta sensed relief in his voice.

  “I am very pleased for you and Maxim. I hope you will be very happy at Greenacres. I will miss the old place but I know it will be in very good, capable hands.”

  At the Reverend’s choice of words, Greta’s mind flashed back to her encounter with the severed hand; she shuddered but remained outwardly calm.

  “Of course it will, Reverend. Anyway, when we have finished the renovations, you must come and visit us, to see what we have done,” Greta kindly suggested.

  “I would be delighted to,” he returned. “All the very best to you, Gretel! Goodbye!”

  Greta needed to speak with her mother again.

  “What time are you coming over, darling?”

  Jeanne was in the kitchen, speaking to Greta on the phone and holding a wooden spoon over a large, beige mixing bowl that oozed with a creamy cake mixture and a strong aroma of vanilla essence.

  “Friday evening. We have now got the keys. Reverend Oli sent them through by courier,” Greta replied. “We are meeting the architect on site first thing Saturday morning to run through the final plans with him and then the builders will start on Monday. Is it all right for us to stay with you and the father for the week, mummy? Well, me at least. Max will have to go back to London on Tuesday for work.”

  “Of course it will be! Goodness me, I am your mother. The father is very keen to visit Greenacres; to see it for himself.”

  “I know. All in good time, mummy,” Greta smiled as she visualised her bumbling father tripping over spent masonry and building equipment and her mother sighing in exasperation as she would be trying to keep him upright and under control.

  “Don’t leave it too long, dear, or the father will be unbearable.” Jeanne dropped the spoon into the cake mixture handle first. “Oh blast!” she exclaimed and tried to fish it out of the gooey mix.

  “No, we won’t mummy. See you about 8pm on Friday! Bye!” Greta sighed in relief as she successfully managed to wean herself off the phone to her mother. Ten minutes was impressive, for a change. Their conversations normally dwindled around the hour mark and her hand and wrist would be aching.

  Greta sat on the bed where she had been packing clothes for their forthcoming visit to the Island. She couldn’t help wondering if Greenacres was haunted or whether it had been purely her vivid imagination. She was worried and doubts began to fill her mind. She needed reassurance that everything would be all right. She decided to phone Sophie.

  “How are you?” Sophie’s familiar voice was a comfort to Greta.

  “I don’t know; happy, scared, apprehensive…” Greta broke off and sniffed.

  “What’s wrong, hun? You should be ecstatic; you have just bought your dream cottage! You’ll soon be living the dream!”

  “Oh Soph; I don’t know… it’s just me…” Greta blurted out.

  “It’ll be fine; there’s nothing to worry about… is there?” Sophie was slightly concerned over Greta’s reaction.

  “I haven’t told anyone this,” Greta began. “But when we were at Greenacres the other week, with the architect, I was in the drawing room… yes, of all places; when I saw this wall mounted dusty mirror and when I wiped the dust off the glass it… there was… this sounds so stupid now, there was a severed hand in the reflection of it. I freaked out completely! I couldn’t tell Max; I just couldn’t. After all, it is my dream; he is putting everything into this; our future, my happiness…”

  “A severed hand?” Sophie sounded incredulous. “That must have been flipping awful! Whose was it?”

  “What? I haven’t got a clue! Some poor person whose lost their hand; I don’t know, Sophie, I didn’t exactly want to hold a conversation with it! But when I screamed, I told Max it was a… you know…” Greta paused. Her breathing became laboured.

  “Spider?” Sophie finished for her.

  “Yes, it was the easiest thing for me to think of. No doubt there are legions of them in the cottage. It was the simplest white lie I could tell; you know I hate lying… to Max, to anyone.”

  “Don’t let it ruin your happiness. It was more than likely your imagination was playing major tricks on you. I know what you’re like. You are susceptible to psychic things, aren’t you? House buying is really stressful; it was probably nothing more than your mind working on overdrive.”

  “Yes, I do think I am a bit psychic, but for heaven’s sake, a severed hand; even I couldn’t think up anything as bizarre as that!” Greta started to giggle, as she thought back to her encounter.

  “That’s it, treat it like a joke. It was probably something that Leo said to you, when you first visited the cottage. Him and his silly talk of ghosts and serial murders.” Sophie was reassured that Greta was finding the funny side to her encounter.

  “Oh, I feel so much better having told you about it; it was pure torture pretending it was something else. Come to think of it, meeting up with, you know… them, won’t seem so bad now as meeting up with a stray hand.”

  Sophie sensed the relief in Greta’s voice.

  “You have got a great time ahead of you; all that planning, renovation works, watching it all transform into your dream cottage; it will be bloody fantastic! I am so envious of you!” Sophie replied.

  “Promise you’ll come over and see it soon?” Greta had cheered up.

  “Wouldn’t miss it for the world! And don’t worry, I won’t mention anything to Max; there’s no need for him to know about your hand!”

  “You are such a sweetie; thank you so much! Speak to you soon, bye!” Greta ended the call in a more positive frame of mind. She rose from the bed and closed the lid of the suitcase with a resounding thwack.

  “Okay, Greenacres! Bring it on; I’m ready for you!”

  Chapter Nine

  Max and Greta stood in the drawing room at Greenacres. Neither spoke as they took in their surroundings. They smiled at each other. Greta held out her arms indicating she wanted to be hugged. Max obliged. Drawing her close to him, he tenderly kissed the top of her head.

  “Happy?” His question was muffled amongst strands of Greta’s hair.

  “Ecstatic!” was the reply. Greta held Max close to her. “I would’ve never believed that we would be here, in a country cottage, on the Isle of Wight, in the middle of nowhere, in such a short space of time.” Greta glanced up at the mirror and saw the mark her tissue had made to clear the glass. She closed her eyes and snuggled into Max’s embrace.

  “I know.” Max stroked her hair. “It’s surprising what a little money, time and effort can achieve, without any complications too. Rev Oli was keen to get the deal done and dusted once it started, then there was certainly no stop
ping him!”

  Greta broke free from Max but still held on to his hand.

  “We will be all right, won’t we?” She sought reassurance. “You know, financially, physically?”

  Max kissed Greta in a lustful and passionate manner. He spoke close to her lips amid kiss, “Umm hmmm!”

  In the distance was an enthusiastic halloo.

  Greta smiled and finished their embrace with a brief peck of Max’s nose.

  “They’re here!”

  “Here we go; hold on to your hats!” Max walked towards the doorway where Jeanne and Charles were stood on the threshold, awaiting their invitation to see inside Greenacres. Jeanne was clutching a bunch of flowers and a clanking carrier bag of glasses; Charles clung on to a small glass vase and a bottle of champagne. He raised it like he was toasting the house.

  “Oh darlings! What a lovely little place! It oozes character, doesn’t it?” Jeanne traipsed over the threshold of the kitchen and fussed her way into the dining room. Charles was close behind. He narrowly missed stepping on Jeanne’s heel of her shoe in his eagerness.

  “Charles dear! Do watch your step! For heaven’s sake!” Jeanne thrust her handbag and the carrier against his chest. “Hold on to my bag; I need to concentrate! It is so great, darling! Show me around!” she boomed.

  Charles stood to attention; like a life model, he didn’t move an inch. He placed the vase awkwardly into Jeanne’s handbag and the champagne on to the floor. He fumbled with the carrier, making the glasses clank. Fortunately for him, he was ignored by Jeanne.

  “This is the dining room, mummy. As you can see, loads of work to be done. In fact the whole cottage is in need of complete renovation.” Greta looked about her.

  “Think of what it will look like when it is finished, dear. It will be fabulous!” Jeanne continued through to the living room, closely followed by Charles.

  “Oh! Darlings! It has a drawing room! Oh well, this is it, then. Greenacres is perfect!” She tiptoed through the darkened room. “What a darling fireplace! Inglenook I believe?” Looking directly at Max, she tested her knowledge.