Mary took her time loading a small plastic basket with whatever caught her eye. There was no rush. The woman behind the counter and another customer, an older woman, had seen her enter and were deep in whispered conversation. They would glance over at Mary as she wandered the few aisles and then go back to their whispers.
Mary made her way to the counter and offered a breezy “Good morning!” to the two women.
“A good morning to you too, dear. Moved into the cottage up the hill aye? Is it living up to expectations?” The woman behind the counter asked.
“It’s quite wonderful, yes, thank you,” Mary replied as she placed the laden basket on the counter.
“Has quite a few stories to tell has that house,” the woman customer chipped in. “Our Billy is the one has been keeping it up you know?”
“Oh really? What sort of stories?” Mary asked. “I’m sure a house that old has had plenty happen in its time, right?”
“Don’t you go taking any mind of Mildred here, dear. She’s just a chatterbox. It’s a fine house and we’re glad to see you have settled in. Got a young boy too I hear. We need more young’uns to keep the village school open,” the woman behind the counter added, scowling at the customer.
“The cottage is wonderful and yes, Jason will be starting at the village school just as soon as the term starts,” Mary added, smiling at the discomfort of the customer.
“Is Billy your husband? He has certainly done a fine job of keeping the place up. Please send him my thanks, Mildred is it?”
“Aye, for all my sins he’s a good fella is Billy, and my other half. He’d never stay up there after dark, though. No way, he would say: ‘Not paying me enough to hang around that place after dark, mother.’ Would be bloody terrified some days he got back late,” Mildred added. “But Gladys here is right. Take no heed. Old places always have creaks and groans. It’s in the wood, right? Always creaking and groaning is these old places. Bit like us old folk no doubt,” Mildred replied.
Mary paid for her groceries and left the store pondering as the two women watched her leave. She made her way slowly through the village enjoying the time alone and forgetting almost instantly the earlier conversation. Village folk like village gossip and village tales. No doubt about it. They were also wary of outsiders. Maybe this was just a taste of how newcomers would be treated here, she thought with a smile on her lips. They wouldn’t be chased off so easy, she knew that much. They had found their slice of paradise and had no intention of leaving.
It had past midday and the fish and chip shop had its doors wide open with a strong waft of frying fish making its way down the street, luring in the innocent passerby. Mary was lured in herself and decided a fish and chip lunch would be perfect. Sitting the well-wrapped treat on top of her shopping she carried on up the lane to the cottage.
She was almost at the front gate when she noticed the girl stood by the dry stone wall.
“Hello? Who might you be?” Mary asked as she got closer.
“I’ll be Emily. And who might you be? You don’t live here,” the girl replied as she eyed Mary warily.
“Well Emily, yes, yes we do live here. This is our new house. Do you live in the village?” Mary asked, opening the gate.
“Maybe I do? Well, I never seen you around before. You won’t like it you know,” Emily said as she made her way down the garden wall. Mary followed her in the hopes of inviting her in, but as she reached the end of the wall the girl had gone.
Mary shook her head puzzled. There didn’t seem to be any way down to anywhere else without following the lane. She gazed over the empty fields on both sides of the lane but could see nobody. Mary shrugged and picked up the shopping and took it into the kitchen.
“We have a treat today fellas: fish and chips. So come and get ‘em while they’re hot,” Mary said.
Peter and Jason scurried quickly into the kitchen as Mary unwrapped the steaming pile of fish and chips.
“Shall I get the plates?” Peter asked, as he reached down and grabbed a hot chip.
“Nooooo Dad, it’s not proper unless you eat them out of the paper!” Jason yelled.
“Good point son!” Peter replied as he gasped on the hot, burning food in his mouth. “Still need plenty of salt and vinegar, though, right?” he laughed.
They settled down at the table and spread the fish and chips among them, helping themselves from the huge pile.
“Did we have visitors today, you two?” Mary asked. “I just met a girl outside called Emily. Strange lass, she was. Stood near the front gate.”
“Not seen anybody round here all day, love. But we did get the swing up didn’t we, Jason?” Peter replied.
“We did Mum, you want to come and see?” Jason blurted out.
“After we’ve eaten sweetie. Well, whoever she was she disappeared over the wall somehow. Never seen her when we got here. She’s about eight. Strange,” Mary finished.
“Some kid from the village, Mary. Hopefully, Jason will make some friends soon and we’ll have to get used to kids turning up,” Peter added.
“Yes of course. Now eat up and then we’ll go and look at this swing of yours Jason,” Mary said.
After they’d had their fill of battered cod and chips, Peter announced he was going into the village.
“I’ll drop in for a pint and show my face and have a look at that hardware store down there. We need a few plug sockets for the bedroom and I’d rather buy them here if I can, rather than drive all the way to the city,” Peter said.
“Well take your time dear. I think me and Jason will be settling down for a nap and watch something on telly later,” Mary replied.
Peter took a slow walk down to the village. The door to the hardware store was stiff and jolted as he pushed it open, ringing a bell attached to the door. Never a good indicator when the hardware store can’t fix its own door, Peter thought. He was happy when he got inside, though. It was an Aladdin’s cave of tools, gadgets and boy’s toys. He found the sockets he was looking for and made his way to the counter to pay for them.
“Will that be all, sir?” The old gentleman behind the counter asked. He was bald-headed and wearing the regulation brown linen coat that is so popular with old hardware store owners.
“That’s all I need for now yes, thanks. You got a great range of stuff here, though,” Peter replied.
“Aye, everybody round here knows Hardwicks Hardware. Saves a long trip into the smoke it does. You’re new around here right? Moved into the old cottage did you?” The old man asked.
“Yes, we just arrived the other day. Got a few repairs need sorting but nothing serious,” Peter said.
“Well, we’ve got everything you need here, sir. And if we don’t have it in, we can get it. Good solid cottage is that. Been standing there a good few centuries I’ll wager. Lots of strange stories ‘bout the place, but still looks a fine old place,” the old man said.
“Stories? I had heard there were some, just not what they were,” Peter replied.
“Aye well, nothing that will make much difference to today, friend. Just old history. We’ve all got skeletons in the closet, right?” The old man said.
“Skeletons? What skeletons are we talking about?” Peter persisted.
“Well, there was a family lived there that had an unfortunate incident shall we say. Long time back of course. Back in the days of Victoria, I’d say. Nothing to be done about it now, so no sense in fretting over it,” the old man said.
“But a lot of people here seem to be concerned over it,” Peter said.
“Aye well. Most of the folk that live here have been family since the village first appeared see? They are all descended see? So to them, these stories are like yesterday and happened to close family is all. Take no heed of ‘em. Ghost stories are for frightening children with I say. Now, will there be anything else, sir? Would you like them in a bag?” The old man said as he started to unpack a box from under the counter.
Peter acknowledged this was the cue to
stop asking questions and accepted the proffered bag for the electric sockets. He paid up and left the shop. He made his way into the pub and took a stool by the bar.
George, the landlord, placed a pint in front of him. “You alright there Peter? Look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Well no, of course not. Just talk of them is all!” Peter laughed, as he took a sip of the pint. “Oh, I was going to ask. There was some kid knocking around the other day. Some lass called Emily. Just wondered if she was from the village.”
“Nope, never heard of her. Emily, you say? Hey, Billy. We don’t got no Emily in the village do we?” George called down the bar.
“Emily? No, not that I know of. How old is she?” Billy asked, from his usual seat in the corner of the bar.
“Mary said about eight,” Peter replied. “She wasn’t a problem. Just wondering if she lived down here was all.”
“Well, not from round here. There’s one of them gipsy traveller camps not too far away. Maybe from there perhaps. Keep an eye on your stuff if it is. Will steal the paint off your front door them buggers will,” Billy added.
“Right, thanks. I’ll remember that,” Peter laughed. He downed his pint and passed the empty glass to George for a refill. “One more and I’ll get up the road. Got some electrics to fix later.”
Peter made his way out of the village and back up the hill to the cottage. He found Jason sleeping peacefully in the arms of Mary. She was watching a cartoon with one eye and reading a book with the other.
“I’m guessing you were more interested in flying elephants than he was,” Peter whispered as he entered the room.
“He gave it his best shot bless him. How was your trip? Did you find what you were looking for dear?” Mary asked.
Peter waved the bag of sockets at Mary. “We shall have a bedside light this evening. “
“Oh, wonderful. Shall I have the first aid kit ready?” Mary snickered.
“No need. I’m pretty sure I can fix a plug socket dear. Oh, by the way. I asked at the pub and there’s no kid called Emily in the village. They reckon she’s probably from the gypsy camp. Told us to keep an eye on our stuff when they’re around. I don’t remember any campsites around, do you?” Peter replied.
“Nope, I never saw one on the drive in. Oh well, at least now we know. Well before you wander off to electrocute yourself, help me get His Majesty to bed will you?” Mary replied, as she gently lifted Jason off her legs and passed him to Peter. Peter took the still sleeping boy up to his bedroom and settled him on the bed.
Chapter Three
Refitting the plug sockets had required a trip down into the cellar. They’d had a quick look before they’d bought the house but hadn’t given it much thought after that. Peter had needed to go down there to trip the breaker for the bedroom though, so together they ventured down. It was a large cellar. It was the same size as the whole house upstairs and separated into the same sections as the walls that supported the floor above.
Finding the breaker box, Peter was pleased to see they were all clearly labelled. Obviously, Billy had got the courage up to come down here at some point, Peter thought, to do such a good job. As Peter played with the breaker box, Mary explored the other sections of the cellar. Orientating herself to the front of the house, she found a large wooden slab covering what was once the old coal grid. Above here would be to one side of the front door and the coal man would open this grate and drop a ton of coal into the cellar below. It was sealed now and the walls and floor, though still as ancient as ever, had been swept clean and painted in white limestone. Stood in the centre of this room was an old pram. Mary hauled it through to where Peter was, to inspect it better under the light.
“Well, that’s seen better days, Mary. Looks old. We should get it on the Antiques Roadshow or something like that. Might be worth a few bob,” Peter chortled.
“Peter, it stinks. It’s covered in mould and it stinks. I wouldn’t give a penny for it. In fact, I’d give someone a fiver just to take the stinky thing away! Let’s get it upstairs and out into the back yard. It’s not going to smell any better for leaving it down here.”
Peter held up a hand to Mary. She gave him a quizzical look as he moved it around in the air.
“Well, that’s weird,” Peter said. “There’s a cold draught coming from somewhere. But there’s nowhere for it to come from. Must be from the coal hatch.”
“Well no. That’s all been boarded over. I saw it myself. If there’s a hole somewhere we need to find it and get it blocked up with something. We’ll have rats and mice all over the place,” Mary replied.
Peter wandered around the cellar trying to locate the cause of the cold air but could find no holes. He gave a shrug and gave up.
“Got no clue. That back wall where the coal chute used to be is bloody freezing and it seems to be coming from that direction but I don’t see any holes. Maybe it’s an old spring under the house or something. I’m not going to worry over it now, let’s get this heap of junk upstairs,” Peter muttered.
Between them, they hauled the old pram upstairs and out into the back garden. It seemed, as Peter had guessed earlier, to be an old Victorian child’s pram. The cloth canopy that had folded up over the pram now hung on limply to the rusted metal frame. It had been slowly eaten away over the centuries by all manner of insect life and mildew. Mary too was right. The smell from it was awful.
“I’m not going to look, and now it’s out of the house I don’t care, but it smells like something crawled in there and died,” Mary said through hands clenched over her nose and mouth.
“I’ll see about getting it down to the dump sometime in the week. Yeah, maybe it wouldn’t go for too much on the antique fair,” Peter replied. “Now do you mind if I get back to what I was supposed to be doing and fix the plug socket?”
“You carry on sweetheart. I’ll make us some sandwiches for supper,” Mary replied, following him back inside.
Back in the bedroom, Peter prodded the old, now open socket with his tester. It was dead. Billy had labelled the circuit breaker box just fine. He unscrewed the old unit and lined up the new one. He reached to place the wire into its new holder and was jolted back, hitting his head on the bedside table.
“What the hell!” He yelled. “I just tested you, you stupid bloody thing!”
Mary came running up the stairs and into the bedroom.
“What’s wrong dear?!” She gasped.
“You didn’t go back in the cellar and turn the breaker back on by any chance did you?” Peter scowled.
“Why on earth would I want to do that? I’m in the kitchen making supper!” Mary barked back, annoyed at his accusatory tone.
“Sorry babe. I know I switched the power off. I tested it here too and it was off. Then it blows me across the room when I try to put the new socket on,” Peter muttered.
“Okay, well get downstairs and check the fuse again before you go killing yourself for a bloody bedside light,” Mary snapped.
Peter made his way down the tight staircase, into the kitchen and down into the cellar. He flicked on the cellar light and went over to the fuse box. The breaker was still off. He flicked it on and flicked it off again. From behind him, he felt the chill breeze again; blowing onto his bare neck, it made him shudder and turn quickly to look into the shadows. Seeing nothing, he turned the breaker on and off again before returning upstairs to the bedroom.
Peter placed his circuit tester on the live wire again and confirmed it was off. It was. He stroked it with the back of his hand and again confirmed it was off. He shuddered as he thought of the cold chill in the cellar but went ahead and connected the new socket without incident. Once it was fastened to the wall he went back down to the cellar and tripped the breaker back on.
Mary was waiting when he arrived back in the kitchen.
“All sorted, sweetheart? Here, have something to eat,” she said, placing a plate of beef and tomato sandwiches in front of him and a bottle of beer.
“Perfe
ct. Beef sandwiches and beer. How country can we get, girl?” He said smiling. “Oh, and yes, the socket should be fine now. No idea what that was all about. Old wiring, I suppose. Might be a short from one of the other breakers. We’ll get it all checked out one day.”
They curled up together on the sofa in front of the television. Peter had brought in a bottle of wine and two glasses. “Do you want to jump in the shower first or shall I?” Peter asked.
“I’ll let you go first, honey. I’ll watch the end of this and join you upstairs,” Mary replied.
Peter drained his glass and made his way upstairs to the bathroom. Mary emptied the last of the wine into her glass and settled the cushions as she continued with the show.
The creak of a door drew her away from the television and she called over her shoulder. “Is that you, Peter? If you’re in the kitchen, I guess we could do another bottle if you like?” Mary said. There was no reply.
Mary clambered off the sofa and walked into the kitchen. Peter could be heard singing to himself in the shower upstairs. The cellar door was slightly open and creaked again as Mary approached it. She felt a cold draught wind its way up the cellar steps to her as she reached for the latch. She shuddered as she pushed the door closed and dropped the latch firmly into place. She realised she was shaking as she turned back into the kitchen and picked up another bottle of wine.
“Peter! Peter, are you out of the shower babe?” She called up the stairs.
“Down in a sec,” came the reply, closely followed by Peter wrapped in a bathrobe.
“What’s up, girl? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Peter said, putting an arm around Mary.
“No silly, just trying to spook myself I think. The cellar door came open and I got a really weird feeling I was being watched. I just felt someone was down there. I know it’s stupid. Just spooked is all,” Mary replied.
“Get yourself back on the sofa. I’ll go and check the cellar. Not sure how anyone could get in there, though. Apart from the steel grate, that’s a bloody thick piece of wood blocking the chute. I’ll go and look anyhow, okay?” Peter said.
Thriller: Emily Page 2
