‘I see… a good plan, sis,’ chuckled Lesley. ‘If you can convince him to let you stay there and clean the house for him, you might be able to dig up some information about the property.’
‘And the woman who bought it last year,’ murmured Louise. ‘I think that place has to be the link, and that she was the catalyst. Yes, I think it’s an excellent plan… if you can pull it off. And I’ve just had a brilliant idea of how we might be able to get Phil close enough to let Peter judge if he’s inhabited by a spirit.’
*
Matthew parked the car outside the stone and redbrick house, and stared up at the imposing double front doors. The black paintwork was dirty and peeling in places, the brickwork grubby, and coated in green algae nearer the ground where there was obviously a problem with rising damp. The steps leading up to the front doors, damaged due to neglect and decades of winter frosts, sprouted weeds through the resulting cracks in the crumbling stone.
The wind, which blew up from the road, whistled past the small car, hurling autumnal leaves around in a mini tornado at the corners of the steps, whilst the drizzle that had started just after they left the pub turned into a downpour, hammering remorselessly against the car roof.
‘Guess we might have to wait out the deluge,’ muttered Matthew, glancing across at Liam, who sat transfixed by the house. ‘Are you all right, mate?’
Liam nodded solemnly. ‘Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just – this is the closest I’ve ever been to this house, and I’m suddenly very afraid, and I don’t know why.’
‘That’s probably down to its reputation. It has an aura of decay, don’t you think?’
‘Yes,’ Liam responded in a hoarse whisper, sinking low into the seat.
Matthew sensed that Liam’s apprehension was greater than his own. ‘Listen, you don’t have to come in with me if you really don’t want to.’
‘Something inside me tells me I must go in,’ whispered Liam, casting a brief glance in Matthew’s direction. ‘Besides, what harm can possibly befall us? It’s only a house, when all is said and done.’
‘That’s the spirit!’ cried Matthew enthusiastically, thumping him on the shoulder.
Liam rubbed his shoulder ruefully and returned his gaze to the house.
The pair sat in silence for a while longer, waiting with growing impatience for the rain to cease, and when it became apparent that it was not going to happen any time soon, they agreed to make a dash for the front door. Getting drenched would no more kill them than setting foot inside the house would.
Matthew did not bother pausing to lock the car after he and Liam stepped into the deluge. They slammed the doors and raced for the steps, bounding up them two at a time until they reached the top. Once again, Matthew selected a key at random from the large bunch, and was even more astounded than he had been the first time to discover he had once more selected the correct key.
They dived through the door and into the dry relative warmth of the house, and the door banged shut behind them.
Matthew shook the rain from his hair and shivered slightly, unsure whether it was purely because it was so cold, or whether it was from unease. Pulling off his sodden jacket, he was struck by how chill the atmosphere in the house felt, despite its initial warmth upon their entry.
‘It’s kind of musty in here, don’t you think?’
Liam’s voice seemed loud in the hollow silence, startling Matthew. ‘Yes,’ he responded, ‘but then, I don’t suppose anyone has been living here since Elaine Oakhurst died.’
The pair glanced around themselves curiously. All the doors on the ground floor were closed, adding darkness to the murk that enveloped them. Peering through the gloom, they could just make out the sweeping curves of a grand staircase up ahead.
‘I think the first thing we should do is open all the doors and windows down here. It’s no colder outside than it is in here, but the air’s so stale inside – a bit of fresh air might breathe new life into this house, and give it a whole new atmosphere.’
Liam glanced at his companion. ‘Do you really think fresh air will make this place seem any nicer?’
Matthew chuckled. ‘Probably not, but it’ll help get rid of the musty odour.’ He indicated the left hand side of the hallway. ‘You do that side, and I’ll do this side.’
Tossing his jacket on the floor beside the front door, he opened the door immediately to his right and entered the room without giving Liam the opportunity to object. If they stood there discussing the matter, he felt sure neither of them would move from the hallway. He had no particular desire to be separated from the personable young man, of whom he had grown inordinately fond during the incredibly short space of time they had known one another, but told himself mentally not to be an idiot: no harm would befall either of them whether they were together or not.
Matthew entered the dingy room, finding himself in what appeared to be a study. The drapes clung limply to each side of the two large windows, but the grime-encrusted glass filtered out most of the natural light, affording the room a permanent twilight. He wondered whether the other rooms were as dank and dirty; it was more than a possibility, but at the same time seemed a little odd. The house appeared to have not been lived in for decades rather than months.
He marched over to the nearest window, almost tripping over the curled up edge of the large, ornately patterned Persian rug which dominated the floor, and threw open the window with a resounding crash. Only a little more light drearily filtered into the room from outside, along with the rain that still cascaded down from the bruised sky. The windows would not be open for very long, otherwise the house would develop an indoor swimming pool.
Crossing to the other window, Matthew opened it rather more cautiously, and as he stood there, feeling the spray as it hit his face, cleansing the mustiness from his nostrils, he squinted through the driving rain down the driveway, to the gates and the road beyond.
He could see the figure of a man, standing there, staring up at the house. The man looked vaguely familiar, even from a distance, but when Matthew blinked away a droplet of rain that splashed directly into his eye, the figure had disappeared.
Shrugging, putting it down to a trick of the feeble rain-sodden light, Matthew turned from the window and glanced around the room.
The walls were a faded mustard colour, and there were several darker patches where paintings had obviously been removed at some point. A few bookshelves, overstuffed with reference books, stood between the windows, whilst a sofa of indeterminate colour and age rested against the wall adjacent to the door. The only other furniture in the room was a large oak desk with a leather swivel chair, which faced the side aspect window.
Every surface within the room was coated in a thick layer of dust, further indication that the room had seen no regular use for many years. Elaine Oakhurst had clearly not occupied this study during her brief tenure at Four Oaks.
Leaving the room, Matthew walked down the hallway to the next door, and opened it to find himself in a well-stocked library. He crossed the dusty wooden floor and opened the windows, noting at once that the rain had stopped as suddenly as it had started.
He did not linger to inspect the books. He instead exited the room and made his way to the next, which turned out to be a large sitting room, complete with several overstuffed sofas, a large fireplace, two windows on the right hand side, and a whole wall of French windows that opened out onto a verandah, leading down to the rear gardens.
‘Lovely,’ he whispered as he opened each of the French windows in turn and stepped out onto the verandah. The clean smell of fresh rain lay thick on the air and made a marvellous change to the musty odour that permeated every room within the house.
The paved decking beneath the vaulted colonnade was still damp and slippery with algae where it had not been cleaned for some considerable time, and Matthew trod carefully as he moved further into the fresh air.
The early afternoon sun was low in the sky, now cloudless and blue. It was odd, mused Matt
hew idly, that the rain stopped so quickly, and now all remaining traces of the weather had vanished from the sky. The only indication that it had been raining was the dampness of the ground and the smell that wafted across the overgrown yet impressive gardens.
Widening stone steps led down from the centre of the verandah onto the lawns, overrun with weeds, which swept down towards what looked like a river, some several hundred metres away, beyond which lay acres of forest that spread outwards in all directions, above which towered an impressive hill.
Matthew shielded his eyes and stared at the foreboding hill. Almost hidden from view by the uppermost branches of the trees, revealed perhaps because nature had denuded them, he could just make out a craggy formation that appeared to be the entrance to a cave. As he caught sight of it, a shadow moved across it.
For a moment, he could have sworn he saw the figure of a man, staring down at him, before disappearing.
Was it yet another trick of the increased light?
It was the second time his attention had been inexplicably drawn towards what at first glance appeared to be a watching figure, and the fact that both figures disappeared disturbed Matthew. Due to his unease surrounding the house, his senses were heightened and he was not sure he could trust what he thought he had seen.
Am I being watched, or is my imagination playing tricks on me?
He blinked and continued staring at the topmost reaches of the hill, but after a few minutes, having witnessed no further indication of movement, he retreated once more into the house.
As he re-entered the sitting room through the French windows, Liam came through the internal door.
‘I’ve opened the windows in the kitchen, dining room, and another sitting room,’ Liam said as he and Matthew met in the centre of the room. ‘Out of them all, only the kitchen can be described as being clean. The others are all caked in dust and grime, almost as though they haven’t been used in decades.’
Matthew nodded. ‘Much like the rest of the house, I expect. Only this room out of the ones I’ve been in is dust free. I guess Elaine Oakhurst only used these two rooms down here.’
‘Yeah, that would make sense if she was living here for less than a year.’
‘Did you know her at all, Liam?’
Liam shrugged. ‘A little, I guess. As far as I’m aware, she lived in Elendale all her life. My parents moved here just before Lucy and I were born, but didn’t have much to do with the villagers until they became the landlords of The Green Woman Inn about ten years ago. I only knew her to look at, and maybe say hello in the pub, but I never really knew her that well. Mum would probably be the best person to ask about her. Mum seems to know everyone in the village, but then I think most of the villagers are regulars at the pub.’
‘So you have lived in Elendale all your life?’
‘Yeah. Mum was a barmaid at the pub, way before she and Dad took it over, and apparently, she went into labour whilst serving the old girl who once lived in this very house. Apparently, she was never the same after that, so I’ve heard it said. She apparently died here in very mysterious circumstances, and her ghost apparently still haunts this house.’
Matthew chuckled. ‘And apparently you only know what you have been told.’
Matthew’s subtle dig went over Liam’s head. ‘Yeah, I’m afraid I’ve never really been interested in local history, even though Mum has tried to ignite my enthusiasm by telling me all the local legends.’
‘Did she tell you anything about that hill?’ asked Matthew, pointing through the French windows.
‘That’s Wicca Hill,’ responded Liam cautiously. ‘The villagers don’t talk about it much. The whole place is supposedly cursed by the spirit of some guy called Sawyl Gwilym, the so-called Warlock of Wicca Hill. They say he murdered loads of people in his time.’
‘When did he live?’
Liam shrugged. ‘Hundreds of years ago, I think. There was also supposed to be a coven of witches who lived in the network of caves up there, which is how the place got its name in the first place.’
‘Seems like a colourful history!’
‘Oh you have no idea! The forest that surrounds Wicca Hill is known locally as Dead Man’s Wood, because some stupid old hag in the Middle Ages dabbled in the black arts when she didn’t know what she was doing, and conjured up loads of dead spirits who were trapped in the woods.’
Matthew chuckled. ‘I thought you said you had no interest in local history?’
‘I don’t really, but locals don’t ever forget about Dead Man’s Wood, because at night you can sometimes hear the wailing of the dead souls coming from the woods. No one is stupid enough to go there at night, and few are brave enough to even venture there in daylight.’
Matthew arched an eyebrow. ‘And have you been brave enough… or foolish enough?’
Liam nodded tremulously, turning quite pale, as though unwilling to recall the events of the past. ‘Just the once, and I nearly shit my pants!’ He suddenly appeared vulnerable and fragile beneath the immense weight of the terror he felt.
Matthew was immediately intrigued, but decided not to press Liam further. He placed a reassuring hand on the terrified young man’s shoulder. ‘Hey mate, it’s okay. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.’
‘It’s not really a case of not wanting to talk about it, it’s just that… well, I can’t actually remember what happened. The memory is there, lodged in my brain, but I’m too afraid to reawaken it. Something must have happened to me, or else I saw or heard something, but all I really know is that the place scares the life out of me!’
‘When was this?’
Liam thought for a moment. ‘I was about six at the time. I think it would have been around 1987. I’d not long had my birthday, so it would have been around July.’
‘You were six? What were you doing in the woods?’
‘I used to hang around with a few boys who were slightly older than me – about ten, I’d guess. I don’t know why they let me tag along all the time – thinking back on it all, I must have been a real pain in the arse most of the time. Anyway, one day we were dared to go into the woods by the older brother of one of the boys, and the others were all game for it, so I went with them, even though I knew my parents would flip! So anyway, into the woods we all went, and all I can remember is waking up screaming, with the other boys sitting around, cowering in fear.’
‘Did any of them tell you what happened?’ gasped Matthew.
Liam shook his head. ‘Not one of them ever spoke of the incident. They all swore each other to secrecy, and I wasn’t about to tell anyone I’d been into the haunted woods, so it’s never been discussed since.!
‘And now you’re older, have you thought of asking the others about what happened to you?’
‘One of them committed suicide when he was fifteen, one is in a mental institution, and the other two have moved away, I don’t know where to.’
‘So I guess you wouldn’t be willing to accompany me into the woods tomorrow, then?’
Liam’s eyes widened in appalled horror. ‘Why in God’s name would you want to go into the woods?’
‘If this is to be my new home, then I feel I should explore the good places and the bad! It should help stimulate further ideas for my new novel as well. Besides, just now I was certain I saw movement near the top of the hill.’
Liam backed away from Matthew, clearly terrified. ‘You saw movement? Human movement?’
Matthew followed Liam’s backtracking figure with alarmed curiosity. Never before had he witnessed such abject fear etched so totally upon another person’s face. ‘I’m not certain,’ he responded truthfully. ‘It could have been a man, or it could have been a shadow. I definitely saw a man down by the gates not long after we arrived here, but I blinked and he disappeared. Then, when I was looking up at the hill I was sure I saw the figure of a man, but again, I blinked and he was gone. If it was a man, then clearly someone isn’t afraid of being in the woods!’
&n
bsp; ‘Well they should be!’ snapped Liam. ‘Only a fool would trespass within Dead Man’s Wood.’
‘Well then, tomorrow I guess that fool will be me.’ Matthew took a deep breath. ‘Look, I’m not going to try and force you to come with me if you really don’t want to, but if we can spend the night in this allegedly haunted house together with nothing bad happening, would you at least consider it?’
‘You want me to spend the night with you?’ The excited gleam that crept into Liam’s eyes vanished with sudden sadness when Matthew idly commented that they would be occupying separate rooms. ‘Well of course, I know that,’ Liam blustered. ‘I meant you want me to spend the night here in Four Oaks with you?’
Matthew smiled. ‘Yes, if you would like to. I’d really rather not spend my first night here alone, and I don’t think you are an axe murderer.’
Liam stifled a chuckle.
‘What are you giggling about?’
Liam shook his head. ‘Nothing. Schoolboy humour!’
Matthew joined in the chuckling. ‘Well, I can probably guess then! Anyway, would you spend the night here in this house with me?’
‘I’d love to, but only if I can come in with you – I don’t want to be in a room on my own!’
‘All right then,’ Matthew agreed, with only marginal resistance. ‘And should I allow you to sleep in the same bed as me, and we make it through the night without disturbance, will you at least consider accompanying me into the woods tomorrow? Facing your innermost demons might yet stir up the memory of what happened to you fifteen years ago.’
Liam agreed with a great deal of reluctance.
‘Excellent,’ Matthew responded with a grin. ‘Right then, seeing as it’s stopped raining, why don’t we go and fetch the provisions I’ve brought with me, have a drink, and then we can take a look around upstairs.’
Half an hour later, the pair sat on the low stone wall on the outer edge of the verandah, staring across the green vista of the gardens towards the darkened trees beyond.
Occasionally, Matthew sensed that Liam was observing him as surreptitiously as possible, which in such close proximity was impossible not to notice. Matthew chose not to return furtive glances at his new friend. He was distracted by images of Four Oaks, which kept intruding into his mind; images of the past, which in turn brought recollections of his weekend visit to his parents’ house.
The Master of Prophecy (The Sawyl Gwilym Chronicles Book 2) Page 12
