by Abbie Frost
The second drawer contained only a notepad and a couple of pens. As she piled the diaries back in, a piece of torn paper fluttered to the ground, with a sentence scrawled on one side.
She’s been fed so DO NOT give her any more. Just some water. J.
Must be about a pet. She slipped the paper into the notepad and moved towards the window. When she pulled back the threadbare curtains she got a faceful of dust. Coughing and waving her hand around, she looked out through the dirty glass into the mist. It was beginning to clear and she could see partway up the hill at the back of the house. Her heart skipped a beat and she tightened her grip on the windowsill.
There was something else down there now, something moving. It was too big to be an animal. She watched as a figure emerged from the fog – a man walking slowly along the rise at the back of the house. She couldn’t make out his features, but it didn’t look like Liam, Mo, or Sandeep. Shrouded in dark, heavy clothes, it reminded her of the figure from her dream. Her heart thudded in her chest.
The man stopped for a moment. He was totally still, but he would see her if he turned towards the house. Hannah’s hand shook as she stretched out for the lamp and switched it off, shrouding herself in darkness. But she couldn’t step away, couldn’t stop staring at the shape of his shoulders. The horribly familiar way that he moved. He was strolling along the ridge again, so smoothly he seemed to slide, just as the figure in her dream had done.
Her eyes followed him on up the hill until the mist swallowed him and he was gone. As if he’d never been there.
She pulled the curtains shut and collapsed onto the chair. Was she finally losing it? Was it all in her head? It must be. But it was nothing to worry about. She needed a drink, that was all. This was the first day without one in a long time. The man was probably just a hiker. But whoever he was, she had to go out and find him, to talk to him, because she needed to know for sure.
Needed to know that he was real.
Walking back to the door, avoiding the broken floorboards, she realized something else had been bothering her all this time. And now she knew what it was: that smell from her dream last night, it was in here too.
The room spun and suddenly all she could smell was that cloying stink. She needed to get out, needed fresh air.
She waited, listening for anyone outside in the corridor, because she didn’t want them to find her here.
When she turned the handle, it wobbled but the door didn’t move. She tried again, this time putting her weight behind it.
The latch. The fucking latch. Why had she let it close behind her?
She wrenched at the door handle, twisted and turned it, pushed and pulled. Come on, come on. Rattled and shook it. Move.
At last the handle began to shift and she pushed down harder, shifted her weight backwards. And the handle came off in her hand.
Chapter Eight
She made herself count to ten, then pushed the handle back into the hole. It clicked and turned, then kept on turning uselessly, until she let it fall back out onto the floor.
A wave of nausea almost overpowered her and she leaned her head against the door. It was the dust and that fucking smell, the thick stink that seemed to be everywhere.
And then with her face pressed to the wood, she heard something. Breathing, someone standing in the hallway, inches from the door.
She stopped herself from calling out. What if they had hidden in here last night? She listened to the silence, then to the breathing, heavier now.
‘Who’s in there? Who is it?’ Lucy, a hint of fear in her voice.
Hannah gasped with relief. ‘Thank God, Lucy. It’s me, Hannah. I got locked in.’
‘I can’t open it. Did you use a code?’
‘It was on the latch, but it’s stuck now.’
Lucy tapped away at the keypad for a moment. ‘It’s not working. I’ll have to break in.’
A sudden thought, a memory of a name scrawled in black: MADDIE. Hannah grabbed one of the diaries, skimmed through the pages, and returned to the door.
‘Lucy, hang on, I’ve got something. Try the number 1701.’ No response. ‘Lucy? Are you still there?’
After a pause, Lucy answered. ‘I’m here. What did you say?’
Hannah called out the number again and listened as Lucy keyed it in. There was a click and a buzz, then the door opened and Hannah almost fell through it.
Lucy stood there, white-faced. Hannah took a moment to steady herself, to try a laugh. ‘Thank you. Jesus, this bloody house is a nightmare.’ Her mouth felt dry.
Lucy’s eyes narrowed. ‘How did you know the code?’
‘Just a guess. I found some old diaries in there. One of the Fallons was born on January 17th, so I thought it was worth a try. Maybe all the codes are important dates from the house’s history – Mo would be into that.’
Lucy’s smile looked forced as she opened the door and peered around the room. ‘God, what a dump. Look at those boards – you could fall through the floor.’ She shut the door and sighed. ‘I don’t want to be boring, but we should probably keep an eye on Chloe. If something happens to her in one of these rundown old rooms, Rosa really will lose her shit.’
Hannah smiled.
‘Fancy a coffee?’ Lucy asked as they walked towards the stairs. ‘It always helps after a shock.’
‘Sounds good.’ Hannah followed her down. It was too late to catch the hiker on the ridge and she couldn’t face going back to her alcohol-free room. She realized she still had the diary in her hand and shoved it into the back pocket of her jeans.
Mo and his dad were sitting in the kitchen eating sandwiches, Sandeep hunched over his plate, his eyes half-closed, wrinkles criss-crossing his face. As they entered, he glanced up and smiled at them both, his expression warmer today. What possible reason could an elderly ex-policeman have for going into her room? But if not him then who else?
Mo pointed to the Aga. ‘Coffee’s made.’
Hannah poured herself a mug and stood close to the heat of the Aga, feeling the cold sweat on her back beginning to dry. She looked out the window at the thick wall of fog and tried to work out how long it would take to clear. She would head back to London as soon as it did, no matter what her mother or Lori said. Mo glanced at her, and she realized her hands were shaking.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked.
Hannah stayed silent and Lucy exchanged a glance with Mo. ‘Hannah’s had a bit of a shock,’ she said. ‘She got trapped in one of the rooms upstairs – the door handle came off – and she almost fell through the rotten floorboards. It’s pretty dangerous, so we should probably try to stay out of anywhere that isn’t open to guests.’
Mo raised an eyebrow, and Hannah wondered why carefree Lucy was suddenly so uptight about health and safety. Pushing away his plate, Sandeep turned to Mo. ‘Didn’t I tell you? The place isn’t safe. It’s falling apart, everything is covered in dust and it hasn’t even been properly renovated.’
Hannah took her chance and sat down opposite him. She needed to get him talking, find out what it was about this house that scared him so much. And see whether he’d been into her room.
‘Sandeep, Mo said you used to be a policeman.’
Sandeep frowned at his son. Then took a sip from his mug, scratched the wooden table with his fingernail for a moment, and nodded. ‘I did, joined up when I arrived in Ireland – the first Pakistani copper in the area.’
Mo began to clear away the plates. ‘The first Pakistani in the area.’
‘But we had no problems fitting in,’ said Sandeep. ‘Not at first anyway.’ A shadow flickered across his face and he sighed. ‘It’s all so long ago now.’
‘Only ten years since we left Ireland,’ said Mo. ‘I didn’t even know this place existed until a few months ago, but it must have been amazing back in the day.’
Sandeep stared through the window at the outhouse. ‘It was past its best by the time I moved here. But my older colleagues used to talk about Lady Fallon’s parents an
d their grand house parties. Important people from all over the world would come, as well as everyone from the village. Marquees in the grounds, immaculate gardens, servants and all that.’
Hannah sipped her coffee. ‘I bet they had a proper driveway then.’
‘They did but, by the time I came, you needed an all-terrain vehicle to get here. Everyone used to say Lady Fallon was a recluse.’ His voice went up a notch when he mentioned her name. Lucy filled her glass in the sink and turned to face them, looking bored.
‘Were there any staff here in your day?’ Hannah continued, thinking of something Sandeep had said. ‘To look after the house and the grounds? Only it looks like someone still tends the garden.’
Sandeep shook his head and pushed his chair back. Stood up slowly with a frown. ‘No staff, just a half-witted gardener called Robert, but I could never get much sense out of him.’
Hannah shifted in her seat. ‘So you did visit.’ There was an awkward silence, then she continued. ‘When was that?’
Sandeep coughed, raised a hand to his mouth, and suddenly looked very old. ‘I did, but it was a long time ago now.’ He picked up his plate and shuffled to the sink. ‘Damn this cold. And these chairs are no good for my arthritis.’
Mo called after him as he headed to the door. ‘The fire’s going in the living room and Liam’s got the TV on. Do you want me to bring you a blanket?’
‘A blanket?’ His chuckle turned into another racking cough. ‘I’m not an invalid, not yet at least. I’m going back to my room.’
Mo gave them a tight-lipped smile and followed him out.
‘Fancy a smoke, Hannah?’ Lucy gestured to the door. ‘You look like you could do with one.’
Outside the fog had lifted slightly, as if a layer of condensation had been wiped away from the world, and they lit up and walked along the side of the house.
‘Let’s have a wander. I can’t stand being inside all the time,’ said Hannah. She looked up the slope and remembered the way the hiker had seemed to glide, drifts of fog clinging to his coat, and then just disappear. She shivered and reminded herself that he would be long gone by now.
They went through the rose garden and up towards the rise at the back of the house. A patch of sun cut through the mist and for a brief moment they could see for miles, across empty rolling hills to the narrow strip of sea. There was no sign of life, not even a bird. Then the fog settled again and they were suddenly alone.
Lucy finished her fag and stubbed it out under her boot. ‘You hit a touchy subject back there.’ She fixed her with a stare. ‘Mo told me his dad left the force under a bit of a cloud, went through a pretty rough patch.’ She paused. ‘He said it’s probably best not to talk about it around him.’
Lucy and Mo had obviously been spending time together and Hannah couldn’t suppress a spike of resentment. She flicked her cigarette butt into the grass and told herself it was none of her business.
As they skirted the house, Lucy began to open up about her background. She was the only child of two successful lawyers, neither of whom had been too pleased when Lucy joined a band instead of going to university. Whenever she mentioned music, she grew animated, her hand gestures more pronounced. Hannah could see how she’d be able to hold a crowd under her spell.
‘It’s been brilliant, really amazing. And now I have this one chance to branch out on my own, to play the sort of music I love.’
They fell silent and Hannah couldn’t help dwelling on her wreckage of a life back in London. On the way she had left her job as an architect, burned all her bridges and ruined her chances. As they walked on through the mud, she found herself telling Lucy; not about Ben, but about the person she’d been, the dreams she’d had, before it all fell apart.
‘Cool,’ Lucy said. ‘I love architecture, but I could never do anything like that. You have to be so skilled, and inventive too. I bet you’ll be a huge success one day.’ She put an arm around Hannah, giving her a little squeeze, and it was so comforting that Hannah had to resist the urge to rest her head on Lucy’s shoulder.
Patting her pockets, Lucy broke away. ‘Shit, my cigarettes. I left them on the garden bench.’ She turned and walked away. ‘Back in a second.’
Hannah watched her go and stood alone, waiting, clutching herself against the cool breeze. A minute or so passed, she stamped her feet to keep warm, and then she thought she heard a sound coming from the other side of the house: a rhythmic rattling that seemed to be getting louder. Maybe a window banging in the wind.
Clank, clank, clank.
She turned her back to the wind that was starting to build, clearing away the remaining fog and cutting through her jacket. Maybe she could make it to the village soon.
The sound carried on, rattling and banging, a horrible lonely sound that made her want to turn and run. Lucy was nowhere to be seen, but it could be one of the others, Mo collecting logs perhaps. The wind howled along the wall and the clanking grew louder. Every time she thought it had finished, it would begin again. Thunk, clank, thunk. Where was Lucy? Hannah pulled up her hood and edged towards the corner of the building, thinking of the man she’d seen from the window. The shadow that had been in her room last night.
She stood with her back to the wall of the house and listened to the rhythmic sound, not daring to look, her heart thudding in her chest. She closed her eyes for a moment, but knew she had to face it.
Took a step closer, rounded the corner, and there he was. Just as she knew deep down he would be.
Chapter Nine
The man she’d seen from the window, dressed all in black, shuffling towards her. She almost turned to run, but he didn’t seem to register her at all. He hunched over and put down his shovel, then walked slowly towards a wheelbarrow, as if she wasn’t even there. He picked up a few logs and threw them inside. They thunked against the metal barrow, making the sound she had been so frightened by just moments ago. Hannah bit down a laugh, knowing she was on the verge of hysterical giggles.
The hunched man was old, too old to be the man in her dream. He wore a thick black duffel coat and a woollen hat that covered straggly grey hair. His heavy beard framed a face worn down by years spent in the wind. She gathered herself and walked towards him.
‘Hello.’ After a moment, she tried again. ‘Hi, there.’
He carried on moving slowly forward, as if he hadn’t heard. Then he straightened, a hand went to the small of his back and he squinted at her.
‘Hi, I’m Hannah.’
He grunted and muttered something in a thick Irish accent. ‘Rob – gardener.’
She tried a smile. ‘Nice to meet you.’ There was an awkward silence. ‘Shame about the weather. Are you here every day?’
‘Once a week.’ He rubbed his back with a gloved hand and pushed the wheelbarrow forward, cutting off their conversation. Hannah could see that his other gloved hand was oddly twisted, like the root of an old tree, and he kept it clenched under the handle of the barrow – he used his wrist to hold on rather than his fingers. This must be the Robert that Sandeep remembered; he might even have the key codes for the rooms. She had a sudden vision of him lying in wait in the storage room, only metres from her bed, running his twisted hand down the wall, listening to her every move. Maybe her dream had been real? She swallowed and hurried after him, determined to get him talking, to find out as much as she could.
‘So, Rob, I’m one of the guests. This place is amazing by the way. Were you here with the previous owners?’
He nodded but shuffled onwards, the wheelbarrow bumping over the ground.
‘Look,’ Hannah said. ‘It’s cold and the wind is picking up. You won’t be able to work much longer. Why don’t you come in for a cup of tea?’
He shook his head and chuckled, an unnerving sound in the silence. ‘No, thank ye, not for me. I don’t go in there. Never did, never will.’
Hannah forced herself to continue. ‘There’s chocolate cake in the kitchen. What about a piece of that?’
‘
Thank you, sure, but I don’t go inside,’ he said.
‘Why not? Surely you’re allowed into the house?’ Hannah frowned at him, but when he didn’t reply, she tried another smile. ‘I’ve been reading about this place online and the history is fascinating. I was really hoping – and I know some of the other guests are just as keen as me – that you could tell us something about the previous owners, about what the house used to be like.’
He stopped the barrow, but still wouldn’t meet her eye. A knot of his dirty grey hair moved in the wind. Was he about to say something? But then he turned back to loading logs into the wheelbarrow.
Hannah was about to give up when a window opened at the side of the house and Liam’s head poked out.
‘Hannah, do you want some cake?’ He glanced warily at Rob.
‘Yes, please. Bring out a slice for Rob here too. He’s the gardener.’
The window shut and a minute passed in silence – Rob steadily picking up logs and Hannah trying to think how to get more out of him – then Liam emerged around the corner of the house, balancing three pieces of cake on a large plate. He paused to rest them on the low wall that surrounded a wood stack, wiped a hand and held it out to Rob.
‘I’m Liam, another guest, we met on the path earlier. Thanks for the heads-up about the village shop.’ He grinned, but Rob ignored his proffered hand and turned back to the log pile.
Liam’s smile faltered and he took a piece of cake from the plate. Turned to Hannah. ‘Glad this bloody mist has cleared a bit. Chloe was getting restless, so she and Rosa have gone for a walk around the grounds.’
Rob pulled off a glove with his teeth and shuffled over, picked up a piece of cake and took a huge bite. It was ridiculous to think that this poor old man could be dangerous, but all the same Hannah was glad to have Liam with her. She wondered where Lucy had got to.
‘I was just asking Rob about the history of the house,’ Hannah said. ‘He’s worked here for years.’
