by Abbie Frost
Liam looked down at the gardener’s twisted hand, which he kept at his side, and Hannah suddenly remembered Liam was a doctor. He talked through a mouthful of cake.
‘I’ve heard the Fallons were nice people.’ He wiped a finger over his lips. ‘They must have been good to work for.’
Rob nodded.
Hannah smiled at Liam. ‘Rob was saying that he never goes into the house, but he won’t tell me why.’
Liam gave a hearty laugh that sounded fake. ‘Doesn’t want to get mud everywhere, I guess.’
He patted Rob on the shoulder, but the man flinched and stepped away as if he had been stung. His piece of cake fell to the floor and landed in a muddy puddle. They all stared at it for a moment, before Liam said, ‘Bad luck. Good for the foxes though.’
But Rob wasn’t listening; he was shuffling away from them. ‘I should be gettin’ back home. That fog’s closing in.’
And sure enough, without them realizing, the wind had died and the mist had begun to gather again along the hills. Hannah tried not to stare as Rob struggled to put his glove back on, wondering if she should offer to help.
‘Do you live nearby?’ she asked.
‘’Bout a mile off, down there in a cottage.’ He pointed at a distant valley, towards a rolling wall of white mist. ‘It’ll be a rough night,’ he said. ‘You folks stay inside.’
They couldn’t hold him up any longer.
At that moment, Rosa and Chloe emerged from the fog at the top of the rise, Rosa’s loud voice unmistakable. ‘The wind’s died and it’s really settling in again. What a nuisance.’
As Hannah and Liam turned to look up at them, Chloe stopped walking, still some distance away. Her eyes focused on Rob.
The gardener stared back at her, a look close to horror on his face. He shuffled away, muttering, arms clutched around himself.
Chloe burst into tears and ran to her father’s side, Rosa hurrying behind her. She put her arm around her daughter’s waist.
‘Who the hell is that? What’s wrong with him?’
Rob stopped moving, his eyes still fixed on Chloe, his chest heaving. Then he muttered to himself, shook his head and turned towards the outhouse.
‘It’s my damn eyes again, playin’ tricks. Stupid old fool. There’s no way it’s her, it couldn’t be feckin her. She’s gone, been gone for years.’ The wheelbarrow squeaked as he pushed it down the hill, and no one spoke.
They stood in stunned silence for a moment, then Rosa and Liam led a tearful Chloe back inside: Liam with his arm around her, occasionally scowling back at Rob, and Rosa whispering something under her breath.
Hannah waited until they had gone inside, then followed Rob, catching him up as he opened the outhouse door and shoved the wheelbarrow inside.
She stepped in behind him. ‘Rob, are you all right? That girl, she’s … she’s Chloe, Liam’s daughter. Did you think she was someone else?’
‘Don’t mind me,’ he muttered as he pushed the barrow into a corner. ‘I’ve been here too long, thought it was her.’
In the dark of the outhouse, Hannah could barely see his face, but she thought he might be smiling. He stepped towards her, and she shrank backwards.
‘The little girl,’ he said.
‘What? Who are you talking about?’
He came so close that she could hear his chest wheezing. Then he walked past her and opened the door, and Hannah let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. He waited for her to step outside, then closed the door behind them.
‘Which little girl?’ Hannah asked.
He sighed and, for the first time that day, he looked directly into her eyes. Hannah stepped back involuntarily and bumped into the shed, but he didn’t notice. He was pointing up at a window on the top floor of the house.
‘The girl at the window. The crying girl.’
Chapter Ten
Hannah felt a quiver go through her as her eyes followed his pointing finger. She thought about the figure she had seen when she first arrived, about the crying she had heard in the night. But this was stupid, ghosts didn’t exist. It could all very easily be explained.
‘You heard a girl crying? When was that?’
‘She … she used to stand at that window there.’ He jabbed his finger at the house again. ‘First saw her when I was out there in the field, diggin’. Heard this odd little sound and looked up there.’ He paused. ‘It was strange. This tiny girl, with her hand pressed against the glass. Her face …’
But he must have seen Hannah’s expression because he sighed and turned away. ‘Forget it. I better be goin’ before this fog gets any worse.’
Then he started along the gravel path towards the gate.
Hannah went after him, her heart racing, and reached out for the damp arm of his coat. ‘Wait. Who are you talking about? Who was she?’
He pulled away. ‘No one, don’t you worry. It doesn’t matter, just an old tale, like. Won’t harm you none.’ He lumbered away through the gate and into the mist. She stood for a long time looking after him, picturing a little girl with her hand pressed against glass, tears running down her face.
‘Hannah!’ a voice called from the house. She shook away her thoughts and turned to see Sandeep standing at the front door. ‘Are you all right?’ He had his arms wrapped around himself. ‘I saw you from the window, talking to that man. It was Robert, wasn’t it? The gardener, the one from all those years ago.’
She went up to join him, taking off her boots to leave them by the door, pausing for a moment to collect her thoughts. ‘Yeah, that was him. I tried to get him to tell me more about the house, but the weather’s getting worse and he had to head home.’
Sandeep pulled his cardigan tighter and shivered. ‘Well, come in and close the door. It’s bloody freezing. I hope that drawing room fire’s still going.’
She followed him through to the hall, her mind still on what Rob had said.
A girl at the window.
It was probably just one of those stupid myths that got passed around in small villages. She had never been one for ghost stories and she wasn’t about to start believing in them now. But she couldn’t stop herself from remembering the desperate sobbing from last night, the figure at the window when she first arrived. When the house had been empty.
Liam, Rosa, and a pale-looking Chloe walked down the stairs towards her, and she realized she was still standing in the hall on her own. Liam touched her shoulder. ‘Are you all right? That man didn’t frighten you, did he?’
Hannah brushed him away. ‘No, I’m fine. He seems harmless.’
‘Well,’ Rosa sighed. ‘You do look a little pale, and he scared Chloe. Did you see the way he stared at her? I think we should report him to the host, make sure he doesn’t come back again.’
Liam saw Chloe’s worried look and put his arm around her. ‘Hannah’s right, he’s just an old man. He won’t come near you again, I’ll look after you.’ He ran a hand through his hair. ‘Come on, I’m starving, let’s go and make some food.’
Hannah watched them enter the kitchen, then went into the drawing room. She found Lucy curled up in one of the fireside chairs, Sandeep in the other. Hannah flopped onto the sofa with a sigh.
‘There you are, Lucy. What happened? I thought you were looking for cigarettes.’
A sleepy smile. ‘I looked everywhere but couldn’t find them. When I went back round the house, you’d gone.’
So something else had gone missing, vodka and now cigarettes. The packet had probably just blown away in the wind, though. Or maybe Rob had picked them up by mistake.
Hannah turned to Sandeep. ‘It was funny talking to Rob out there. He seems to have been through a lot over the years.’ She put on a casual tone. ‘When you first met him, was it at this house?’
He closed his eyes and she thought he looked sad and suddenly very tired, as if the very mention of this house had sent him off to sleep. But after a few moments, he answered her, his voice frail.
‘Wh
en I was in the guards, I was called to the house, that’s all.’
Lucy gave Hannah a look that said leave the poor old man alone.
Then the door opened. ‘Dad?’ Mo walked into the room.
Sandeep sighed, glanced from Hannah to Lucy and back again. ‘It’s all right,’ he said without turning to his son. ‘Maybe it’s time I talked about it.’
He coughed weakly and huddled forward, reached his hands out towards the flames. ‘I used to love my job. Worked in Dublin first, but when I married Mo’s mum, I transferred here. A quiet country area, perfect for bringing up a child.’ He snorted. ‘Or so I thought.’
Mo dragged a chair next to his dad, sat down and looked at him, put a hand on his shoulder. ‘It’s all right, Dad. No need to do this.’
A log shifted in the fire and no one spoke.
‘The truth is,’ Sandeep turned to his son, ‘I should have told you years ago. You and Mum. She was so angry with me for giving up my career, and you hated having to start again in London.’
Mo swallowed. ‘You told us the new station sergeant didn’t like you, that he was a racist and he was trying to fire you.’
‘There was some truth in that, but I could have stuck it out.’ Sandeep coughed again. ‘It wasn’t the racism, not really, it was this place – this damn house. It all started when I first came here, first set eyes on this horrible building. It ruined my career – ruined my life.’
Chapter Eleven
Fifteen years ago
The Policeman
It’s probably just another nuisance call, some kids playing games in a phone box. But he gets out of the car anyway and locks the door, then stares along the muddy track towards a row of clouds scudding over distant hills. Checks his watch. It’s near the end of his shift, and his dinner will be ready soon. Meera will be cooking, her hair tied up in a tight bun at the top of her head, her clothes sweet with the smell of food.
At the start of the path he stops and sighs. This is why the new sergeant smirked when he gave him the job and promised it wouldn’t take long. There was no way to the house by road, so you had to walk bloody miles through muddy fields. Meera’s going to be furious.
Close to an hour later, he finally reaches the top of a hill and catches his first glimpse of the house. An imposing Regency structure that rises like a rock face from the landscape. It’s every bit as impressive as he has been told. He passes through the well-maintained gardens and admires a few of the plants. A row of white magnolias seems somehow out of place here, as if it’s been taken a long way from home and forced to adapt. He remembers seeing plants like these in Pakistan, lining the banks of rivers and streams. As his hand brushes against the thick petals, he wonders how people can prize these flowers but shun him and his family. Perhaps the gardener would give him some cuttings for Meera, to remind her of home.
When he reaches the entrance, he pauses for a moment and stares at the huge black front door, a foreboding slice of darkness in a wall of wind-beaten stone.
The bell rings and, after a moment, the door opens. A tall handsome man steps out to shake his hand, and Sandeep puts on his official smile. ‘Mr Fallon?’
The man’s handshake is firm. ‘Just call me John.’ He doesn’t have much of an Irish accent, but then the posh people round here often don’t. It’s the same back home: the rich have the best British accents. It’s why his parents made sure he learned to speak that way too.
‘Sorry to bother you, sir.’
The man gestures him inside. ‘Not at all. Come in, come in. What can I do for you?’
They stand in the hallway and Sandeep takes a moment to glance around, taking in the line of portraits in heavy gold frames on the wall. His whole house would probably fit in here.
‘Would you like to see the drawing room?’ the man asks.
‘Oh, no, this won’t take a moment. It’s just an enquiry about your little one, your daughter, is it? We’ve had a report about a child in distress.’
The man takes a step back and frowns, then a smile flashes across his face. ‘I’m sorry, I’m afraid there’s been a mistake.’
‘Well, it’s soon cleared up. If I could just make sure she’s all right …’
The man’s laugh echoes in the empty hallway. ‘That’s not possible.’ A pause as he looks at Sandeep, as if expecting him to start laughing too, and then his tiny smile dies. ‘I’m afraid someone has been having a little joke at your expense. The locals, or maybe your colleagues.’ Their eyes met. ‘My wife and I don’t have any children.’
A grandfather clock ticks quietly by the stairs, and Sandeep frowns at him. ‘But we’ve had a report. I wouldn’t be doing my job properly if I didn’t look around.’
‘Any other time, I’d be happy to give you a tour, but we’re expecting guests and I really must get ready for them.’ His smile now is kindly, sympathetic. ‘The fact is, someone’s wasting your time with the old ghost story about this house. Ask your colleagues about it when you get back to the station – they’ll fill you in.’
Sandeep thinks of Meera’s warm smile turning to a worried frown as she waits for him back home. He has no warrant and no reason to doubt the man.
‘Thank you then, sir. Sorry to have disturbed you.’
On his way through the garden, he stops and looks back at the beautiful house for a few moments. There’s something about it that makes him want to walk all the way to the road without looking back. Makes him want to wash his clothes and shower, to rid himself of that strange smell in the hall.
As he turns to leave, the wind whistles against the magnolia plants and he tells himself that it always makes that moaning, whining, noise. But as he walks on, a tiny part of him thinks it sounds just like a child crying.
Chapter Twelve
The fire crackled but no one spoke. Hannah wondered whether Sandeep had heard the child last night, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask, didn’t want her drunken nightmares laughed at by a room full of strangers.
Something else had bothered her about the story: the mention of a strange smell. It brought back thoughts of being trapped in the little office and of her dream.
The sound of scraping cut through her thoughts. She looked up to see Mo crouched by the fire, raking out ash with the poker. He turned to Sandeep, with a strange glint in his eyes. ‘I still don’t understand. You didn’t leave the force until five years later, so what does the house have to do with it?’
Hannah frowned and glanced from Sandeep’s aged face to his frail hands. He seemed very old to have been in the police ten years ago, but then he wasn’t particularly healthy.
‘When I got back to the station,’ Sandeep went on, ignoring his son. ‘I explained what had happened and I watched them all trying not to laugh. They told me about the ghost story, as if the whole thing was a joke that I was too stupid to understand. It turned out I wasn’t the only one who had heard the child – there had been plenty of reports over the years – but they’d all been ignored.’ He coughed and his hand went to his chest. ‘There was a lot of superstition back then. I wasn’t happy, but I let it go.’
He took a sip of water, his eyes glassy. ‘A couple of years later I came here again after another of those damn phone calls. That’s when I met the gardener, Robert.’ Another cough racked through him and his chest began to heave. ‘Sure it was him who’d made the call.’
‘Dad.’ Mo stood up as the coughing worsened.
Sandeep sucked in a rattle of air and rested his head back on the chair, his hand over his heart, his face pale.
‘Shit.’ Mo started to pace up and down. He looked at the others, ran a hand through his hair, then went to the door and shouted for Liam.
A few moments later, Liam entered and knelt beside Sandeep.
‘Dad had a heart attack last year.’ Mo was pacing again. ‘Keeps forgetting to take his pills.’
Liam took Sandeep’s wrist and frowned. ‘Your pulse is racing. Come on, let’s get you upstairs and you can have a lie-down.’
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Sandeep nodded weakly, letting Mo and Liam gently help him to the door. Hannah followed them out and watched them navigate the stairs: Sandeep clung to his son, his face gleaming with sweat. He glanced around the hall as if the very walls were after him.
In the kitchen, Rosa stood frying something at the Aga, while Chloe chopped vegetables.
‘We’re making a beef casserole and a vegetable one for the people who don’t eat meat,’ Chloe said.
Rosa muttered something about it being a lot of extra work, and Hannah took a seat at the table. When Mo came in, he gave them all a weak smile and slumped down beside her.
‘How is he?’ Hannah said.
He blew out a sigh. ‘All right, I think. Liam says it was probably just a panic attack, but he should stay in bed and shouldn’t travel for a couple of days. Don’t know whether I’ll be able to persuade him, though.’
Lucy entered the kitchen and went to fill a glass with water. ‘Perhaps you should call an ambulance and get him looked at in hospital. Best not to take a chance.’
Mo laughed. ‘Dad would never forgive me. Can’t stand a fuss and Liam doesn’t think it’s that serious, so long as he keeps quiet for a few days and takes his pills.’
Rosa turned from the sink. ‘And Liam is a brilliant doctor, you know. Worked in hospitals in the casualty department for years before he became a GP. If anyone can deal with a medical emergency, it’s him.’ It was the first time Hannah had seen her really smile.
Mo stared hard at the table.
After a moment, Lucy sat beside him and took his hand. ‘I’m sure he’ll be all right.’
Mo tightened his grip and looked into her eyes, sending a pang of something like loneliness into Hannah’s chest.
Coming in, Liam sat down with a sigh. ‘He’s going to be fine, just fine. I’ve made sure he’s taken his pills – and I don’t think it’s anything serious – but with his medical history it’s best not to take any chances. He needs a proper rest, that’s all, so I’ve given him a sleeping pill and we can see how he is in the morning.’
