The Guesthouse

by Abbie Frost

  ‘Is this some kind of joke?’

  She blinked. ‘Of course not. Why would I make up something like this?’

  He passed the card back to her and breathed out heavily. ‘I don’t know, forget it.’ He stared out of the kitchen window. ‘You know, I’ve never been good at jokes, not really. They used to think it was a great joke sending me out here every time they got a prank call. Laughing behind my back when I tried to tell them something serious was going on.’

  His voice got louder. ‘They’d rather imagine I believed in ghosts than listen to me. I was supposed to laugh it off, treat their insults as banter, harmless banter.’ He banged his hand on the table. ‘And like a fool I tried to do it. To fit in. Went to the pub with them, shared a pint, bought my round, as if that would make me one of them.’

  Hannah shifted in her chair, tried not to look at a tiny muscle flickering in his cheek.

  ‘But when it came to it, I could never belong. Not like the Fallons did, not like my old sergeant did. Do you know what he said when he told me about Lady Fallon’s accusations?’

  His dark eyes flashed at her. ‘He said he realized certain kinds of behaviour were acceptable in my part of the world, but they couldn’t be tolerated here.’ His speech was laboured. ‘As if people from my part of the world believed it was fine to sexually assault a lady.’ He coughed and wiped his mouth with the back of a hand.

  She watched his chest rise and fall. When she spoke she kept her voice gentle. ‘I’m sorry if I’ve upset you, Sandeep, but it’s not a joke. I found those cards upstairs in a wardrobe. The reason I came here in the first place was because I knew my dad lived locally. But I had no idea until today that he might have been married to Lady Fallon.’

  Sandeep closed his eyes, as if he was about to drift off, then he opened them again and stared at her. ‘I suffered – for years. Thought I had settled in, become one of the lads, but it was all a joke. They thought I believed in ghosts, thought I was the ghostbuster, capable of breaking all the rules. Bringing my uniform into disrepute. Attacking a woman, for God’s sake.’

  ‘That must have been horrible.’ She felt so sorry for him, so embarrassed by the behaviour of his colleagues. ‘But why do you think Lady Fallon would do that? Accusing you of something so horrible when she didn’t even know you?’

  He sighed again, a soft, sad sigh this time. ‘Yes, you’re quite right, that’s the question. I’ve thought about it a lot over the years and the only explanation is that she had something to hide.’

  ‘And her husband? What about him? Do you think he had anything to do with it?’

  When he looked up at her, his eyes softened. ‘Well, I only met him that one time. Although I didn’t take to him, I never heard anything bad said about him.’ He shrugged. ‘So who knows?’ Another of those gentle smiles. ‘And if he was your father you should try to think the best of him.’

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Creak, creak, creak.

  Hannah stared at the ceiling, wide awake now. There it was again – footsteps – creaking above her head.

  It had to be the sound of someone walking across bare wooden floorboards, someone pacing back and forth up there in those dark empty rooms in the old servants’ quarters. Hannah shuddered and pulled her duvet closer.

  The wind had been a low whine when she fell asleep, but now it was a high-pitched wail, gusting against the window. Her phone said 2 a.m. She listened to the footsteps for a few minutes, then swung her legs to the floor.

  The sound of the wind was even louder in the corridor, and she thought she could feel a breeze, as if the wind had somehow got into the house. Above the wailing that rhythmic creak, creak, creak continued, right over her head.

  She was tempted to go back to her room and put her head under the covers, or to knock for Mo as he’d suggested.

  At that moment a creak in the hall made her jump, and a flash of blinding light illuminated her face. She held up her hands to shield her eyes.

  ‘It’s only me,’ Mo whispered and the torchlight dipped to the ground. He was out in the corridor, dressed in a sweatshirt over pyjama bottoms, his bedroom light cutting across the floor behind him.

  They both looked up, as the floorboards creaked above them again. He shut his door and came closer. ‘Jesus. What the fuck is that?’

  ‘Footsteps,’ she whispered. ‘I’m sure of it, coming from the servants’ quarters.’

  They headed for the stairs, Mo’s torch shining a faint path in front of them. ‘Did you hear crying too? I didn’t.’

  ‘Not this time.’ She wanted to make sure he knew it hadn’t been her imagination.

  Downstairs, Mo flicked the switch that lit up the horrible green corridor, and they crept along it. Hannah went ahead of him, opening the door to the narrow back stairs. She listened for a moment to the silence.

  A pale light from the little window on the landing shone down into the stairwell as they hurried up, Mo coming so fast he bumped into her at the top. As she swayed forward, he grabbed her waist. ‘Sorry I—’

  Creak, creak, creak.

  Steady, regular, somewhere nearby. A cold breeze crept over Hannah’s skin, raising goose bumps on her arms.

  Mo’s hands tightened on her waist and she felt him shiver. ‘All right?’ his whisper was almost a gasp, and she guessed the words were as much to reassure himself as to comfort her.

  ‘Come on.’ She forced herself forward, towards the source of the noise, her whole body crying out for them to turn around, for them to leave whatever it was to its own devices, go back to bed and curl up under the covers. But it was too late now.

  Their shoulders brushed together as they searched the first room, Mo shining his torch into all the corners. The creaks had stopped again, replaced by the sound of their own feet on the bare boards, and the room was empty except for an old mattress and a wooden chest. Then Mo’s torch shone on the floor and Hannah felt her heart flutter in her chest. A smudged footprint in the dust. They had been up in these rooms themselves, but this looked tiny, childlike.

  They worked their way systematically from room to room, peering out of each window in case the sounds had come from the roof.

  She couldn’t remember if they had closed the doors when they were last up here, but all of them were wide open now. All except the one at the far end, the one that must be directly above her own bedroom.

  They stepped towards it, their breathing loud in the emptiness, and Hannah reached out a hand towards the door. They shared a look and then Hannah pushed. It creaked at her touch and gradually swung open.

  The torch shone a beam across the floor, illuminating a trail of footprints in the dust.

  Mo gasped as the light followed the trail to the corner of the room, to a dark shape huddled on the floor. A slender girl, hunched against the wall, sitting staring straight at them as if they weren’t even there, the light glinting in her eyes.

  Hannah couldn’t speak.

  Mo stepped past her. ‘Chloe?’

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Hannah should have been relieved, but something in Mo’s tone made her stay back, holding onto the doorframe. He tried again, his voice still uncertain. ‘Chloe? How did you get up here?’

  She didn’t move. In her arms something shifted, a dark shape uncoiled and leapt towards them. The grey cat. It ran between their legs and out into the dark.

  There was something strange about Chloe, an unsettling smile. Mo tightened his grip on Hannah’s arm. Chloe’s glazed eyes seemed to stare, unfocused, not registering the bright light of the torch.

  ‘Chloe,’ Hannah whispered. ‘It’s me, Hannah. And Mo.’

  She didn’t answer.

  ‘It’s cold up here. Why don’t you come down with us?’

  There was a moment of silence and then Chloe groaned, rubbed her hands across her face and stared blearily around her. She moved towards them, her eyes confused.

  Mo went behind her towards an open window and yanked it shut. ‘You really sca
red us, Chloe. How did you get up here?’

  ‘I heard noises,’ she said softly.

  ‘What about the cat?’ Hannah asked. ‘Did you bring him with you?’

  ‘Cat?’ Chloe looked around the room again and when her eyes met Hannah’s they were suddenly frightened. ‘What? No. I don’t … I don’t know.’ Her voice shook. ‘What’s going on? Where am I?’

  Hannah stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her. Chloe began to shiver violently, her hair damp from the rain that must have blown in through the window.

  ‘Never mind. It doesn’t matter now,’ Hannah whispered. ‘Just come down with us and get warm. We were so worried.’

  Still with her arm across Chloe’s shoulders, she shot Mo a look and he held the door open for them. When they reached the top of the stairs, he headed down first and Hannah followed, squeezing into the narrow staircase still holding Chloe, her shoulders trembling.

  Mo jerked to a stop on the stairs below.

  ‘Shit,’ he said. ‘Lucy? What are you doing here?’

  ‘I could ask you the same thing,’ Lucy’s voice drifted up from below.

  ‘It’s all right. It’s only Lucy,’ Hannah whispered to Chloe, and they carried on down.

  At the bottom, Lucy stood beside Mo in the corridor in her black silk dressing gown, face as white and youthful as Chloe’s. ‘What’s the hell is going on?’ she said, her voice wobbling.

  ‘We thought we heard noises upstairs.’ Hannah didn’t want to embarrass Chloe by talking about her sleepwalking.

  Lucy glanced from the shivering Chloe to Hannah and tried to smile. ‘Yeah, must have been the cat. It just ran past me.’ She pointed down the corridor.

  Hannah shepherded Chloe along it. ‘We’d better get Chloe back to bed. She’s cold.’

  Lucy and Mo followed, and Hannah felt a surge of relief as they reached the safety and warmth of the hallway.

  At the bottom of the main staircase Mo turned to Hannah. ‘We’ll leave you to get Chloe back to bed, shall we?’ Lucy ran up and into her own room without a word and when Hannah nodded at Mo he followed, closing his bedroom door after one glance back at them.

  Hannah was still clutching Chloe’s arm. Through the thin cloth of her nightie it was as cold as marble.

  ‘You’re freezing.’ Hannah kept her voice soft. ‘Let’s get you into the warm.’ But Chloe wheeled round, her eyes wide. ‘My dad,’ she said. ‘We need to find my dad. He’s out there. I saw him from the window.’

  Hannah took her arms. ‘No, Chloe, he’s in town. You remember? He’ll be back in the morning.’

  There was a pause before Chloe let herself be led upstairs. Hannah put her fingers to her lips as they neared the family room, but there was no sound from Rosa as Chloe keyed in the door code.

  With her eyes accustomed to the dark it was easy for Hannah to see the single bed by the window, Rosa a lump, snoring lightly, in the double.

  Chloe gripped her hand as she lay down but let go when Hannah wrapped the duvet tightly around her. ‘You’re all right now, just go to—’

  ‘What the hell are you doing here?’ Rosa sat up and switched on the light. Hannah blinked as a dishevelled Rosa came into focus, eyes wide, hair standing on end. ‘Get out! Get out of my room!’

  Hannah stepped forward, her palms raised. ‘It’s fine, she’s fine. I think she had a nightmare. She must have been sleepwalking.’ She gestured to the half-open door. ‘I brought her back.’

  Rosa went to kneel beside Chloe who, despite the light and the noise, seemed to be fast asleep. Hannah stood by the door as Rosa felt her daughter’s forehead and shook her.

  ‘What happened?’ Rosa’s voice trembled. ‘Where were you?’

  Chloe’s eyes flickered open for a moment and she mumbled, ‘I don’t know. Hannah helped me.’ Then she yawned, turned over and was asleep again.

  If Hannah thought that would be the end of it, she was wrong. Rosa followed her out into the hallway, came close, leaned in and whispered into her face. ‘Keep your hands off my daughter. Do you understand?’

  Hannah stepped back, feeling oddly guilty, her face reddening. But she was tired of being bullied, tired of watching this woman bully her family.

  ‘She was sleepwalking,’ she said, jabbing her finger at Rosa. ‘And you didn’t notice. She was on her own in the servants’ quarters, for God knows how long. If me and Mo hadn’t brought her down, she could have—’

  ‘I shouldn’t be surprised.’ Rosa’s voice was louder now. ‘I knew there was something wrong with you the moment I saw you. You came here looking for your dad, didn’t you? No proper upbringing, that’s what it is.’ She smiled grimly. ‘No father figure.’

  Hannah swallowed, her face burning as if Rosa had struck her. She could only stand speechless as the woman went back into her room, slamming the door behind her.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Hannah stood there. Her anger gone and replaced by a desperate need to hold back her tears.

  Lucy’s door opened and she poked her head out. ‘Wow, fucking hell,’ she whispered. ‘Where did that come from?’ She came over and rubbed Hannah’s shoulders, then led her along the hall, away from Rosa’s room. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘I’m fine, just exhausted. It must have freaked her out, finding me in her room in the middle of the night.’

  Lucy’s door was still open, and she gestured Hannah inside.

  Hannah wanted so much to be back in her own bed, but she didn’t have the strength to refuse.

  A bedside lamp cast a glow across the crumpled bed. Hannah’s legs felt so weak she collapsed onto it while Lucy moved about picking up sheets of music, putting them into rough piles, hardly seeming to know she was doing it.

  ‘What happened?’ she asked.

  ‘Chloe was sleepwalking.’

  Lucy dropped the papers she was carrying and they scattered across the floor again. Then sat on the bed next to Hannah. ‘So it must have been her all along.’ Her voice quivered. ‘That crying we heard.’

  Of course, it made sense, and Hannah felt a wave of relief. A young deeply troubled girl, whose parents were on the verge of divorce, who was being uprooted from the only life she knew.

  That first night, when Hannah had listened outside the family room, Chloe could have been sleepwalking elsewhere in the house. And the second time, maybe the sound had been coming from the servants’ quarters after all. Hannah had been half-asleep herself – she could easily have made a mistake.

  Lucy stared at her, as if desperate for her to agree, so she nodded. ‘It must have been.’

  They sat in silence for a moment and then Lucy yawned. She lay back on the bed and they both listened to the sound of the wind and the rain on the glass. Lucy closed her eyes and Hannah stared at her, struggling to connect this vulnerable girl with the self-confident and powerful woman who had thrown off her boots in the hallway just days ago.

  That crying we heard.

  That’s what Lucy had just said, but she had never admitted to hearing the crying. Had always claimed it must be a fox. Hannah watched Lucy sleep for a moment, her chest gently rising and falling, and then stood quietly to leave.

  The next morning, Hannah woke early to the sound of the wind; even louder than yesterday, it seemed to shake the whole house like an angry toddler with a broken toy. When she went down to breakfast, she found Mo already eating scrambled eggs and baked beans in the kitchen.

  He laughed. ‘I thought you’d be down soon. Only managed a couple of hours myself.’ He pointed at the Aga. ‘Help yourself to some food.’

  Although Hannah wasn’t hungry, she took some and sat down to eat. They chewed in silence for a while, then Mo finished his food with a sigh. ‘Right, I’d better check on Dad.’ He stood up and stretched. ‘See you in a sec.’ At the door he gave her a smile and went upstairs.

  As Hannah tidied away the plates, the door opened and Rosa came in. There was an awkward silence and Hannah felt her shoulders tense.

  �
��Chloe’s sleeping,’ Rosa said. ‘She obviously needs it.’ She pulled out a chair and sat, her fingers drumming on the table.

  Hannah scrubbed at her plate, not bothering to reply. Eventually Rosa spoke, her hands twisting on the table in front of her. ‘Look, I’m sorry about last night. I overreacted. I’ve been under a lot of strain – what with the house move and everything – and I guess you caught me at a bad time.’

  Hannah sighed and turned to face her. ‘It must have been a shock. Waking to find me in your room like that.’ She tried to keep her voice level.

  ‘Yes, well thank you for bringing Chloe back.’ Rosa’s smile looked forced and it was clear she had something else to say.

  ‘It must be difficult for you being here all on your own,’ she said eventually. ‘I hate feeling trapped like this. And the weather’s supposed to get worse, really bad from what I hear, not holiday weather at all. If I were you,’ she paused. ‘I’d think about leaving as soon as I could.’

  ‘What about you? Are you planning to leave?’

  She snorted. ‘I’d love to, but we have nowhere to go until our new house is ready. No money, no home. I’ll be glad to get to Scotland, I can tell you. And it won’t take long for Chloe to get used to it. Children are very adaptable.’

  ‘Why did you decide to leave Ireland?’

  Rosa paused for a moment, her hands still. Then she stood up, a little too quickly, and went over to the kettle. She filled it and bustled around getting milk from the fridge and a mug from the cupboard. It was obviously a sensitive subject, but Hannah was beyond caring.

  ‘I suppose Chloe has been telling you all sorts of things.’ Rosa’s voice was clipped. ‘But don’t pay too much attention to her. She fantasizes.’

  Chloe’s story – that her father had left his GP practice under a cloud – had sounded pretty convincing, but Hannah said nothing. And it made her think for the first time how strange it was that his situation – dismissed after suggestions of sexual misconduct – was so similar to Sandeep’s.