The Ghosts and Hauntings Collection

by Cat Knight

  Minutes ticked by, her tongue became parched and the back of her throat ached. The air was so dry her lips were sticking together. She tried to wet them, but it did no good.

  It occurred to her to go back down and get a drink but then she might not find the courage to come back, so she kept on playing in the dollhouse.

  Sarah rearranged tiny furniture and pretended to sip tea from tiny cups.

  An unwelcome sensation of being watched, or closely shadowed, was burning into Sarah’s consciousness.

  It wasn’t the way it had been before, years ago, and ripples of apprehension began to nag at her.

  “Are you here? We need to talk.”

  Chapter Six

  Rick drove to cross section of the town deciding who he should see first. The dour Mrs Dobbs or the gossipy Mrs Goodall. He took a left turn toward the grocery store. Mrs Goodall was busy with another customer, but not enough to disregard Ricks mood as the door swung shut behind him, shaking and clanging its bell loudly. Her sharp look quickly changed. A hint of nervousness shadowed her face and her a hint of worry crossed her brow. Rick’s manner remained gruff.

  Mrs Goodall concentrated fully on her customer and she did not bother to acknowledge Rick. He wondered if she were hoping he would leave. Not a chance.

  “There you are Mrs Peardon – now you have a lovely day.” Mrs Peardon made to leave and swung a ‘so who’s the odd bod’ glance at Rick before continuing out of the door.

  Mrs Goodall said nothing to Rick, but scribbled sums on a note pad, ostensibly for the order book. Rick cleared his throat.

  “What’s going on up the house?”

  Mrs Goodall tried to play dumb – “Excuse me?”

  “You know well what I mean. What’s wrong with the house?”

  Mrs Goodall opened her mouth and closed it just as quickly.

  The bell tinkled and another customer entered. Irritation and tiredness jumbled Rick’s thoughts together. He’d been waiting a good ten minutes already, was he going to have to wait all day?

  The woman had a child with her, a grandchild probably. The little girl looked intently up at the round jars that lined the wall. Their contents were a rainbow of colours dusted over with glittering sugars. She clutched a coin in her hand and took an inestimable amount of time.

  Finally, Rick cleared his throat again. The woman said “We’ll just be a tick; Dolores just wants to choose a few sweeties.”

  Rick opened his eyes wide at Mrs Goodall in a rudely impatient gesture. Mrs Goodall’s face flushed.

  “Sure Eileen, take your time. This is our new resident Rick. He bought the Fairview house. Just moved in.” Eileen’s face opened in surprise before she masked it with an impervious expression.

  “Hello Eileen. Rick Foley.” Ricks voice was curt and forcibly bright. He pushed his hand forward to Eileen who gave it a quick shake and dropped it, saying nothing. “Yes, that’s right, what Annie said. We just moved in to the Fairview house and it seems like that it’s the worst kept secret in town. Something has got all the locals talking, only myself and my wife – we must be the butt of the joke because NO ONE will tell us what’s going on.”

  Eileen took a step back. “Oh, well now, it’s been empty quite some years. That’s all. Good-day to you Rick. Thank you, Annie,”

  She grabbed a pre-bag of mixed lollies handed over 50p for the sweets and rushed Dolores out of the shop throwing raised eyebrows at Mrs Goodall as she went. Rick brought his hands to his face and sunk into them before looking over at Annie.

  “Mrs Goodall...Annie.... I apologise. I really do. I’m very sorry. I haven’t been sleeping well, and I’m exhausted. And it was my wife’s dream you see, to make a life here, in this town. She loves the house. And... things don’t seem to be working out. If you know something about the house that could help… I mean it seems as if the whole town knows but us. If you could just…”

  Mrs Goodall’s mouth was set hard, but the message in her eyes was conflicted. Breathing in deep and long her shoulders and bosom expanded and her voice took on a fast clippity tone.

  “Well, I’m sure it’s nothing to do with me. But scaring my customers won’t win you any friends here. Why don’t you go and talk to the realtor who sold you the home? It’s them you should be talking too. Rosa Withers, was it? She’s been trying to unload that place for years. You don’t think she wants it on her books forever do you? I don’t know why you think you can come in here all up in arms. But I’ve got my customers to consider, and I won’t have you in here creating a big fuss all-over long-ago stories.”

  Rick backtracked the conversation, “Long ago stories! What are you talking about?” Rick’s last bit of patience was shredded. Rick was yelling and his face was flushing red, lack of sleep and jitters from the dreams were putting him on a short fuse.”

  Running his hands through his hair made it stand on end he wiped off the beads of sweat that had formed on his forehead and tried again.

  “Look. I’m really sorry. Truly sorry. Like I said, sleep hasn’t been easy and my wife. Please help us out. I just need to know what you know.” The shop keeper eyeballed him.

  “Go and see your realtor. She’ll tell you what you want to know. It’s not for me to deliver that kind of news.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Rick paced the streets of the small town trying to calm down, get some perspective, He was in a mild panic. What on earth just happened? What kind of news?

  Small minded crazy village with its village talk. eventually entering into a café and ordering tea and sandwich. Once he had settled himself down he would go and see the realtor even if he had to wait all day; but he wouldn’t make the same mistake as he just did, nor behave so very out of sorts. He needed the information, and he couldn’t go back to the house yet. Sarah was hiding something. A sense of betrayal was eating at him, in the time he had known her, there had never been secrets between them; at least none that he knew about. What the hell is happening? What-ever it was, it was scaring him.

  Chapter Seven

  By 4:30 p.m. Rosa Withers agreed to see him. He had been waiting over forty-five minutes and he made sure the secretary knew he wouldn’t leave.

  “Hiiiii Rick! Nice to see you.”

  Rosa Withers was a fifty something lightly made up woman whose perfume lingered gently on the air. Her auburn hair bobbed on her shoulders, kicking outwards in a girlish fashion, accentuating the lines in her forehead and around her eyes. Rick seated himself and watched the swirling screen saver meld in a thousand different colours. He swallowed hard.

  “Rosa.”

  Tiredness washed over him and despite his earlier outburst at Annie Goodall’s store, he now found himself lost for words.

  Rosa’s smile was fixed. And she waited. Silence grew. Rick sensed she was finding this meeting very difficult. Finally, probably because the clock was ticking and she wanted to leave, Rosa ventured to ask.

  “All moved in to Fairview then?”

  Breaking his silence with a slight cough, he said “There’s something wrong with the house. It’s… creepy there and we’re hearing things about it all over town.”

  Rosa blinked her mascaraed lashes and quizzed “Wrong with the house?” She was a thin woman and the black cardigan she wore seemed to accentuate the jutting bones in her neck, the lines on her forehead deepened almost visibly as she talked.

  “Something ABOUT the house. People are talking. What is it?” Rick had become demanding. Rosa didn’t flinch.

  “Well, you know – it’s a small town, people talk.” She shrugged. “You got it for a great price. It’s a bargain.”

  “Not if I can’t live in it or if I can’t ever sell it Rosa.” A nasty note crept into Rick’s tone. “Aren’t you obliged to provide full disclosure before you sell a house?”

  “Not about hauntings Rick.” Her voice was smooth, matter of fact “And besides…” Rick’s jaw dropped and he interrupted before she could finish her sentence.

  “HAUNTINGS. You Knew? And Bes
ides WHAT? You must be the dodgiest realtor… I oughta report you…”

  “Report me to whom?” Rosa stood still, glaring at him. “Go home and talk to your wife.”

  The words hit him hard and all the bluster Rick was feeling dissipated. Rosa’s eyes had bulged, but now she was looking at her desk, shuffling papers, a sorry, guilty expression in place of her rant.

  “Sarah? What do you mean? I know she wanted the place, kept on at me for buying it… but she couldn’t have known… how could she?” Rick halted.

  The sleepwalking, the shrugging off the open windows… the feeling that she was covering something up.

  A painful confusion came over him and a hurt, bewildered little boy face appeared. Rosa softened.

  “Look, I’m sorry that it’s causing a problem. I’ll tell you about the house, but the rest of it – that’s between the two of you. I’m just the realtor. OK?” Rick nodded his understanding.

  “Some of this is fact, some of it is speculation. So, take the information as you will.” She paused, Rick waited, unsure how well he was about to receive the information he knew must be coming.

  She cast her eyes downwards as she spoke. “A young girl died in the house, over twenty-five years ago. It was just her and her father that lived there. It’s been rumoured to be haunted ever since.” Rick heaved inwardly. The ghostly apparition, footsteps, giggling came back to him and sent fresh shudders through him. It was the last thing he had wanted to hear. But truth be told, it was a relief in a way. A week ago, heck even four days ago he would have quietly laughed at Mrs Goodall, Mrs Dobbs and anyone who could entertain such an idea seriously. But things had changed. He’d seen things with his own eyes. Now that he knew, the obvious thing was – what to do about it? Rick stood up ready to leave, but Rosa continued.

  “The father Dean, was a man’s man - he used to have a bit of a tipple and leave the house to his missus as he called her. It got worse after his wife, poor Marge, died. It was a hit and run that took her.” Rosa paused for a minute. “So young she was.” Rick prompted her to go on

  “So, the father was left with the child?”

  “That’s right. But Dean was not a great dad. He never had a clue what to do with a child. Why he barely knew her, besides being a hard drinker he was too involved in his job, and after work, he stopped off at the pub more often than he should.” Rosa’s lips made a thin line and sadness glowed in her eyes.

  “After Marge died he had a housekeeper, and she’d stay till Seven in the evenings. It was a crying shame. Dean went on benders and he’d come home drunk. And Maggie got to playing up a bit, running the streets, giving cheek, not doing what she was told. She was hurting a great deal, was our little Maggie. I recall, seeing her at Mrs Goodall’s shop more than once. Annie would give her a sweetie and ask her about her day. It didn’t help much, but it didn’t hurt either. Some of the women - we tried talking to Dean ourselves, but it didn’t do any good and he said we were all just busybodies and to keep out of it. He wasn’t himself. So, when Maggie fell down the stairs, and died, some wondered if Dean had been so drunk he did something to her in a blacked out fit of anger.”

  “Didn’t anyone look in to it?” Rick was incredulous.

  “After the funeral, Dean moved away. Some of us wanted an investigation, But Dean had been well liked at one time and he had some connections, he was on the police force you see. There were those in high places that felt nothing could be done now to save poor Maggie and it was best just left alone because Dean had been through enough. Well, without the support of the police, we couldn’t do much about investigating….”

  Rosa’s face seemed to grow older by the moment as she recalled the events.

  “Maybe it was all just an accident. But whether it was or not, Maggie wound up dead, and everyone who has ever tried to live in that house has said it was haunted. If little Maggie is still in there she’s managed to scare every single tenant out.”

  Rick’s breathing was halted by the miserable tale. The memory of the young girl standing above him, horrible eyes... the fear must’ve shown on his face.

  “And now you’ve gone and purchased that house.” Rosa’s voice was sorrowful but tinged with a hopeful note “Maybe she doesn’t mean harm after-all. Perhaps it just takes some getting used to.” Rosa continued in a persuasive comforting tone.

  “There was one family with a little girl who lived in that house about twenty-five years ago. I rented the property to them. Go home and talk to your wife Rick.”

  Chapter Eight

  Rick drove out of town, pushed his foot hard to the accelerator and sped along the highway. Trees and speed signs zipped past. Taking curves too quickly and overtaking on double lines, he didn’t care. The churning of his stomach and the burn in his chest spurred him on.

  The sound of the siren behind him was the only reason he looked in his rear-view mirror. Slowing down and pulling to the side the cop pulled up behind. Leaning back in his seat and running his hands through his hair, Rick waited while the square shouldered uniformed man got out of his car and sauntered over. At the right moment Rick wound down his window and proceeded to rifle through the glove compartment for his insurance and registration papers. He yanked his licence from his wallet.

  “You were going 120K back there. What’s the hurry?” Rick couldn’t think of a thing to save himself. There was no excuse.

  “No excuse Officer.” The copper looked at him through narrowed blue sunken eyes that puffed around the edges, the hardness lifted slightly at the lack of excuse.

  “Have you had anything to drink tonight?”

  “No.”

  The officer took Rick’s papers, and proceeded to breathalyse him.

  “Outta towner then?”

  “No, we just moved into the area, up at Fairview House.” The officer stopped his flicking of the papers in mid-action. His eyes momentarily widened, flickering in thought. Sensing the officer’s deliberation Rick took the opportunity. “Just moved in a few days back…”

  “What had you in such a hurry along the highway?” Rick bit his lip. The officer was studying him, watching every move he made. After a long moment, too long for comfort, Rick said

  “Fight with the wife.” The officer handed Rick his paperwork and licence.

  “I’m gonna give you a warning this time. You know you were going too fast. And you could’ve killed someone innocent. Be careful how you travel mate. Life’s short.” Rick breathed a long sigh and watched the officer walk away. Just before he got into his car he turned back and called “Maybe you should head back to the city.” Rick started the engine and headed home.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  “Sarah? Sarah?” Rick bellowed loudly. The heater in the kitchen and the one in the living room were humming and turned to maximum heat but it barely shifted the cold from the house. Rick went from room to room on the lower level. He was becoming increasingly anxious which only fed his anger.

  That his wife had known all along, and had deceived him, beguiled him, into buying this horror show, well - the least she could do now, was to answer him. Gripping his jacket he pulled it closer around him and over his head.

  Crazy how it was colder in than out. Calling again, his voice surprised him with its urgency. A sick feeling in his stomach made its presence known. He headed toward the attic. Bounding up the stairs two at a time, he noticed the stillness of the air as his breathing became laboured. It seemed a hot and cloistering although he was frozen to the bone.

  Shaking off the blackness that was entering into his thoughts he kept going and pushed the attic door open.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  The air was frigid yet thicker than it had been on the stairwell. Sarah was on the floor, legs crossed and hunched over a toy. She didn’t look up but was intently placing a tiny doll in its bed in the tiny house.

  “Sarah? What are you doing?” Sarah seemed lost, off in another place. “SARAH.”

  At the sound of his voice she visibly jumped. He flicked the switch
on the wall and a harsh yellow light flooded the room. Rick could see her face was chalk white and her eyes were bright. Licking her lips, she said,

  “You’ve been gone for hours I was worried about you.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Oh! This dear little dollhouse.” Her words stammered out. Rick had never seen her so nervous. “Look its retro.”

  She was rushing her words now. “And I found all these tiny things that go in it.” Rick looked at the dollhouse and then back to Sarah.

  He was on the edge of breaking and his voice was full of hurt and contempt. “What are you going to do play dolls and dress-ups with a dead girl?”

  “Wha-at? What do you mean? What are you saying?”

  Her face crinkled up in an over-exaggeration. Rick’s face contorted, tears welled up. In shock at their appearance he wiped them away. He wanted a logical response, he wanted her to reason with him, so they could speak honestly and not dance around the elephant.

  “Don’t even try Sarah. I can’t believe you did this. You lied to me. You finagled to use all of our money and buy a house that no-one, no-one else will even rent – because you used to live here and apparently play with a ghost.”

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  His eyes blazed accusation at her. Sarah stood slowly up from the tea-set pale and scared.

  “She’s mad at me Rick. She thinks I deliberately left her here all alone.” Large tears rolled down Sarah’s face, there was a bruise above her eye. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, I didn’t know it would be like this… and I don’t think she likes you. I just wanted to talk to her and tell her it was OK; we would help her.”

  Rick walked over and stood close. Her whole body trembled. Part of him want to debate the issue of ghosts.

  As if refusing to acknowledge that ghosts were real would make everything alright; and if they got the heaters fixed, and managed a good night’s sleep they could get on with their lives.