The Ghosts and Hauntings Collection

by Cat Knight

  In the drawing room, the photo of Josh had been returned to the mantelpiece. She lifted it in its cracked frame and walked to the window, holding it to her chest as she gazed out to sea. She whispered, “I will help you find your son.” Nothing stirred. Outside the sea was silver, white froth topping the waves. She waited.

  Gradually the sky turned from grey to black. She switched on the lights and returned to the window. It was difficult to see out now, the dark glass reflecting the room behind her. Her own face looked back at her; but it was changing – the nose lengthening, the lips growing thin. The Blue Woman looked back at her, but Elizabeth was no longer afraid.

  She whispered again, “I will help you find your son,” and there it was; a subtle shift, a movement, the veil between now and then so thin she could see right through it. She looked down at the photo in her hand and a name filled her head: Antony.

  She said aloud, “No, Joshua. This is Joshua. But I will help you find your Antony.”

  She heard weeping and felt tears on her cheeks; but then something shifted again. The veil had fallen and she was alone.

  Chapter Eight

  Elizabeth hummed as she put away the shopping; she couldn’t remember when she had last felt so light, so carefree.

  The weekend in York had been just what she needed. She and Daniel had wandered hand in hand through the old town, exploring antiques shops and galleries, stopping for tea at a quaint little café where the waitresses wore black dresses with white frilly pinafores, like Victorian maids.

  The hotel had been perfect too – modern and stylish, all chrome and marble, as far away from the stately grandeur of Seaview Crag as it was possible to imagine. Elizabeth had slept a dreamless sleep there, waking late to find that Daniel had ordered room service. They’d sat in their bathrobes at a table next to the window, smiling at each other over smoked salmon and scrambled eggs.

  She’d felt restored.

  Daniel had left his car at the office and taken the train to York. When he told her that he’d taken the Monday off work and would come back to Seaview with her, she’d reached up and kissed him.

  Her nervousness had started to grow on their drive back, but he’d put on some music and made her laugh by singing along to it tunelessly. When they arrived home, she kept her eyes fixed on the ground as she made her way to the house, unwilling to look up and see again that face at the window; but the moment she stepped through the front door she knew.

  The Blue Lady had gone.

  After Daniel had returned to London she had searched again for any information on the house or its previous owners. She went to the church and braved the vicar’s disapproval by looking through the parish records. There was a moment of excitement when she found a reference to the baptism of Antony Edward Henshaw of Seaview, son of George and Maureen Henshaw; but after she’d tried again without success to find any information on the family, she was forced to admit she was in truth no further forward.

  When she’d phoned Sophia, hoping her training as a journalist might mean she was able to suggest new avenues of enquiry, Sophia had been firm. “Leave it alone, Elizabeth,” she had said. “The Blue Lady has gone. Let sleeping dogs lie.”

  At first, Elizabeth had been uneasy at the idea of giving up, telling herself she had made a promise; but in the end, she could see no alternative. She had done her best, after all. She had searched high and low to find what had happened to Antony. She could not be expected to do more. And now Josh was coming home.

  He had called earlier to say he had a “reading week” free of lectures.

  “An excuse for the bloody lecturers to take some time off,” Daniel had grumbled; but he had booked leave himself and Elizabeth knew he was looking forward to it as much as she was.

  She’d almost skipped around the supermarket this afternoon, picking out Josh’s favourite foods and buying, she knew, too much of everything. She’d topped the trolley with a bottle of champagne to toast his return to Seaview.

  His return home, Elizabeth thought, and smiled to find she finally believed it.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  “That was delicious, mum,” said Josh, leaning back and stretching. “I’ve really missed your cooking.”

  Daniel frowned in mock admonition. “You’ve missed your parents too, I trust?”

  Elizabeth laughed. How wonderful it was to have her family back together again. She mustn’t spoil it by getting anxious; there was nothing to be afraid of, she knew that now.

  Josh was pushing back his chair. “I think I’ll head out for a walk. Work off some of that lemon meringue pie.”

  “Get out of the washing up, you mean,” Elizabeth tried to sound cross and failed.

  “Wouldn’t dream of it!” Josh was grinning as he reached for his jacket. “See you in a bit.”

  Elizabeth rose to begin clearing the table but Daniel stretched out a hand to stop her. “Leave that, you’ve done all the cooking. I’ll sort this lot.

  And that son of ours can put it all away when he gets back.” He passed her a glass of wine. “Put your feet up and I’ll join you in a minute.”

  She smiled at him and went to sit in the drawing room. Outside the light was dimming and she stepped to the window to watch Josh heading across the grass.

  He’d walk to the cliff edge and then take the coastal path, she knew: he’d always loved the view of the sea.

  Something about the sight of him, his shoulders hunched and his hands in his pockets as he walked, stirred some distant memory. The breeze ruffled the grass and overhead a seagull gave a mournful cry. Elizabeth bit her lip, suddenly uneasy.

  She caught her reflection in the glass; but something about it was wrong. The nose was too long, the lips too thin. Tears coursed down the face, but her own cheeks were dry.

  And then she smelled it: the faint fragrance of lavender.

  She was running before she knew what she was doing, tearing into the hallway, almost wrenching the front door from its hinges.

  “Josh!” she screamed, terror in her voice, “Josh!”

  He was almost at the cliff edge now and turned to her in surprise, opening his mouth to reply.

  She saw the question on his face turn to shock as his foot caught on something in the grass and he stumbled, back, back and over the edge to where the cruel sea crashed onto the rocks below.

  Epilogue

  Seaview Crag

  Somerset Coast

  England UK

  September 2017

  Francis stands in the kitchen in the midst of the devastation left by the builders. She knows it can’t be helped – those old cupboards had definitely had their day – but the dust really is a nightmare. Still, it’s interesting to see what they’ve uncovered. There, in the wall behind what used to be a built-in fridge freezer, is a pantry door. Maybe she’ll reinstate it – though changing the design will be expensive and David will moan.

  Amazingly, they got the house for a song at auction. A beautiful old Victorian on prime real-estate. She opens the door to inspect the interior.

  There’s a fair amount of space, four useful shelves at regular intervals from top to bottom. But wait – there’s something wedged behind one of them. A scrap of paper.

  She pulls it out. It’s a page from a newspaper.

  Young man falls to death from dangerous cliff.

  She reads on. An eighteen-year old named Antony Henshaw of Seaview fell to his death from the cliff in front of his family home. This very house! How dreadful. She shakes her head but feels a secret thrill at uncovering this relic of their new home. She’ll show it to David when he gets back from town. Perhaps this is why some of the locals have asked if they plan to fence off the cliff edge; but they’ve no intention of doing that. Nicholas is sensible enough to keep his distance and it would spoil the view.

  Back in the sitting room – the ‘drawing room’, David is trying to get her to call it – but that’s far too pretentious – Francis still has one last box to unpack. She reaches in and lifts out a
photo in a silver frame. Nicholas laughs out at her, curly haired and handsome. She smiles as she places it on the mantelpiece.

  As she turns back to the box she pauses and sniffs the air. How strange.

  She could have sworn she smelled lavender.

  THE END

  THE HAUNTING OF KEIRA O’CONNELL

  CAT KNIGHT

  ©Copyright 2017 Cat Knight

  All Rights Reserved

  Prologue

  10TH September 2000

  Rathcoole

  South Dublin

  United Kingdom

  Cait O’Doherty, waited in the late afternoon shadows of her kitchen, while little Aileen grizzled over nothing, pulling at her ma’s skirt. It wouldn’t be too many hours before James was home. Putting her hands to her head she rubbed her temples. The migraine had started up again and her chest and throat burned with the acid that made its way up from her stomach. Every nerve was on edge today, causing her to jump at the flimsiest of things. To make it worse her five-year-old was becoming more fretful than ever. She always picked up on when her mother was frightened. “Shh . Don’t cry, don’t make him mad.” Cait pleaded, more to herself than her little one. It would be about three hours before he was home, and Cait had better be ready for him if she didn’t want more of the same that he’d been dishing out for the last few years.

  Standing over the sink and looking at her reflection in the mirror, Cait traced the bruise over her eye, and then the bulge on her bottom lip.

  Last night he had back handed her and split it. Then later, while she was laying on top of Aileen protecting her little body, he had kicked her repeatedly in the thighs and hips, taking care to miss her ribs. No-one understood. He’d said he’d kill her if she went to the garda. She believed him.

  Cait wore long sleeved shirts and dark glasses on the occasions she had to leave the house. It was becoming increasingly seldom that she did. Shopping trips were traumatic these days but she made sure her face was very well made up to cover any vestiges of bruising. Lipstick, foundation and powder were her best friends now, and caking it on seemed to give her a sense of protection. Yet stepping outside took all of her courage it seemed. Something in her personality had changed. Anxiety attacks occurred every time she faced the world.

  One night last week when she was cleaning herself up in the bathroom, with a chair against the handle just in case, a thought occurred to her. The bath was three quarters full, nice and warm. She stepped into the comforting heat and placed Aileen in it with her watching tiny waves lap against her thigh. It would have to be Aileen first, but as she sat her little body down onto her own, and slid her through the water the little girl looked up at her. A little curly haired blonde angel.

  Terror cascaded over her as she snatched her baby girl up from danger and held her close. A silent howl, roared within her, never escaping. so as not to enrage the monster outside of the

  door. Forgive me. I’ll save us, he won’t hurt you, I’ll get rid of him, I promise. But she hadn’t kept her promise.

  And every night there had been more beatings while she had lain over Aileen. But now she had a plan. There would be no other thoughts in her mind until it was done.

  The car in the driveway alerted her. A heaving sickness churned in her stomach. Grabbing Aileen, Cait carried her to the bedroom telling her to be quiet, and locked the door from the inside, climbing out of the upper window and entering back into the house through the back door. He hadn’t even made it up the steps and unlocked the double bolt yet before she was back at the kitchen sink.

  Aileen cried and bawled from the bedroom. James flung the front door open. Cait stood quietly in the kitchen boning a chicken. She turned and smiled, as he entered, her lips twitching, hands shaking.

  “That feckin’ kid.” James raged. “Shut her up before I fix her for good.”

  The beatings had begun when she was pregnant. At first he was sorry, then later he wasn’t. It was her fault because she hadn’t used protection and now Cait wasn’t taking care of him as a wife should. All of her attention was going to the brat, James had said. Sex was an issue, because she was neglecting her wifely duties. At first he had just ranted but these days there was no choice.

  Aileen wailed out “MA” between sobs from behind the closed door. The meanness in his eyes began to gleam and he headed over. Cait grabbed at him by the shoulders and he swung around slapping her against the sink and held her there.

  The hate was palpable. “You had to have that brat didn’t you. I told you to get rid of her while you could. You should have listened.” Wrangling her dress upward he assaulted her. Afterwards, Cait regained her balance and said, “It’s chicken for dinner,” as though nothing ugly or brutal had just taken place.

  Her hand grabbed the knife in the sink. There was no room for accidents.

  Turning around she plunged it up under his chin forcing it deep as he did up his trousers. Cait had not thought about how hard it would be to watch his eyes bulge. Disbelief and fear, poured out of them, but she had to keep going. Now as she drove the knife deeper, he clutched at her hands for a minute before falling to his knees in shock. Cait, pulled the knife out, and then drove it in again until he she was sure it was over. Rolling up the large square of kitchen carpet, she dragged him out and pulled aside the brush and twigs that covered a good size hole. She rolled him in and covered him up. The carpet, was later washed clean of every bloody trace and donated to charity. She never liked brown anyway.

  Chapter One

  7th February 2017

  Rathcoole

  South Dublin

  United Kingdom

  The first night of Spring arrived with a cacophony of thunder and torrential rainfall. Keira O’Connell's banger of a white sedan chugged along the highway that ran through the grassy hills of Ireland. Her windshield wipers couldn't keep up with the constant downpour obscuring everything outside of a few metres range in front of the car.

  Keira was twenty-two years old, but with her round blue eyes and scrawny figure, her appearance belied her true age.

  She had lived in and around Dublin all her life, where she had met her life-long friend Aileen as a young girl about twelve years ago. They were inseparable back then, and even after Keira’s mother moved them into the city and away from the rural area the two of them met in, they kept regular contact.

  Now at this point in their lives they were busy with their jobs and Keira’s social life had drawn her away from the closeness they once shared. Even so, Keira would drive to the ends of the earth if Aileen needed her to. So, a two-hour drive through rolling green hills and fields of livestock as she travelled south of Dublin was far from unreasonable, even though it didn't stop her grumbling as she did so.

  Aileen’s most recent phone call featured loud crying and hysterical stammering. Her mother had gone away for the weekend earlier that evening, which had always made Keira’s friend a bundle of nerves. It had been planned for a while and true to Keira’s observation, Aileen had been an anxious wreck all week, constantly bombarding her with clingy text messages.

  Now the day was here and Aileen was in hysterics about some ghosts or whatever. It was hard to discern exactly what the issue was with all the sobbing, but Keira didn’t think it was that serious. Her friend had been a drama queen for as long as she had known her.

  What scared Keira far more than the idea of ghosts was driving at night. The rain was bucketing down over the windscreen and her wipers barely made a dent. This meant Keira must guess where she was on the road; and with no cars shedding light behind her, the darkness of the night left her feeling vulnerable and isolated. And worse, there was more to come as this weather was forecast for the entire next week.

  Keira sighed loudly, frustrated and anxious because she’d have to drive in it again at least to get back home. Her fingers gripped tightly at the steering wheel, her hands on ten and two with her shoulders locked into position.

  Her palms were clammy where they rested and with the
chilly temperature of her car the window was fogging up.

  Her imagination ran wild with the thought that she'd swerve out of control and tumble down the side of the hill even though she wasn’t going any faster than 35K per hour. Leaning forward she wiped the windows clear with the sleeve of her jumper. Her left tyre rolled over something with a thump.

  Adjusting her rear-view mirror Keira’s heart sunk. The mangled corpse of a wild rabbit on the road behind her lay still, bathed in red by her brake lights. The small thing was twisted unnaturally, crushed by the weight of the small sedan. Keira flinched and centred her eyes back on the road.

  The frightful image seared into her brain and remorse welled up. On all of God's green earth, rabbits were her favourite creatures. It was just her luck that she'd be the death of one. What a bloody awful day this is turning out to be.

  Rathcoole was a small town southwest of Dublin; there wasn’t much that set it apart from the other nearby towns. Quaint and surrounded by nothing but hills, Keira considered Aileen and her mother Cait, to be odd for wanting to live in such a place. The population hadn’t even been in the triple digits when she had lived there, and back then there was a noticeable lack of things to do or see.

  The town had grown up a bit now, it even had a movie theatre, some restaurants and a night club, but it was still too small for Keira’s liking. Living in this town all of your life would make anyone at least a little crazy. But tonight, Aileen demonstrated more craziness than usual with all this talk about ghosts.

  Keira drove up the dirt driveway and to the O’Doherty’s modest two story home. From what she could tell, every light was on, though Aileen couldn't possibly be using all of them at once. The lights gave the house a spectre-like quality. Two windows on the upper floor and the glass window on the front door lent the house the appearance of two eyes and a mouth.