"When my wife's father died, I also took over the ironmongery business. With income from both stores, Mary and me could live fairly comfortably here. But when Mary died, I sold the businesses and had enough money invested from the sales to just about get by. As you can see, the house is in need of restoration, and my old bones aren't up to the work."
We chatted a little while longer about other things. I felt he didn't want to reflect on the past any longer, though I remained curious about the strange disappearances of people at the house. Perhaps he would give me some answers on another day. I didn't realise at that moment the answers were going to horrifically impact on my life in ways I could never have imagined.
"I've made up a fire in your room, just set light to the firelighters," my grandfather took a box of matches from his pocket and handed them to me. "It should keep you warm through the night, and there are more logs on the side of the fireplace."
We collected a kerosene lamp each from the kitchen to see the way to our beds. The lamplight shadows darting around us as we climbed the stairway looked creepy, but I gave no hint of my unease, and my grandfather was probably well used to this remote way of living.
At the top of the stairs we said goodnight, and he made his way to a bedroom on the opposite side of the landing to mine. Inside my room, there was a kerosene lamp burning on the dresser. I placed the one I held on the bedside table then lit the fire, which soon took the night chill from the air.
For a while I read a book I'd brought with me. A cosy glow from the fire began to give enough light for me to put out the kerosene lamps, undress and settle down between the sheets.
But the semi-darkness in the corners of the room started to give me the creeps again. The thought of that little girl appearing here when I was a boy started to obsess me. I'd been terrified a number of times in wartime conflict. This, however, was a different sense of fear. An unnatural sense of something lurking, watching. An intangible force to deal with.
I got out of bed and re-lit the lamp on the dresser to drive out the dark, feeling stupid for harbouring such fear as a grown man. Settling down again, the warmth from the fire helped to relax me, and gradually I slipped into sleep.
The sound of voices outside the room woke me. A man and woman talking. I looked at my watch on the bedside table. It was three in the morning. Surely a woman hadn't entered the house in the night, and the man's voice didn't sound like my grandfather.
I opened the door and looked along the corridor. On the landing at the top of the stairs stood a middle-aged man dressed in a dark suit and wing collar shirt. He was talking to a young woman wearing a blue jacket and cream bustle skirt.
"But Percy's been missing for three weeks now. He must have jilted me or something terrible must have happened to him," she sounded deeply distressed.
"My dear, we've searched everywhere for him. The village search party has also been unable to track him down. Perhaps he's been called away on business," the man attempted to comfort her. "Please Victoria, try to calm yourself."
"No father, I can't." The woman stormed off towards the corridor on the far side. The man began to descend the stairs, and the source of light that had lit the scene fell into darkness.
I grabbed the kerosene lamp from my dresser and ventured along the corridor to where I'd seen them. Everywhere around was silent. No sign of anyone. Then it dawned on me the woman was dressed in clothes that came from a former era. The nineteenth century. They were both ghosts. The realisation made be shudder.
Curious as I was to know about past events in this house, my resolve to stay here was fading. Life back in bombed and rubble strewn London was beginning to seem more attractive. But I couldn't just walk out on my grandfather. Maybe in a day or two I could tell him there was an urgent appointment I'd forgotten about. That I had to return home. Staying in this place was not turning out to be as peaceful as hoped.
Returning to bed, I laid awake for what seemed hours before dropping into some semblance of sleep.
CHAPTER 2
"BREAKFAST in ten minutes," my grandfather announced, knocking on the bedroom door. I woke feeling unrefreshed from the brief rest I'd managed, but got ready quickly and went downstairs to the dining room.
"I hope you like kippers," he said, placing the plate on the table. "We have an excellent fishmonger in the village and I got some in fresh yesterday before you arrived."
I did enjoy kippers, and with toast and tea began to feel much better.
"How was your night?" he asked, as we sat eating together.
Should I tell him about the strange encounter I'd seen on the landing? For the moment I said nothing. He might think me a bit odd. I was still trying to convince myself that what I'd seen had been a fantasy. Was I developing some latent psychosis that had been triggered by the traumas of my experiences in the war?
"I had a very comfortable night," was my reply, which seemed to please him. Then he told me of the plan he'd mapped for our day.
It began with a stroll to the local village Bramthorpe, half-a-mile away, to show me the ironmongery and grocery shops he once owned. He introduced me to the present owners who'd bought the stores from him some years earlier, and we chatted for a while before continuing down the high street past several more shops and terraced cottages lining each side.
"Good morning Mr Roberts," a man with thinning grey hair and peppery pencil moustache greeted my grandfather with a smile from behind the counter, as we entered the local post office which doubled as a newsagent store.
"Half an ounce of wine gums and the same with your mint humbugs please Toby," my grandfather ordered. The man took two jars from shelves filled with sweets behind him, weighed the gums and humbugs on scales, and tipped them into brown paper bags.
"My weakness Tom," grandfather smiled at me. "What's yours?"
I pointed to liquorice twists in a jar.
Strolling back to the house we enjoyed some of our treats, armed also with supplies of a fresh loaf and some cakes from the local baker.
"Do you like archery?" he asked.
"Never done it before," I answered. He was keen to introduce me to the art.
On a wide sweep of lawn he set up the target, and with two excellent bows and fine set of arrows, we spent much of the afternoon in competition after he'd shown me some basic techniques.
Of course, his expertise won the day. I was a novice.
"Used to win a lot of local competitions at this," he boasted proudly, before releasing another arrow to hit centre target.
My skill had been with a rifle and aiming grenades during the war. I was content to be unskilled at this pursuit, because it didn't result in any loss of life. I'd seen enough of that.
Late afternoon we packed up and returned to the house.
"I've a delicious beef joint for dinner," he said, while we drank tea and ate biscuits in the kitchen. I offered to help prepare it.
"No, you go and relax," he declined the offer. "There's plenty to read on the bookcase in the lounge. I'll be fine doing it."
With my uneasy night's sleep and an active daytime, I was glad for the chance to sit for a while. Settling on the chaise longue, I began reading the thriller novel I'd started last time I was in the room. Ten minutes must have passed when I began to feel the sensation of a presence near me. Looking up, the girl in the red frock I'd seen before was watching me from a few feet away. Her eyes sparkled with mischievous cunning.
"Follow me, I would like to show you something," she said. I remained seated, stunned by her sudden, silent appearance and wondering if I was just imagining the girl. But her image was still there.
"Come on," she said, beckoning. Curiosity compelled me to follow. She led me towards the kitchen. I expected to find my grandfather preparing our meal, but he wasn't present.
Instead, a well spread, middle-aged woman wearing a white mob cap and apron over her grey dress stood stirring the contents of a saucepan on the cooking range. Apart from the range, the kitchen appeared different
, the walls of bare stone, dead pheasants and rabbits hanging forlornly from hooks on a sidewall, and a sturdy dark oak table in the centre of the room scattered with chopping and carving knives.
The cook tending to the saucepan turned towards us.
"Miss Emily. What brings you here?" she asked the girl. The woman seemed unaware of my presence. And that name? The name of my grandfather's sister. Could it be?"
"It's a very hot day Hetty. Do you think I could have a glass of lemonade?" the girl asked.
"Always after something, ain't you Miss Emily?" the cook smiled.
She took hold of a jug resting beside some glasses on a wooden work surface nearby and poured the drink into a glass.
"Thank you Hetty," Emily smiled back, taking the lemonade and beckoning me to follow her out of the kitchen.
We entered the hall and she led me along a corridor under the stairway to a door halfway down. With her free right hand, she lifted the side of her red frock and produced a key tucked into her underwear.
"I got this from father's study when he was taking his morning walk," she told me, inserting the key in the door lock and opening it. Inside were shelves filled with rows of bottles.
"The medicine cabinet," said the girl. She placed the glass in a space on one of the shelves and took down a bottle marked ARSENIC. Opening the bottle, she poured a generous quantity into the glass of lemonade.
"It's good for rheumatism and other ailments," she told me, "as well as unwanted pests."
I stared in amazement wondering what she was doing. The quantity she'd just poured into the glass would swiftly kill someone stone dead. She replaced the bottle, took the glass and locked the door, beckoning me to continue following her.
The end of the corridor led to a side door opening into the garden. When I'd come in from the garden earlier with my grandfather, the sky was darkening with a chill evening air. Now the sun shone brightly and the temperature was searing hot.
The girl I now knew as Emily made her way towards a tiled roof gazebo, where a man and woman were seated together on a bench inside. It was the first time I'd seen a gazebo in the garden. Emily stopped before approaching the couple.
"That man Percy Withenshaw is engaged to my older sister Victoria sitting with him," she said. "I know that he's untrustworthy. A deceiver. I've seen him going in and out of a house in the village where women of low moral virtue practise their trade. He will give my sister an unhappy life. I will not tolerate that." The girl's voice filled with anger at the thought. She began walking towards them.
"Emily, what do you want?" her sister Victoria snarled, annoyed at the intrusion. She wore a light yellow silk dress, with white lace ruffs on the sleeves, her brown hair tied in a bun. The man was dressed in a tail coat, crimson shirt with a yellow ruffled cravat and dark blue breeches.
"Father wants to see you in the drawing room," Emily told her.
"Why?" demanded Victoria.
"He wouldn't say."
The woman stood up, furious at being interrupted.
"Wait here Percy, I shall return shortly," she told her fiancée.
"Yes my love," he smiled, standing up at her departure.
When she'd left, Emily turned to Percy.
"While my sister's seeing father, there's something I'd like to show you," she said to the young man.
"And what is that Miss Emily?" he grinned patronisingly, his black bushy moustache being the main feature of his otherwise uneventful long, thin face.
"You'll have to follow me. It's only a short distance away."
The man seemed happy to follow the girl in what appeared a bit of innocent fun.
I followed too, drawn by this extraordinary scene that appeared to be more vivid than a dream.
She led him to a wide spread of rhododendrons with a narrow gap near the centre, where she stopped.
"What is it you want to show me?" Percy asked.
"Do you believe in fairies?" Emily questioned him.
"I do, if you do," he replied, humouring her with another grin.
"This is the entrance to where they live," Emily pointed to the gap in the cluster. "You'll see them come out if you stand close and take a drink of my lemonade."
Ready to continue humouring the younger sister of his fiancée, Percy took hold of the lemonade glass that Emily held out to him, and took several gulps. He handed the glass back to her and began staring into the gap, continuing to play the young girl's game, and starting to pretend he could see fairies. But the pretence came to an abrupt halt. Within a few moments he broke into a cry of crippling agony, clutching his stomach and violently retching to throw out the arsenic poison. It was in vain.
As he bent double facing the gap, Emily gave him a hard shove, and his body toppled lifeless into the surrounding bushes to practically cover him from sight.
I could hardly believe what I was witnessing. Emily had murdered the man in cold blood.
"That's evil. You've killed him," I cried.
"He deserved it," she replied, no hint of emotion.
I could stand this ghostly nightmare no longer and wanted to return to the house. However, I remained locked into this strange past and found myself following Emily back to the gazebo. A few moments later Victoria returned.
"Father said he did not ask to see me," she was angry with her sister. "You were playing one of your nasty little jokes, weren't you?"
Emily gave an apologetic smile as if she was just having an innocent bit of fun. But Victoria's anger quickly turned to concern.
"Where's Percy?" she asked.
"He suddenly remembered he had a business appointment and had to leave. He said a carriage would be arriving soon in the village to take him into town," Emily lied.
"How rude!" Victoria's fury was now focussed on her fiancée. "I shall have words." She turned and stormed back towards the house.
I called after her, wanting to tell the woman the truth, but it was futile. In this setting I was the ghost, unseen and unheard to all except Emily.
Within moments the sky darkened into the late stage of twilight. The surrounds were just visible and I found myself standing near the spread of rhododendrons where deceased Percy had been cruelly murdered.
"Quickly Edward! Did you bring the rope from the garden shed?" Emily whispered urgently, standing beside the gap in the bushes.
"Yes," a boy called back approaching her. In the near darkness I could just about make him out. He seemed to be wearing a waistcoat over a white shirt and dark trousers. He looked a little taller and older than the girl.
"Why d'ye need the rope?" he asked, nearing her.
"Just come over here."
The boy followed to the gap, peering inside to see a shape half covered in leaves.
"It's a man! Is he drunk?" The youngster stepped back in surprise.
"No Edward, he's dead," said Emily, as if it was a perfectly normal announcement.
"No!" The boy's mouth dropped. "Who is it?"
"Percy. Victoria's fiancée."
"No! We'd better tell father," he was about to leave, backing away.
"Stay here!" Emily demanded.
"Why? We need to get help."
"Because I killed him with poison and we need to get rid of his body," Emily explained matter of factly.
"You're playing one of your games, aren't you? Percy and you are trying to fool me, aren't you?" the boy appeared relieved for a second.
"No, I've really killed him. He's really dead."
"Why?" The lad recoiled in shock.
"Because he's a bad man and would make Victoria unhappy."
"They'll lock you up in an asylum for the rest of your life," Edward became panic stricken.
"I know, that's why you've got to help me," Emily pleaded.
"How?"
"Tie the rope around his legs and we'll drag him to the old disused well."
Edward hesitated.
"Do you want me to be put away for the rest of my life? Or they might even hang me." Emily soun
ded fearful.
Reluctantly the boy knelt down, brushed the leaves away from Percy's body and tied the rope around his legs.
"Now help me to pull him to the well," Emily ordered.
Percy's dead weight was an immense challenge to them. It took some time to drag the body across the lawn in the near darkness, made slightly easier by the downward slope of the ground in their direction.
I witnessed the bizarre scene like a person detached from reality. Events unfolding that I was powerless to intervene and change. Daylight had slipped away, but a haze of moonlight now dimly lit the sky through a misty layer.
Gasping for breath under the strain of Percy's weight, they finally reached the round structure of a well. It was a feature that had been absent when I'd earlier strolled in the grounds.
Now they had a monumental struggle hoisting Percy's body up against the well, pausing several more times for breath. As the top of his body leaned lifelessly forward over the wall, both of them lifted his legs and heaved him into the opening. Several seconds passed before a distant splash echoed upwards. Percy was no more.
The youngsters sank to the ground resting their backs against the wall to regain their strength.
"You must never tell anyone what we've done," said Emily to her brother, getting up after her rest. "Because now you've helped me, they'd put you in an asylum or even hang you too."
The scene before me began to dissolve. For a moment I stood completely disorientated, wondering where I was. Then I became aware of standing beside the house near the front door.
My mind raced in confusion, coupled with the deeply troubling fact that my grandfather's first name is Edward. Was he that young boy I'd seen helping Emily to dispose of the body?
I made my way to the kitchen expecting to see my grandfather preparing the meal. Opening the door, the room appeared empty. A pot was simmering on the range and I could smell the aroma of beef cooking in the oven.
"Grandfather," I called, approaching the range, then froze in shock. He was laying unconscious face up on the floor. I stooped down beside him, fearing he was dead, and reached for his wrist. For a moment I could feel no pulse, then detected a very weak beat. He needed urgent medical help, but there was no phone in the house and I had no idea who was his doctor. I'd have to call for an ambulance from the village phone box.
Emily's Evil Ghost Page 2
