"I had the feeling you may have wished for a more enduring relationship between ourselves, and it would be an unkindness allowing you to continue on a false hope. Please forgive me if this letter brings disappointment. I hope that we can remain friends, and that you will visit Simon and myself in London after we are married."
Disappointment! Her words though attempting to be kind, left me shattered. I had built so much hope on thinking we would share our lives together. Now all dashed with a few strokes of the pen.
The troubles of this house melted to insignificance. I was heartbroken and couldn't fight back the tears streaming down my face. Ruth no more. Then I felt angry at the suggestion of meeting the man she did love. The one who had stolen her from me. I had no idea how I'd fill the gap of loneliness that had opened into my soul. Somehow I would have to force myself into the routine of carrying on with what now felt like pointless everyday living.
At the hospital my grandfather remained unconscious.
"He stirs a little sometimes, but isn't really with us yet," the doctor told me. "His heart has stabilised, and we are beginning to consider the possibility that there's some other condition ailing him. We plan to carry out some further tests."
It was good news his heart condition had improved, though now replaced by a possible mystery about his health. Looking at him it was hard to imagine the elderly man laying oblivious to the world in the hospital bed had been that little boy Edward I'd seen in the visitations. And that is what puzzled me. The ghosts were of dead people, except my grandfather who was still alive. This strange business was beyond my comprehension.
CHAPTER 5
THE following two days passed without any manifestations from that world beyond the veil, and my fear of hauntings had been dulled by the heartache of losing Ruth. Sadness clouded those days and my future seemed bleak.
However, I was vividly hoisted from self-pity on the third night, while trying to bury my depression by reading a book beside the fire in the sitting room. I heard shouting. Did I want to see what was happening? To be confronted by yet more horror? Would it go away if I ignored the sound?
Curiosity once again forced me to enter the hall. They were female voices coming from behind a door along the corridor leading to the rear of the house. I approached, and with great reluctance opened it.
Inside stood Emily. Her older sister Victoria, dressed in a cream gown, was beside a treadle sewing machine holding a long piece of yellow cloth.
"How dare you accuse me of anything," Emily screamed at her.
"You were the last person to see Percy alive. You know something you're not telling me," Victoria struck back.
"Are you saying I had something to do with him disappearing?" Emily responded furiously.
I stood there knowing exactly what happened to Victoria's fiancée, but my presence didn't register.
"All I know is you're capable of being very wicked at times. I'll swear you poisoned our cat Henry because he scratched you. I saw you putting some bottle back in the medicine cupboard just after he died in agony," Victoria implied accusingly.
"I never poisoned the cat!" Emily grabbed a pair of scissors from the table beside her and flung them at her sister. Victoria flinched, just missing their impact as they hit the wall behind her.
Emily stormed out of the room, passing straight through me as if mist. The room plunged into empty darkness. The ghosts gone.
I made my way back with the lantern light to the sitting room and poured a few generous glasses of brandy, seeking solace in alcohol to wipe out an aching heart and the terror of ghouls. A temporary fix, I knew.
******
Returning from the hospital, where my grandfather remained unconscious, I stopped in the village to buy more provisions. On the way back to the car I met Marcia in the high street. She wore a smart dark jacket and skirt.
"In between house calls," she greeted me hurriedly. "Just buying a few things."
She asked after my grandfather and was about to hurry on, but paused for a moment.
"I'll be finishing duty later this afternoon. I was wondering if you would like to pop over to my house for dinner tonight?"
The prospect of spending an evening in human company, instead of spectres and lovesick depression, lifted my spirit.
"Yes, I'd be happy to," I replied.
"Good. Come over at six and you can help me out in the kitchen. Do you like fish?" she asked. I nodded.
"Right, I'll pick up some sea bass while I'm here. You can take the footpath from your garden. It's only ten minutes walk. Can't miss the house. White rendered with a red tiled roof. Must dash." She turned and strode quickly down the street, disappearing into a shop.
When I got back to the house it dawned that I'd better make myself presentable for the invite. Until now I'd dressed in casual clothes, corduroy trousers and shirts that were a little tired for smart wear. Fortunately I'd brought good white shirt, tie and dark blue suit for my stay as a just in case.
Shortly before six I made my way down the footpath from the garden, continuing across the side of a field bordered by a hedgerow. Ahead I saw the red tiled roof and white rendered house Marcia had described. The grounds of the property were spacious, though not as extensive as my grandfather's. However, the house was in far better condition than his, and the garden trees and bushes well maintained.
Marcia welcomed me at the door. She wore a knee-length maroon dress and pearl necklace in attractive contrast to the formal businesslike woman who'd earlier greeted me in the high street.
The house also contrasted with my grandfather's. For a start it had electric lighting and bright patterned wallpaper in the hallway. Marcia led me to the sitting room, furnished with a brown leather sofa and two armchairs resting on a deep pile, dark blue carpet. Framed prints of Mediterranean cafes and villages hung on the walls.
"I travelled a lot in continental Europe when I was younger. Loved those days before the war," she smiled reminiscently, noticing my interest in the prints.
"Would you like a cup of tea?" she asked. I declined, having drunk a cup not long before leaving the house.
"Right, well come with me and help prepare the meal." She led me into the hall and through a doorway into the kitchen. That too was in another universe from my grandfather's, with an electric oven, proper work surface surrounds and cupboards that didn't look as they they were on the verge of snuffing it.
Marcia gave me an apron and I took vegetable peeling duty while she gutted and prepared the sea bass. The fish was superb as we sat together eating in the dining room, once again another cared for setting, with patterned wallpaper, rich brown furniture and chairs. On a chest of drawers rested the framed photo of a good looking man with neat, side-parted black wavy hair and a chevron moustache.
"My late husband," said Marcia as I looked at the photograph.
"You must miss him very much," I remarked.
"I do," she replied. "He was a wonderful person. Time has helped me come to terms with the hurt, though I shall never forget him." She paused for a moment. "He said to me, 'if I don't come back from this war, don't let it ruin your life. Press on ol' girl.'" She smiled wistfully at the memory of his indomitable sentiment.
My parting from Ruth seemed shallow by comparison. There had been no commitment between us, just my assumption. Marcia's tragic story made me realise I had been wallowing in my trivial loss like a silly lovelorn schoolboy, and gave me a brighter, new perspective on life. I'd survived the war. I should be damn grateful for that alone.
******
AFTER the meal we relaxed on the armchairs in the sitting room with glasses of wine, facing a warming log fire.
"Are you married, or do you have someone special?" Marcia asked.
I told her briefly about Ruth, that the relationship hadn't worked out. I'd decided to put that part of my life behind me, and no longer wished to dwell on it.
"I'm sorry," she sympathised. We sipped our wine, silent for a moment.
"Have y
ou had any more strange appearances at the house?" she broke the silence.
I wasn't sure whether to tell her about the latest apparition of the governess being murdered, but felt the need to share yet another burden weighing on me. Marcia listened to the horrifying ghostly events that had unfolded since I arrived at the house, without showing any sign of disbelief.
"You must think me mad," I said, "that I must have imagined those awful killings."
Marcia said nothing for a while before replying.
"I try to keep an open mind. There are many things we reject or disbelieve because we don't understand them. By doing that, we continue in ignorance."
I felt touched by her understanding.
"Have you considered telling the police about what you've seen?" she asked.
"I have. But I don't think they'll go to the trouble and expense of uncovering and searching an old disused well on the evidence of ghost sightings. And even if they did believe my story, any remains of bodies might implicate my grandfather as an accessory, even if it was unwilling. I could hardly be responsible for destroying his reputation and risk him spending the rest of his days in prison."
Marcia nodded, accepting my reasoning.
Our conversation moved to more of the everyday, focussing on her life as a local doctor, and my plan to resume work qualifying as a solicitor when I was able to return to London. The evening in her company seemed to end too soon.
"I'm on early call tomorrow, so I'd best be getting to bed," she said, finishing her glass of wine. "It's dark outside now, so I'll run you back in my car. Don't want you getting lost on the footpath."
I insisted I'd be perfectly okay walking. She insisted on giving me a lift.
"Won't take long in the car."
Ten minutes later Marcia drew up on the forecourt. As I opened the car door to get out, I caught sight of a light shining from a window on the second floor. I'd left no lamp lights on in the house other than one in the hall, so that I could see on my return.
"What's the matter?" she asked, noticing me staring upwards.
"There's a light coming from what I think is my grandfather's bedroom."
"He's not home yet, is he? I haven't heard that he's been released from hospital," Marcia seemed puzzled. "Are you sure you haven't left a light on in there?"
"Certain. I haven't been in the room for days," I assured her. "I'd better go and check."
"I'll come with you," she said.
"No, it's okay, I'll do it."
"No, I'll come with you," Marcia insisted for a second time that evening, opening the car door and joining me. I could hardly stop her.
Inside I picked up the lighted lantern from the side table in the hall and Marcia followed me up the stairway.
"Feels spooky," she whispered, in the shadowy surrounds.
We made our way along the landing and I cautiously opened the bedroom door, just in case there might be a human intruder. The room was pitch dark, now only illuminated by the lamp I held and showing my grandfather's unoccupied bed, a wardrobe, dresser and bedside table. There was no lamp present in the room that could have been responsible for the light.
"That's weird," Marcia sounded mystified.
I checked the other upstairs rooms with windows overlooking the forecourt, but all were largely empty of furniture, unlit and unoccupied.
"It's a very strange house," I said, "you never know what to expect next."
Satisfied there was no-one else living or risen from the dead on the landing, we made our way back downstairs to the hall. Marcia stopped at the front door.
"If it would be of help, you could stay at my house while you're waiting for your grandfather to recover," she offered. "I could make a room up for you."
"Thank you, but I think I can soldier on here." Even though it was a tempting offer to escape from the house, I didn't want to impose.
"Okay. Look after yourself. If you change your mind, let me know." She smiled and left.
A wave of loneliness descended as I closed the door. Marcia's company had lifted my spirit from the depths. Now I was down in them again. I hoped my grandfather would make a speedy recovery, not only for his own sake, but also selfishly for my own. I yearned to be back in the everyday company of people, and continue pursuing my future in the post-war new world.
That night as I lay in bed, half wondering what spectacle from the other side might suddenly present itself, my thoughts were drawn back again to the loss of Ruth. And then they strayed to Marcia. How I'd really enjoyed the evening with her. It was in that happier thought I slipped into a peaceful rest.
CHAPTER 6
FOR the first time in ages, I woke next morning feeling refreshed. The world didn't appear such a troubled place.
After breakfast I drove to the hospital. News about my grandfather's condition grew more mystifying.
"We've run tests," the doctor told me, "but we can't draw any conclusion. He's in a deep coma and how long it might last is anyone's guess. We can only wait."
That was not good news. And even less so by the doctor's continuing assessment.
"Your grandfather is in a very weak condition. It may be he never recovers from the coma. A decision by next of kin may have to be made on what steps we take next if his coma is prolonged."
The doctor was telling me in a dressed up way that in the not too distant future medical aid would have to be withdrawn, and the natural order would probably see an end to his life. That was a decision my father would have to make.
He had problems enough with my mother's poor health, so I decided to hold off a little longer from telling him the doctor's latest thoughts, hoping with a bit more time grandfather's health would improve. My sunnier start to the day had now clouded over.
Returning to the house I made a point of checking my grandfather's room, wondering if there could be some rational explanation to the light shining from the window last night. Had someone sneaked into the property, a vagrant or thief who'd escaped before Marcia and me had reached the room? With daylight shining in, it was possible I might more easily see any signs of intrusion.
Everything remained as I'd left it when making the bed and tidying the room shortly after he was taken to hospital. There was a diary on the dresser I'd noticed before, but it had a key lock. I was curious to know what might be written inside, and my temptation to open it and read the contents was only prevented by the lock.
I left the room, unable to detect any reason for the light shining from the window other than it being some supernatural manifestation.
Once again my night's sleep was uneasy, the house sounds waking me many times just as I was about to fall into a slumber. After snatches of brief rest, I noticed daylight beginning to lighten the curtains.
Glancing at my watch as I dressed, it seemed an odd new event was taking place. The watch hands pointed to just after three o'clock in the morning. The world outside should still be dark. I checked to see if the watch had stopped. It hadn't. I knew it was a reliable timepiece. There was no way I could have slept into the afternoon, and in any case the sun usually shone on this side of the house in the morning as it was now.
Opening the curtains, two figures were visible on the forecourt. Emily and Edward.
I didn't want any of this to be happening, drawn back into a paranormal time lock, but compulsive curiosity forced me on. I left the house and followed in their direction as they began walking further into the grounds. They stopped at the old well, which had once again taken form. The youngsters were in conversation beside it.
"Victoria thinks I had something to do with Percy and the governess' disappearance," Emily told her brother. "And she's accused me of poisoning Henry the cat."
"Did you poison Henry?" asked Edward. His sister ignored the question.
"I'm worried Victoria might start spreading gossip to other people. I don't want them all to start suspecting me. That would be bad for you too," she warned her brother. "Now are you sure mother and father are out, and that cook
's gone to the village?"
Edward nodded.
"Then go and tell Victoria that I've found something important I'd like to show her," the girl ordered.
"What is it? I'd like to see," he said.
"You'll find out in a minute. Go and fetch Victoria."
While he was gone, Emily circled the well, her mind occupied in thought. A few minutes later Edward re-appeared coming down the garden with older sister Victoria.
"What do you want?" she asked sharply approaching Emily, a look of deep distrust in her eyes. "Is this another one of your stupid tricks?"
Emily pouted, giving the appearance of being wounded by her sister's unfriendly greeting.
"I wish you wouldn't be so harsh with me," she protested. "I really didn't have anything to do with your fiancée Percy's disappearance."
Victoria snorted contemptuously. Edward lowered his head in shame, knowing his younger sister was lying.
"What do you want?" Victoria demanded.
"I think there's a dead body at the bottom of the well," Emily announced.
"What?" Victoria's jaw dropped. She was paralysed for a moment, taking in her sister's bizarre statement.
"Now you really are making me angry. You've played some stupid tricks before, but this is outrageous." She turned to return to the house.
"No, there is a body in the well, I can see it floating," Emily called to her. "Take a look."
Her older sister turned back.
"Alright, I'll take a look. But if there isn't, I shall tell father about this and recommend he has you certified as insane."
Victoria approached the well and leaned forward over the wall to peer down.
"I can't even see the bottom. It just looks black it's so far down," her voice echoed in the void.
As her sister leaned, Emily hoisted the side of her dress and pulled out a carving knife lodged in her underwear. She raised the weapon and plunged it into the lower side of her sister's back.
Victoria jerked and groaned, slumping across the wall as blood flowed into the fabric of her light blue gown. Emily flung the knife into the well and rapidly stooped down, lifting her sister's legs and hoisting her body over the side. A distant splash rose from the depths a few moments later.
Emily's Evil Ghost Page 5
