"Did I say something wrong?" she appeared concerned and stopped eating.
"It's okay, don't worry." I didn't want her upset, but she persisted.
"Come on. What's happened?"
I told her of the ghosts I'd seen. My fear that Emily was planning another murder. Marcia said nothing for while, considering what I'd told her.
"But from what you say, these ghosts are in the long past. Whatever the truth of it, there's nothing you can do to change it," Marcia attempted to reassure me.
"I know I can't change the past, but that's the point," I explained. "It's knowing I'm utterly powerless to change it. A cold-blooded, psychopathic murderer of anyone she dislikes or who opposes her. And the way she tricked my grandfather into being an accomplice. It shatters me to the soul."
Marcia reached out and placed her hand on mine. A soft, comforting touch. For a second our eyes met, forming an unspoken bond between us.
"If it's so troubling to you, I can visit your grandfather's house to make sure everything's okay there," she offered.
"No, you've enough to do, I couldn't put that on you for a minute," I declined the kind offer. "He's showed some signs of recovering, and I'd hate him to come home to a cold house with no provisions. I'll carry on doing it."
"You're worrying too much," said Marcia. "If your grandfather does come out of his coma, they aren't going to send him home immediately. They'll want to make sure he's fully recovered first. You'll have time to prepare."
"Your the doctor. I'm sure you know best," I smiled.
After eating the meal we settled together by the fire in the sitting room. But however comforting Marcia's words, I couldn't lose the nagging feeling that even now Emily was watching and waiting for me, knowing I'd be returning to the house.
******
OVER the next few days I passed the time visiting my grandfather, and driving one afternoon to Beresford town where I'd spent the day with Marcia. It wasn't as enjoyable without her, but I liked the bustle of street life in contrast to the quieter village surrounds where I was staying.
Returning on the third day from the hospital, I saw a grey-haired woman in a blue apron coming out of the dining room holding a feather duster. She looked to be in her mid-fifties. The lady stared at me in surprise. I was equally surprised to see her.
Then we both broke into laughter as I remembered Marcia had a weekly cleaner, and the woman realised who I was.
"You must be Mr Roberts," she said. "The doctor told me you were staying here for a while." The woman approached me. "Your poor granddad's in hospital, isn't he? Lovely man. I'm so sorry to hear he's been taken poorly." She seemed genuinely sorrowful.
"That house he lives in is just too much for him to look after at his age. I've offered to clean round it for a reduced rate, but he won't have it. Obstinately independent, and now look where it's got him," she frowned. "Carries a lot of mysteries that place. Strange things happened there in the past, so people say."
She stopped, suddenly realising she might be talking out of turn to a relative of the family.
"Of course, it's all just old village gossip, I'm sure," she attempted to play it down. I could have assured her from what I'd experienced that the village gossip was not far off track. But I had no reason to tell her, since my story of ghosts would only fuel more gossip, and I was hardly likely to implicate my grandfather as an accessory to murder.
"Anyway, better get on with cleaning," she said, adding with a wry grin, "the doctor is lucky to have a handsome chap like you staying here for a while."
I guessed another rumour mill was being built in the village about the lady doctor and her new male lodger. Crafty nods and winks all round, no doubt.
Truth is, I wished the rumours could be right. I found myself more and more attracted to Marcia. Except the gossip likely had more going for it than the reality. I hoped there was some kind of affinity between us, but I didn't want to set myself up for another let down. Marcia had shown nothing other than friendship.
The sound of a vacuum cleaner bursting into life from the sitting room shook me out of any further romantic wishes, prompting me to move on with the rest of the day.
CHAPTER 8
AFTER walking to the village to buy fresh food, I took a stroll in the large garden surrounding Marcia's house, enjoying the warm afternoon sunlight.
It must have been ten minutes or so of relaxing when I glanced across at a broad oak tree that I guessed must have been there for at least a couple of hundred years. My heart suddenly skipped a beat. I could swear I saw Emily standing in the shadow of the trunk. In a second the image was gone.
I continued my stroll feeling considerably unsettled, fearing the place I thought was a refuge from hauntings was not immune to her following me. But after a while I dismissed the vision as a hangover from the horrors I'd experienced. Just a fleeting blip of imagination surfacing from a burdened brain.
When Marcia returned in the evening, once again I prepared a meal for us then we settled with a glass of wine by the fireside.
"I suppose you'll be going back to your law work in London," she said, after telling me a little of her day.
"That's the idea," I replied. "Beginning to feel at a loose end here. I had hoped for it to be a relaxing break, but things have worked out rather differently."
"Yes, traumatic to say the least," she sympathised.
We sat silently for a while, just enjoying our company and the warmth of the fire.
"I suppose you'd never consider finding work with one of our law firms in town and living somewhere in the area?" Marcia broke the silence. I was surprised by the question.
"It isn't a thought that's ever entered my head," I replied. "Apart from overseas service, London's the only place I've ever known. Why do you ask?"
"Oh, nothing in particular. Just that I know a local solicitor with a practice in Beresford who's looking for another partner in the business," she said. "You told me you were qualifying in company law, and that's the field of experience he's looking for."
"Yes, but I've still got the final exam to do. The war put a temporary kibosh on that," I explained.
"Well the opportunity will still be there in three months or so, which would give you time to get things in place. He's just putting out feelers now." Marcia took a sip of wine. "Only thought I'd mention it. But for a city boy like you it would probably be too far from life in the metropolis."
I didn't know what to say other thanks for letting me know. Was this purely a kind offer of putting a job opportunity my way, or was she suggesting it for some other reason? The thought of remaining near Marcia was tempting. But I still didn't want to start running away with ideas that could just be a figment of my imagination.
That night I lay in bed thinking over what Marcia had said. Maybe I should look for a new way of life. Perhaps I was being narrow minded always thinking London was the only place to live. I'd been fortunate to survive the war, now perhaps I should reconsider my future direction. Take chances on a new horizon.
Marcia called me next morning with the invitation to scrambled egg and toast for breakfast.
"Must get going," she said, after we'd eaten. "Lots of house calls today."
"Would be good if we could spend another day out together," I suggested.
"Sunday. I've got that off. A few more days and we'll have another outing. See you this evening." She left for work.
I hadn't checked my grandfather's house for several days, and was beginning to feel guilty about neglecting the property. After my daily visit to him in hospital, I resolved to call in at the house and make sure everything was okay. It was a decision I came to regret.
******
THE atmosphere inside the property felt dank and foreboding. The fires had gone out and the lack of warmth in the stone building made me shiver. My footsteps in the hall echoed up the empty stairway and along the corridors.
Cautiously I looked into the rooms half expecting to be confronted by a spectre. With every step I sensed the p
resence of Emily following me. Several times I felt my skin creep and looked behind wondering if she was there, but her spirit stalked me unseen.
After checking over the property, with great relief I left to make my way back to the welcoming atmosphere of Marcia's house. Nearing the footpath that led to her home, I felt drawn to taking a look at the spot where the old well had once stood.
The capping I'd uncovered by digging out the turf was still visible. It troubled me the bodies, or at least the bones of the innocents that Emily had dispatched into the depths, still lay there. They should at least be retrieved for a decent burial.
I turned to resume my way back to the footpath when I heard two women's voices. Looking behind, Emily and her mother were strolling in the grounds close by. The old well wall had suddenly become intact. In that brief second I'd been plunged into the spirit world again.
"I'm so sorry for behaving badly towards you," said the adolescent Emily, dressed in a blue gown.
"My dear, I'm glad you've realised the error of your ways," her mother replied, appearing commandingly stern in a long grey dress. "The finishing school in Suffolk that your father and I are sending you to, will help develop skills of etiquette and refinement. I'm sure that will serve to attract a young gentleman of good means to support you in marriage."
"I'm so pleased you've forgiven me," Emily spoke humbly. It seemed an amazingly changed Emily to the one I'd encountered previously. Perhaps her reign of horror was over.
"Your father will be back from his business meetings in the city in a couple of days, and will be here to wish you goodbye," her mother continued.
"God! The cat's just fallen into the well," Emily grabbed the woman's shoulder.
"Violet?"
"Yes, she jumped on to the wall and must have lost her balance," Emily lied, rushing towards the well. Her mother quickly followed, leaning over the wall to look into the depths.
"We must fetch help," she cried. "I can't see anything in that darkness."
Even as the words were leaving her mother's mouth, Emily had stooped down behind pulling at her ankles and pivoting her body over the wall.
"What are you doing?" the woman shrieked. "Let go!"
But Emily didn't let go. Her mother's hands had a shaky grip on the rim of the well and she was desperately struggling to keep hold. To no effect, as Emily forced her outstretched legs further upwards until the woman could grip the edge no more. In another second her hold was broken and she plunged into the void, a scream cut short as she impacted on the water below with a reverberating splash. Deathly silence followed.
It happened so quickly, that even if I'd had the power to intervene, I could not have raced the twenty feet in time to stop it.
Emily looked across at me and smiled that evil, proud smile of satisfaction in her work. Then she was gone. The spirit world enclosing me evaporated.
No matter the several times I'd witnessed her acts of merciless killing, each successive one left me more and more stunned. And now she had murdered her own mother.
When Marcia returned that evening, she remarked on how pale and drawn I looked. I cooked some food for dinner, but had no appetite to eat it. As we settled together in the sitting room, the silence between us was interrupted only by the crackle of the log fire.
"What's happened?" Marcia asked. "You look so troubled."
I didn't want to burden her with my thoughts, she had enough responsibilities caring for the sick. But being plagued by paranormal horrors virtually every time I visited my grandfather's house was now seriously fraying my nerves. I relented and told her what I'd witnessed that day.
"Do you think I'm just imagining it? Do you think I'm insane?" I asked, beginning to doubt my own sanity.
"As a doctor, I've been called on several times to certify people as insane," she said, looking across at me from her armchair. "I don't consider you on that scale. And if I did, there is no way I'd have invited you to stay here."
Her verdict heartened me.
"As I told you, once I thought I caught a brief glimpse of that girl fitting your description of Emily on your grandfather's lawn. Now either we are both mad, or the possibility of her spirit exists. It seems you have greater confirmation of that than me."
We talked a little longer, mostly about where we would go for an outing on Sunday when she had time off. It helped take my mind away from that terrible murder. I was grateful for Marcia's company. Maybe it was her professional doctor's manner. I hoped it was much more than just that.
Later that evening, making our way to bed, we said goodnight to each other on the landing. I wanted to hold and kiss her. In her eyes I thought I sensed the same feeling too. But if I was misreading her feelings, such a move would result in embarrassment for both of us and spoil the friendship. We parted for our rooms.
In bed I lay awake thinking about Marcia. The thought of leaving her behind when I finally returned to London was becoming increasingly difficult. Then Ruth came into my mind. Although I had been certain she was the woman I wanted to marry and spend my life with, it all seemed curiously different now. Clearer that her 'Dear John' letter had hurt my pride more than any deep feelings I held for her. I'd been in love with love. Someone to cling to after the desperate days of wartime. We'd never pledged any strong feelings between us. Then on the other hand, neither had Marcia and me. But at least I'd formed a bond with her during my stay here. A closeness that hadn't existed with Ruth.
In this balancing act between heart and logic, I gradually fell asleep, troubled now by dreams of Emily's cold-blooded disposal of her mother in the old well. The uneasy night's sleep was shortened by a knock on the bedroom door at six in the morning.
"The hospital's phoned," Marcia called. "Your grandfather has regained consciousness and he's asking for you."
I was thrilled by the news and quickly dressed to leave. Little did I know at that moment, the horrors of the past had still not been laid entirely to rest.
******
"YOUR grandfather is still in fragile health, so I don't want you to stay too long," the senior ward nurse told me, as she opened the door to let me into his room.
Wearing a light blue pyjama top, he was sitting up in bed resting his back on a couple of pillows.
"I'm so glad you're awake again," I greeted him. He raised a weak smile on his pale face, the effort of forming a curve in his lips almost a struggle.
"And I'm glad to see you again, my boy," he replied in a soft, slightly faltering voice. I bent over and gently hugged his shoulders. He pointed to a chair beside a radiator in the room.
"Pull that up."
I drew it close and sat down beside him.
"I've been a lot of trouble to you, haven't I?" he looked at me apologetically. "The nurse tells me you've been visiting daily for some time. I'm sorry if I've upset your plans."
"My only concern has been for you," I assured him. He raised another weak smile in appreciation.
"I don't think it's been your only concern though," he said, after a short pause. He could see from my expression that I was puzzled by what he meant.
"I think you know more about past events at my house than you did before you arrived." He stared at me, his eyes reading the knowledge reflected in mine. "About Emily. About me. The horrific murders she carried out, and how I helped her." His look grew distant for a moment, steeped in memory.
"How do you know that?" I was mystified.
"Pour me some water," he said, raising his arm with strained effort and pointing to a jug and glass on his bedside table. After taking a drink he settled back on the pillows.
"While I've been unconscious, I believe I've been on what some would call an astral plane, triggered that evening not long after you first arrived. You went to relax in the lounge while I was preparing the evening meal. A short time later a strange feeling came over me. As if I was being drawn back into the past."
It jogged my memory of when I'd gone to the lounge to read a book, and was confronted by the ghost
of Emily. She asked me to follow her and I witnessed her first murder, the poisoning of Victoria's fiancée, Percy. When I returned to the house, I found my grandfather unconscious on the kitchen floor.
"I came over dizzy and only returned to my senses in the early hours of this morning," he continued. "But from time to time while I was unconscious, somehow my inner spirit returned to those horrific events of the past on some parallel supernatural plane, and I sensed you were there witnessing them, and learning that your grandfather as a boy helped Emily to carry them out. God, the guilt I've carried all my life helping her in those dreadful murders."
I saw teardrops forming in his eyes.
"It's okay. I don't hold anything against you." It worried me the trauma would cause him to collapse again. "I know that Emily threatened you. Terrified you into thinking you would hang or spend the rest of your life in prison," I assured him. He stared searchingly at me.
"How can you ever forgive what I've done?"
"I know you were forced into it," I tried to reassure him again. He looked so pale I feared he would suffer another seizure. "You should get some rest now. I'll come back tomorrow when you're feeling better."
"No," he raised his arm limply, gesturing for me to stay. "There is more to tell. Something you didn't witness in that parallel dimension."
I'd stood up to leave, but he was determined for me to remain. I sat again, waiting while he wiped a trickle of teardrop from his cheek.
"I told you that after my father died I became the owner of two shop businesses in the village, and that I'd met the woman, Mary, who would become your grandmother."
I nodded, recalling his story.
"At the time, Emily was still living at the house. She was no longer a child by then and hated the prospect of me marrying. She'd always been dominating, and took strongly against the possibility of this new woman having greater influence over me." He paused and pointed to the water jug. I poured another drink.
"I was worried," he continued. "I knew what that evil sister of mine was capable of, and feared my new wife, Mary, would end up dead at the bottom of the old well. It had always troubled me how our mother had suddenly disappeared while I was away at naval college, and one day I confronted Emily about it." He shook his head in agitation recalling the occasion.
Emily's Evil Ghost Page 7
