Haunted Lancashire (The Haunting Of Books 1-3)

by Jack Lewis

  She took a step forward. Every inch of her body begged her to turn back, but she couldn’t. There was something beneath the carpet she needed to see. She was sure of it.

  Someone giggled behind her. A shock of fear ran through her. She turned around, just in time to see the door slam shut. The giggle grew louder, before turning into something more terrible. A cackle, a throaty sound full of malice that seemed to echo in the room.

  She wanted to run to the door and fling it open. To pound on it.

  She couldn’t. She’d come so far now, and she needed to see. The darkness became thicker. The last echoes of the cackles faded away, leaving her alone in the dark room. A shudder of cold ran through her.

  Is this how Peter Jones had felt? A little boy, trapped on his own in a dark room in a strange house? It was bad enough for her as a fully grown woman. She couldn’t even imagine how terrified he had been.

  But she was done with it. Done with being scared, finished with running away from the secrets of the manor. If she didn’t cross the room and look under the carpet, she’d never escape the house. Sure, she might leave it, but the tendrils of her past would keep pulling her back, and she’d live her life with the shadow of Gawthorpe in her mind.

  She crossed the room. She tried to take sure steps, to seem confident, but the pretence didn’t last long.

  She was in the corner now. The curled-up carpet was in front of her. She reached out and grabbed the edge. It was rough and cold. She gripped it and pulled it back to reveal the floorboards.

  As she pulled it away, she saw markings on the wood. Her breaths coming faster, she tensed her arms and gave it a final yank, pulling the carpet back enough that she could see what was on the floor.

  Words. Large letters, uneven and untidy, as if they were written in great haste. They seemed as if they had been scratched into the floorboards.

  I DROWNED HER IN THE LAKE

  TO SEE IF SHE WOULD FLOAT.

  A LIFE FOR A LIFE.

  A chill ran through her. She knew who ‘her’ was, and she knew who had written the message. It was Thomas Glanville; it had to be. And the girl must have been…

  Before she finished the thought, something caught her attention. The floorboards, covered in scratched words, were loose. Scarlett grabbed hold of one of the edges and wrenched it free, revealing a cavity underneath. There, sat in dust and darkness, was a book.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  ‘The Diary of Georgina Anne Gawthorpe,’ the title read.

  Scarlett flicked through the pages. Most of it had been filled with writing that at some point must have been legible, but someone had gone to great pains to cross out the words with thick, black marks.

  As she turned the pages, dust coughed out at her. The book smelled old, and she wondered how long it had been there.

  A sense of dread settled on her. She became keenly aware of how alone she was. How long her cries for help would take to reach friendly ears, if she were to make them.

  She was going to stand up and leave, when she turned a page and found a final sheet. On this one, the writing was still legible. It was just a few short paragraphs, written in such a hurry that they were almost scratched onto the page.

  I have tried everything. For years I have bargained with him. Pleaded. Offered myself to him for him to…I know not what. I reasoned that there must be something he wanted, but his desires are for something more terrible. More final.

  Mother had me leave to stay with Uncle Arthur and Aunt Clara for the summer, and I thought this might stay his fury. Grant me the peace of distance.

  No.

  He followed. Miles across the country, and he pursued me. I must have behaved strangely, for my gentle aunt lost her temper, and bade me return home.

  So here I sit. I know now that he wants me, will have me, and no manner of reasoning, fleeing or promises will stay him.

  I know what he believes I am. I know what he wishes to do. A life for a life is the only thing that will stay him, but I know of none who would take my place.

  I only hope that this is the end.

  As she finished reading, Scarlett realised that she had been holding her breath. She let it out slowly, silently. Dust puffed off the pages. The book felt cold in her hand. She resisted the urge to throw it far away from her, and instead dropped it back into the crevice.

  This was written by another of her ancestors. A girl, tormented and pursued by something she couldn’t fight. And in the end, it had gotten her. This was a force that wouldn’t stop, wouldn’t listen to reason.

  She felt sick. She stood up, taking pains to make sure she didn’t make a sound. Suddenly, it felt all-important that she made no noise. She turned around. When she saw the room behind her, she lost her breath.

  The walls were suddenly covered in scratches. Long grooves in the wood that looked like they had been done by fingernails. Had someone been kept in here?

  She heard a sound. Looking to her right, she saw that the record player had started whirring. The needle had dropped onto the record in the centre. At first, it sounded like a crackling noise, as though the needle was skipping on the record.

  Then she heard a voice. Faint, as though it was travelling a great distance. The words were so fast that she could barely hear them over the crackling.

  ‘It wasn’t…. fault…he…did it.’

  She shuddered. It felt like a sheet of ice had settled over her and held her in place. She knew the voice, but she couldn’t believe it. She put her hands to her ears to shut it out.

  ‘Not your fault,’ it said. ‘Him, him, him.’

  It was Jane’s voice. One that she hadn’t heard in so many years. Sweet tones, high pitched, but with an edge of desperation behind them. Ever since the accident, she would have given anything to hear her sister speak again.

  Yet now, stood alone in the room, she wanted to block it out. She couldn’t suffer through the pain that flowed through the words like a current.

  She frantically tried to reason with herself. Convince herself that this couldn’t be Jane’s voice. She didn’t want it to be. She couldn’t bear to hear it, not like this.

  And then the voice changed. It grew deeper, angrier. A voice trying to sound out above the crackle.

  ‘She was mine once. And she will be again.’

  Scarlett sank to her knees. She’d never leave this room, she knew. This was it for her; trapped in the darkness with the voices calling out to her.

  She felt lightheaded. She thought she was going to pass out, and she didn’t know what kind of terror she would wake up to. She had to get out of the room, but she couldn’t, and the voices from the record player echoed in her head.

  The door opened. She could hardly turn her head to look, but when she did, she saw a man standing in the doorway. It wasn’t Trev.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Jonathan ran into the room and stood in front of Scarlett. He reached out for her arm, but she shrugged him away. Steeling herself, she got to her feet. She looked behind her, at the carpet, and saw that it was perfectly in place as if she had never pulled it back.

  The record player was on the table, but the dustcover was down, the needle resting at the side. The scratches on the walls were gone. She rushed passed Jonathan, hitting his shoulder as she left the room.

  He called out after her. “Ms Gawthorpe,” he said.

  She ignored him. She needed to find Trev and Ruby, and then they’d leave. She ran down the dark hallway and onto the staircase, before crossing onto the west wing. The glow from the bedroom was gone now. When she reached it, she found that the room was empty.

  “Trev? Ruby?” she called out. Her voiced echoed.

  She heard footsteps in the hallway, then looked to see that Jonathan had followed her.

  “Have you seen them?” she said. She couldn’t help the edge of panic in her voice.

  “No,” he answered. “And I rang Rita. After you told me about the reading, I needed to speak to her. But there was no answer. I
thought she might be in trouble, so I called her neighbour and asked her to check on the house. Rita’s gone. Nobody knows where she is.”

  Scarlett left the room. She ran through the house and searched every room. Her own footsteps and shaky breaths were the only things to break the silence of the house. She went everywhere she could, checking her old bedroom, Jane’s room, her father’s study. She went downstairs and looked in the dining room, living room and kitchen. There was no sign of them.

  She stood in the centre of the lobby and looked around. Where could they have gone?

  Everything was going wrong, and it was getting worse by the minute. Things were falling apart around her. Arguing with Trev, Ruby telling her that she hated her. The house was doing it. The house, Thomas Glanville. She wished she’d never come here. Even their nights in the car had been better than this.

  Jonathan walked done the staircase and joined her. “He wants Ruby,” he said. There was a sadness in his voice. “Thomas Glanville. He thought that your sister was the reincarnation of a witch. That’s why he did it.”

  “Just shut up and help me look for them.”

  “And now he thinks Ruby is the same. He wants her, Scarlett.”

  She put her hands to her head. Her temples throbbed, and she couldn’t think. “Just shut up, okay? Stop it with that crap. Where the hell are they?”

  “Even if you find them, he’ll still come.”

  “We’ll leave Gawthorpe,” she said.

  “It doesn’t matter. He’ll follow.”

  He walked forward and put his hands on her shoulders. He shook her, forcing her to look at him. This time she didn’t have the energy to shove him away. She stared into his dark eyes.

  “All this time,” he said. “you’ve tried to deny who you are. You’re a Gawthorpe, Scarlett. It doesn’t matter what your father did to you. Ignoring your past won’t just erase what you feel. You need to face it.”

  The thoughts rushed to her all at once. All the years spent ignoring her feelings. The pain of losing Jane, the anger at her parents. She’d spent years living miles away from here, but all this time Gawthorpe had never left her.

  It had followed her, looming in the shadows, stopping her from moving on in her life. She and Trev had tried to carve out a future, but it had never seemed real.

  “Then we’ll have to do something, won’t we?” she said.

  She knew now that unless she faced up to him, Thomas Glanville would ruin everything. Her, Trev, Ruby. And he wouldn’t stop there. It’d never stop, no matter who lived here.

  She heard a door slam, and then footsteps came from the kitchen. They travelled down the hallway until she saw a figure emerge from the darkness.

  “Trev,” she said, looking at him as he approached. “Where’s Ruby? Is she with you?”

  His face was torn by panic. He’d always been strong, but now the worry was worn into him. “I can’t find her,” he said. “I’ve looked everywhere. I walked around the house twice and there’s no sign of her.”

  “We could try the wood store,” said Jonathan. “She might have gone there.”

  Trev looked at Jonathan, and Scarlett could see the rage in his eyes. There was a fire burning in them. His shoulders seemed to shake, and she saw that he was clenching his fists.

  “What have you done with her?” he said, walking toward Jonathan.

  He stopped in front of him, then grabbed him by the neck. Jonathan gurgled as he tried to breathe, but Trev gripped his throat tighter.

  “Where is she?” he said, with so much anger in his words that he spat on the estate manager’s face.

  Jonathan reached out and tried to grip Trev. His face turned pale, and his cheeks bulged.

  “Where the hell is she?”

  Scarlett grabbed Trev. She wrenched one of his arms away from Jonathan. Trev released his grip, and Jonathan bent over, wheezing.

  “He’s done something to her,” he said. “Turning up after all this time. I always knew there was something wrong with him.”

  Jonathan straightened up and looked at Trev. He was about to say something, when Trev tensed up and then swung a punch at his face. The blow hit Jonathan so hard that his nose cracked. The light in his eyes seemed to dim, and he collapsed in a heap on the floor.

  Scarlett bent down to him. His eyes were open, but he wasn’t moving. Panic filled her. Was he dead? She put her hand on his neck and felt the steady rhythm of his pulse.

  “I’m calling the police,” said Trev.

  He walked across the lobby, picked up the phone and held it to his ear. Then he moved it away, grunted and smashed it against the wall.

  “The phone’s out.”

  “We need to think,” said Scarlett.

  The wind picked up outside the house and battered against the windows. The gusts were so loud that they sounded like screams. The old window frames rattled. The rain made pattering sound on the glass, like fingertips jabbing at it and trying to get in. Something dark was settling on the estate.

  “She wouldn’t have gone outside in this,” said Scarlett.

  “I’ve looked everywhere.”

  “So have I.”

  “Then where the hell is she?” said Trev. His voice was undercut with so much fear that it made Scarlett shudder.

  She ran to the front door. The wind took hold of her, smoothing down her skin and making her tremble. She looked out at the dark estate before her. The gravel driveway, fading grass, dark trees.

  Ruby wasn’t in the house, so she must have gone outside. But where? She needed to think. She ran outside, not caring about the rain that lashed down on her. As she ran over the driveway a ghost of wind hit her so strong that it seemed like it was trying to push her back.

  She sprinted around the side of the house until she stood outside the east wing. To her right, there was a break in the trees, and Scarlett knew where that led.

  To the lake. The murky waters. The old tree stump. The boat moored up on the banks.

  And then she saw them. Walking away from the house and toward the lake, was Ruby. A figure was next to her, taller and covered in shadow, and leading her daughter away by the hand.

  Chapter Thirty

  She heard feet crunching on gravel, and she turned to see that Trev had joined her. The wind lapped around her head and snaked down her collar, spreading over her body like cold fingers. She needed something to warm her. Heat. A fire.

  A feeling of dread filled her. She thought she might just drop to the ground, but she took a deep breath and forced herself to stay up.

  She couldn’t help but feel that everything was lost. As though the shadows of Gawthorpe had concentrated above her and then come crashing down on her all at once, drenching her in desperation. This was the end. She was sure of it.

  She reached into her pocket and took out her necklace. It had been promised first to Jane, then to Ruby, but now she didn’t want anyone to have it. The necklace was a symbol of everything that had gone wrong. A keepsake that nobody should hold.

  “If anything happens,” she said, “throw it in the lake. Make sure it sinks.”

  “What?” said Trev.

  “Just throw it in the lake.”

  Before she could hand the necklace to him, she heard a scream. With that, she sprinted away from the estate and toward the clearing in the woods. Her lungs ached as she ran.

  She went away from the darkness of the manor and headed toward a new kind of darkness, one that was heavier. One that she had avoided looking at or even thinking about for years.

  Trev sprinted behind her and called her name, but she didn’t stop. The lake lay ahead, just beyond the trees, and she wouldn’t stop until she reached it.

  Finally, she saw it. A black expanse of water, the stars glittering on its surface. It was perfectly still, as though it was waiting for her.

  Across from her, on the other side of the lake, was the dark figure.

  And there, next to her, was Ruby.

  The most terrible sight of all was
the pyre. It was a collection of wood arranged to form a rough triangle, and a long stake was in the centre of it. The shadowy figure kneeled next to it and seemed to be spreading something at the base.

  Scarlett sprinted forward. Her chest felt like it was going to explode now. Her body cried out for her to stop, but she wouldn’t. She ran next to the lake, and she could hear the water now. She realised it wasn’t still, and the lake made a lapping sound as it drifted onto the banks.