Decision made. But that still left the unanswered question of who was responsible for all this in the first place. Maybe the CCTV would show something up. All she could do was wait and hope nothing else happened.
* * *
Two uneventful days passed and her phone rang. The managing agents had checked the CCTV for the nights in question and found nothing. Residents and visitors had been caught on camera going about their normal business. No one had attempted to force an entry anywhere. No suspicious behavior of any kind. Carol asked if all her windows and the communal entrance were within view of a camera and the managing agent confirmed that they were, along with the two entrances to the underground garage. No one could have gone in or come out without being caught on camera.
Panic started to swell inside her. Everything that had happened at the hospital…and before, here in this apartment. Was she the only one or had any of her neighbors experienced anything like what she was going through? She needed to find out. For once in Carol’s life she felt the need to make a friend, or at least an ally. Maybe then she wouldn’t feel so alone in battling whatever threatened her. Maybe then she could stop feeling as if she was going mad.
A total of nine apartments were accessible from the communal entrance in this block – three on each floor. Apart from the angry neighbor next door, she knew no one.
Better change that then.
Before she could lose her resolve, Carol left her apartment, keys in hand, and crossed the hall. She rang the bell and waited. Presently she heard the sound of a chain being removed. The door opened and an elderly woman with white hair frowned up at her.
“Hello, I’m Carol. I live next door.”
“Oh it’s you. Come to apologize, have you?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand. What am I supposed to have done?”
“You know perfectly well. All that ruckus a couple of nights ago. Kept me awake all night. Disgraceful.”
“I’m so sorry you were disturbed but I can assure you I had nothing to do with it.”
“You were there. Mr. Faraday at number one told me he’d taken it up with you. He said your attitude left a lot to be desired. We don’t allow that sort of thing at Waverley Court. It lowers the tone.”
“I can only apologize. I’m at a loss to explain any of it—” But Carol was talking to a closed door. She would find no ally there.
She ignored the lift, mounted the staircase to the next floor, and rang the first doorbell she came to. The sound echoed from within. Another door opened and a young woman around Carol’s age peered out.
“No one lives there at the moment,” she said, pleasantly enough. Could this be a neighbor she hadn’t managed to upset yet? “I’m all alone on this floor. Both the other flats are up for sale and the owners have already gone. Or maybe you’ve come to view one of them?”
Carol shook her head. “I’m living downstairs at number three. I wondered if I could have a word with you if that’s all right?”
The woman opened her door wider. “Come in. I was going shopping but that can wait. I’ll put the kettle on.”
Carol followed her along a hall similar to her own and into a bright, sunny living room.
“I’m Joanna, by the way.” The woman extended her hand, revealing neat, expensively manicured nails.
Carol shook her hand. “I’m Carol.”
“Coffee all right for you, or would you prefer tea?”
“Coffee’s great, thanks.”
Joanna smiled and left her. Carol wandered over to the tall window and peered out. A balcony with a small bistro table and two wrought-iron chairs afforded a view over to the hospital where she could just make out patients, staff and visitors going in and out, a constant stream of people. Ambulances would come in on the far side of the building hidden from her current view.
She turned back to examine the room. A burgundy leather three-piece suite, chrome and glass coffee table and an enormous, wall-mounted television took up most of the available space. A light oak fire surround framed a modern gray slate fireplace, housing an attractive and realistic-looking flame-effect fire. A rattle of china and a delicious aroma of fresh ground coffee heralded Joanna’s appearance.
“There’s sugar and milk if you prefer.” Joanna depressed the plunger on the cafétière and poured two steaming mugs full. Carol accepted one and added two sugars and a splash of milk.
Joanna leaned back on the settee opposite Carol, who had chosen one of the two deep, comfy chairs.
“So,” Joanna said. “You’re living in the Hathaways’ flat?”
“Am I? I didn’t know their names. No mail has arrived for anyone and the agent never said.”
“I get their mail. Adele Hathaway is a good friend of mine. We Skype every few days. They’re loving Dubai. I think if Adele had her way they’d probably stay there, but Christian’s contract is strictly six months. He’s a project engineer, working with a civil engineering company out there. Very high-powered stuff apparently.”
“It must be interesting work though.”
“I expect so. Certainly keeps Adele in Jimmy Choos.” She laughed lightly and sipped her coffee. “How are you finding their flat?”
“It’s lovely, but….” Where to begin?
“Problems?”
Carol nodded. “That’s why I’m here.”
“Go on. Tell me.”
Joanna was clearly unfazed and unsurprised. Carol swallowed and began, “I see things sometimes and, worse than that….” She stopped. How could she tell the owners’ friend about the damage to their apartment? She couldn’t tell her about the graffiti, the red wine stains or the broken crockery, and certainly not about upsetting the neighbors.
“Go on,” Joanna said. “Worse than that, what?”
Carol settled for, “Noises. Whispering, that sort of thing.”
“Sounds about right. Adele told me similar stories. She hates that flat but Christian won’t sell. He loves it. You know about the history of this place don’t you?”
“I know where we are used to be the old hospital and there was a workhouse, asylum and cemetery.”
“That’s right. We’re probably only a few feet away from tons of buried corpses. But it’s the layout of this place that’s so significant. If you believe in the supernatural that is. And I do.”
The way she said it almost challenged Carol to disagree with her. She didn’t. She felt a sense of relief. Here, at last, was someone who believed her.
Apparently satisfied she wasn’t going to get any argument from her, Joanna continued. “Back in the day when this was the old Royal Hospital, the ground floor, where you are, was actually below ground level. If you go outside and look carefully, you can see it still is a few inches lower, but because of the way they’ve dug the grounds and landscaped, it blends in. Where your flat is used to be the morgue and apparently, a tunnel ran from there, right under Waverley Court and up to where the Royal and Waverley is today. I’ve heard it may still be there.”
“A tunnel? Whatever for?”
“To transport the bodies from the hospital, workhouse and asylum to the morgue.”
“Good grief. That sounds a bit sinister.”
“It saved a lot of panic whenever there was an outbreak of fever, and there were plenty of those, especially in the earlier days of the workhouse. Sanitation wasn’t great and hygiene was primitive at least.”
“How do you know all this?”
“I’ve done my homework. It helps that I’m an archivist at the university and I’ve got access to a load of records not normally on public display. It’s fascinating stuff. Hang on, I’ve copied some pictures. I’ll get them.”
This was the break Carol had hoped for. Joanna could help her sort out fact from fantasy.
Presently she returned, with a twin-lock file under her arm. She laid it out on the coffee t
able and Carol leaned forward as she flicked over the pages.
“Here it is.” Joanna tapped a copy of a grainy photograph. It showed a corridor, fairly dim but with distinctive wall lights.
Carol drew in her breath sharply. In the foreground, slightly off to the left, stood a familiar woman dressed from head to toe in a dark dress, her hair parted in the center and drawn back severely off her face. She stood next to two other people Carol recognized – a man in a white coat and another female whose hair was coiled up in a bun and whose pale, piercing eyes stared out at her.
“What is it?” Joanna asked.
“I know that place. I could swear I’ve been there, or else dreamed about it. And I’m certain I’ve encountered these people. I know two of their names. The woman on the left is called Hester, or at least she was when I came across her in hospital, and the man is Dr. Franklyn…I’ve seen the other woman but I don’t know her name. Look, I know I sound crazy but I’m sure I’ve met them in their own time, and it was a nightmare. Hester seems to be able to…. I’ve seen her in the present day as well.”
“I’m the last person to disbelieve you. By the way, where they’re standing is alleged to have been the underground tunnel I told you about.”
“Were there rooms off this tunnel? Rooms where people might have been kept for some purpose or another.”
“I don’t know. I suppose it’s possible but all I know about is what I’ve told you, that it was a means of getting bodies from the workhouse to the morgue.”
Carol stared down at the cold eyes of the woman she was sure was Hester. They had told her in hospital that the modern-day Hester she had met didn’t exist, but here she was, in her alternate persona, captured on an old photograph. What the hell was going on? “Is there any way of finding out who she was for certain? When I was there, they called me Miss Warren. Lydia Warren. And I have a poem written by someone with that name. I think she murdered her husband – Roger Carmody.”
Joanna’s eyes grew wider at the mention of the name. “That’s really interesting. That murder was hushed up at the time. The judge ordered all records of it to be sealed for a hundred years. It’s been well over that now but you’ll still find no mention of it on the internet. I only came across it by accident. Someone had been a bit careless at the time and a junior newspaper reporter’s scribbled notes from the trial survive.”
“Do you have them?”
“No, but I know where they are.”
“It felt so real.” Carol’s skin prickled as she relived the experience. “It was as if I was her. As if she had inhabited my body, or I hers. I’m really not sure which. Her husband had beaten her badly and I could feel her pain. Every inch of my body was on fire or throbbing, aching. I felt his blows. I reached for the letter opener and stabbed him. Again and again. I couldn’t stop. I mean, Lydia…Lydia couldn’t stop. And then he was dead and the police came. Antrobus. That was his name. Detective Inspector Antrobus. He charged Lydia with murder.”
Joanna had paled. “There’s no way you could have known any of that unless you had either read the notes I’ve seen or….” She inhaled deeply. “Or you had been there. I know you couldn’t possibly have seen the notes, so….”
“My God. It was real.”
Joanna whistled. “Oh, I think you’ve known that all along, haven’t you? It’s just a lot to process. This is fascinating. You know, Adele heard voices, indistinct whispers and she would smell something in the flat from time to time. Ammonia…and worse.”
Carol nodded. “Boiled cabbage and body odor.”
“You too? Adele said that was when she started to want to get away from the flat. Christian told her she was imagining stuff. She should get out more. Get a part-time job or something, so she volunteered at the local hospice charity shop. She told me it helped but whenever she came home, it would all start over again. Never when Christian was there though.”
“Someone keeps telling me I’m next. But I don’t know what they mean. Next for what? Did Adele hear that?”
“Not that I know of. She could never make out anything that was being said. She found it so frustrating and said if she could have known what was behind it all she could have met it head on. As it was, she had nothing to go on, other than what I’ve told you. It was her experience that spiked my curiosity to research this place more thoroughly.”
“Have you experienced anything?”
Joanna shook her head. “Maybe living up here I’m a bit too far away from the vibes. Your two ground-floor neighbors haven’t mentioned anything, but then we don’t speak much. I meet them occasionally when I’m putting out the rubbish, and we exchange what polite people call pleasantries, but that’s about it. I couldn’t even tell you their names. He’s golf mad. You’ll see him coming in and out with a bag of expensive clubs, and she’s a stalwart of the local Methodist Church. Doesn’t approve of drinking, gambling, smoking or anything remotely resembling fun. That’s what Adele said anyway. I don’t even think she knew her name. She always called her Mrs. Number Two. Quite funny if you think about it.”
Carol smiled. “I’ll remember that. She’s quite fierce.” She hesitated but decided to ask anyway. “Did you hear any noise coming from my flat a couple of nights ago?”
“Can’t say I remember anything. Mind you, the floors are quite thick and solid so not much wafts up or down. Why?”
Carol told her about the complaints but again stopped short of mentioning the damage.
Joanna smiled. “Oh, you’ve definitely been targeted by whatever is still here.”
“But what do I do about it? I have another four and a half months on my tenancy and there’s no way I can afford to break it.”
“You’re all right when you’re not here? I mean this – whatever it is – doesn’t follow you?”
“I’m not sure. I’ve always seen things. Shadows, shapes, out of the corner of my eye. All my life that’s happened. Once I almost saw her face. Oh yes, I’m certain it’s a female. Much older than me. At least that’s the impression I get. I’ve never properly seen her. She’s followed me but never threatened me. At least, I don’t think so. But now I get confused as to who’s whispering to me. Is it something in this building? Or is it my familiar? That’s what I call her. But now I think about it, I haven’t been aware of her much since I moved here. Stuff happened when I was in hospital too, but I’m as sure as I can be that she wasn’t responsible for any of it. Maybe she’s moved on.”
“Tell me about what happened in hospital.”
Carol told her everything, including Susan Jackson’s mysterious disappearance. Joanna listened intently, saying nothing until she had finished.
Joanna picked up the photo again. “Okay, this all seems to tie in. As far as this place is concerned, from this photo, I’d say it’s pretty certain the rumors of this tunnel are correct. From what you’ve told me, I’m guessing one of the original entrances is where you went with that woman, Hester, and I’m guessing another is near your flat, or maybe even in it.” Joanna stood. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?”
“Downstairs to your flat.”
“But—”
Joanna was at the door, keys in hand. There was no going back now.
* * *
“Bloody hell.” Joanna stared at the graffiti-covered walls of the living room.
“It’ll be okay. I’m going to redecorate it in a few days. Please don’t tell Adele.”
Joanna didn’t seem to hear her. “This is serious stuff. Is there any more of this?”
“There was some on the tiles in the en suite but I was able to clean it off. I think they must have used a Sharpie pen or something similar.”
“Have you had any other experiences?”
“In the kitchen. And my bedroom. I’ve seen shadows and heard whispers in there. The thermostat in the bathroom was changed and the shower came
on, but that’s only happened once. The night the alleged party took place, the bedclothes were turned upside down but nothing else has happened in the second bedroom. The smells seem to come from the hall.”
“They really have come after you, haven’t they?” Her voice was gentler this time as if she had remembered that, for Carol, this whole experience must be terrifying and not merely an interesting bit of supernatural activity.
Carol avoided her gaze. Tears pricked her eyes. She wished Joanna wasn’t being so nice to her. She wasn’t used to it and it made her feel vulnerable.
Joanna came over to her. “Don’t worry, Carol. We’ll get to the bottom of this. I promise.”
“If only it were that simple.”
“It’s probably an unquiet spirit searching for release.”
“How do you know about such things?”
“I did my dissertation on the occult and supernatural, focusing on the traces of past lives that can leave an imprint on a building or location. Fascinating stuff. It’s one of the reasons I came to live here. I knew it was going to be an interesting experience. All the suffering, not only from the medical patients, but those in the asylum and the workhouse. If anything is going to leave a residue, those are the sorts of places it’s going to happen.”
Carol wished she could view it that way, but it was a bit difficult when your life and sanity were being threatened.
“Let’s start with your bedroom.”
A figure skittered out of sight. Carol gripped Joanna’s arm. “Did you see that?”
“What?”
“A shadow…a figure. It was only there for a split second. I saw it out of the corner of my eye. Not the same as…. Not my familiar.”
Joanna moved directly in front of her and lightly clasped both Carol’s arms. “I’ll say this again. I’m not going to disbelieve you. If you say you saw something, then as far as I’m concerned, you did. Now, what exactly did you see?”
In Darkness, Shadows Breathe Page 8
