Childish Spirits

by Rob Keeley

  Quickly, she scrambled out of bed and stepped right up to the governess.

  “What do you want with him? And why now?”

  She forced herself to meet the governess’s eyes. They were a steely grey.

  “I’m not going to let you harm him.”

  “You still don’t understand, do you?” the governess said. “No matter. So be it. I had hoped to persuade you to be good. But if you persist –”

  Another object appeared in her hand. Ellie paled.

  It was a cane.

  “Remember,” the governess continued. “This is the Victorian age. If you spare the rod, you spoil the child. We know, in these days, how to make children behave.”

  Ellie squared her shoulders.

  “I’m not afraid of you.”

  “Very well,” the governess finished. “But I shall be there. Watching you. When you least expect it. And very soon – you and Master Edward will do exactly as you’re told.”

  With that, she began to fade, drifting back towards the door.

  And Ellie found herself drifting too, back into the bed, before seeing the mantelpiece, and the tulips, and the richly-papered bedroom walls moving further and further away from her…

  Ellie blinked.

  “Ellie?” Mum shouted. “Aren’t you up yet? I’ve got a crisis on, out here!”

  A shaft of sunlight shone through the scullery door. Ellie grabbed her watch. It was eight a.m.

  There was something else by the bed, as well… something red. Ellie grasped it and lifted it into view.

  It was a tulip.

  Chapter Eight

  Ellie dressed hastily and made her way out into the kitchen area. Mum and Charlie were there, already finishing breakfast. Charlie was wearing his best purple shirt and patterned tie, and his hair was looking particularly gelled and shaped.

  “Got a date, Charlie?” Ellie sniggered. “What’s going on?”

  “Spot check,” Mum answered. “Head Office is doing a swoop on us.”

  She was looking smart too, in a navy blue suit. She rose from the table and bustled around the flat, grabbing her badge and a clipboard from nearby chairs.

  “Typical Journeyback. We’re nowhere near ready for this, yet.”

  Ellie yawned. After a night arguing with a ghost, she wasn’t ready for the world of Journeyback either.

  “What do you mean, spot check?”

  Charlie straightened his tie.

  “At eleven o’clock, they’re sending a sample coach party to see over the place. Not a real one, of course. They use members of staff, a few volunteers – and a few members of the public to make it seem real. They get a free day out.”

  “And that means,” Mum said. “That everything has to be absolutely perfect. This despite the fact we’ve no staff here yet. Marcus and I have got to do everything ourselves. They want to see what sort of a welcome we’ll give to visitors. Then we’ll give them coffee and biscuits in the library.” She turned to Charlie. “You’re making the coffee. There won’t be many people. Only a dozen or so.”

  The look of superiority vanished from Charlie’s face.

  “A shame we didn’t have your guidebook done, Ellie,” Mum went on. “At least we’d have had one bit of quality to show them.”

  Ellie directed a virtuous smile in Charlie’s direction. He scowled.

  Mum stopped in the act of scooping up paperwork. She looked at Ellie.

  “You’ve not even had any breakfast, yet.”

  “Don’t worry, Mum.” Ellie moved to the table. “I can get my own. I’ll clear, too.”

  She took a careful look at the ketchup bottle and milk carton.

  “I’ll make sure everything’s clean and tidy.”

  Mum paused.

  “OK.” She headed for the door. “Come on, Charlie. Start practising your best professional smile.”

  Charlie drew his face into a ferocious grin.

  As soon as they’d gone, Ellie looked cautiously around the flat.

  “Edward?”

  There was silence.

  “Edward, I’ve seen her! I know who she is!”

  There was no response.

  Frowning, Ellie started to clear Mum and Charlie’s breakfast things.

  A governess… so Edward had been educated at home. She knew lots of rich kids were, in those days. Then they’d go away to boarding school. The boys, at least.

  The governess had been young. Did that mean she was still young when she died?

  What about the book? It contained a record. Of all the people Edward had frightened. All the bad things he’d done.

  The governess had certainly been scary. But why was Edward so afraid of her?

  And why had she only just appeared to him, after such a long time?

  Ellie stationed herself inside the entrance to the Manor when eleven o’clock arrived.

  A coach made its way up the drive, and a group of people emerged onto the gravel.

  Ellie smiled to herself. Mum was out there, professional smile in place. Marcus was all hearty greeting and was trying to shake hands with twelve people at once. Charlie was attempting to do the same, and was being ignored.

  The visitors were an interesting mix of people. There was a silver-haired man in a suit who was receiving a lot of Marcus’s attention and looked like he might be the boss… a couple of old ladies wearing Journeyback Volunteer badges… and a dark-haired young woman, appearing from behind the coach, who was looking up at the Manor with fascination.

  Ellie dodged back towards their flat, out of sight, as the visitors made their way into the house.

  She smiled to herself. She was becoming very good at hiding.

  It must be all the time she was spending with Edward.

  “What do you mean, they’ve gone?”

  Ellie tapped on the door of the Site Office and entered. It was a bright and cheerful room, with a cast-iron fireplace, a patterned carpet and very high windows. The housekeepers of Inchwood had enjoyed an excellent view of the courtyard below. Marcus’s changes to the room consisted of one desk, one computer and one phone.

  Charlie was sitting at the desk, looking sulky. Marcus had gone the colour of pickled cabbage. He gestured towards some empty chairs.

  “Three coats, two bags, an umbrella, a fur hat and a copy of Historic Houses Weekly can’t just disappear!” He glared at Charlie. “You were meant to stay and keep an eye on things here, while your mother and I took everyone round the house!”

  “If any of the loos worked up here…” Charlie cut in.

  “Now, you listen to me, mister –” Marcus started. He spun round to see Ellie there. “Yes?”

  Ellie smiled charmingly.

  “Where’s Mum?”

  “Downstairs,” Marcus said. “Holding the fort, while I try to locate most of our visitors’ personal belongings, which your clever brother has somehow lost from right under his nose!”

  Ellie paused.

  “I’ll have a look for them,” she said.

  She didn’t have to look far. Sure enough, when she entered the nursery, there they were, scattered about all over the place. Edward’s rocking horse was wearing the hat, while she could see small, torn pictures from Historic Houses Weekly as posters on the railway station of Edward’s train set.

  “Edward?” Ellie grabbed items as best she could. “You’re not funny, you know. Hey, you want to be careful. She’s still out there. She’s taking notes. And…” She paused. “I’ve seen her. Last night. I know who she is, now.”

  There was no answer.

  “Edward!” Ellie moved across the nursery. She looked at all the places Edward might be hiding… the paintings… a half-open cupboard… behind the curtains. “Look, she’s got it all written down! Everything you’ve done. She’s looking for you. But I still don’t know why. Edward, if you tell me what’s going on, maybe I can help!”

  Silence.

  Ellie waited a moment. Then she gave up.

  She emerged from the room, her
arms full, to meet Mum coming upstairs.

  “Ah!” Mum smiled. “You’ve found them. Good. I knew they couldn’t have gone far.”

  She leaned closer to Ellie.

  “I suppose it’s no good asking how they got in there? Get all that stuff downstairs, now. And whatever you do, just keep smiling.”

  Someone was coming upstairs behind Mum… the dark-haired young woman Ellie had seen earlier.

  “This is Moira,” Mum said. She gestured downward. “Go on, Ellie!”

  Ellie moved to the stairs. She heard snatches of conversation floating after her.

  “Moira’s interested in volunteering with us… admin…”

  “I’ve just graduated.” The young woman had a gentle, pleasant voice. “History. I’ve been looking for some voluntary work…”

  Keen to meet the new arrival, Ellie went back to the Site Office after returning the stolen property. The visitors were now in the library, doing their best to enjoy Charlie’s coffee.

  Marcus obviously wasn’t wasting any time. Moira was already wearing a Volunteer badge. She was seated at the desk.

  “Well, I’ve worked in University offices,” she was saying. “During the holidays. And I promise you, you won’t find a better letter-writer anywhere.” She caught sight of Ellie. “Hello.”

  “I’m Ellie,” Ellie said, since no one had introduced her. “That was my Mum you met before.”

  “You can use a computer, I suppose, Moira?” Marcus banged the monitor with his hand.

  “Yes.” Moira glanced at the machine. “Of course.”

  “Perhaps you wouldn’t mind starting with a letter to catering, then,” Marcus said. “Details on the desk. I’ve got to get downstairs. Try and repair the damage the rest of my workforce have done this morning.” He headed for the door. “Do it yourself, Marcus…”

  For the first time, Ellie met Moira’s gaze.

  Both of them stifled a smile.

  As soon as Marcus had gone, Ellie took a chair beside the desk. She needed a friend, around here. Someone who couldn’t walk through walls.

  “So,” Moira said. “What’s it like, living in a place this size?”

  “It’s cool,” Ellie said. “We only moved in two days ago.”

  She paused. Making new friends always made her strangely nervous. She was never sure what to say. She cleared her throat.

  “Did you say you’ve just come back from uni?”

  “Yes,” Moira said. “Cambridge.”

  “Wow,” Ellie said. “And you end up working for Marcus.”

  Moira laughed. She brushed her hair back from her soft, grey eyes.

  “I wasn’t expecting to start work so quickly. My mother thinks I’m only out for the morning. She’s expecting me back for lunch. You know mothers.”

  “Oh!” Ellie laughed. It was the first time she remembered laughing since coming to Inchwood. “Tell me about it!”

  She stopped as she heard floorboards creak in the corridor outside – then, footsteps heading downstairs.

  She moved quickly to the door and opened it. As expected, there was no one in sight.

  She turned back to Moira.

  “Just got to pop down, sorry. I’ll see you later. I’ve got to… go and find someone…”

  “Oh?” Moira asked. “Who’s that?”

  Ellie was already heading for the ground floor.

  “I reckon Moira’s just what we’re looking for,” Marcus was saying to Mum, at the main entrance. “And she’s local. She can bus it over here – any day, she said.”

  He noted Ellie’s arrival. Charlie had also appeared, and was carefully standing a short distance from Marcus, doing his best to look dignified.

  “Anyway. Spot check successful. We can go and see ‘em off, now.”

  Ellie followed Mum and Marcus as they stepped out into the courtyard and approached the group of visitors. Nearby, a young man was watering some hydrangeas with a hose. He looked bored and sheepish and his badge showed he was another volunteer.

  Marcus looked at him proudly.

  “That’s the stuff, Clay,” he said, loudly enough for the visitors to hear. “Now, ladies and gentlemen, on behalf of the Journeyback team here at Inchwood, can I just say how much we’ve valued your creative input today. And when we open, later this summer, I can promise you that this is how we will welcome visitors to this great house.”

  Ellie stared.

  The young man seemed to be fighting with the hose. It was twitching… shifting…

  She watched as it flew out of his hand and snaked its way across the gravel.

  Marcus turned and saw it coming just too late.

  There were shrieks, and yells, and running, as everyone tried to get out of the way. The boss’s expensive suit was saturated. Charlie’s shirt and tie were soaked and his carefully-gelled hair was plastered to his forehead. The old ladies were grimly hanging onto their hats.

  “Clay!” Marcus bellowed. He was whirling about, in the centre of the storm, trying to work out what was going on. “Turn it off!”

  “I can’t!” the volunteer shouted back. “It’s stuck!”

  Ellie decided to leave the adults alone with this one.

  As she went back into the house, she noted with pleasure that she was completely dry.

  Edward must be starting to like her.

  Chapter Nine

  Mum and Charlie got themselves dry. Marcus changed his suit. He then made a very awkward phone call to Head Office.

  After lunch, more volunteers started to arrive – mostly locals that Marcus had managed to recruit in the village along with Clay.

  “You’d be surprised what buying a few pints at the local pub can do,” he said to Mum.

  The villagers lost some of their enthusiasm when they discovered exactly what Marcus wanted.

  “All the rubbish to be cleared out,” he told them, as he took them through the upper rooms of the Manor. “This place has got to look spic and span. But watch out. Some of this stuff could be valuable. Come to me if there’s any doubts.”

  Later in the afternoon, Ellie stole upstairs for another chat with Moira.

  The Site Office was stacked with objects. The villagers had evidently had several doubts. A hideous brass table-lamp stood on top of a woodworm-ridden chest of drawers, with an old and rusty bicycle parked alongside. There were several mouldering old books, and dozens of cardboard boxes of junk.

  Ellie thought that Miss Harvey couldn’t have had a clear-out in quite a while.

  “Strange, isn’t it?” Moira broke into Ellie’s thoughts. “These old houses. The things that get cast aside.”

  “I could do some good abstracts of this stuff.” Ellie studied the pile of rubbish. “Or even enter it for something as it is. As a piece of contemporary art.”

  “You paint, do you?” Moira asked.

  “Yeah,” Ellie said. “And I write poetry, sometimes.”

  “I used to paint,” Moira said. “A little. I’d be interested to see some of your paintings. You could work up here. Keep me company.”

  “Sure,” Ellie agreed. “I’d like to do the view from this window.”

  She was interrupted as the office door opened.

  Marcus entered. He was dishing out orders to people in the corridor behind him.

  “Just pile it all up, we’ll sort the good stuff out…”

  “Do you think this could be antique?” a ginger-bearded young man asked.

  Ellie stifled a snigger. It was the same kind of standard lamp she remembered Mum and Dad having when she was little.

  “I don’t think so, somehow.” Even Marcus looked amused. “No good to us. Unless we’re going to have an Eighties night.”

  “And what about this?” another villager asked.

  Ellie looked at the next object – and froze.

  It was a small, framed portrait of Edward.

  “Dunno,” Marcus admitted. “Let’s ask our historian.” He turned to the desk. “What d’you make of this, Moira?”


  “I’m no expert.” Moira got up and looked at the painting nonetheless. Ellie followed.

  It was a good likeness. Edward was about the same age in the picture as he appeared now. It must have been painted not long before he became ill. He was wearing what might have been his best suit, with a high, gleaming white collar, and even in the picture he looked as if he were already planning some mischief.

  “Victorian, I’d say,” Moira said. “Judging by the clothes.” She looked at the base of the frame. “No inscription.”

  “Not exactly Rembrandt, is it?” Marcus took a closer look. “Biscuit-box stuff.” He flicked at the picture lightly with his fingers.

  Ellie blinked, as she heard a faint sound.

  It sounded like: Ow!

  Quickly, she stepped forward.

  “The paintings in the nursery look a bit like that,” she said. “Maybe they’re the work of the same artist.”

  Marcus looked doubtful.

  “If you say so.”

  “Maybe we could put it on display in there?” Ellie went on. “You know… a child… in a nursery… This boy might even have played there.”

  Marcus shrugged.

  “Fine. Stick it in there, for now. There’s loads of stuff we need to get valued, anyway.”

  Ellie took a firm hold of the portrait.

  As soon as she was inside the nursery, she placed the portrait carefully on a chair.

  “OK. I know you’re in there. Come out.”

  “You’re no fun any more,” Edward said. “You keep finding me. I bet you’re rotten to play Hide and Seek with.”

  He stepped into view from behind his image in the painting. For a moment, there were two Edwards within the frame. Then, the talking one stepped out into the room.

  “And what does “OK” mean?”

  “We’ve got to talk,” Ellie said. “I saw that woman. Last night. In a dream… I think.”

  Edward frowned.

  “Good job I found this thing.” He indicated the portrait. “Father had this done for Mother’s birthday. I had to stand still for hours. Ghastly, isn’t it?”

  “It’s very like you, though,” Ellie said.

  Edward ignored this.

  “I’m glad you got hold of it,” he said. “Because it’s your help I need, to escape from her.”