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Maggie spun round quickly. The windows stared blankly back. She could have sworn a shadow had passed across the room. She stared down the long lawn to the lake in the far distance. Two of the gardeners were walking back to the house, forks and spades over their shoulders. In the park, the rooks were gathering as evening shadows crept slowly over the neatly cut grass.
She had only been working as a temporary cleaner at Grantham Hall for a few weeks. Yet, Maggie already felt uneasy in the old house, especially at night. Even in the afternoons she had felt a shadow moving across the wall behind her. It seemed to flutter. Yes, it could almost have been the shadow of a large bird.
She heard the voice of the housekeeper calling her from down the echoing corridor. Mrs.. Gormley was a stickler for checking on every detail. She appeared at the door of the bedroom, running her finger along the empty shelves to check for dust!
“I need you downstairs. Mrs.. Knightley has unexpected guests tonight. I want you to help me serve supper. It’s Jenny’s day off and her mother’s ill. I couldn’t expect her to stay back this evening.”
“Yes, that’s fine. I’ll be down in a minute.”
As Maggie finished dusting by the windows, she saw two old retrievers ambling across the lawn. The setting sun shone on the dogs, lighting up their golden coats and making them almost young again for a few moments. As she shut the door of the empty room, it seemed to sigh sadly, left again to its own emptiness.
The next two hours passed quickly as Maggie rushed backwards and forwards between the kitchen and the lounge. As she served the asparagus soup, for the first time Maggie had a chance to observe the guests. She recognized them as the Woodsters, a family living in a large house, just beyond the village. A pretty, young child sat between her parents. She seemed bored by the conversation about the church repairs and the half marathon soon to be run through the Hall grounds. Jumping down from her chair, she ran and hid behind the heavy velvet curtains which Maggie had just drawn. She was deaf to her mother’s requests “Please Margot, come out. You know you like chocolate pudding.”
Suddenly, the girl leapt out from behind the curtains. She landed on one of the old dogs dozing on the carpet! No doubt taken by surprise, the dog snapped at Margot’s face bent over him as she fell! In disbelief Maggie watched the pool of blood widening as it soaked into the cream carpet. The child’s frantic screams filled the house. She covered her bleeding face in her hands. Mrs.. Woodster was paralysed. She sat staring in disbelief while Margot’s screams grew ever more piercing! As her husband picked his daughter up, Maggie glimpsed the horrific injuries to the once pretty face. Margot looked as if she were wearing a grotesque mask at a Halloween party. One cheek had been ripped open. There were deep teeth marks on the other.
After the ambulance had gone, Mrs. Gormley and Maggie were literally left to pick up the pieces! Elderly and frail, Mrs. Knightley had retired to bed. The carpet was beyond cleaning. The police had taken both dogs to be humanely destroyed. Maggie turned to switch off the lights. For a second, she felt sure she had seen a young girl sitting in Margot’s seat. She could have sworn she heard a child’s cry as she closed the lounge door!
Climbing the old servant’s staircase up to her small bedroom at the top of the old house, Maggie suddenly felt desperately tired. There had been something strange about the evening’s tragic event. Both the dogs had always been friendly and docile, especially when any children came to visit. Yet, Maggie had seen the look in old Bruno’s eyes and the curl of his mouth as he attacked Margot. It had been almost demonic. She lay for what seemed hours picturing the girl’s mangled face and the blood seeping into the cream carpet.
Next day she was on cleaning duty again in the upstairs bedrooms. Irritatingly enough, she had left the dusters in the room she been cleaning the previous afternoon. Muttering to herself, Maggie trudged back down the long corridor to retrieve them. The door to the bedroom was locked! Strange, she was certain she had left it unlocked. Shaking her head, Maggie searched the bundle of keys at her waist. The door opened slowly. She gasped!
A large Victorian mirror hung on the wall facing her. The words ‘little bitch’ had been scrawled in bright red lipstick all over it! If there had been a chair in the room, Maggie would have sat in it! As it was, she ran quickly down to the kitchen where Mrs. Gormley was deep in conversation with Jenny. The minute Maggie entered, there was an uneasy silence. The conversation suddenly reverted to arrangements for the marathon soon to be run through the Hall grounds. Maggie quickly butted in with an account of the mirror and the strange writing. The two older women exchanged glances. Mrs. Gormley, trying to treat the whole thing lightly, went back to the room with Maggie following.
“Why on earth have you locked the door, Maggie?” Mrs. G impatiently reached for her keys.
“I didn’t, I came straight downstairs!”
The housekeeper shrugged her shoulders in disbelief! The door slowly opened. Both women stared. The mirror lay in pieces on the floor. Examining the splinters of glass, Maggie could find no trace of the bright, scarlet writing!
It was an overcast, humid day for the half marathon. Dark clouds hung over the park and no breath of air stirred the ancient elms by the lake. Watching the runners gathering in front of the Hall, Maggie didn’t envy them. She was privately relieved she hadn’t taken up the offer to join them. Many were already wiping beads of sweat from their foreheads and drinking from plastic bottles!
Two hours later and the last few stragglers were finishing. They threw themselves in the shade of the avenue of limes bordering the drive. Their medals hung limply around their necks. Maggie suddenly heard a noise coming from the direction of the lake! As she approached, she could make out individual voices. She heard a male voice clearly-
“Has someone called for an ambulance?”
“Bit too late for that!” came the reply.
The body of a young man was laid out on the grass at the edge of the lake. He had clearly been a runner. His vest had been hurriedly rolled up and someone was trying to resuscitate him. Even from a distance, Maggie saw with horror his neck was half-severed. Blood was already staining the grass. It seemed he had somehow been garrotted!
Later that evening when the crowds and police had gone, Maggie walked round the edge of the lake. Across the far corner of the water, two strands of rusty barbed wire had been fixed to posts to deter children from wandering into the deepest part of the lake. The dead runner had apparently gone off course and tried to rectify his error by swimming under the strands of wire. Maggie suddenly noticed a third strand, bright and new. In the fading light, he hadn’t seen that lowest strand. It had almost severed his neck!
As Maggie walked back to the house, darkness was already creeping slowly across the lawn. A heat haze hung over the lake. Looking back, she thought for a moment she saw the figure of a young girl in the water by the barbed wire. No, the figure was on the water! In a moment it had gone. The rooks, like hooded vultures, were already roosting in the dark trees! She wondered why the new wire had been added?
––––––––
Later that evening Maggie climbed the narrow stairs to her small room in the roof. It was pitch- black outside. Looking out of the small attic windows, she could see lights near the lake. From a distance they looked like torch lights or hurricane lamps. It was difficult to judge, they were too far off. Probably the police, still searching the area where the accident had occurred. After shutting the windows, Maggie tossed and turned in bed, trying in vain to sleep. Eventually, she must have drifted off. It was three o’clock when she heard the stable clock chime. She was about to get a drink of water when she heard a fluttering noise, like a bird outside the window. Before she could switch on the light, something flicked across her face. The next minute it seemed to be caught in her hair. She struggled to the light switch. In panic Maggie pushed it up and down, to no effect. The electricity was off! This unseen creature began to attack. It flew into her face. Frantically Maggie screamed as she beat it off. She was terrified it would go for her eyes. In desperation she threw herself on the bed, pulling the covers over her face. She could still hear it, flying against the windows, the door, the walls. She could feel its claws through the sheets hopping over her bed. After it had been quiet for about half an hour, Maggie dared to sit up for a moment. A wing brushed across her face. Screaming, she pulled the sheet over her head.
It was the housekeeper who stood by the side of the bed early next morning, gently pulling back the sheet.
“You must have had a bad night, judging by the state of this room.”
Fearfully, Maggie looked round. The pictures were lying on the floor, two flower vases were smashed below the window and the water jug hung from the curtains. The windows were swinging, wide open!
“It was a bird, a creature with wings. It flew at my eyes; it was in my hair.” Maggie shivered at the horror of the night.
“Oh, just a bird! They’re always getting in these attic rooms. They panic when they can’t get out. At least you had enough sense to open the windows.”
Maggie was about to protest but held back. Mrs. Gormley knew the secrets of the house but she did not intend to reveal them. Maggie would have to discover them for herself!
––––––––
Later in the afternoon, Maggie was walking round the walled vegetable garden looking for the parsley and chives needed for dinner that evening. She cut the herbs carefully and walked under the ornamental archway into the rose garden. It was already late in September, the feel of Autumn was in the air. Maggie shivered slightly as she walked in the shadow below the avenue of dark pine trees. Just as she was about to turn back, she saw a pile of feathers at the edge of the gravel path. Oh, it’s the cats again, she thought to herself. As she got closer, she felt suddenly sick. A robin had been nailed to a cross, crudely made from bamboo. Its small throat had been cut and a nail had been hammered through the red breast. As she stood staring at it, a young man appeared from the opposite direction. He picked up the dead bird and threw it beyond the pines, into the undergrowth.
“Just one of these village superstitions. Take no notice of them.” With this, he turned on his heel, disappearing through the archway.
Shaken and disturbed, Maggie hurried back to the house. She determined to say nothing to Mrs. Gormley as she helped prepare dinner.
Later that evening, through the open door of the dining room, she caught a glimpse of the young man from the rose garden. He was dining alone with Mrs. Knightley who had looked older and frailer since the tragedy of young Margot Woodster. Maggie heard the old lady saying, “It’s all too much at my age ...”
The door closed before Maggie could catch the end of the sentence. She turned to see the housekeeper just behind her.
“Much better not to listen to other people’s conversations, I always think.” She smiled at Maggie, before taking the drinks tray into the dining room and quietly shutting the door.
Carrying the dinner plates back to the kitchen, Maggie took the opportunity to talk to Jenny as she stacked the dishwasher.
“Who’s the young man with Mrs. Knightley this evening?”
Jenny paused as she rinsed the cutlery, ”Oh, that’s old Mr. Knightley’s nephew, Vincent. He’s been up at the Hall a lot more since his uncle died. Having a look round at what he’s going to inherit I expect.”
“Didn’t Mrs. Knightley have any children then?”
“Well not after...,” Jenny broke off abruptly as Mrs.. Gormely returned.
“The quicker you clear up, the quicker you can go!” She gave both of them a pointed look.
––––––––
Early next morning, Maggie was at the top of the Library ladder, holding a feather duster in one hand and clinging on to the steps with the other. She had almost finished dusting the top row of books, when she noticed some old newspapers pushed between two volumes of an encyclopaedia. She had just pulled the yellowing papers out, when she felt herself wobbling dangerously on the top rung. Throwing the paper down, she half fell, half jumped to the carpeted floor! At the same moment the housekeeper appeared at the doorway. Maggie quickly pulled the hoover over the newspaper as she explained her near disaster. The doorbell rang. Mrs. Gormely bustled off, leaving Maggie to sit in an alcove by the bay window and open the fragile pages. The paper was very worn and brown with age but the headline was clear enough. ‘YOUNG HEIRESS DROWNED IN LAKE’ Underneath was a grainy, faded photograph of a young girl in a rather old- fashioned summer dress and a straw hat. Maggie could just make out the name ‘Camilla Knightley’ but below this the paper had been folded for so long that the next line was unreadable. Maggie had become so engrossed in reading, that she had not noticed someone standing behind her. She jumped as the young man from the rose garden put his hand on the paper. “A little out of date, don’t you think. Today’s newspaper is in the lounge.” He walked out, taking the old paper with him. She would have to wait for her next day off to visit the local library.
It was a cold October afternoon as Maggie sat in the public library reference room. The librarian, horn-rimmed glasses perched on the end of her nose, was searching through a file of old newspapers.
“I think we’re looking for July, 1978. Of course, we only keep ‘The Wilmsford Echo’. If you wanted a national paper’s archive, you’d have to go to the County Library.”
“No, this should be fine.” Maggie settled down to look through the pile of papers. It didn’t take her long to find the right edition, Saturday, 15th July 1978. the same terrible headline she’d read in the Hall Library. She read the report several times. It somehow seemed more shocking, more horrible because she knew the house and the family! It was Camilla, the ten-year-old daughter of the Knightleys, who had drowned in their own lake!
“Yes, I remember hearing about it at school. The worst part was the poor girl trapped in that flooded passage for hours. Doesn’t bear thinking about.” The librarian pushed her glasses to the top of her head. “They could have got her out if they’d realised.
“I’ve never seen a passage while I’ve been working at the Hall.”
“Well, it goes from the Hall library down to the lake. They reckon it was probably used by smugglers in the 18th century or even to bring Catholic priests from France in earlier times! The trouble is when the water rises in the lake, the tunnel floods!”
As she read the police report, Maggie imagined a child in total darkness being trapped as the water rose relentlessly higher. The next morning her small body had been found in the lake floating, half-submerged, with her doll still in her arms. The coroner had returned an open verdict. It was probable that the child had stumbled by chance on the entrance to the passage and been unable to find her way back in the darkness.
“Funny you should come and ask for the papers today. Young Mr. Knightley is coming tomorrow! No one asks for them for years, then two inquiries in one week! Very odd coincidence.” Her glasses fell back on her nose.
Maggie’s heart missed a beat. Was it such a coincidence?
––––––––
Next morning Maggie was wondering how to find the entrance to the underground passage leading from the hall library to the lake. She felt sure Mrs. Gormley knew about it but would not be willing to talk. Jenny, on the other hand, was more likely to talk openly. It was a question of catching her alone! As she thought this over, Maggie was cleaning the old Ice House in the Hall grounds. She found the place spooky even on a bright morning. Most of the building went deep underground. It had been used before the development of refrigerators to preserve ice, even for as long as a year. The outside looked derelict, the old bricks covered with lichen and trailing ivy. Nervously Maggie switched on a torch which lit the way down steep stone steps. These were covered in moss and slippery underfoot. She found herself holding tightly to the broken wooden banister. A stone rolled down the steps behind her. She jumped aside just in time. A dull echo followed as if the stone had fallen into water. Maggie decided it would be dangerous to go any further. She turned to climb back up the slippery steps. Suddenly, something small and furry flew past her face. She screamed as two or more followed, one touching her hair. She sat down on the wet stairs. She could feel her heart racing and hear a scurrying noise! After a few moments of silence, she remembered the housekeeper had warned her about bats in the Ice House. Even so, it was frightening in the semi-darkness!
Maggie was relieved to get back to ground level. She had given the inside brickwork a quick brush and swept up the worst of the dirt. She was looking forward to a warm coffee in the kitchen and a chance to question Jenny. She was sure she had left the heavy oak doors open to let in some light and air. When she tried to push them, they remained stubbornly shut! Maggie panicked! She threw herself furiously at the doors. The result was a sharp pain in her right shoulder where she had collided with a metal boss. She sat on the damp steps and sobbed bitterly. No one came that deep into the woods. The Ice House had been strongly built. The chances of being heard, even if she shouted, were minimal! That afternoon was her free half day. No one would notice her missing!
After five minutes of near despair and terror, Maggie stood up and began to shine the torch along the walls. The narrow beam fell on a dark shape. It was something hanging or sticking to the bricks. She walked closer, focusing the torch beam on the black mass. She stood and screamed helplessly! Three large rats had been nailed to a wooden strut. Their heads had been partly severed. Their stomachs cut open Their long, scaley tails hung down the muddy walls. For several minutes, Maggie screamed silently, her mouth open, but no sound came out. She had no idea of the time. Her mobile was back in her room and she could see nothing beyond the suffocating gloom inside the ice house. She felt she might have dropped off to sleep. She had no means of knowing. Her throat was dry and she had a splitting headache. Maggie shone the torch round as she looked for a heavy stone or plank of wood. If she could bang really hard on the doors, there was just a chance someone would hear. She could feel a heavy object at her feet. Kicking it had no effect. Bending down, she could feel it was a heavy stone or a piece of broken brickwork. With difficulty, she was just able to lift it. Running forward, Maggie threw herself and the heavy rock with all her strength at the doors. They suddenly burst open. She found herself lying flat on the ground, still clinging with all her might, to a huge stone! Looking up from the mud and wet leaves, she saw Mrs. Knightley’s nephew standing over her!
“You seem to appear in the oddest of places. I was about to lock the ice house for the winter.” He waved a rusty iron key in Maggie’s face. “If I’d been five minutes earlier, you might have been there until you turned into a block of ice. By the way, I’d be looking for another job if I were you. My aunt will be moving into a smaller place. I shan’t be employing any of the old staff. With the exception of Mrs. Gormely, of course!”
Maggie stood watching him turn into the darkness of the wood. Two large, muzzled mastiffs padded quietly at his heels. As she walked painfully past the lake towards the hall, one of the old gardeners stopped her. She’d often made him a coffee in the kitchen when the housekeeper wasn’t about.
“Evening Miss, what you been up to? Looks like you‘ve been a couple of rounds in a wrestling match!”
“Just got stuck in the old Ice House. Think I’ve banged my shoulder pushing those old doors open.”
They started walking in the half -light towards the house. Glancing back, she saw the two dogs sniffing round the lake while their owner seemed to be looking at the wire which had almost beheaded the unfortunate runner. A mist was rising over the water. Maggie involuntarily shivered. “I was reading the newspaper report about the drowning of young Camilla Knightley. No wonder Mrs. Knightley wants to leave.”
“She don’t want to leave. She’s being driven out!”
“What do you mean, driven out?”
“Well, a lot of odd things have happened ‘ere recently! Another strange death. That young runner, I mean. Then the young Woodster girl, scarred for life by old Bruno. The last dog you’d think would attack a little girl. I’ve heard you had a few scares yourself...”
“I don’t pay you to engage in idle gossip, Jones. There are going to be changes here soon,” The young man stared for a moment at the old gardener, before he strode past, the huge dogs close behind him.
Next morning Jenny was busy clearing up breakfast when Maggie caught her alone in the kitchen. She’d seen Mrs. Gormely on her way to the village with two large shopping bags. This was her chance to chat to the cook.
Jenny was busy preparing dinner, but was always ready for gossip as long as the housekeeper was safely out of hearing! She was chopping vegetables as Maggie sat down. “I was chatting to Fred Jones about the underground passage from the Library to the lake. I was wondering how I missed the entrance when I was dusting the books the other day.”
“Oh! You’d never notice it just dusting. You wouldn’t find the lever which opens up a section of shelving, not in a month of Sundays!”
“Really, a whole section opens up?”
“Yes, just behind all the encyclopaedias. Whoever designed it, didn’t want it discovered.”
“Didn’t want what discovered, Jenny?” A cold, sneering voice from the doorway broke into the conversation!
Both women swung round to see the tall, dark figure of Vincent Knightley blocking the light.
“Ah Mr. Knightley! I was just telling Jenny about my adventures in the Ice House today. As she pointed out, it is very well hidden in the woods. I was lucky to break open the doors. As you yourself remarked, I could have been found months later, a frozen block of ice!”
Vincent Knightley glared at Maggie, before turning on this heel. They could hear his angry footsteps echoing down the stone corridor.
“I’d keep clear of him, if I was you, Maggie. He’s a nasty piece of work, no doubt about it.” Maggie had to control her impatience to find the secret opening to the passage. As long as Vincent Knightley was hanging around, it was far too dangerous!
Luckily, she didn’t have to wait too long! Mrs. Gormely asked Maggie the next day to clean out his room as Vincent would be away for a few days on business. She had to prevent the broad smile, hovering behind her face, from actually appearing! That might well have aroused the housekeeper’s suspicions. Instead, Maggie tried to sound resentful.
“I’ll fit it in after lunch. This week’s very busy as it is, without Mr. Knightley’s room too!”
A few hours later Maggie was in the second-floor bedroom occupied by Vincent Knightley. She had been surprised that he had been given a room there. The guest bedrooms were on the first floor. As she threw open the windows, Maggie thought she might have found the answer. From this floor she could see the outline of the Ice House and the path leading to it. Even more interesting, she had a good view of the corner of the lake where the barbed wire marked off the deeper water! She guessed you would also be able to see the exit from the Library tunnel too if you knew where to look!
Maggie tried to open the wardrobe drawer. It was firmly locked. She looked at the heavy bunch of keys hanging from her waist. Some were small enough to open a wardrobe or a chest of drawers. Quickly, she tried these in the obstinate lock. Only two remained untested. Nervously, Maggie took the first of these. To her surprise, the key turned easily! She felt into the back of the top drawer. Her shaking fingers clutched a linen draw string bag! She felt a sharp pain in one finger. There was a blood-stained print on the pale linen cloth. Her finger was bleeding heavily. Maggie opened the bag and shook the contents out on a side table. Splinters of broken glass met her eyes! Many had traces of red writing. She could make out the word ‘bitch’ quite clearly! Holding her finger tightly to stop the bleeding, Maggie reached into the bottom of the wardrobe, rather more cautiously. She could feel something cold and sharp! She wrapped a length of loo paper round her hand before trying to extract the mysterious object. To her amazement a coil of shiny, new barbed wire emerged!
As she sat on the bed, an image of the young runner, his neck almost severed, flashed into her mind. She was involved in a dangerous affair. Maggie replaced the glass and the wire and locked the drawer carefully. It was dark already and a thick yellow fog was creeping up from the lake. Only a lone owl hooting broke the heavy silence. She tidied up and shut the door behind her.
It seemed sensible to Maggie to take advantage of Vincent Knightley’s absence to search for the opening to the Library tunnel. She noticed that Mrs. Gormley was busy re-hanging some pictures in the long gallery; this then was the ideal moment to explore the shelves in the Library!
Maggie remembered Jenny’s directions and started at the shelves with heavy reference books and encyclopaedias. She had been carefully scrutinising the ends of these shelves when a loud grating noise made her jump. She managed to suppress an involuntary scream. Just as Jenny had predicted, a large section of the shelves had swung open, revealing a dark, yawning cavity. This must be the entrance to the passageway. Looking round quickly to reassure herself that the Library was empty, Maggie edged slowly into the stone-lined tunnel. She had her mobile phone and the light it projected. The tunnel was carved out of solid rock. The walls were damp and the floor slippery. Shining the light from the phone, Maggie could see several metres ahead. She pushed the shelves back into place but stopped short of closing the entrance completely. She hadn’t forgotten the fate of poor young Camilla Knightley! As she walked further down the passage, Maggie tried to estimate its length. She guessed she was underneath the long lawn leading down to the edge of the lake. The walls by this time were dripping wet and a stream of water ran along the floor of the passage and increased in depth as she neared the lake. Her feet were soaking wet and a damp, rotting smell made it hard to breathe! Suddenly a dark creature ran over her foot. It was probably a rat. Maggie could feel its claws and the slimy tale trailing over her skin. In her panic, she tripped, dropping her phone as she lost her footing. Desperately, Maggie tried to feel for the phone in the darkness and wet. It was impossible. The only way she could be sure of the direction she was going was by the incline of the passage. She must be approaching the lake as the passage went down steeply and the water was deeper!
It was suffocating in the blackness and the damp smell was overwhelming! She thought she could hear water ahead. A flicker of light seemed to indicate the end of the passage. In the semi-darkness she could see objects hanging from nails in the side of the wall. They looked like bones or skulls! A wind was blowing into the passage from the lake. Every so often the bones rattled fearfully. Maggie caught a better glimpse of the walls as the light increased. The skulls were too small to be human remains. She realised they were skulls of dead birds and small creatures which had been there for some time! Small pieces of rotting flesh hung from the bones and empty eye sockets seemed to glare at her. Open beaks smelt putrid in the darkness. Maggie tried not to panic. They were only dead birds; she attempted to reassure herself! Slowly she groped her way through the darkness. At least as long as she was going uphill, she must eventually reach the Library entrance. The water was becoming shallower but her soaking wet feet were numb with cold.
At last, she had clambered and crawled her way to the sliding panel which should swing back into the Library. Maggie felt for the iron lever which had opened the passage only about half an hour before though now it seemed hours ago. Ah! There it was. She grasped the heavy iron lever. Despite pulling with all her might, the entrance remained shut. She froze with fear. She could hear sniffing, then scratching from the other side. This was followed by a loud bark! The only dogs in the Hall, after the terrible evening when young Margo had been so badly bitten, were the two fierce mastiffs, owned by Vincent Knightley! Maggie feared that he had shut the passage door. She felt sick with fear. If he let the dogs loose in the dark passage, what chance would she have of escaping? Maggie quickly realised she had little choice. She would have to get out through the lake end of the tunnel!
She took off her shoes and jacket. She turned and ran downhill along the rocky, slippery passage. As soon as the water became deeper, Maggie was forced to slow down. Twice her feet slid from under her. She found herself half running, half swimming in the stinking, slimy water. Something seemed to be swimming beneath her! She tried not to think of rats or other creatures that might haunt the dark waters. She must surely be getting near the exit. The water by now was up to her neck. Ahead she could see a lighter, round hole. It must be the way out! At the same moment, she heard a splashing noise behind her. One of the dogs was sniffing the ends of her feet as she swam. As she paused for breath, it came close to her face. In the half light from the open end of the tunnel, Maggie could see a set of sharp fangs and eyes that shone red, demonic in the eerie light! The dog ripped the back of her tee-shirt. Maggie could feel the sharp teeth through the tear! Desperately, she ducked under the filthy water to find a loose stone on the floor of the passage. She rose to the surface as the dog prepared to attack again. She threw the rock towards the animal’s open mouth with its teeth gleaming horribly in the dim light. The sound of its yelping suggested that she had stopped it for the moment. Looking ahead, she could see the yawning mouth of the passage and the dark, looming waters of the lake beyond!
By then the water was so deep that Maggie had no choice but to swim! She could see the way out ahead, an ugly, jagged hole in the rock. As she swam out of the tunnel, Maggie shivered. The temperature of the water had changed. It was suddenly much colder. She looked up and could see stars in the sky above. She was now a few yards out into the Lake. While it was a relief to be out of the airless tunnel, she guessed she would be followed. Her eyes had become accustomed to darkness. She could see a figure to her left, standing at the edge of the water. A large dog was running along the side of the lake. It was barking and running into the water. Maggie had no doubt that the dark figure was Vincent Knightley. She began to make for the far side of the water, well away from the frantic dog. Although she could see a torch flashing from the point where she’d seen the dog, it was clearly not powerful enough to light up the whole lake. Slowly Maggie swam towards the far shore. She tried not to splash and kept her head underwater as far as she could. She was very cold. Her feet were numb and her legs stiff. She feared drowning in the freezing, black water. Nearing the shore, her feet became tangled in something wet and slimy. She would have screamed if she had had enough breath. She pulled a long, slimy piece of water weed from around her neck.
Just as she managed to haul herself out of the water, something pulled hard at her wet jeans! It was one of the large mastiffs. She could feel its teeth through the wet fabric. Desperately Maggie ripped off the jeans, leaving the dog to retrieve them. She ran across the lawn in the direction of the Hall. As she looked back, the figure of a girl appeared by the lake. The figure seemed to be standing in the water. The next moment it had vanished.
Maggie was shaking violently as she knocked frantically on the back door. She could hear the sound of a dog breathing heavily and barking just behind her. She could feel its hot breath on her numb, cold legs. At that moment the door was flung open and Maggie fell into the kitchen at the feet of an astonished Jenny! Behind her Jenny was blocking the entrance of Vincent Knightley. He was wet to his knees and the dog behind him had blood streaming from the side of its mouth. Seeing Jenny bending protectively over a sobbing Maggie, Knightley turned on his heel and disappeared into the darkness!
After a week recuperating at home, Maggie was back at the Hall. As she cycled up the long gravel drive, a large furniture van slowly overtook her. A scene of busy activity met her eyes. Furniture, tables, chairs, a bed were being packed into the van which had parked by the front doors. Jenny explained quietly that Mrs. Knightley was moving to live with her cousin in London. She had been thoroughly shaken by the number of strange and mysterious incidents at the hall. This episode with Maggie, had been the last straw. The idea of the lake and near drowning, brought back too many tragic memories. At that moment Mrs. Gormely sidled up. Saying nothing, she handed Maggie a brown envelope. Opening it, Maggie was not surprised to see Vincent’s signature at the bottom of a letter giving her two weeks’ notice.
The moment old Mrs. Knightley had been driven down the long drive under the avenue of tall limes for the last time, most of the staff had been given notice, even old gardeners like Fred Jones who’d been at the Hall for years. Maggie was only too aware that she had little time to solve the many mysteries of the old house!
That afternoon as she cleaned in the Library, she noticed some odd dust marks on the floor by the entrance to the old tunnel! It looked as if some heavy cases or wooden boxes had been stacked in the corner. Maggie was sure nothing had been there the previous evening. She followed the trail of dust along the corridor, up the back stairs to Vincent Knightley’s room. Maggie glanced through the bay window at the top of the stairs. She could see him walking down by the lake with the two dogs sniffing around the entrance to the tunnel. One looked as if it were limping after its fight with Maggie in the passageway.
She tried the door. It opened easily, even though she was still wearing her cleaning gloves. Tiptoeing in, Maggie immediately noticed a pile of cardboard boxes in the corner by the wardrobe. Hidden behind was a small medicine or pill box. She pushed it quickly into her pocket Just as she was about to investigate further, heavy footsteps could be heard in the corridor. Panicking, she rolled underneath the large, antique double bed. She could see a man’s heavy boots moving about the room. Thank goodness the dogs are not with him! To her dismay, Vincent seemed to be preparing to settle for the night! He locked the door. She could hear water running in the bathroom. Boots and socks were kicked under the bed, narrowly missing Maggie’s head! She felt round her waist. No key chain. I must have left it in the Library! She would be sharing the bedroom with Vincent!
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Maggie tried to shift her weight to the left. She guessed several hours had passed since Vincent had climbed into bed. Occasionally, in the darkness, she could hear him moving above her. She hardly dared move herself. The most she could do was to slowly turn over or stretch her legs. It was cold and the darkness was disorientating!
It must have been nearing midnight when Maggie felt a rush of air. The window had blown open, even under the bed, she could feel a sudden drop in temperature! A bright stream of moonlight shone into the room. She realised at the same moment that Vincent had sat up in bed. The outline and bulge in the mattress, just above her head, had changed in shape. She could hear a strange fluttering sound break the night’s silence. At the same time Vincent was swearing softly at first then increasingly loudly. He seemed to be hitting out at something. Maggie imagined a pillow or cushion. She could hear it landing on one side of the bed then the other! There was a loud crash and the sound of breaking glass. Maggie guessed it was the large Victorian mirror above the fireplace! Meanwhile the fluttering grew louder. It was now a great beating of wings and a scurrying of claws. Vincent’s screams were drowned in the thunderous noise. The bed shook violently as something heavy fell near the headboard. Maggie assumed it was the antique cast iron fitting supporting the candelabra. Complete silence followed, even more disconcerting than the previous uproar! She could hear a quiet drip, drip sound near her right ankle. Slowly, nervously she bent her knee. She ran her gloved fingers across her right foot. In the half light, Maggie saw her glove was covered in blood. Her ankle though was unmarked. The blood was dripping down, through the mattress! She instinctively pulled her legs up. In the heavy silence, the dripping sound seemed to fill the room. For a few moments she sat as if frozen, unable to move. Then an uncontrollable shaking possessed her. In a dream, Maggie crawled from beneath the bed. She stood clinging to the bed post. The room shimmered eerily, almost floating in the silver light. On the bed there was the outline of a body under the sheets. Bloodstains scarred the pale blue bedcover.
Maggie looked through the open windows. The figure of a young girl was running across the lawn. The morning mist was rising. She had a a straw hat on the back of her head and was wearing an old- fashioned summer dress. Flocks of black birds, too big for crows, flew above her as she ran. She stood for a moment at the edge of the Lake. A second later, she had vanished.
Maggie went to the window sill. Something lay across the wooden frame. She picked up a shabby rag doll, with the hint of a smile stitched on its face. She saw the bedroom door was half open. She slipped through, closing it quickly, with a last glimpse at the blood-stained white shape on the bed. Trembling, she climbed the backstairs to her own room. She felt a bulge in her pocket. Pushing her hand deep down, Maggie found the small box from Vincent’s room. It rattled as she shook it. Inside were small white pills. On the outside was a label with a vet’s name stuck on the side. She pictured old Bruno’s face when he had attacked poor Margot Woodster. It suddenly fitted into the jigsaw.
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Maggie woke next morning to the sunlight streaming through the attic windows. The events of the night were a confused blur. For a few seconds she thought she was waking from a surreal nightmare. She shivered involuntarily at the image of a ‘shape’ on the bed and the dripping of blood through the mattress. She stood at the window looking at the dappled shadows flickering across the lawn. The water in the lake sparkled in the morning sun. Who was the girl in the straw hat? It was difficult on a sunny morning to believe in that ethereal figure in the mist. Maggie caught the reflection in the dressing table mirror of an old rag doll lying on the chair by the bed with a crooked smile on its cloth face. As she turned to pick it up, the room was filled with the sounds of sirens and cars coming from the front of the house! Instinctively, Maggie hid the doll under a cushion before running downstairs. Policemen seemed to fill the entrance hall. A couple were already following one of the gardeners up the wide front staircase.
“Are you a member of staff here?” An official sounding voice asked Maggie.
“Yes, I’m working as a cleaner, on a temporary basis.”
“Well, could you go down to the Library where some of my officers are waiting to question
all staff members?”
On her way to the Library, Maggie thought about the series of strange happenings, her own odd, terrifying experiences. She decided to keep quiet about her presence that night in Vincent’s room. She had played no part. She suddenly felt a strange loyalty to the phantom girl. Somehow, she felt she had shared a secret with that waif in her thin summer dress, with her shabby rag doll.
As she sat opposite two young policemen with their note books, Maggie faced over an hour of close questioning. The events of the previous night remained a secret. Only three people knew about those events, one was a phantom, one was Maggie herself and as for the third, dead men tell no tales! Thank goodness she had kept her gloves on!
Later that afternoon the police were still swarming over the house and gardens. The staircase and Vincent’s room had been roped off. Maggie and Jenny were in the kitchen making endless cups of tea and coffee. Jenny, always a gossip, was only too anxious to talk!
“You know he was stone cold, when Mrs. Gormely found him. He’d been dead for a few hours. That’s what that nice young policewoman told me. Yes, she said that light fitting broke and the whole lot fell on ‘is head. Crushed the skull she said. So much blood and other stuff, she said. But there was something odd, she said.”
“Well, what was that, Jenny?”
“He seemed – to have been pecked by some big bird!” Jenny paused to hand out yet another tray of coffee. “He had scratches and marks all over ’im.” She dropped her voice to a dramatic whisper, ”It were like he’d had a fight with a flock of angry birds!”
Headlines were all over the local and national papers. They ranged from ‘The Times’ with its reserved “Heroin Smuggler Killed by Falling Light” to ‘The Sun’s’ melodramatic “Drug Dealer Smashed to Death. Attacked by Cannibal Birds.”
A police investigation revealed the mysterious boxes had indeed contained heroin from Afghanistan smuggled into the Hall through the hidden passage way. Vincent had frightened old Mrs. Knightley into moving by organising a number of strange accidents. The dreadful mauling of young Margo Woodster, the broken mirror in Maggie’s room, the horrific death of the young runner! Yet, he had reckoned without the ghost of a young girl! Maggie had no doubt someone rather than something had killed Vincent Knightley! The coroner had re-opened the inquest into Camilla Knightley’s death and that of the young marathon runner.
It was Christmas Eve when Maggie cycled up the drive to Grantham Hall. The sky was dark; snow had threatened all day. A year had passed since she had last seen the grounds. The Hall had long been empty. Old ‘for sale’ boards lay covered in dead leaves. The House loomed up ahead of her, gloomy and menacing. Propping her cycle against the front porch, Maggie took something out of the basket. She walked slowly across the once immaculate lawns, now covered with wet grass over a metre tall. She stopped at the edge of the lake near the entrance to the old tunnel. She unwrapped the parcel she had been holding and placed the contents on the grass at the water’s edge. As she trudged back through the fading light, it began to snow. Maggie looked back through the softly falling flakes. She could just make out the figure of a girl in a summer dress walking along the edge of the lake clutching what looked like an old, rag doll. When she glanced back again, the snow had covered everything white. Only a flock of black birds flew low over the lake.