The night air was heavy with the scent of lavender as we filed silently along the path leading to the back door. Everywhere was still and quiet, even the walnut tree made no sound, the usual gentle rustling of its leaves halted. Light from the almost full moon illuminated the keyhole as I unlocked the backdoor with the old-fashioned iron key we’d acquired along with the house.
“Hurry up Kate, I’m dying for a pee.” Lou nudged me as I fumbled for the light switch.
My sister’s down-to-earth plea helped calm my nerves. Even so, I couldn’t help giving a small sigh of relief when the kitchen light came on and everything looked exactly as we had left it. Lou dumped her bag down on the table and disappeared into the hall, calling, “Put the kettle on, I want a cup of tea before I go to bed.”
I heard her thump her way up the stairs.
I’d just finished making the tea when she arrived back in the kitchen.
“Oh, that feels better. I swear my bladder has shrunk since I got pregnant.
Thanks for making the tea, shall we go in the lounge to drink it?”
My expression must have betrayed my fear. I’d disliked it even before Steve had exposed the fireplace and found the spirit trap. Now after the creepy stuff with the door and the shattered mug I definitely didn’t want to go in there.
Lou placed her hands on her hips and fixed me with a determined gaze. “You have to get over this, Kate. We’re going to go in, sit down, drink our tea and then go to bed. The more you use the room the more normal it’ll feel and you’ll wonder why you ever thought it was spooky.”
Reluctantly I grabbed the biscuit tin and followed Lou into the hall then on through the low wooden door into the lounge. Even with the lights on the room still seemed dark, probably because of the heavy oak beams which crossed the ceiling and supported the walls. Moonlight filtered through the tiny leaded windows to cast eerie shadows on the bare floorboards in the parts where the naked light bulbs failed to throw enough light.
“I can imagine this room at Christmas, big log fire, stockings on the chimney breast, holly and mistletoe on the beams and a huge tree over there in the corner. If ever a room was made for Christmas, this is the one.” Lou settled down onto one of the transplanted pine kitchen chairs cradling her mug of tea between her hands.
I offered her a chocolate Hobnob and wished I was safely upstairs in bed. I tried to see the room through my sister’s eyes, all pretty and Christmas card-like, and failed. It still looked dark and horrible, not bright, open and spacious like my barn conversion would have been. I often wondered who had bought my beloved barn. Did they have a family? Were they happy there? Was it their forever home?
I nibbled the corner of a Garibaldi and tried to visualise the lounge once it was finished and dressed ready for market. This was my field and I prided myself that I was good at it. After all what girl doesn’t like shopping for pretty home accessories?
It was rather like playing doll houses but on a bigger scale. “Maybe it’ll look better when the walls are painted,” I suggested.
“There, that’s the spirit. You know you love shopping.”
“I can’t argue with that.” The idea of shopping for Myrtle Cottage still didn’t give me the buzz that I normally got when I was prettifying a house for sale.
Louise brushed biscuit crumbs from the front of her top and got to her feet.
“Come on, time for bed. Hopefully you feel better about being in here now?” She scanned my face with an anxious look.
“Thanks, I do feel a little less jumpy.” She was right, it had helped to come back into the room and have nothing weird happen. Maybe I was stressed about the break up and, like Steve kept suggesting, had projected my stress onto the house.
Even as I spoke a shiver ran down my spine and the hairs on the nape of my neck rose. I was wrong, the room did still creep me out.
I didn’t sleep very well, all night long I kept dreaming about the lounge. In my dream, or should I say nightmare, I kept seeing the room as it might once have been.
A fire burned low in the hearth, a dark wooden bench stood at the side, a table filled the centre and there was a young woman there. She looked like the woman I’d glimpsed at the window. Dressed in a long drab gown with what appeared to be a Puritan collar she kept staring at me as if she wanted me to do something.
* * *
I slept poorly that night. Partly because of my worries for Joshua and partly because of my fear of prowlers and the recent theft of some of our poultry. Richard has taken to patrolling the perimeters of the gardens at night. It was rumoured that the army had marched on to try and intercept the King’s forces some small distance away. I prayed to God that Joshua might stay safe and come back to me.
Father has sent word that he was safe but delayed on his business. Mother and I are relieved but although I long for his return I dread to see the disappointment on his face when he learns I am with child.
All night long I kept seeing the face of the spirit maid. I wished I knew what she wanted. Mayhap she is my punishment for falling into sin.
* * *
The sound of hammering on my bedroom door woke me with a start. I must have dropped back off to sleep after the alarm had gone off. I staggered out of bed and flung open the door.
“I’m coming! Keep the noise down,” I hissed at Steve, still disorientated from the disturbing images that I’d seen in my sleep.
“Jamie will be here in ten minutes to give us a hand getting the bath in. What was all that stuff in the text I got from Lou about him being the other candidate to be the baby’s dad?” Steve folded his arms across his chest and stood, feet slightly apart, barring my way out of the bedroom.
I glanced towards Lou’s bedroom door. It was still closed and there was no sound. I beckoned him into my bedroom, closing the door behind him.
“Jamie was Lou’s one night stand. She doesn’t want to say anything to him yet as she doesn’t have the scan till Wednesday and won’t be sure of her dates until then.
So don’t breathe a word to him about her being pregnant. She doesn’t want to scare him off.”
“You could give me credit for having some tact.” His dark brown gaze locked with mine and my breath hitched a little at the back of my throat.
I was suddenly aware that we were standing very close together inside the doorway of my room and all I had on - barely covering my bum - was an old baggy tee-shirt that I used to sleep in during hot weather.
“I, um, need to go and get washed and dressed.” I took a small step back only to be bought up short by the cold metal frame of my bedstead bumping against the back of my calves.
“Five minutes.” Steve turned and left the room while I sank down on the bed with trembling legs.
I gave myself a moment to gather myself together before grabbing my DIY
work gear and heading for the bathroom. It wasn’t fair that Steve still had this effect on me when it clearly didn’t work both ways.
I dressed and brushed my teeth listening out for any sounds downstairs that might indicate Jamie had arrived. Once dressed I knocked on Lou’s door.
“Wassup?” Yawning, she opened the door.
“The guys will want to start on the bathroom soon. If you want to use the loo and get washed I’d do it now before there’s a big hole where the window used to be.”
“Was that Steve I heard earlier? Did he get my text? He isn’t going to say anything to Jamie is he?” Her eyes widened.
“It’s okay, I spoke to him and he won’t say anything.”
Her shoulders relaxed. “Whew, that’s a relief.”
“Go on, I’m going to go and make some breakfast. Do you want anything?”
She shuddered and shook her head. “I’ve got some ginger biscuits. Anything other than that and I’ll be spending the morning yakking up into your flowerbeds.”
With that lovely mental picture I left her to it and went downstairs to find Steve. Mr Flibble met me in the hallway, twining his fat ginger body around my legs as I walked until I was forced to scoop him up to fuss him.
“Silly old puss.” I petted him in the soft spot under one battered ear. As I did so I glanced through the open doorway into the lounge. The room appeared brighter in the morning light and I wondered why I’d been so scared yesterday.
I kissed the top of Mr Flibble’s head and he stiffened in my arms before wriggling frantically for me to release him. Puzzled, I looked around to see what had distracted him. Normally he loved to be petted.
He stood in front of me, his back arched and a slow hiss coming from his furry throat. His one good eye was focused on the fireplace. My feet were glued to the spot and I couldn’t move. By the side of the fire a whitish mist seemed to form, growing taller in shape.
* * *
The spirit maid was there once more, this time in the passageway. I tried to concentrate and bring her more into form so I could challenge her to find out who she was and where she was from. I prayed as I focused, muttering the Lord’s Prayer to protect me. But the harder I tried to reach her, the fainter she became.
* * *
I blinked to clear my vision, wondering if my imagination had started to play tricks on me. Mr Flibble yowled and spat, and as quickly as it had appeared, the mist dispersed leaving the room empty like before. Mr Flibble relaxed and I released the breath I’d subconsciously been holding.
The door from the kitchen opened. Automatically, I took a step back.
“Are you up and ready now? Jamie’s here.” It was only Steve. He looked questioningly at me. “Are you all right, Kate?”
I peeped back at the lounge, empty and innocent.
“Fine. A quick cup of tea and we’ll get started.” I shivered as I followed him into the kitchen and vowed to call Brian the paranormal investigating bin man as soon as possible.
Steve went back outside to join Jamie in the garden while I tidied up and scoffed a quick slice of toast. I tried to tell myself that my eyes had been playing tricks on me or that my imagination was still working overtime but I knew what I’d seen. Outside in the garden I could hear muffled thumps and bangs as Steve and Jamie began to prepare to remove the window.
Steve leaned over the top of the scaffold as I ventured into the garden. “We’re going to take the glass out first, Kate. Can you find those hessian sacks I’ve saved in the outhouse?”
I placed my plate on the patio table and shuddered. The outhouse had mice and possibly rats. There were definitely spiders in there, huge hairy beasts as big as the palm of my hand. I disliked it even more than the lounge and that was saying something. Luckily for me Steve had left the sacks right inside the door so I could nudge them out with a broom and didn’t have to go foraging around in the dark trying to spot them. Nothing alive ran out from under them when I gave them a poke so I picked them up and carried them back round to the patio.
Jamie took them from me and clambered back up the ladder to where Steve was busy with the screwdriver dismantling the glass panes.
A stream of swear words from Steve made me nervous. “Be careful with the glass.”
“I’ll be careful. I know what I’m doing.” His terse reply didn’t fill me with confidence.
One by one he and Jamie extracted the four fragile leaded glass panels, wrapped them in sacking and carried them into the lounge for safe keeping.
“Why don’t you make a start on weed whacking the back garden while we get the frame out and we’ll shout for you when we’re ready to hoist the bath in,” Steve suggested on his last trip down the scaffold to collect his tools.
“Okay.” I went and collected my strimmer and goggles. I could use the time cutting back the nettle bed that isolated the walnut tree from the rest of the garden.
The activity would stop me from fretting about the window. I couldn’t see how Steve intended to get it out and back in one piece, and to be honest I felt happier not knowing.
Goggles in place I fired up the strimmer and set to work. The scent of freshly cut nettles mingled with the faint whiff of petrol from the strimmer motor as I hacked my way through the weeds towards the tree.
Close up the trunk of the tree was as wide as my waist, the bark wrinkled and grey brown like the skin of an elderly elephant. I switched off the strimmer and ran my hand across its surface feeling the coarse texture under my fingers. Above my head I could see walnuts hidden amongst the leaves. The garden seemed quiet. Only the sound of the bees humming lazily in the buddleia broke the silence.
“I wonder what stories you could tell,” I murmured as I gazed up into the green canopy.
My fingers picked up a shape in the bark and I looked more closely. The shape of a heart was carved into the trunk. Above the heart faint traces remained of two sets of initials. They had obviously been there for a long, long time. The script was old fashioned and the letters melded in the trunk.
“JT and MB.” Not Frances and Isabella then. “Who were you?” I murmured to myself.
A loud cracking sound from the patio broke my reverie and I darted out from under the tree to see what had happened.
“Oh shit!” Steve’s curse carried to where I stood.
I hurried back towards the house to discover the bathroom window frame lying on the floor in two pieces and Steve and Jamie standing beside it.