The room was cold.
The fire, now no more than dying embers, made the fireplace look like a
cavernous hole surrounded by a black marble mantelpiece. The unfinished drapes
hung at the window awaiting final measurement. In the swelling silence Ellie
Peterson was thankful that she couldn’t see outside.
An hour ago the
sound of footsteps had unnerved her. Petrified she had waited for the door to
open but nothing happened and the footsteps died away. Now, except for the
creaking stair, the house was eerily quiet. She sat on the hard wooden settle,
her body taut against the high back, feeling the terror in her spine. Dare she
move? Would the spirits know of her presence if she did?
She
wanted to believe the occupants had returned but they knew she was there so
they surely would have called out. Her mind switched. Maybe it had been a
burglar. If it was he was being terribly quiet. There were no other noises to
indicate that drawers were being searched or cupboards ransacked.
The New Year’s Eve
party seemed so long ago. The usual gang had turned up at Lacey’s Wine Bar with
one
extra, a boy
called Ram who told stories about ghosts. While they drank in abundance someone
mentioned the big house on the hill, saying it was haunted.
Ellie was taken
aback for that house was where she would soon be working. The owner had
commissioned her to replace the drapes in the dining room while the family was
away in Tobago. In a mildly drunken state, she
had scoffed at the suggestion of the place being haunted, saying it was all
nonsense and bragging that she wasn’t in the least scared of ghosts. She didn’t
mention that as a child she was scared to walk past the turreted property in
case the ghost came out to get her.
It was Tom who
dared her to spend the night there. Ellie had laughed and joked that she
wouldn’t mind spending several nights there. And so she was dared so to do.
She had telephoned
Jacqueline McCleary the next day, asking for permission to stay until her work
was completed. It would be so much better, she’d said, if she could devote all
her time to the task and not have the inconvenience of travelling to and fro.
Mrs McCleary was delighted, saying it would be useful to have someone in
attendance during her absence. She would make up a bed in the west wing.
Ellie remembered
trembling with the excitement of spending nights alone in a supposedly haunted
house. Now she trembled with fear in the icy room.
The musty smelling
room was lit by a dim lamp on the antique bureau, out of reach from where she
sat. She couldn’t remember putting it on
but she did recall switching on the central chandelier before lighting the
fire, then switching it off because the light was too harsh. Although she
didn’t doubt her action she looked up, seeing only flickering firelight
reflected in the clear glass. But the fire was dead and she half wondered if
she was too.
She twisted round
to check the door, wondering if she had the courage to go into the huge, cold
hall that led to the west wing. She decided against it. It would be better to
stay where she was, maybe close her eyes and try to sleep. The hard settle
didn’t encourage sleep but she was too afraid to move to the comfort of an easy
chair. Folding her legs beneath her, she
eased the tartan blanket over her arms and prayed for daylight to come, wishing
she’d ignored Tom’s stupid dare.
~~~~~
Outside the wind
howled and rain lashed against the glass. The chandelier shook and the new
drapes swayed in the half light. In a room in the west wing a shadowy figure
rose from a winged armchair. Her skirts floated behind her as she noiselessly
glided through a heavy wooden door that led to an imposing staircase. At the
top she paused and listened as the first musical notes filtered through the
air.
~~~~~
Ellie stirred,
shifted her position on the settle. In the distance she heard faint music. It
took her straight back to her childhood, when she’d been so afraid. Straining
to listen she became aware of an indistinct soprano voice intoning the words of
The Londonderry Air.
Oh Danny boy, the pipes,
the pipes are calling
From glen to glen, and down
the mountain side
The summer's gone, and all
the flowers are dying
'Tis you, 'tis you must go
and I must bide.
Ellie shivered as
the eerie singing grew louder, swallowed to suppress a ripening scream.
Somewhere in the back of her mind was the thought that spirits didn’t like
screams and anyway, wasn’t she a grown up, sensible person who wasn’t afraid of
ghosts? Hadn’t she said so repeatedly before… before coming here?
~~~~~
The crash
completely unnerved her. It sounded like something smashing against the far
door. Hardly daring to breathe, Ellie pulled the blanket round her shoulders
and slid from the settle, grabbing the wooden arm to keep from falling. Against
her better judgement she felt she had to investigate? Fearfully, she tiptoed
across the polished floor and eased the door open.
On the floor was
the oil painting that had been hanging in the hall, to the right of the door.
Its heavy gold frame was broken, the glass lay in smithereens, but the picture
seemed unmarked. Inches away lay the picture hook complete with fixtures, the
screw ends coated with plaster. Ellie stooped to examine the painting, a naval
officer. His stiff posture and stern expression was a little forbidding as he
sat on a long wooden bench. The name at the foot of the painting indicated that
this was Daniel McCleary, presumably a family ancestor Behind him, one hand on
his shoulder, stood an attractive lady dressed in grey. Ellie stretched out an
arm to touch her solemn face. The eyes seemed moist as if tears were falling.
So sad, she thought, as she made to wipe them away. Ellie shook herself,
reprimanding her foolish imagination.
Unsure about how
to cope with the picture at that late hour and reluctant to delve further into
the mysteries of the house she returned to the room where she had briefly
slept. In the morning she would clear up the mess.
Sitting again on
the settle she let her mind drift back to the picture, remembering the story of
the young diva being killed, stabbed by her lover. So much for respectability,
she thought.
~~~~~
Light was
beginning to penetrate the room, making the shadows seem less creepy. Soon she
would hear the dawn chorus; only then would she be able to relax. Ellie
thought about the
picture. Knowing she would have to explain to Mrs McCleary filled her with
trepidation.
As more light
seeped in Ellie found the courage to move about. Throwing aside the blanket she
went to draw the curtains. She had to admit they looked good; the burgundy
velvet went really well in the room. Since taking the commission she had worked
hard, sewing well into the night on some occasions. Now all she had to do was
measure and complete the hems. She would start early, after a drink and maybe
some cereal. The need to move on with the work and leave the house couldn’t be
ignored. But first she must clear up the mess in the hall.
Ellie stretched
and yawned and tried to suppress a sudden desire to sleep, a long sleep in her
own bed, in her own apartment. A cup of tea would revive her, she thought as
she moved towards the door, reminding herself to tread carefully to avoid the
broken glass.
Somewhere in the
distance she heard a tinkling laugh that seemed to echo through her head, a young
voice. Braver now the gloom had dispersed, Ellie flung open the door, stepped
into the hall, prepared to see an expanse of broken glass on the floor. But
there was not one sliver to be seen. Looking up, she saw the picture on the
wall. Intact. Except that the man now had streaks of blood on his face and at
his side the young lady smiled.
Completely
disregarding the waiting drapes Ellie Peterson fled to the sanctuary of the
outside world.
