The Secrets of Tenley House

by Patricia Dixon

  Back inside the house after waving off their guests, Kenneth and Georgie retired to the lounge while Vanessa went upstairs, saying she needed to remove her smoky clothes. Her true mission was to hide the toffee apples and treacle sweets she’d stuffed inside her pockets when she thought nobody was watching. But Sandy saw everything and sighed as she watched her daughter waddle up the stairs, her angst aggravated further by the sound of a bell ringing, requesting her presence. Inhaling deeply, she sought to regain her composure. It was necessary when faced with Phyllis, her other responsibility and one that was fast becoming a burden, an irritating and dislikeable one at that.

  In the beginning, Sandy had found Phyllis easy to manage and treated her like the retirement home residents, firmly and taking no nonsense, despite her lofty heritage. Sadly though, in the years that followed as the old woman descended into senility, her moods had worsened, her tongue became more acid and vengeful whilst her nature erred on violent. As Sandy’s patience wore thin, Phyllis soon became one chore too many. Not only that, it had become increasingly hard to ignore some of the cruel and deeply offensive comments that Phyllis made about every member of the household, the worst she reserved for Vanessa. At first, Sandy rose above it, she had to in order to remain in her post but inevitably it became too much and she raised the issue with Georgie and action was taken.

  According to the doctor, the only sensible solution would have been to send her to a home where they could care for her properly. It wasn’t as though Kenneth couldn’t afford it. However, when faced with the decision he was reluctant and to Sandy’s surprise, Georgie sided with her husband. It was common knowledge there was no love lost between the former and present lady of Tenley but for some reason, Georgie didn’t push her husband or seem keen on the banishment of Phyllis. After all, Georgie rarely saw the old woman and had no hand in caring for her so for all intents, Phyllis didn’t exist.

  Georgie’s reticence had puzzled Sandy. In the end, a nurse was hired to come in three times a day, alleviating her of the more nauseating and troublesome tasks and Sandy’s only duty had been to feed Horace and serve meals. When the budgie dropped dead, Sandy was sure that she wasn’t the only one to wish that its owner would do them all a favour and follow suit.

  Making her way to the kitchen, Sandy sighed and checked the clock, dreading the confrontation with Phyllis and the potential of having biscuits thrown at her again. The nurse was forever complaining about the state of the room when she arrived in the morning and whatever state she found Phyllis in. Thankfully the mess wasn’t Sandy’s problem and only proved the necessity for a trained professional.

  As she prepared a tray, Sandy thanked the Lord for her lot, despite its trials. While waiting for the kettle to boil, she resolved to spend the evening in contemplation where she would ask him once again for forgiveness of her sins and strength to resist the demon she knew lay at the bottom of a gin bottle. But Sandy would pray hardest of all for him to show her the way, and rid her of those who sought to hinder or affront, especially the bitter old crone who regularly maligned her precious child. As she carried the tray upstairs, little did Sandy know that it was her lucky day because as a reward for her patience, the benevolent Lord was about to answer one of her prayers and without haste, eliminate a Tenley.

  Phyllis

  The demon had come again the previous night. Phyllis saw it with her own eyes, a dark shadow closing in, hell bent on torment and terror. Poor Horace, he too had endured cruel behaviour at the hands of the demon that in the end snuffed out her dear birdie’s life with its bare hands. Had she been able to remember its name or cling on to more than a moment’s lucidity, then she could have pointed it out. She knew her grasp on the present was diminishing and for the rest of the time she had no idea where she had been, or was, never mind how many hours had passed between day and night.

  When the wily demon came, it always began by removing her silver bell thus preventing the summoning of assistance or salvation, and then it would silently pull the covers from her bed, slowly, slowly, leaving her old bones exposed and cold. Poor Horace would flutter and cheep, sensing danger before it arrived at his cage that was shaken and banged, the steel bars vibrating as her little friend was knocked from his perch. The night Horace met his end, the demon was at its worse and while Phyllis could only lie there and beg for mercy, it had thrown cold water over her nightdress then set about smearing the remains of her uneaten supper across the sheets.

  While she lay there, bedridden and humiliated, the demon opened the cage where despite poor Horace’s attempts at escape, he was unable to avoid capture. The end was thankfully swift. The hand that broke his tiny neck then tossed him back into the cage and locked the door before leaving the room as silently as it had entered.

  Once, the demon sat on the bed and whispered such vile things, telling Phyllis that after she had rotted in her maggot-infested coffin she would go straight to hell where sinners far more wicked than she would torment her for all eternity. The demon said it was a price she had to pay for being cruel and cold-hearted and even if she repented; her poisonous words could not be forgotten or forgiven.

  The previous night she had been given a reprieve and even though the demon had stayed away it had been replaced by the Nazi bombs and as much as she’d called out, warning them to hide or die in the hell fire of the blitz. Nobody listened, nobody ever listened. But there was something else that troubled Phyllis. The thought came and went yet a voice lingered, warning her of great danger, urging her to look closely. Could she not see? It was there, right in front of her.

  Twisting her fingers into knots, Phyllis tried hard to remember but her eyes were tired and her mind so very weary and now all she longed for was sleep and the fear to recede. A moment of relief washed over her frail body when, as she turned her head to the window a shaft of grey morning light penetrated a gap in the curtains. She had made it through another night, demon free. It never came during the day, or perhaps it did and she just didn’t notice. Heavy eyes began to close as exhaustion finally claimed her and it was then, when she least expected it, Phyllis remembered. She could hear the voice so clearly and see the face of her tormentor in vivid colour.

  As the door handle turned, the sound of crockery rattling on her breakfast tray failed to wake her and Phyllis drifted into sleep, her lips muttering barely intelligible words. The nurse placed the tray on the bedside table and removed the one from supper, rolling her eyes, ignoring the confused ramblings of a senile old woman who was trying to tell anyone who would listen that they should beware, because the demon lived amongst them. The demon was one of them.

  Vanessa

  No matter how hard she clasped her hands over her ears, Vanessa could not drown out the sound of Granny screaming. It was dreadful and her shrill hysterical voice rang around the house while panicked footsteps ran for help, the nurse calling for Sandy, who then called for Georgie who then told Daddy to ring the bloody doctor.

  Vanessa was supposed to stay in her room with the door shut but as much as Granny was causing a terrible fuss and her screeching went through Vanessa, grating on her nerves and causing her to wince, it was also quite fascinating and in some parts rather funny. Granny had called Daddy a raving poofter which of course he wasn’t but it still made Vanessa giggle, especially when she accused the nurse of witchcraft and refused to see the doctor. Granny said he was an emissary of death and a practitioner of alchemy. Had she not hated Granny so much, Vanessa would have admired her use of the English language despite being a raving lunatic.

  It had all begun with the fireworks because Granny thought that they were being bombed by Germans and wanted everyone to go down to the shelter. She had kept them awake all night and now Georgie was in a foul mood and told Daddy that she wished they’d had her committed, which Vanessa actually agreed with. And Granny was creating another huge fuss. The doctor was in there sorting her out and Georgie had gone for a smoke to calm her nerves so Vanessa remained crouched in the hall, hidden beh
ind the armoire, listening intently.

  The latest episode, that’s what they called them, began just after Sandy went in with fresh linens and according to the nurse who was currently in the kitchen holding a lump of ice over her bruised cheek, Phyllis screamed and said they were all going to be murdered in their beds and then demanded to see Kenneth at once. It went totally bonkers from there because now she was talking of demons and Nazis and before Georgie stormed off she said that if the doctor didn’t sedate Phyllis, then she’d bloody well do it herself.

  Vanessa didn’t doubt it for one moment as Georgie could be a kitten but quite fearsome too and wasn’t a bit bothered by anyone or anything. Georgie knew the best ways to get revenge and make sure everyone did exactly as she wished. Vanessa thought she was amazing and wanted nothing more than to be just like her and if she could have one wish come true, it would be for Georgie to be her real mother.

  Sometimes, when the girls at school were mean and said she was a fat bastard and it was no wonder she was given away, Vanessa would obsess over it, desperate to know why she was abandoned and rejected. The only thing that cheered her was remembering the dream she had one Christmas, it was the most beautiful dream ever and in the morning, for a moment, she wasn’t sure if it was real or not.

  Ever since then she had wished it would come true and that Georgie really had come to find her, like a magical fairy hovering by her side. Then she had remembered the little blue bottle of Babycham that Georgie had allowed her to drink as a special treat. It was to make up for not being allowed to the party and it had made her feel a bit squiffy and maybe gave her funny dreams too. At lunch the next day, Georgie had whispered she wasn’t to tell Sandy or Kenneth about the Babycham or the chocolates she’d left under her pillow otherwise they would both get into trouble. It had to be their secret. Just like the whisperer in the dream had said.

  Vanessa and Georgie had a special bond too. Vanessa’s birthday was the same day as JFK was assassinated, and Georgie adored Jackie O, so that must mean something, it was like a sign. Then there were their secrets, lots of them. Like their special song, ‘Summertime’. It was their private joke and Georgie had thought of it to cheer Vanessa up when the girls at school had been mean and told her that nobody could love the Loch Ness monster so she would die a fat old spinster. Georgie had played the record and the words had stopped Vanessa’s tears and made them both smile. Because it was true, her daddy was rich and her mummy was good looking and with them both in her world, Vanessa had no need to cry.

  Then there was all that trouble on the school trip to France. The horrible new girl Raihana was pretty and popular and, just because her father was a Saudi prince or whatnot, she had instantly become top dog. Raihana had mostly ignored Vanessa who didn’t mind because for once she wasn’t a target, this time it was nasty Jemima’s turn. There was such a catfight when Raihana stole Jemima’s best friend, Penny, and by lights out, the dorm had been split into two camps. Vanessa and her few friends had tried to stay neutral but plumped for the clear winner, who fought like a boy and made Jemima look like a tongue-tied amateur. The nastiest girl in school had finally been defeated and knew the meaning of the word dejected. The next morning, Jemima’s life got a whole lot worse.

  Vanessa had never heard someone scream and cry and swear in another language. But that’s exactly what Raihana did when she woke up to find her two-foot long ebony plait had been lobbed off during the night and lay forlornly on her pillow, like a decapitated black mamba. Jemima was the instant suspect and when the teachers ordered a thorough search of the dorm and found a pair of scissors under the foot of her mattress, justice had to be seen to be done. Nasty Jemima was no more.

  Vanessa had repeated the story to Georgie on the way home from school. The trip had been cut short so the teachers could bow and scrape to the Saudi prince who was en route from his palace in the desert. The panic-stricken form teacher had taken Raihana to London to buy a wig. Vanessa didn’t mind that the trip was curtailed as she’d been terribly homesick and was looking forward to next term minus Jemima.

  Georgie found it all fascinating although she did think that Jemima had been rather stupid to chop off Raihana’s hair after a row, and wondered if instead, a really clever person had decided to take their own revenge, like she always advised, served ice cold. They had stopped at the traffic lights so Vanessa glanced at Georgie and spotted the twitch of her lips and those pencilled, raised eyebrows above knowing eyes, looking quizzically in her direction. Nothing was said but when they both began to giggle, Georgie placed her fingers over her lips, winked and seeing the lights had changed to green, drove on.

  It was also a secret that Vanessa and Georgie sometimes snuck off to the teashop in the next town and treated themselves to yummy cakes and even though she wasn’t old enough, they had seen Saturday Night Fever at the cinema. They’d actually gone to see Pete’s Dragon but when nobody was watching Georgie grabbed Vanessa’s hand and they slipped into the darkened theatre and spent the afternoon ducked down out of sight, watching John Travolta.

  And Vanessa knew that Georgie’s special water was Gordon’s gin but she would never tell, and her magic cigarettes weren’t really capable of casting spells although they did send everyone rather funny. Nice Uncle Clement, who painted Georgie in the nuddy as well as in her best dress for the portrait that hung in the lounge, wasn’t really her uncle. Or that Aunt Joy and Aunt Lottie weren’t really sisters who preferred to share a room when they stayed. In fact none of the nutty guests who frequented Tenley were her relatives but Vanessa didn’t care. She would do anything for Georgie, just anything, because she had made everyone’s life so happy and perfect.

  What mattered most was that Georgie had kept her promises, maybe even a secret one too, and in return Vanessa had kept hers. She never ever kicked up a fuss when they left her with Sandy who, whilst being very kind and devoted, was rather boring and a bit too strict – and churchy too. Vanessa didn’t mind all that hymn singing at school but no way was she being dragged along on Sunday. And even though her parents had been to Morocco and India, and the south of France and Italy with their group of friends, Vanessa had understood it would be far too hot and boring being stuck with grown-ups for two weeks. Instead they had all gone down to Cornwall and stayed in a gorgeous house by the sea.

  Just like she had promised, Georgie was ‘all hers’ for three glorious weeks and they enjoyed it so much they went back each year. Even Sandy was invited because Georgie was so kind and never left anyone out. It had certainly cheered boring old Sandy up although she wouldn’t go in the sea, she just paddled because she couldn’t swim but neither could Vanessa. Doddery old Dolly came along too. Dolly made everyone laugh with her swear words and East End stories and big knickers that hung on the line, until they blew off and everyone had to search for them in the dunes. Georgie said Dolly was her surrogate mother and loved her to pieces, so Vanessa did too. That was the rule, Vanessa’s rule. Whatever Georgie liked, she liked too, whatever Georgie loathed, Vanessa loathed too. It was simple.

  It was realising that the shouting and swearing coming from Granny’s room had stopped that dragged Vanessa back to the present. The silence was heavenly and after ten or fifteen minutes she saw the doctor leave the room, calling back to Sandy that he would check in on the nurse before he left. After listening to voices downstairs, Georgie announcing that they all needed a stiff drink and then Daddy offering the doctor some whisky, the clinking of the decanter told Vanessa the coast was clear and she could take a peep at Granny. Maybe they’d put tape over her mouth or bashed her on the head to shut her up. Whatever the doctor had done it worked, and curiosity was killing Vanessa as she crept along the hallway.

  She could hear Sandy inside, stoking the fire and then the rattle of more coal as it toppled onto the flames. It was as Vanessa peered around the door, only allowing one eye to take in the scene, her gaze fell upon her grandmother who looked to be sleeping yet restless, her hands twitching as her head moved side
to side. Then Sandy appeared, causing Vanessa to jump backwards, out of sight, and then look again when she heard Phyllis begin to mumble, the sound drawing Sandy to the bedside. Vanessa leant forward, exposing both eyes in order to strain her neck and listen.

  “Where’s Kenneth? Bring him to me, I must speak with him. Please. I beg you, fetch Kenneth.”

  “Shush now, Phyllis, and try to rest. Kenneth will come tomorrow.”

  “No, he must come now. I need to tell him my secret, a terrible secret. I heard it all, every word. We are all in danger because the demon is here, come for the child I hope, that bastard child who has stained our name… She is evil, they all are, bring the priest before it kills us in our beds. There is such wickedness in this house and it must be banished… That woman is evil, a common whore who kept me prisoner… and she is a fraud and a liar. I know everyone’s secrets, so many secrets. Please believe me… please bring Kenneth… or a priest…” Phyllis gasped for air and was becoming anxious again.

  Vanessa held her own breath. What did Granny mean, what demon, what secret, and what child… did she mean her? She was transfixed, terrified, half believing in murderous demons while trying to imagine what secret Granny might have overheard. Surely it was all nonsense but then again perhaps they should find a priest, just in case Granny had seen something scary.

  “Now, now, Phyllis, there’s no such thing as demons so close your eyes. That’s right, try to sleep.”

  But Phyllis was having none of it. “Of course there are demons, you imbecile, one comes here to steal my jewellery and it tore up Winnie the Pooh and killed Horace, with its bare hands… I saw it, standing right there.” Phyllis pointed into thin air at nothing in particular, her bony liver-spotted hands shaking as she spoke. As Sandy followed the direction of the finger, something caught her eye and she turned, saw Vanessa peeping around the doorframe.