by Pete Rossi
Seconds later the train arrived. There was an almighty roar, and it thundered past, from left to right, going over a hundred miles an hour, grey and blue flashing in front of our eyes. Then it was gone, out of sight over the horizon in a flash.
"Suze, do you want to take over?"
She slid over in to the drivers’ seat. "You alright?" she asked.
"Yeah, thought we were going to be in trouble for a few seconds there. How about we stop and have a drink in the next place we come to."
"Fine by me. That could have been nasty."
***
After ten minutes or so, we came to a little fishing village called Seahouses. The harbour was crowded with old fishing boats taking visitors out to sea. I spotted what I wanted, a traditional English pub called The Bamburgh Castle and pulled in to a nearby car park. Hopefully this would be somewhere that would serve drinks cold. Never seen the attraction of warm beer myself.
We walked back over to the pub, holding hands and went in. We got drinks and sat down in a corner. There was a magnificent view over the sea. We could see the brightly coloured boats were ferrying passengers out to some little islands in the distance. A lighthouse on one of the islands flashed. I later found out these were a bird sanctuary run by The National Trust which has one of the largest puffin colonies in England. The sea looked choppy. Too rough for Suze to go over without throwing up.
We sat there in silence and had several drinks. The barman, John, was friendly, and the waitress, Elizabeth was kept on her toes all afternoon.
Eventually, Suze looked at me and said, "Don't think we're going to get to Edinburgh today. Will have to book in overnight somewhere.. I can't face much more driving now and you've had enough drinks to last for a week."
I wandered over to the bar. "Have you got any rooms free?" I asked the barman.
"You're in luck. We've got a couple left. Want one?"
"Yes please."
"Do you want to see it first before you pay?"
"No, it'll be fine I'm sure."
I paid for our night's stay and walked back over to Suze. "We're in here," I told her.
"Do you want to get the luggage out of the car now?" I asked her.
"It'll wait," she replied. "Let's have a look around."
We wandered outside and took a stroll through the village. We walked along the harbour, past the brightly coloured little huts selling the boat trips, past families with laughing children eating fish and chips, seagulls swooping down to try and take some. We could see a magnificent castle in the distance. A friendly local, he was called John as well, told us all about the history of the castle which the pub we had been in was named after. He told us about Holy Island as well, which was located only a few miles north, and the Viking Raids in the seventh century when they came and pillaged and murdered on the island.
"I fancy going there," Suze said. "It's not too far so I'll drive."
Back in the car we slowly drove out of the village. The road took us around the coast right by the sea. Minutes later we passed by Bamburgh Castle which was located on a high rock right in the centre of the picturesque little village. This castle too is intact, and even bigger than Chillingham. It dominates the village. There was a cricket match going on in the village green, located in the shadow of the castle. Suze waved to two laughing children as they crossed the road in front of us with ice creams. I started to brighten up again. It felt good to be moving.
"Bet that place has got even more ghosts," I said.
"Had enough ghosts for one day."
Barely ten minutes later we were back on the A1. Free flowing traffic again, thankfully. After another ten minutes, we came to a garage on the right swiftly followed by a sign pointing right showing the way to Holy Island, and were once again back on another narrow road. Suze negotiated the bends skilfully. More skilfully than I can anyway. The road twisted left and right. Coming around a corner, we saw another level crossing in front of us. "Not again," Suze said, annoyed.
"Just put your foot down and drive," I said. She did. We flew over the crossing at about 40mph and nearly bounced straight off the road the other side of it and in to a hedge.
"Made it. Safe and sound. Just." She looked over at me and grinned. We passed a Bird of Prey centre, then rounded one final corner and came to a large warning sign. "Danger. Holy Island Causeway. Floods at high tide. Consult tide tables!" it said. So we did.
We pulled over in to a little car park on the left side of the road and checked out the tables. There was a picture of a land rover shown half covered by the sea with the words 'This Could Be You'.
"Think we're okay," I said glancing at the list. "It's the fifteenth, right?"
We hopped back in to the car and drove on. A few hundred yards ahead, we could see the road rose slightly and narrowed so only one car would fit through. Water was lapping all of the way up to the road. "Must only be a few inches deep," Suze said.
We drove on. The front tyres reached the water. I opened the window and peered at the front of the car. Looked as though we were going to be okay. The water was indeed only an inch or two deep. Feeling more confident, I closed the window, told Suze we were okay, and she put her foot down. Big mistake.
The road must have dipped. Within seconds the water was up to bonnet level. By the time we had come to a stop, the water level had reached the windscreen. Freezing water came rushing in, through cracks between the doors and the air vents and submerged the inside of the car. Freezing cold water. It quickly covered us up to our waists. Suze yelped. She hit the steering wheel with her fists. Least it wasn't me she hit. The engine stopped and wouldn't start again."
"What have you gone and made me do now, you daft bastard," Suze said to me. "You told me it was okay."
"You're the one that drove us in here."
"Only because you told me it was okay. You're really starting to annoy me today. Did you say today was the fifteenth or the fifth?" Suze asked me.
"Fifteenth," I replied.
"That'll be why then, brainbox. It's the fifth. We're stuck. No room to turn around. Not enough room to do anything but go backwards or forwards. If the engine was running, which it isn't. I'm really pissed off with you now."
"Come on. We need to stop arguing. Have to get out. Can't stay in here," I said. "It's freezing. Look, there's a hut over there." A tiny white hut stood on long legs with steps leading up. It looked like a garden shed.
I struggled to open the car door with the water pressing it, but managed it eventually, swearing rather a lot in the process. "Wish you wouldn't use words like that particular one," Suze admonished me. "I know we're in a situation here, but it's no excuse to use words like that."
"I'm thinking of the money," I said. No way are we getting our deposit back for this car now."
We slowly made our way through the deep water up to the hut. Looks like we're not the only ones to have been caught out like this. We struggled up the steps, our clothes completely soaked. Everything was wet. Every bit of clothing, all the way down to and including underwear, completely saturated. Hadn't been soaked like this since my stag night. And our spare clothes? In the car of course, in the boot, probably just as wet. If only we had taken the time to dump our luggage in our room before we set out.
The hut was empty inside. It was indeed a garden shed, stood on long legs to keep it out of the way of even the highest tides. We sat there for a few minutes shivering. Suze stared at me. I know what looks like that from her mean.
Minutes later we heard an engine. I stood up and looked through the filthy windows, the names Johnnie and Liz were scratched in to the glass. "There's a boat coming. A lifeboat."
"Oh god, this is going to be expensive as well as embarrassing," Suze remarked.
***
That evening, we were back in Seahouses. We had no transport, and the ride back in the lifeboat had not been very pleasant. Suze had spent most of the time throwing up over the side, and the rest glowering at me. I think she got pretty close to pushi
ng me in at one point, and only the thought that I would get rescued straight away again by one of the lifeboat men stopped her. The lifeboat crew themselves were friendly enough though. Apparently this is a regular thing for them. And we were not expected to pay anything. Another three were called John.
In the hotel, Suze knocked on the door to my room. As soon as we had got back to the hotel, she demanded a separate room to stay in for the night. That's how bad it's got. The atmosphere between us was not good, to say the least.
"I think we’re being followed," she said.
"Followed?"
"Yes, by that John Sage bloke."
"Come on," I snapped back. "He’s been dead for centuries."
"Well why do we keep meeting people called John, or Elizabeth then?"
"Honey, they’re just common names. There’s nothing going on." Suze was starting to really let this bother her. "Do you really think a ghost is following us?"
"It sounds silly, I know," she said back. "But there is something strange going on."
I needed to take her mind off it. "Fancy a meal," I said. "I'm bored here. I want to spend time with you in the same room.
"Okay," she said. "This isn't me making up with you yet though. We will be staying in separate rooms tonight."
I could work on that. Maybe if the waitress was called Elizabeth, she wouldn’t take too much convincing. "What do you fancy?" I asked her.
"Something traditional? Something English? Something that we can't get back at home?"
"Fish and chips? In the restaurant hotel?"
Suze glowered. "No way. You are taking me somewhere special, and expensive. But I'm going to read the menu. I can read you see. I know what the date is." I wasn't going to hear the last of that for quite a while. I could tell.
We left the hotel, no longer holding hands. Our clothes hadn't fared too badly, most of our luggage had been rescued from the car by one of the lifeboat men. Therefore, we were only slightly damp, but there was a chill in the evening air now. We walked up Main Street, past an ice cream parlour where families with huge cornets sat outside, past a closed National Trust shop, and a gallery that had a dramatic picture of a summer sunset over Bamburgh Castle.
We came to a restaurant. Candles flickered in the window, and couples sat round some of the tables inside. "This will do," Suze said. "Hopefully expensive. You're paying." I opened the door for Suze to go in first, which she did.
We were led over to a quiet corner table by a smart waiter, thankfully not called John – he was called Gianni – and ordered a bottle of wine. Suze's wish on the prices looked as though it was going to come true. We made small talk for a while, and then ordered from the menu. Our starters arrived and were magnificent. The main course arrived, and this too was spectacular.
After this, Suze spoke. "I need to have a talk to you about your behaviour," Suze said to me.
"My behaviour?"
"Yes," she explained, "I saw you checking out that girl in the castle."
"I was only looking."
"You were staring at her bottom. For about a minute. Her boyfriend noticed. And just then, I caught you looking at that girl over there." She indicated right. "You were looking at her chest. It was so obvious. I’m sure everybody in here saw. You may as well just go over there and ask her for a quick feel of her tits."
"Look, Suze, come on."
"It would serve you right if her boyfriend came over here and thumped you."
Right on queue, although I don’t think he heard Suze’s words, the man did get up and come over. Six foot five, strong, mean eyes, muscles. Jack Reacher type of bloke.
"You," he thundered. "You were looking at my Lizzie in a way I don’t approve of. If I catch you even glancing in my direction again, you will be leaving here on a stretcher." He jabbed his finger out as he spoke. All said loud enough for the whole restaurant to hear. I couldn’t meet his gaze. After a few uncomfortable seconds, he stormed back to his table.
"I told you, I told you," said Suze. "Don’t expect me to help if he does come back over. I’ve told you countless times before not to look at women like that. We don’t like it. I’m so ashamed of you. How could this day get any worse?"
Dessert arrived. It did not live up to expectations. I was about half way through the expensive slice of chocolate fudge cake I'd ordered, which tasted very nice indeed, when I felt something in my mouth. I spat out my current mouthful, making a right mess on the white table cloth. Suze gasped. She looked ready to walk out on me. I called the waiter over. "What's this?" I asked him pointing to the mess. "Can you see that?"
"What is it?" Suze asked.
"It appears to be the back half of a mouse. Look, that’s a bit of its tail."
***
Walking back to the hotel, to our separate rooms, Suze asked me something.
"Did you take anything from the castle?" she said.
"Take anything?" I parroted. "Don't think so."
"I've been thinking you see, about the curse, about all these John’s and Elizabeth’s that are following us."
"You said curse."
"Yeah, the curse at Chillingham."
"What curse?"
"Didn't you see? The Spanish witch. Are you absolutely completely totally utterly one hundred million percent sure that you didn’t take anything at all from the castle," she said, giving me one of her infamous looks. “At all.”
"I really don't think so," I said.
"Look at this," she said, finding a picture on her phone and showing it to me. It showed a stern looking woman with black hair. "That's the Spanish witch."
"Spanish witch?" I echoed back.
"Yes. If you take anything, and I mean anything from that castle, you are cursed. There were letters from families from all over the world who have taken something and suffered bad luck until they returned it." She tapped the phone screen to make it move the next picture. "Read that. One of the letters. You'll have to zoom in." She handed me the phone.
I read the letter.
1985, The Hunters
Dear Sir,
I am returning a china trinket I took while at your castle. I am not normally a thief, but while visiting, I picked it up and put it inside my bag. I don't know why I took it. I know only that I need to return it to you. Since then, the most unfortunate luck has followed myself and my family.
Our house burnt down. The only surviving item was the china trinket. My sister suffered a miscarriage. My son both broke of his legs in a hit and run accident.
I return this trinket to you in the hope that the curse will be lifted.
The Hunter family from Ohio.
"Where did you see this?" I asked.
"Just opposite the Oubliette is an antique wardrobe. Above it was that picture of the witch. The wardrobe is covered in letters from visitors. Like that one you just read. They all have one thing in common. During their visit, they each took something - be it a door knob, wooden toy, trinket or whatever - and were cursed. They and their family have experienced illness, tragedy, bad luck. This has only stopped when they returned what they had taken."
"You don't believe any of that rubbish do you, surely," I said to Suze. "Come on, it's the twenty first century."
"Let me ask you once again," she said. "Did you take anything?"
"I really don't think so," I said, playing the day back in my mind. It wasn't too clear, but you can blame that on the pints I had been knocking back since. My encounter with Lizzie’s boyfriend in the restaurant hadn’t exactly helped either.
"Well that's okay then," said Suze. "I just had a feeling. That's all. With all the bad luck. And all the John’s."
A few minutes later I spoke. "Hang on," I said. "Been playing the day back in my mind. I think, maybe, I did possibly take something. A little bone, or something like that, when that lady was telling the ghost stories, I think."
She called me a particularly nasty name. "Marcus, we have to take it back." When she uses my proper name, I know I'm in trouble.
"What, the car brakes failing, getting half drowned on that causeway, having a mouse served for dessert, John’s and Elizabeth’s everywhere, all bad luck? No way."
I fished in my pocket to reach for the bone. But it wasn't there. Wouldn't be would it. Would be in the trousers I was wearing earlier in the day. The wet ones.
"If we must," I grumbled. "It'll be back at the hotel."
"Yes, we must," Suze answered back. "Get it. We'll take it back right now. The hotel will burn down tonight, or something if we don't."
Suze followed me up to my room and stood there in the doorway with a stern look on her face, arms crossed over her breasts. I looked through my trouser pockets, first in the ones I had been wearing earlier in the day, and then through the rest of them. I searched shirt pockets, inside rolled up socks, everywhere I could think of. Even places there was no chance it could be. No bone.
"Come on. Losing patience with you. Quickly."
After five more minutes of searching I gave up. The room looked as though a tornado had been through it. I knew for a fact I had the bone earlier on when I was getting drunk, but couldn't remember it after that. "The pub," I said. "I'll look there." I rushed out, Suze following. The pub was a blank, the harbour also, and the restaurant had closed by the time we got back there.
"I think," I said, as Suze, looking at me with an extremely pissed off expression, "that I might have lost it. I think, maybe when we were trying to get out of the car, that I might have just lost it in the sea. In the scramble to get out."
"Oh, you idiot," she said. I’m paraphrasing here because she used words along those lines, but quite a bit stronger. "Go out and find it. Now."
"Go out and find it? It's in the sea. It's lost. It's gone forever. It's not coming back."
"Oh, you are so dead," Suze snapped back. "We need to search the car. Might still be in there."
"The car," I reminded her, "is still on that causeway blocking it. They said they couldn't get it moved till it was low tide."
"I am so annoyed with you." Paraphrasing again. The word annoyed and the ones she had used before it were emphasised heavily. "You won't be getting sex for a month, at the least, and that thing you used to like me to do, I won't be doing that again. Maybe Lizzie will do it for you."