13 Hauntings

by Clarice Black

  “Oh for heaven’s sake! Andrew!” Sarah stormed into the living room and stood beside Daphne. “They didn’t remove the sofa like they said they would. The moving men will be here any minute and this needs to go.”

  “I’ll help,” Daphne said, tying her hair up in a scrunchy.

  “Thanks, Love.” Sarah was distracted. “But you should go select a room. The big one at the end of the hall is ours so any room but that. The movers will need to know where to put your things so please hurry. Andrew!”

  Andrew’s reply was muffled by walls.

  Daphne left her mother to find her father, and climbed the stairs. Cold gripped Daphne suddenly and she stopped in her tracks. Nerves bunched up at the small of her back, indicating that she was being watched. Daphne willed herself to move. She whirled her head around but all she saw was the front door, open, inviting her to flee this house while she still had the chance.

  As Daphne watched, the door began to move of its own accord, slowly but surely closing.

  Click

  The house had made the decision for her. The Collins’ weren’t going anywhere.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  A Unique Talent

  14th July 1983

  The window was open even though it was a cold and, wet night. The curtains buffeted in the room lit by a single night light in the far corner near the door. Daphne slept soundly in her bed, one arm slung over her eyes, a foot out of the covers to maintain comfortable body temperature.

  A sudden fierce gust of wind blew the curtains against the wall, silhouetting the figure of a tall man. The wind died and the curtains subsided, exposing a bare expanse of wall.

  Daphne shifted in her sleep, tucking her foot back inside the covers.

  Das ist mein Bett

  An impossibly tall figure stood over the bed, gazing down at the sleeping girl.

  Daphne whimpered in her sleep, shivering against the cold.

  Ich sagte, das ist mein Bett!

  Ice gripped Daphne’s foot and yanked it out from under the covers. Daphne was jolted out of her sleep as something large and awful pulled her out of her bed by her legs. The bedroom door was slammed open by unseen hands, while a force dragged Daphne screaming down the hall.

  “No!” Daphne sat up screaming. She scrambled for the bedside lamp and turned it on. The familiar contours of her new room came to light. This wasn’t the old inn they had stayed in when visiting Germany when she was five.

  Breathing heavily, Daphne got out from under the covers. Her shirt was completely soaked with sweat. She stumbled to the window and opened the sash, hoping to catch a breeze in the infernal heat, hoping to dislodge the terror from her mind.

  A creak resounded through the house. Daphne froze. Heavy footsteps dragged across the wooden floor, coming ever closer. Daphne got hold of her mathematics textbook from her desk and held it above her head, inching closer to her door.

  The footsteps stopped outside her bedroom door.

  Daphne felt a scream building up in her throat. What demon had followed her here?

  Knock knock

  The book wilted in her hands. She had experienced much paranormal activity since that first encounter in Germany, but none of the spirits had ever knocked.

  “Daphne?”

  At the sound of her father’s sleepy voice, Daphne exhaled the breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding. She rushed to the door and opened it to reveal her father’s disheveled face. He looked like a different man without his glasses and tweed jacket.

  “I thought I heard you cry out.”

  “Yes, I just had a nightmare, that’s all.”

  Andrew blinked, suddenly more awake.

  “Was it just a nightmare or one of those night terrors?”

  Daphne swallowed. As always she couldn’t mask the hurt from herself.

  “Just a nightmare, Dad, promise.”

  “You’d tell me if it was a night terror, won’t you?”

  “Of course I will.” Daphne laughed. It sounded forced, even to her own ears. “It’s probably the stress of the move, and university’s staring soon. Just so much change in such a short span has my mind in a mess.”

  Andrew smiled.

  “You’ll be fine.” He patted her cheek. “Get some rest.”

  Daphne closed the door gently then sat on her bed. The night was hot, but not yet sweltering as the weatherman had promised the next few weeks would be. Wiping sweat from her face Daphne turned her pillow and stuffed her face in the cool cotton.

  Her mind drifted back to Germany, the dread of that night and everything that had followed.

  They had found her in the broom closet. Her hands had been bruised and bloody from pounding the door in her terror. She had damaged her vocal cords by screaming so much that by the end of the night she had lost her voice. She hadn’t been able to talk for the next two weeks, by which time they had come back to England and Sarah had enlisted the help of Dr. Abigail Hurst.

  The psychiatrist had been of great help to Daphne, not because she had believed what Daphne had experienced was real, but because it taught Daphne how to handle her unique talent. She began to hide things; the blood soaked girl she saw playing in the street in the middle of the night, the old lady who lived in the freezer at the green grocers, the burly man in the train station with water gushing from his mouth. And as she hid them from her parents she consciously began to ignore them as well.

  The patter of footsteps in the hall broke her reverie. Daphne tip-toed to the door and opened it a crack. The hall light had been left on for Katie. The doors to all the bedrooms were closed. There was no one there.

  Daphne shut the door, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was very wrong about this house.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  Things Supernatural

  16th July 1983

  Andrew Collins still couldn’t believe his luck.

  He had just parked the family car outside the gate and was in the process of retrieving the last of their boxes when he had stopped to admire the house. There was no doubt about it, he was very lucky to own this house. It was the perfect size, with a spacious back garden and a bonus black cherry tree for the girls to climb.

  A history professor at the University of Kent, Andrew had long given up hope of owning a house big enough for his large family on his salary alone. Sarah worked as well, but it wasn’t a glamorous position in some multibillion corporation, just a clerical job at a small accounting firm. How much could they expect to save from that? So they had been living in the cramped duplex Andrew had inherited from his father, until Sarah had put her foot down and insisted they at least attempt to look at houses.

  That’s when they had stumbled on Paignton House. It was perfect in every way, and at first Andrew had been too shy to enquire the asking price, knowing it would be leagues out of their budget. But the price had been reasonable. No, he was lying, it had been a steal! Suddenly, Andrew’s dream house was within his reach and he didn’t think twice before signing them up.

  Sarah, the sensible of the two, had had her reservations about the low price and enquiries had led to the revelation that the man who had built the house had lost his wife and three children to a mysterious illness within a year of moving in. The man had then hung himself from the tree in the backyard. Most families that had lived in Paignton House had left soon after, due to its morbid history, and the presumption that it was haunted. Luckily, the Collins’ had no such beliefs.

  Sighing in self-satisfaction Andrew retrieved the box of kitchen utensils from the car boot and went inside the house. He whistled a merry tune and deposited the box in the kitchen. He could hear his two youngest daughters playing on the stairs.

  “Amber! Katie! Come help bring the rest of the boxes in!”

  Andrew heard them giggle, then the thunder of their feet as they ran up the stairs, not down them as he had asked.

  “Girls! You’re being naughty.”

  Andrew was grinning as he climbed the sta
irs. He wiped the sweat off his brow. It was uncomfortably hot, and the air in the house felt close. The girls tittered, and ran at the sound of his approaching footsteps. Andrew stood at the landing, he saw Katie’s bedroom door click shut. In his peripheral vision he saw movement at the other end of the hall. He turned just in time to see Sarah, her hair in a towel, her body encased in her bathrobe, enter their bedroom.

  “I know where you are!” Andrew made a show of tip-toeing towards Katie’s door. The giggles expanded in to hysterical laughter. Andrew chuckled at the familiar braying sound of Katie’s laugh. This house was a good decision; the best.

  The doorknob was hot to the touch. Andrew frowned, blamed the heat, and quickly opened the door.

  “I’ve caught you!”

  The room was empty. The small bed was made, the strawberry pink bedsheets tucked in tight. The closet door was open, and Andrew could see there was no one hiding within. Andrew checked beneath the bed, where he found scattered crayons, the shoe of a doll, and some sweets, but no girls.

  “That’s odd,” he frowned. “I could have sworn…”

  “Andrew?”

  “Sarah?” Andrew left the room and walked down the hall to where he’d seen Sarah go earlier. “Is everything okay?”

  “I just need help with the shopping. The corner shop is charging ten pence extra for eggs, the nerve!”

  Andrew stood on the first step looking down at his wife who had clearly come in from a bit of shopping. He looked back at their open bedroom door. Who had he seen go in there, then? He could have sworn he had seen her going into the bedroom. But then again he had heard Katie and Amber.

  “Well, come on then Andrew. Lend a hand!”

  “Are the girls with you?”

  “Sorry, what?” Sarah was getting impatient now. She stared at Andrew as if he had gone mad.

  “Katie and Amber, are they with you?”

  “Of course not.” Sarah hefted the bags in her arms with some difficulty. “They are at their friend’s house. You know the Chester sisters. We discussed it over dinner last night. Now, could you please help?”

  Andrew rushed down the stairs. He took a bag from Sarah and followed her into the kitchen.

  Why had he imagined his daughters playing in the house? He had seen Sarah upstairs, but then she had come in through the front door. Was he going mad?

  It’s the heat, he consoled himself. The bloody heat is playing with my mind. I need to get more rest.

  Yet the thought rang false in his mind. He thought back to a few nights before when he had heard Daphne cry out in the night. She hadn’t had a night terror since Germany. This worried Andrew more than he was willing to admit. He didn’t believe in ghosts, things supernatural, no self-respecting academic would, but he did believe in psychosis, and he wondered if he wasn’t facing some mental breakdown of his own.

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  The House is Fine

  18th July 1983

  If there was one thing Sarah abhorred, it was doing the washing up. It was a task she had long delegated to the girls, but the current situation required her full attention. This was her wedding china, finally brought out of storage to be used in her house. Andrew had made a big ceremony of bringing out the boxes that morning at breakfast while their daughters laughed.

  “Do you know what this means, girls?” Andrew had asked. “It means this house is the one. The flat never saw a salad plate, but this house is getting the whole deal!”

  It was true. Sarah had given her final seal of approval to the house when she had decided to unpack her wedding china. This was it; this was home.

  Now Sarah was up to her elbows in soapy water while Andrew finished setting up his study down the hall. Poppy had gone out with some friends; Daphne was lounging beneath the cherry tree reading a book while Katie and Amber played in the back garden.

  Sarah hummed tunelessly to herself. After drying each dish, she placed each one lovingly on a towel spread on the kitchen table. She had gone through the dinner plates, and was working her way to the soup bowls.

  She was scrubbing the sink clean when she suddenly stopped to sniff the air. Something was burning. Sarah quickly dried her hands on the kitchen towel and checked the oven. It was cold. She made sure all the gas rings were turned off, but the smell became persistent, suffocating her in the kitchen. Sarah began to cough, her eyes filled with tears, and she was hacking her lungs out.

  “Andrew.” She choked, clutching at her throat. “Andy…”

  Sarah opened a kitchen window, letting in a burst of fresh air.

  “Andrew! The house is on fire!”

  “What?” Andrew’s muffled response was distracted.

  “Oh for fuck’s sake! Andrew don’t you smell smoke?” Sarah marched out of the kitchen and into the hall. The air was clear. She couldn’t smell any smoke at all. Curious, she climbed the stairs and checked all the rooms. Everything was as it should be.

  Andrew met her at the bottom of the steps.

  “Everything alright?”

  “I thought I smelled smoke.” Sarah was frowning in confusion.

  “It probably came from the house two doors down. Our neighbour, Mrs. Fitts said the lady who lives there is notorious for burning dinner.”

  “It didn’t feel like it came from two doors down. It felt like it was in the house, it was so strong.”

  “I’m sure it was, love,” Andrew said. “But rest assured, the house is fine.”

  Sarah nodded, tucking her hair behind her ears. She went back into the kitchen. There wasn’t a trace of the stink that had filled the room before. Completely disoriented Sarah turned her mind to stacking the dry plates in their cupboard. Her whole body went cold, then flushed hot.

  There were grubby soot marks on her freshly washed plates. Each and every piece had been touched by small fingers. Sarah breathed through her nose to calm herself down. She saw the small muddy footprints leading to the backdoor and into the garden. Sarah saw red.

  “Katie! Amber!”

  Sarah stormed out into the sweltering heat of the day. Katie and Amber stopped cartwheeling on the lawn and Daphne looked up from her book. Katie’s sweet round face was streaked with grime. Amber’s hands were stained green from the grass. Both girls had drift roses in their hair, their mouths smeared with red cherry juice.

  “What do you have to say for yourselves?”

  Katie and Amber looked at each other, clearly confused. This only angered Sarah more.

  “My dishes! Why did you touch my dishes, you naughty girls? I told you they were special; I had just finished washing them, and you’ve made them dirty again!”

  Tears were stinging Sarah’s eyes. She didn’t know why but she felt as petulant as a child. She was just short of stomping her feet in helpless frustration. She felt a violent rage take hold of her, and she wanted to smack the two girls ogling at her like owls. What the hell was wrong with her?

  “We didn’t do it, Mummy,” Katie said. “Promise!”

  “They haven’t gone in the house since breakfast, Mum.” Daphne stood up and walked over to a visibly distraught Sarah. She put a calming hand on her mother’s shoulder. “Of course we all know how important those dishes are.”

  “We know they’re special, Mummy. We didn’t touch them.” Amber and Katie flocked around Sarah, their innocent, pretty faces looking up at her in earnest. Sarah felt foolish for having an emotional breakdown over something so trivial.

  “They’re just dishes.” Sarah shrugged. “I probably didn’t clean them properly.”

  “You’ve been working so hard making this place lovely for us.” Daphne squeezed Sarah’s shoulder. “You’re just overworked. Why don’t you take today to relax and I’ll clean the dishes?”

  “You were reading,” Sarah sniffled, and brushed away a tear. “I don’t want to disturb you.”

  “I want to, Mum. I’ll make you a cuppa while I’m at it.”

  “Come and sit under the cherry tree, Mum.” Amber took her hand and
Sarah let herself be guided under the tree. She sat under its shade, enjoying the slight breeze that stirred the leaves, still a little shaken by her reaction. Katie and Amber brought more roses, and started threading them through their mother’s hair.

  Daphne brought her tea, and she sipped the comforting warmth as she looked on her two youngest daughters. She had never before felt the violence, the malicious wrath she had felt a few minutes ago. Sarah made a mental note of making it up to her girls. She looked up at the fruit laden branches, and the flecks of blue sky glimpsed between the drying leaves.

  “How’d you girls like a swing set?” Sarah smiled. “We can hang it from the branches.”

  “Really, Mummy?” Katie squealed.

  “Yes, please!” Amber nodded enthusiastically, setting her pigtails swinging around her head.

  Sarah laughed. Maybe Daphne was right, she was just overworked.

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  The Children who Live in my Room

  25th July 1983

  Sarah was at work and Andrew had a meeting with a PhD student, which meant Daphne was in charge at home. This was always the trigger of much conflict. Katie and Amber had no issues with the shift of authority; they were the youngest and had to listen to everyone anyway. Poppy was a whole other matter.

  Truculent, mean-spirited and forever at loggerheads with Daphne, Poppy had taken offence with following Daphne’s lead when the parents weren’t at home. She had made a point of stating loudly that she wasn’t going to take orders from anybody, taken up position in front of the TV, turned on the news, refused to change the channel, and been as much of a nuisance as she could possibly be.

  “But Poppy!” Katie whined. “Doctor Who is on!”

  “I need to hear the news for Daddy.” Poppy said, straightening up importantly. “He likes that I keep up with current events.”