The Haunting of the King's Head

by Amy Cross

  “It's fine, Sir,” I told him. “Think no more of it.”

  And now look at me, sitting here all alone and getting lost in the past. Yes, I was a fool at times, but I was no whore. I can only hope that Elsa is long gone, that she is back in York and that she will never bother me again. If she has spread her poison in Malmeston, at least she no longer has any power over me. I need concern myself no longer with thoughts of her revenge.

  I know my task now.

  Even if no more customers come to the pub, I shall sit here and I shall keep the place open. I owe that to Mr. Foster, to repay his faith in me, and I owe it to Jack as well. Wherever Jack is, I can only hope that he has left Malmeston far behind, that he is off on some grand new adventure. I don't know whether I would like to think that he has forgotten me, or whether I would prefer that he thinks of me occasionally. Undoubtedly he'll meet some pretty young thing who'll turn his head, and he'll barely have time to remember his time with silly Muriel Hyde of The King's Head in Malmeston, but that is alright. That is, perhaps, simply how things have to be now.

  “Goodbye, Jack,” I whisper, as tears fill my eyes. “You will be forever in my heart.”

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Charley Lucas

  Today...

  “Here you go, Bonnie,” I say as I set some sausages on a plate, down in the tunnel. “Please smell these and come back. If you don't come soon, I might not...”

  I wait, hoping against hope that by some miracle Bonnie will come bounding out of the darkness. I imagine her jumping on me and licking my face and wagging her tail, but of course nothing like that happens. I'm crouching in the tunnel, and although I told Jennifer I'd be fine in the pub tonight, I can't shake a sense of real loneliness.

  I'd do anything for Bonnie to come back right now. For her to come upstairs and sleep in the bedroom with me. She could even have my duvets.

  “Please come back soon,” I say, looking into the darkness. “I'll be right here waiting.”

  I grab the duvets that I brought down here, and I try to find a comfortable position. If I sleep upstairs, Bonnie might come and eat the sausages and then run back into the darkness. This way, I know I'll wake up if she comes. And then I won't ever let her get lost again.

  ***

  I don't know how long I spend trying to get to sleep, but I must manage it eventually because suddenly – in the middle of the night – I jerk awake and sit up. I'm still in the tunnel, and I have a kind of half memory of hearing something nearby. I look through the gap in the brick wall, but all I see is darkness. I raise my phone and use the flashlight app, and there's no sign of Bonnie. Still, I'm certain I heard something coming this way.

  Sighing, I lean back against the wall.

  My mind must be playing tricks on me. It's only 3am and I feel more exhausted than ever, and any hope I could muster earlier is completely gone now. Maybe things will feel better in the morning, maybe then I'll be able to come up with some sort of plan while I'm on the way to visit Dad at the hospital, but right now everything just seems to be falling down all around us. I bet Gary Hayes is sleeping soundly somewhere else in Malmeston tonight, happy that his scummy plan seems to have worked. I can't shake the suspicion that he had something to do with Dad getting attacked, and I'm filled with anger at the thought of him getting away with everything.

  “Muriel!” a voice shouts suddenly. “Help!”

  Startled, I look up just as a figure stumbles past me and reaches up, grabbing the edge of the hatch and hauling itself up into the main part of the bar. For a moment I can only stare in stunned silence as the figure disappears from view, and a moment later I hear an agonized gasp followed by a thud, as if someone collapsed on the floor above me.

  “Muriel!” he gasps. “Please...”

  For a few seconds, I genuinely don't know what to do. Frozen in place, I tell myself that I must be dreaming. I pinch my left wrist and feel a flicker of pain, but I guess that doesn't necessarily mean that I'm awake. Slowly, however, I begin to realize that the gasping sound has faded, and I figure maybe the tail end of some dream briefly intruded into my real life. I stare up at the hatch, telling myself that of course nobody just climbed up there, but I realize finally that I have to at least take a look.

  I clamber out from under the duvets, and then – taking care not to put too much pressure on my injured ankle – I start climbing back up into the bar area.

  As soon as I'm through the hatch, I see that there's a man on the floor just a short distance away. The lights are all off, but now I can hear the man's faint, irregular breaths as he clutches what looks to be a bloodied wound on his side. I reach for my phone, before realizing that I left it down in the tunnel, so I figure I'll have to use the landline to call the police. Right now, however, I'm scared to move in case I attract the guy's attention. It's the same guy from my dream about the kitchen earlier tonight, except this time he looks genuinely injured. Maybe it's not the police I need to call first. Maybe I need an ambulance.

  “Muriel,” he whispers, barely able to raise his voice above a whisper, “where are you? They got me, Muriel. They found out where I was hiding. I don't know how, but they did.”

  I stare at him, and then suddenly he turns and looks straight at me.

  “Help me, Muriel,” he continues, his voice filled with fear. “How bad is it?”

  I open my mouth to tell him that I have no idea who he is, but I can't quite get the words out.

  Looking down at his wound, he moves his hand aside to reveal a large, torn patch on his side, with blood smeared everywhere. I can't help but notice that his hand is shaking, and – although I keep telling myself that this is all just a performance, or a dream – the injury looks very real.

  “Where have you been?” I ask. “Jack, I've been so worried, I've been asking everywhere. I started to think that maybe you'd left forever! I was hoping you'd gone far away!”

  “I was so stupid!” he hisses angrily. “I knew I was taking a risk, but I still should have kept my guard up! I didn't even see who it was, but I'm sure it was one of the thugs from the brewery. Tell me, Muriel, how bad does it look? Can you sew it up?”

  I swallow hard.

  “Muriel, please,” he continues, “just tell me the truth. How bad is it?”

  “I'm going to call someone,” I reply, as I start getting to my feet. “They'll -”

  “No!”

  He grabs my wrist, and I'm startled to feel his cold grip against my hand.

  “If they find out that I'm here,” he continues, his voice trembling with fear, “they'll realize that you've been helping me all this time. I've tried to keep you out of it, Muriel, but we both know they're suspicious. It's why they've put word out that people shouldn't drink in The King's Head anymore. They just need one more, proper excuse to move against you and finish this place off, and finding me here would be that excuse. I'm so sorry that any of this had to happen, Muriel. It's all my fault, I just didn't think that they'd do any of this. I wasn't smuggling much, just enough to make a little extra on the side, but they won't allow any competition. I should never have gone up against the brewery.”

  Looking down at his hand, as he continues to clutch my wrist, I realize that he certainly feels very real. Then again, dreams often do feel real, don't they? At the time, I mean.

  “Are they coming?” I ask him suddenly. “You have to get away from here, Jack.”

  Startled, I realize that although those words certainly came from my mouth, they weren't my words. It's as if someone else is speaking through me.

  “I'm so glad you see it that way,” the man says. “If you can patch me up, enough for us to get out of here, we'll be alright. It's time to leave the pub behind, Muriel. They've won, but let them keep their rundown little town. As long as we get far away, that's all that matters now.”

  “I don't know what you're talking about,” I tell him. “I'm going to call an -”

  Before I can finish, someone bangs hard on the door. I turn an
d look across the room, but there's no sign of anyone standing on the other side of the pub's main door; a moment later, however, there's another loud bang, as if someone's slamming their fist against the glass.

  “Open up, Hyde!” an angry voice yells. “We know you've got Jack Farnham in there. He's wanted for conspiring against the brewery. This'll be a lot easier on you if you open the door.”

  “I'll go out there,” the man on the floor whispers. “I'll face them, I'll convince them that you're not involved in any of this.”

  “No, Jack,” I reply, turning to him as I feel a swell of fear in my chest. “You know what they'll do to you. They'll kill you!”

  Where did those words come from? I feel as if I'm not even in control of my body right now, as if I'm barely myself.

  “I have money!” I stammer. “Jack, I should have told you before, but now I realize I was wrong. I have the money we need, and...”

  For a moment, my mind's eye is filled with the image of an old man sitting in a chair by a window. I don't know this man, but I've overwhelmed by a sense of terrible sorrow, and a moment later I see that the man's eyes are wide open and glassy, as if he's dead.

  “I've failed Richmal,” I whisper. “There's no way to save the pub now. We'll be killed if we stay.”

  As those words leave my lips, however, I know that leaving is not an option. I must stay and make sure that The King's Head survives, that it ends up in the hands of someone who can look after it and keep it running. As much as I want to run away with Jack, to be his wife, I know that this simply isn't an option.

  “Is this another dream?” I ask. “Please, Jack, tell me that it is! Tell me that you're not really here!”

  “I have to face them,” he says. “I've made mistakes, Muriel, and maybe the Lord has decided it's my time to answer for them. But I won't let anyone hurt you, I won't let them touch one hair on your head.”

  “I made my choice,” I reply, and again the words seem to be coming from someone else. “These bastards think they run the whole town. Even the police are scared of them. I knew what I was getting myself into, and I'm not going to let them chase me away. I know what they did to Ralph Potter and Michael Wade, and to so many other people as well. They kill anyone who gets in their way, but someone has to stand up to them!”

  “Not us,” he replies. “Not anymore. For once in your life, Muriel, don't be so bloody stubborn!”

  “I'm not Muriel!” I tell him, with tears in my eyes. “I don't know what's happening.”

  It's as if two entirely different minds are filling my head, fighting for control.

  “This is your last chance!” the voice at the door shouts. “Come on, Hyde, the brewery's not unreasonable. Send Farnham out as a show of your good faith, and I'm sure you'll be rewarded!”

  “This is a waste of time,” I hear another voice saying. “We don't even know for sure that he came this way.”

  “You saw the blood on the ground,” the first voice replies. “Fine, go around the side and check the field behind Potter's Lane. There's a chance he might have gone there. I'm going to go around the back of this place and find a way in. Maybe Farnham's inside and maybe he isn't, but you know the instructions we've got for dealing with Muriel Hyde. We'll probably get a bonus if we get rid of the pair of them in one night.”

  I hear footsteps hurrying away, and now my heart is racing as I look toward the corridor that leads to the back of the building. Sure enough, a moment later I hear the sound of someone in the beer garden, and then there's a gentle thud as the person tries to open the back door.

  “I'm going to end this tonight,” the man on the floor, obviously this Jack Farnham guy, says as he struggles to his feet. He lets go of my wrist and starts limping toward the front door. “One way or another, I'm going to make a stand. If I can get to the north end of the beach, I've got a gun and some other items stored away. That'll even the odds a little.”

  “They'll kill you!” I gasp, watching as he opens the door. “Jack, you're in no state for this!”

  “On the contrary,” he replies, stopping and turning to me, still clutching his injured side, “I'm finally in the right state to do something about these bastards. Maybe I'll fail, but at least for once I'll be trying to do the right thing. Stay here, Muriel, and stay safe. If the Lord is willing, I'll be back soon with good news.”

  “No!”

  I scramble to my feet as he hurries outside, and I get to the door just as it swings shut. I reach out to pull it open, but then I hear more footsteps outside.

  “Farnham!” one of the other voices yells. “Stop!”

  Even more footsteps race around the side of the building, as I stand frozen behind the door, listening to the madness outside.

  “He went that way!” the voice continues. “He went up toward the beach, along Pierce Street!”

  “What are you waiting for?” the other voice says, as the footsteps rush past the other side of the door. “We're not going to let him get away this time!”

  I listen as the footsteps race away into the night. My heart is pounding and I still can't quite figure out what's happening, but if this is a dream then I want to wake up as soon as possible. I hesitate, with my fingers resting on the handle, and then I find myself opening the door and stepping out into the cold night air. I look toward the other end of the square, and I realize I can hear footsteps racing toward the beach.

  “Jack!” I gasp suddenly. “Wait!”

  I start running, unable to stop myself as I reach across the square with a fit of panic in my chest. I don't even know why I'm doing this, I want to be back inside the pub, but something's forcing me to go after the injured man. And as I run, I realize that it's as if the ghost of Muriel Hyde has taken control of my body. Somehow, I seem to be remembering what happened to her.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Charley Lucas

  “Jack!” I yell as I reach the top of the street and stop for a moment, breathless and terrified in the darkness. “Where are you?”

  I listen, and I soon hear the sound of footsteps on the beach, accompanied by voices yelling over the noise of crashing waves.

  Stumbling forward across the road, I feel dazed and panicked. Voices are shouting somewhere nearby, but it's difficult to make out what they're saying and I quickly realize that tears are streaming down my face. I feel as if my heart is about to break. I've never been in love, I've never had more than a few crushes on people at school, but suddenly I'm overwhelmed by something that feels very much like love and sorrow. I think my heart is breaking.

  “Jack,” I whimper, “for the love of God, don't let them catch you!”

  “Over there!” a voice yells, somewhere nearby. “Get him!”

  I can hear several sets of footsteps racing across the beach, and a moment later Jack cries out in pain.

  “No!” I shout, unable to hold back. “Don't hurt him!”

  I hear a thudding sound, and then more footsteps, followed by another cry.

  “Here!” a voice snarls. “I've got him!”

  “Did you think you could run from the brewery, Mr. Farnham?” the first voice asks. “Is that really what you were trying to do? Shame on you, Mr. Farnham, for biting the hand that's fed you for so long. You must have realized that you wouldn't be allowed to act in such an ungrateful manner. Oh dear, Mr. Farnham, it's not looking good for you now. It's not looking good at all.”

  Too terrified to know what to do, I listen to the sound of someone struggling in the darkness, and a moment later I spot a flame bursting to life. Light from the flame picks out Jack's terrified face, as an arm pulls his neck tight from behind. I can feel some inner force pulling me forward, trying to make me rush to Jack's defense, but instead I simply stand and watch as a large, dirty blade is pressed against his throat.

  “No,” I whisper, convinced that something is going to happen to save Jack. “Please...”

  “Burn in Hell!” Jack snarls at the man with the knife. “You're nothing but -”


  Before he can finish, the man slices the blade across Jack's throat, cutting him open and sending blood spraying across the pebbles.

  “No!” I scream, and Jack's body falls to the ground as the two men turn to me.

  The flame goes out, and I hear footsteps rushing this way.

  Panicking, I turn and race back along Pierce Street. My footsteps ring out in the cold night air, and by the time I reach the square I'm running so fast that I almost trip. I slam against the wall of a house, but I manage to keep running all the way back to the pub, and I hurry through the door and then slam it shut. As I turn to slide the bolt across, I can already hear voices shouting in the distance, coming closer.

  Jack's dead.

  I take a step back, and all I can think about is the fact that I've lost Jack. There's a part of me that doesn't understand what's happening, that's screaming in my mind that I don't even know Jack Farnham. Yet there's another part of me that's filled with sorrow, that thinks life isn't even worth living anymore. I'm consumed by a sense of love and sorrow, and finally I drop to my knees and find that I'm shaking with terror. I swear, it's as if somebody else's emotions are flooding into me body, filling me with a kind of agony that's threatening to shake me to pieces.

  I put my hands on my face and feels tears rushing down my cheeks.

  “Muriel Hyde!” a voice shouts from outside. “Your fellow's dead. His blood's leaking all over the beach, and he'll be found soon enough. That won't look good for you, will it? After all, plenty of people saw you arguing with him the other day, in broad daylight out on the street.”

  “I did not argue with Jack in the street!” I sob, somehow filled with terror. “And if I had done so, I would only have been telling him that he has to go far away from Malmeston as possible.”

  “Soon everyone'll be gossiping,” the voice continues, as the letterbox is pushed open and a leering smile appears in the gap. “People already don't like you, Muriel. They think you're too smart for your own good, they think you hate ordinary people. Now a man's dead, and you were seen quarreling with him. Can you imagine what everyone will be saying once word gets out?”