by Tony Walker
She was close to them now. They were through a screen of brushwood; hazel and ground elder blocked the way, and the path went round to the right. If she went right, he would see her but if she didn’t go right, she wouldn’t be able to help the girl.
So she went right, slowly to the edge of the bush. She peered ahead. The girl was lying down. She had taken off her robe and was naked. Rebecca saw the copper red hair on her pubis and the milk white of her bare skin. Her orange mane lay around her head like a shower of fire. Gowan Fell was taking off his deerskin shirt.
The girl caught her eye. But she didn’t cry out. There was a message in the look. A message not to approach. Rebecca stood stock-still.
Then Gowan turned and saw her.
He snarled. “Rebecca, and with her father’s trusty knife too. You’ve tried twice before to kill me with that old blade. You won’t succeed now and then, as I promised, I will break each finger and then snap your wrist. I will bend your neck round until you die, because I have a new maid now.”
Rebecca said, “I’m not frightened of you, Gowan Fell,” but her voice stammered. She held the knife in front of her but her hand shook.
He turned and picked up a rock. Then he advanced toward her. With a scream, she ran at him, slashing wildly. He easily grabbed her wrist with his left hand and then, with his right, he punched her stomach hard, knocking the wind out of her. He twisted her hand until she dropped the knife on the mossy floor. Then he put his powerful grip to her throat. She looked into his dark eyes as he began to choke the life out of her.
Over his shoulder, as her sight began to dim, she saw the woman stand. Gowan choked tighter and Rebecca heard her own breath gurgle. She feared she was dying.
But over Gowan’s shoulder, Rebecca saw the woman’s legs grew into roots and reached into the ground, anchoring her there. And then her arms became tendrils like the tendrils of honeysuckle, and her face became the bloom of a rose, surrounded by thorny briars. The tendrils spread across the floor, like a living forest and began to run and twine around Gowan Fell’s legs. He turned, shouted and let go of Rebecca’s throat. She fell back, gasping, stars bursting in her eyes.
Rebecca watched as the flower woman grew around Gowan Fell. He began to yell in terror as the tendrils ran up his legs past his knees. He struggled, but he was stuck fast now. And the briars covered with leaves and sweet roses reached around his shoulders and began to wrap around his neck and up to his face. He screamed.
And then the tendrils began to grow into him, puncturing his clothes and his body, running their plant life into the spaces of his bowels. The rose briar grew into his mouth and into his nose and the honeysuckle wrapped him round like a lover. The thorns ripped his skin and his blood ran red over the fresh green tendrils of the plant. And then the embrace of the flower woman trapped him, and she was kissing him with her honeysuckle and her fresh white roses, squeezing the life from his lungs.
And the flower faced woman kissed Gowan Fell to death, her green life entering into his skull and wrapping around his brain. Gowan Fell shrieked as the last life left him and he hung like a sacrifice in the arms of the flowers.
Rebecca saw his death. Saw the wolf slain by the rose. Revenge for her dead father, and the revenge of plant over animal.
Rebecca stood, afraid that the flower woman would take her too, for was she not an animal too? But the tree grew no more. The glade was filled with the scent of honeysuckle and roses and bees came to buzz around the flowers that took their nourishment from Gowan Fell.
Rebecca heard the voice of the flower woman. A voice she had prayed to hear but had thought was only silence, or a sound as meaningless as the noise of the river and the rain or the breeze through the trees. But these noises have their own meaning. The voice of the wildwood spoke to her on the rustle of the wind and in the drone of the bees and it seemed to say that strength was beaten not by strength, but by beauty.
And Rebecca left the glade and went to bury her father. Then she returned home to her mother and sister, and they lived at peace, because the evil of Gowan Fell was done for good.
15
The Derwentwater Haunting
I made a lot of money and retired early. After leaving London we went up to live in the English Lake District - my wife Annie was from there. We drove the three hundred miles there one day in February, me and Annie and Benjamin in the back. Benjamin, my son, is five and the apple of my eye. Also in the car with us was Spot the dog and a mournful Cap’n Flint, the parrot, in his cage with a cover over it. The rest of our possessions came up with professional house movers. Our maid Manuelita was following us in another car. Though she was tremendously superstitious and highly strung she was also the best maid I’d ever had. She was bringing her niece Victoria over from Madrid to be our cook for the year.
Twenty-five years of foreign exchange trading had burned me out. I’d set up my own company, made it a success and then sold it for a killing. I was looking forward to the clean air and the beautiful scenery and a chance to rest. I also planned to write my memoirs. Annie was looking forward to being closer to her parents, and I knew they would enjoy seeing more of Benji.
When I saw the house, I loved it. Annie said I was being extravagant but I could afford it so why not? It was a house on an island in the middle of a Derwentwater lake, near Keswick. There was a stunning view looking down from the front of the house, past the lake and into the rocky jaws of the valley behind. The art critic Ruskin called it the third most beautiful view in Europe.
A trust owned the house, so we couldn’t buy it, only rent it. It was over £1 million a year but it was worth it to me, and I figured that we could get a regular house after one blissful year in the mansion on the island.
Everything arrived from London, as well as some extras I’d had to buy both there and locally. The day came, and we moved in. A generator housed in a hut behind the house supplied our electricity and I arranged with a local firm that they would come as required and maintain that as well as do any repairs and odd-jobs.
When we first got off the boat onto the island, the dog started behaving stupidly. Old Spot wouldn’t go in the house at first; he just stood at the door growling.
“What’s up with him?” I said.
Annie laughed. “I bet a big nasty dog used to live here and he can smell it.”
With much tugging, we dragged him in but he started whimpering. In the end I arranged for him to have a kennel outside - that would teach him to be histrionic.
There were only five of us on the island: me and Annie and Benjamin as well as Manuelita and Victoria and that suited me. I wanted peace to write. The town of Keswick was close by but far enough away over the water so it didn’t bother us. There were lots of tourists in the Lake District, but they didn’t get to come to our island, as there were big “Keep Out” and “Private” signs dotted all around the shore. It was so peaceful that we could have been miles away from civilization. Sometimes the weather cut us off too. The winter still hung on and now and then the lake water was too rough for us to motor over in our little boat. I didn’t mind, but Annie had a fear about the water and she always made sure she and Benji had life jackets on.
To begin with, I was very happy there.
The first disturbances came from Manuelita who claimed the place was haunted. Over breakfast one morning, she started going on about the ghost.
“But you haven’t seen anything?” I said. “That’s right, isn’t it?” I gave her a hard time, and I regretted it afterwards.
Manuelita said, “No, I haven’t seen anything, Mr. Dougan. But I feel it all the time. It is all around this house.”
I shook my head. “It’s psychology Manuelita; it’s an old house. No one can come and rescue us easily on the island - not that they need to - but that’s why you are feeling uneasy. You’ll settle.”
She gave an exasperated Hispanic shrug and walked off. Victoria had come up behind her and she smiled and made a screwy gesture at her temple. “She’s loc
a, Mr. Dougan. My grandmother - her mother - has, how do you say, the second sight?’ Victoria shrugged. ‘But I don’t believe any of it.”
I frowned. “It’s important that Benji doesn’t get frightened. I don’t want her repeating these things to him.”
“Sure,” said Victoria, “I’ll talk to her.”
Annie was late rising that morning. Victoria had taken her breakfast in bed after I got up. I came across her in the conservatory that was at the front of the house. She was sitting there reading among the orange trees in their pots with a blanket over her knees.
“Hello you,” I said, bending down to kiss her.
She reached up and kissed me back. We have a good relationship. We’re best friends as well as being husband and wife. She’s supported me all the way through my sometimes difficult career. I told her about Manuelita.
She shuddered. “I don’t want her talking like that in front of Benji.”
“I’ve emphasized that to Victoria. She’s going to speak to her.”
“You know I have a thing about ghosts,” said Annie. “The very idea of them terrifies me.”
It surprised me. In all the years we’d been married, I don’t think she’d ever mentioned her fear of ghosts. But then I didn’t recall the subject coming up.
I had taken Benji out on the lake that day - me and him and Spot. He wanted to take Cap’n Flint too and pretend we were pirates, but I said the parrot would just fly off. He was a mean-tempered bird too; he’d probably savage the ducks.
This day it was a Saturday. Benji went to the local school every week morning by boat; either me or Victoria would take him over. But at the weekends we had him all to ourselves. Instead of the motorboat, I took one of the rowing boats from the boathouse that belonged to our island. Annie hadn’t wanted to let Benji go on the lake when we first arrived because he couldn’t swim. I arranged for him to have lessons at the local pool in town to put her mind at rest. Rowing was good exercise for me and though Benji pleaded with me to let him have a go, I wouldn’t let him - he just wasn’t strong enough.
We rowed over to the small, rocky islands that dotted the lake here and there. Spot went crazy barking at the gulls that nested on some of the islands. I think he was enjoying being away from the house. Above us rose the mountains. The wind wasn’t too strong, just a few little waves to made the boat bob. Benji loved it when the little boat lifted her bow to crest the waves.
For the time of the year, the weather wasn’t too bad; there was the hint of spring in the air - but not enough so we could take our coats off. We moored at an island, slightly bigger than the rest that had a clump of trees and friendly ducks that came quacking round, looking for morsels. I had to tie Spot up, so he didn’t eat the crumbs we threw for the ducks.
The exercise tired me out. I guess Benji was tired too because he didn’t protest about going to bed and was soon slumbering. After reading my book about Cryptocurrencies, I must have fallen asleep about ten thirty. Annie was beside me, reading her novel. I dozed off before she did.
I woke when she screamed. I almost jumped out of my skin. It was the middle of the night and pitch black. I snapped the bedside light on. She was laying there, her eyes wide, rigid and trembling. I said, “What the hell is the matter?”
She shuddered. “I had a horrible dream. I dreamt that there was someone in the house- someone who didn’t belong here.”
She was beautiful. And fragile. I stroked her hair. “It’s just a nightmare Annie. That’s all.”
“No, it was something evil. It wanted to take Benji, and I was fighting it.”
I made soothing noises. She took my hand and smiled hesitantly. “I’m so silly, I know. But it felt real - as if something really was here in the house.”
“You’ve been listening to Manuelita too much.”
She shook her head. “I know you said she’d spoken to you, but she’s never mentioned anything to me.”
“Good. That must be Victoria putting her straight,” I said.
But Annie still looked uneasy. “Will you check on Benji?”
“Of course,” I said, wondering why she didn’t go herself. Not that I minded, but she was usually so protective of him - overprotective sometimes. And then I realized she was frightened to walk through the house on her own.
I got up out of bed and pulled on a t-shirt and jogging bottoms. Then I made my way along the corridor. The house was big - far bigger than we needed. The floor we slept on had six bedrooms though we only occupied two - me and Annie in one, and two doors away - Benji’s. We’d put him in this room because it had a lovely view of the lake and just felt nicer.
Victoria and Manuelita had their bedrooms on the floor above. The very top floor was the attic, but we had hardly even visited it.
As I got to Benji’s door, I stopped and turned. I had the strong feeling someone was there. I spun round. “Hello?” I said.
“Hello,” replied Victoria in her distinctive Spanish accent. “I heard Mrs. Dougan scream. I just wondered if everything was ok.” She was standing at the bottom of the stairs up in just her nightie. Her hair was tousled, and it looked like she’d just woken.
I laughed. “Yeah, just Annie having a nightmare. Don’t worry. I just came to check it didn’t wake Benji.”
I looked into Benji’s room. He was sleeping soundly.
Victoria lingered there. She seemed on edge.
“What’s up?” I said.
“It’s Manuelita - she’s got me scared now.”
I smiled indulgently. “How come?”
“She says there’s a thing in this house. When I heard Mrs. Dougan cry out, it made me think maybe she’d seen it too.”
‘Who Annie?’
She nodded.
I shook my head. ‘No, she hasn’t seen anything. There’s nothing to see. “I tried to reassure her. “Listen, it’s the middle of the night. Things will feel fine in the morning. Is Manuelita awake now?”
Victoria nodded. “She’s sitting up in bed with her rosaries, calling on Mary and Jesus and all the saints to protect her.” She stifled a sudden giggle. At least we’d broken the lingering heavy atmosphere.
“Ok,” I said, “sleep tight, and remember, there are no such things as ghosts.”
Then things were ok for a couple of days. The next time, a commotion above our bedroom woke me. It woke Annie too. “What’s that?” she said with a tremor in her voice. “That banging.”
“I don’t know,” I said, getting up and once again dressing. It was weird, but I was convinced there was a normal explanation for the sound.
Annie said, “Make sure Benji’s safe.”
The way she said it was like a command. I nearly told her to check him herself but I could see she was frightened, so I just went. I scooped Benji up and took him to his mother. He was sleepy and grumpy with his hair all mussed up but she took him and then there was another bang and a sound of furniture being moved above.
“For God’s sake!” I muttered. I hurried out of the room and jogged up the stairs, flicking the lights on as I went. Victoria’s door was open but Manuelita’s was closed. I knocked on Victoria’s room but there was no answer. She didn’t seem to be in there. Then I knocked on Manuelita’s door. A frightened voice said something in Spanish.
“Manuelita it’s Howard! Are you ok?”
There was a shuffling and the sound of someone getting out of bed and then the scraping of furniture being moved just behind the door. It opened and there stood Manuelita in her nightdress. She had barricaded the door with the chest of drawers. To my greater surprise, there also was Victoria, huddled in Manuelita’s bed with a look of fear on her face.
“Please tell me what’s happening here?” I asked stonily.
Manuelita said, “Victoria heard it; she heard it outside on the landing.”
I looked to Victoria for confirmation. She was obviously terrified. “Victoria, what’s going on?”
I could see her eyes were filled with tears. She said, “I woke
up. I don’t know why, Mr. Dougan, but I was very frightened. There was an atmosphere in my room, but there was nothing there. Nothing I could see. Then I heard something outside. For a minute I thought it might be Benji sleepwalking. So I went to the door.”
“Hang on a minute - Benji sleepwalking? Benji doesn’t sleepwalk.”
Both the women nodded. “Yes, he does. Not every night, but he comes up here, and he is asleep. We just take him back to his room.”
I was astounded. “You’ve both done this?”
They said they both had.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Manuelita shrugged. “Mrs. Dougan is very nervous and protective. We thought he would grow out of it so no need to tell you.”
My brow furrowed. “Ok, I’m not happy about this, but why the hell have you barricaded yourselves in the room?”
Victoria continued. “So I went to look outside, in case it was Benji walking.”
“But?”
Manuelita said, “She saw it - the thing. I have felt it, but she saw it.”
“God give me strength.” I turned to Victoria. “What did you see?”
She shuddered. Then she said, “It was like a black shape. It was moving outside. The temperature was very cold and the feeling very bad. Very evil.”
“It was a fantasma - a demonio,” said Manuelita.
“You expect me to believe this?” I said. I was angry but I could see that they certainly thought it was true. They were nervous as hell.
“Ok, I said. It’s late. We can talk about it again in the morning.”
I turned away and Manuelita closed the door and I heard her move the chest of drawers in front of it again. I shook my head in disbelief at their stupid superstitions and credulity.
But as I walked down the stairs, something caught my attention. I couldn’t say what, but I spun round. There was nothing there of course. But a strange feeling of anxiety came over me, as if there was some threat in the house I wasn’t aware of. Then I dismissed the weird feeling and went back to Annie.