Greyfriars House

by Emma Fraser

  When she reached the door of the nursery, she opened it very carefully, her heart beating a tattoo against her ribs. When had she become so fearful? There was absolutely no need to feel so anxious. She had the perfect right to wander where she pleased. Nevertheless, her self-admonitions weren’t enough to calm her racing heart.

  The room was smaller than she recalled but even so the flickering light from her lamp couldn’t quite reach the corners. The squeaking sound was still audible but slower now as if the wind had quietened down and whatever it had been blowing was coming to rest.

  She lifted her lamp higher, taking in with an ache of nostalgia the doll-sized cradle that had once belonged to her, the single bed against the near wall in which she’d once slept, the shelves of children’s books and the small table with chairs that was placed against the window. She crossed over to the other side of the room. In the corner was a blackboard on an easel. She held the lamp up to it, and was just able to make out faint traces of words that had been erased, insufficient remaining for her to decipher even a part. Beneath the blackboard was a painted spinning top, lying tipped on its side. She had no recollection of either the blackboard or the toy. Perhaps a child of one of the servants who had stayed to close Greyfriars once that fateful holiday in 1939 had come to an abrupt end had played here? In any case, if she were to stay at Greyfriars after her baby was born the nursery was halfway furnished. All that was required was a cot – the one she’d used as an infant would surely still be stored somewhere – a fresh coat of paint, some new curtains, a good scrub, and the windows polished. She tiptoed over to the window, expecting to find a shutter blowing gently on rusty hinges in the wind, but all were closed and fastened tight.

  There it was again – the creaking sound. Her skin prickled. Once more, she had the terrifying sensation that someone was there in the room with her, or had, only in the last few moments, left. She had seen no one, heard nothing. She had simply the absolute certain sense of someone having passed close to her. A nameless dread filled her as she thought of the drowned Lady Sarah. Had this been her nursery too?

  Her light tracked the noise. It wasn’t coming from either of the windows that graced the room. It was coming from the other side of the room; a corner she hadn’t explored.

  Almost too terrified to breathe, she forced herself forward. There, in the furthest corner, was a rocking horse, still moving gently on its rockers as if an unseen hand had set it in motion. The hair all over her body stood on end as the air in the room appeared to shift. Her hand that held the lamp was trembling so much the flame of her lamp wavered, casting a giant-like shadow of her on the wall almost as if it were a malevolent being about to reach out and pull Olivia towards it.

  She wanted nothing more than to be back in her room. She spun away but her legs felt leaden, as if they were glued to the floor. It took all the energy she could muster to place one foot in front of the other. Yet, even as she walked towards it, the door seemed to move away from her. It was as if she were in one of those terrifying dreams when one tries to run, but one cannot make one’s limbs respond. Her heart was beating so fast she felt it could jump out of her chest. She took rapid, shallow breaths, trying to calm her racing heart but only succeeded in making herself light-headed. A tight band of pain was crushing her forehead. All she could think of was that she had to get out of the nursery and back to the safety of her room. She tried to cry out but her vocal cords wouldn’t respond. The room spun and then there was the sickening sensation of the ground rushing towards her – and blackness.

  When Olivia came round it was to find herself back in bed and Georgina standing over her, a worried look in her eyes, her face pale in the early morning light.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ Georgina asked.

  ‘Not very well.’ Her head felt as if it were filled with cotton wool and she ran a tongue over her lips in an attempt to moisten her mouth. Fragments of her visit to the nursery came back to her: the movement of the rocking horse, the certain feeling someone had been in the nursery, either with her or only moments before, the horrible shadows pressing in on her. The certainty that whoever – or whatever – it had been had meant her harm.

  She lifted her hand and touched the back of her head, feeling a tender lump under her fingertips. ‘I must have fainted.’

  ‘You most definitely did. I heard a loud bang coming from the nursery. I found you lying on the floor, the lamp beside you. What on earth were you thinking? You could lose the baby – or might have set the house on fire. Anything could have happened!’

  ‘I just wanted to look at the nursery.’ She didn’t want to tell her aunt how she’d felt up there. She lifted a hand to touch her forehead and felt something cold and damp beneath her fingers. Georgina or Edith had placed a flannel there.

  Her headache had returned, more intense than ever.

  ‘Perhaps it’s best you go to the cottage hospital in Oban. You’ll be forced to rest then,’ Georgina said.

  Her aunts had no right to try and make her leave. Whatever terrors Greyfriars held for her it was the only home she had and she had the absolute conviction that if she left, her aunts would prevent her returning. Olivia pressed her hands to her forehead in an attempt to still her thumping headache. Her head felt as if it would split in two. ‘A third of Greyfriars will belong to me soon. I am entitled to stay here.’

  Georgina stiffened. ‘Very well,’ she conceded reluctantly, ‘but no more wandering about. Do you understand?’

  Olivia nodded. If her acquiescence was what was required then her aunt would have it. She had no desire to revisit the nursery. Not in the foreseeable future anyway.

  That night, when she got up to use the bathroom, her door wouldn’t open. She pulled and pushed, thinking it must be stuck, but to no avail. The next morning when Edith brought her breakfast Olivia distinctly heard the sound of a key turning in the lock.

  ‘Was I locked in last night?’ she asked, unable to trust her hearing.

  Edith appeared unperturbed. ‘I thought you and Georgina agreed there was to be no more wandering about. I am responsible for you and the baby’s safety. The only way we can be sure of that is by keeping your door locked.’

  ‘Am I a prisoner?’ she demanded, incredulous.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous! You are free to leave whenever you wish. Georgina told me she suggested you’d be better off at the cottage hospital in Oban but that you refused to go. You can’t have it both ways, Olivia. Either you agree to let us take good care of you, keep you safe, by whatever means we feel necessary, or you leave. Now, which is it to be?’

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Olivia stayed in bed most days. She read when her headaches allowed but they were coming with increasing frequency and intensity and sometimes she vomited. The days grew longer and warmer, and very occasionally, when the weather was sunny and she wasn’t feeling so ill, one of the aunts would help her into the chair and open the window and she would breathe deeply, sucking in lungfuls of the sea-scented air. The trees that had been bare when she’d first arrived were now covered in leaves, blocking her already limited view of the sea. Occasionally she thought she heard the sound of girlish laughter and wondered again about Lady Sarah. She’d almost resigned herself to her presence – as long as she kept her distance.

  She was only permitted to sit up for a while before one of her aunts would come in and insist she return to bed. Her ankles and hands were always puffy and her belly had become so large it was difficult to move.

  A month before her twenty-first birthday she went into labour. She wasn’t sure if it was the right time for the baby to come, but whether she liked it or not, it was on its way. During the night there had been a terrible storm and the rain and wind still lashed against the window panes making them rattle. Edith tried to reassure her that everything would be all right, but Georgina took one look at her and hustled Edith out of the room.

  Outside her door Olivia could hear a heated exchange although not everything they were say
ing. Only snatches of words carried across to her but they were enough to send a chill through her. ‘… made her leave… long before now! Too risky… doctor.’ It was Edith who was talking.

  ‘What if something goes wrong? What if she dies? It’s entirely possible! Think of Harriet!’ Georgina was almost shouting.

  Their words filled her with terror. Was she that ill? She didn’t want to die! Who would look after her baby if she did? Why hadn’t she listened to Aunt Georgina and gone to Oban when there was still time?

  A few moments later a flushed-looking Edith came back into the room.

  ‘Am I going to die?’ Olivia cried through the awful, clenching pains in her stomach.

  ‘We have no intention of letting that happen.’

  ‘I heard you…’

  ‘Georgina wanted to send for Dr Morton, but I’ve told her it’s too risky to chance taking the boat across in this storm. Anyway, there is no need to be anxious. I’ve delivered more than my fair share of babies.’ She squeezed Olivia’s hand. ‘Everything is going to be fine.’

  Olivia didn’t believe her but she had no choice but to put herself and her baby in her aunts’ hands.

  As the contractions grew ever more intense she became submerged in a world of pain. She was dimly aware of the storm outside, of Aunt Edith wiping her brow and encouraging her when Olivia thought she could bear it no longer. It was a side to her Olivia had hitherto only caught glimpses of.

  In the end, her baby was born rather more quickly and easily than she anticipated. She went into labour about seven in the morning and her daughter was born just after midday. Edith wrapped her in a towel and placed her gently in Olivia’s arms. Olivia gazed down at her tiny, perfect daughter, overwhelmed with love. She had Ethan’s nose and mouth. How she wished he could be here – how she wished he could see his daughter and get to know her. But it wasn’t to be. It was up to Olivia to love, care for and protect their daughter and she swore to herself that she would do whatever it took to ensure her child’s happiness. She named her Charlotte after her favourite female author.

  Those early weeks with her daughter were perfect, mirroring the happiness she’d last felt with Ethan. Her headaches and nausea disappeared as if they’d never been, along with the feeling someone wished her harm. She still heard the pitter patter of mice or rats on the floorboards above her room, but apart from that there were no other noises, or strange visitations to alarm her. Only once did she wake from a nap to feel certain that someone had been looking down at her. If it was Lady Sarah than she clearly meant no harm. For the first time it felt as if the house was wrapping its arms around her. Edith no longer locked her door but Olivia was content to stay in her room, feeding her baby and caring for her. Edith brought nappies she had found in a linen cupboard, showing Olivia how to fold and pin them. Georgina visited too, smiling down at the baby and agreeing that yes, Charlotte was the most beautiful baby she’d ever seen.

  On her twenty-first birthday Georgina brought up a cake she’d made herself. It wasn’t much of one, being lop sided and hardly risen, but Olivia was touched her aunt had made an effort.

  While Olivia ate, Georgina held Charlotte, gazing down at the infant in her arms with a tender smile.

  ‘Now she’s here,’ Georgina said, ‘you’ll be wanting to make plans for the future.’

  ‘I’d like us to stay at Greyfriars,’ Olivia replied. ‘Wouldn’t that be all right?’

  ‘Greyfriars isn’t a place for a young woman. We are very isolated.’

  ‘I don’t mind,’ Olivia said, taking a large bite of cake. Now her headaches and nausea had completely disappeared her appetite had returned with a vengeance. ‘I have my daughter to care for and more books than I could ever read. When I’m back on my feet I could go into Oban if I wanted a change of scenery. There must be a bus we can take.’ She smiled across at her peacefully sleeping child. ‘She’ll probably need all my attention for the first few months anyway.’

  Georgina had seemed deep in thought while Olivia had been speaking. ‘You do know that you have a part share of the house in Edinburgh, don’t you? And that now you are twenty-one you come into your inheritance?’

  ‘As I’m due to inherit a share of Greyfriars,’ she reminded her aunt. Being a mother had brought back her courage.

  ‘Edith and I have talked it over and this is what we suggest. The tenants in Edinburgh moved out a couple of months ago and Edith and I had thought of selling – with your agreement, of course. But if you are agreeable then we think it would be a lovely home for you and Charlotte. In return we only wish you to sign over your share of Greyfriars to us.’

  It was an astonishing proposal. Olivia had no idea what the relative worth of either property would be, but that wasn’t what mattered. She didn’t wish to give up Greyfriars. She still believed she and Charlotte could be happy here. The house in Edinburgh could be sold and the proceeds used to bring Greyfriars back to life. If her aunts were uncomfortable sharing the house, then she and the baby could move into one of the cottages. Although in a house this size they could easily live together while all having their own part. She told Georgina her thoughts.

  When her aunt frowned, Olivia noticed the anxious lines on her forehead had deepened. Having Olivia to stay and being forced to look after her had clearly been a strain.

  ‘Of course you should be able to stay here, but with Edith the way she is… She really does need peace and quiet. She finds the sound of the baby crying quite upsetting.’

  What precisely did Georgina mean with Edith being the way she was? Her aunt was different, sadder and more aloof than Olivia remembered but Georgina seemed to be implying there was more to it. Olivia didn’t believe the story about Charlotte’s crying upsetting Edith. Greyfriars was so large, its walls so thick, Edith could hardly be disturbed by Charlotte. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that Edith – or something – wanted her gone.

  ‘If we lived in one of the cottages, we wouldn’t bother her.’ Quite frankly, Olivia would far rather not share the house with Aunt Edith either.

  Georgina shook her head. ‘The cottages will require a great deal of work to make them habitable. They’ve rather fallen into a state of disrepair.’ She hesitated. ‘Didn’t you say that Agnes was looking for work in one of the cities? Why don’t you write to her to ask whether she would be prepared to go to Edinburgh with you? She could help you and Charlotte in exchange for room and board until such time she finds a post. Don’t you think it’s the perfect solution?’

  In many ways it was. Olivia had enough saved up to support them all for a while – until she decided whether to sell the house in Edinburgh and buy a smaller one. Nevertheless, she was hurt. She was the only living relative her aunts had, apart from Charlotte, yet even Georgina seemed eager to have her and Charlotte leave.

  ‘May I think about it?’ she asked.

  ‘Of course, but don’t take too much time. We need to make a decision about the house in Edinburgh. We shouldn’t leave it empty too long.’

  Then something else happened that changed everything. One morning Olivia woke to find Charlotte gone. Her aunts had brought down a cradle from the attic and Charlotte slept in it, right next to Olivia’s bed. Now it was empty.

  Olivia threw aside the covers and searched every corner of the room. She was beside herself, and couldn’t help the horrid imagery that leapt to her brain. Aunt Edith had tired of Charlotte’s crying and decided to do something about it. Lady Elizabeth had come for Olivia’s child when she couldn’t find her own…

  Olivia took a deep breath to calm herself. That was nonsense. Far more likely Charlotte had been crying and one of her aunts had heard her and crept in to take her before Charlotte woke Olivia. But she never slept through Charlotte’s crying! Even a snuffle was enough to put Olivia on full alert.

  At that moment she heard the sound of footsteps above her head and coming from the nursery. If someone had taken Olivia, that’s where they’d be. She threw on her dressing gown and rushed
upstairs, her breath catching in her throat, almost sobbing with fear and the need to find her child.

  She flung open the nursery door to find Edith, a wild look on her face, holding Charlotte, pressed tightly, too tightly against her.

  ‘Aunt Edith! What are you doing?’

  Her aunt looked through her as if she wasn’t there. Before Olivia could reach for her child, Georgina appeared at Olivia’s elbow, panting as if she too had been running.

  She placed a hand on Olivia’s arm and stepped towards her sister. ‘Let me have the baby, Eadie,’ Georgina said softly.

  Edith said nothing, just hugged Charlotte closer. Olivia’s daughter began to wail.