“But worst of all was the expression in her eyes, which conveyed none of the simple, sad emotion from our first meeting; but instead reflected a sinister, almost malevolent spirit, which bore straight through to my very soul.
“As she reached out in my dreams, I knew that it was not because she was in need of comfort or protection but more because she was intent on wrapping those scraggly fingers around my throat, and squeezing the life out of me, and, as with all such nightmares, I felt completely powerless to defend myself or even make good some form of escape. Like a babe in arms I was completely without offence, lying there at the mercy of this harridan as she drew ever closer, ready to seal my fate.
“Worse still was yet to come. Once I had resigned myself to whatever the creature had in store for me, my wife would appear, gazing at me in her usual loving way, holding out her arms as if to embrace me and keep me safe. For a moment my fears would melt away like wax in a fire, and the old hag would be all but forgotten. But just as I relaxed and began to lose myself in the prospect of feeling Jenifer’s tender embrace, the old hag would reappear. This time she was hovering behind my beautiful wife, her attention drawn to her new target.
“In my dream I would call out, scream and gesticulate, frantically, trying to warn my beloved of the impending threat behind her. But it was all to no avail. For whatever reason, Jenifer could not see my desperate attempt to alert her. Instead she continued making her way towards me, her arms still extended, that same sweet, loving smile on her face. As she drew closer to me, Jenifer’s body at times appeared to almost obscure the malevolent form behind her. But I knew that she was still there, drifting ever closer to my beautiful wife, her evil intent now focused on her instead of on me.
“I tried to scream out to the hag demanding that she leave my wife alone, and when that did not work I began to plead with her to turn her anger back towards me, telling her that I would not put up a fight, and that she could do her worst to me, so long as she undertook to leave my lovely wife alone. But all she would do in response was grin at me with those misshapen fangs, with a sinister sneer of wickedness and malice etched into her face.
“Mercifully I was roused from my nightmare by the sound of hammering coming from downstairs. I sat up in bed with a start, the remnants of my horrific dream still lingering in my mind. The sheets on the bed, like me, were bathed in sweat, and I wiped my forehead to prevent it trickling into my eyes.
“I remember sitting there for a moment, unsure as to whether or not the hammering noise was part of my dream, or a reality sent to save me from my night terrors. I waited, just to be sure. Then I heard the sound once more. For a second I feared that it might be the girl returning. Banging on the scullery door for all she was worth, ready to lead me another merry dance. But this time the sound was more akin to metal striking metal, rather than a fist beating against wood. Also, it sounded far less urgent than what I had heard in the early hours.
“The daylight which illuminated my room from behind the curtains gave me the courage I so desperately needed to investigate further. If the scenario turned out to be a repeat of last night’s, then at least I was reassured by the maxim that everything always appeared more settled in the morning. I swung myself out of bed and dressed, hurriedly, before grabbing my keys from the table by my bed and making my way downstairs.
“When I was halfway down the flight, I realised that some of the downstairs lights had come back on. I suspected that Mr Jarrow had paid a visit to the generator room that morning, and was instantly grateful for his intervention.
“The knocking came again. This time I was close enough to realise that it was coming from outside the front door, and I remembered that there was a brass knocker in the shape of a lion or a wolf, or some such animal, which I had noticed on the door when Peterson first brought me to the manor.
“I unlocked the door and swung it open to find Mrs Jarrow standing outside in a thick woolly overcoat and scarf, carrying a wicker basket over one arm with a chequered cloth covering its contents. When she saw me, I am not sure if she noticed the look of absolute relief on my face at seeing her standing there, because her expression was more akin to embarrassment than anything else.”
“I am sorry to have disturbed you, sir, but I did try knocking earlier, but I suppose you were still asleep, so I thought I would leave it for a while and come back.”
“I looked at my watch, it was already after eleven. Obviously, I had slept for longer than I realised, after all.”
“I invited her inside, out of the cold morning air, and asked her where her husband was. She informed me that he was gathering some more logs to add to those already in the shed, and that she had come over to cook me breakfast as she used to do for my late relative.”
“Both me and Jarrow have been paid up until the end of the month, so we want to make sure that we earn our keep and we weren’t sure what duties you might want us to carry out while you’re here.”
“I had to admit that the sound of a cooked breakfast sounded like just what the doctor ordered, so I thanked her for her kind attention to my needs and left her to go to the kitchen while I went outside to collect my suitcases from my car so that I could change.
“I drew myself a bath; the water was slightly more tepid than I would have preferred, but I put that down to the generator only having been running for a short while having been off overnight. All the same I enjoyed what comfort it offered, and laid all my clothes out before choosing something to wear, and then placed the rest of my things in the wardrobe and chest of drawers in my room.
“Mrs Jarrow certainly knew the way to a man’s heart. The breakfast she had prepared for me barely managed to fit on the plate, and I had to struggle with the last few mouthfuls because I did not want to appear ungrateful.
“When she came back in to clear my plates, I asked her if she fancied joining me for a cup of coffee. I could tell from her reaction that my offer had caused her a certain amount of discomfort. I realised that, for whatever reason, Mrs Jarrow believed in keeping a distinct line drawn between employers and employees, and, under the circumstances, she obviously saw me as her employee for the time. So, I explained that I wanted to ask her about my benefactor and the house. Once I mentioned that she seemed to relax somewhat, and almost manged a smile as she went back down into the kitchen to fetch our drinks.
“At that time, I was not sure whether or not it was prudent to mention my night-time visitor. I already had several theories whirling around my mind concerning the young girl. I thought perhaps that she may have been my benefactor’s mistress, and that her turning up in the middle of the night had been their arrangement. Or perhaps she might also be a relative, one who thought that she was entitled to my inheritance, and with that she came over specifically with the purpose to remonstrate with me about the unfairness of the situation.
“I must confess that in the cold light of day it did not occur to me that she might be a ghost. It was not that I did not believe in such phenomena; it was more the fact that I did not think that such occurrences would manifest themselves to someone like me. In my mind ghosts were restricted to visions in white, with clanking chains, drifting around the battlements of old castles and the like. I had a colleague at the bank whose uncle had been a yeoman at the tower of London, and he had apparently seen the ghost of Anne Boleyn on several occasions wandering around the grounds with her head held beneath her arm. That also seemed quite fitting to me, and I had no reason to doubt such an apparition. But my visitor had seemed so real, and not at all as scary - my dream aside - as I believed ghosts were meant to be.”
Jonathan paused, and sighed.
“It seems rather an odd thing to say out loud, now that I come to think of it. Anyway, at the time I was more interested in learning what I could about the house and my relative than worrying about some poor girl wandering around the estate in the early hours. That said, once Mrs Jarrow returned with our coffee, during the course of our conversation I did enquire if she knew
of any visitors that my relative may have received from time to time.”
“Visitors, no, no-one comes to mind I’m afraid. If you’ll forgive me for saying so sir, your cousin was a bit of a queer old bird, begging your pardon. He was very set in his habits, and never strayed from them, not to my knowledge.”
“I suggested that he must have lived a very lonely existence if he never ventured out of the manor, or invited anyone back.”
“Oh, he made a point of visiting the pub in the village not far from here most days for his lunch. My husband often saw him in there, but even then, he would generally nod to him in acknowledgment, and my husband said he never felt comfortable going over to sit with him because he did not feel his company was sought. But as I say, he was a little set in his ways, like many old folks are, and I’d say he just preferred his own company.”
“I asked her if, to her knowledge, he had ever been married, and Mrs Jarrow admitted that the subject had never come up in conversation and that she would not have felt comfortable prying into his past like that. But she confirmed that she had never seen any evidence of a woman ever having lived in the house, not so much as an old photograph.”
“There are some old paintings upstairs in one of the bedrooms, and now I come to think of it one of them is of a young lady. I remember seeing it when I was dusting them. I wasn’t prying or anything, you understand, your late cousin was very particular about the way certain things were done. So, I just happened to notice this particular painting.”
“I thanked the housekeeper for her candour, and again for the wonderful breakfast she had prepared for me. She then asked if it was all right with me if she continued with her general housekeeping duties; sweeping away the ashes from the fires and replacing the wood and kindling, clearing away in the kitchen and making sure that the cupboards were properly stocked, cleaning the bathroom, and making my bed.
“I assured her that so long as she was happy to continue with her chores, I would be very appreciative. I mentioned to her about the state of my bedclothes after my nightmare, although I did not go into any detail about the content of my ordeal. Mrs Jarrow replied that she would strip my bed and wash everything at her house and bring it back tomorrow. In the meantime, she informed me, she had aired several sets of bedclothes in anticipation of my arrival, as Peterson had not been specific with her or her husband as to how many people would be staying. Therefore, re-making the bed would not be a problem.
Just then there was a knock at the scullery door. For a second I was transported back to the early hours of the night and my unwelcomed visitor. I felt an involuntary shudder course through my body, as if someone had just walked over my grave. I was extremely glad at that moment for Mrs Jarrow’s company, as well as for the daylight just outside the window.”
“That’ll be Mr Jarrow come for his mid-morning cuppa, if you will excuse me, sir?”
“I could not convey to Mrs Jarrow how comforting her words sounded to me at that moment, for fear of me coming across as a little unhinged. I could feel myself visibly relaxing at the mention of her husband’s arrival. Such an everyday, normal occurrence seemed to me to be a million miles away from my last experience of hearing a knock at that particular door. I left her to go and see to her husband, and made my way back upstairs to complete my morning ablutions.
“I returned back downstairs, having chosen what over clothes to wear out for the day. I intended going back into town to speak to Peterson once more. It dawned on me that as my benefactor’s solicitor he might be the only other person who would possibly be aware of anyone else who might have some claim on my inheritance, be they another relative or not. By this point I had convinced myself that, the young girl’s disappearing act apart, there was nothing spectral about her and that my initial suspicion that she had merely ducked around the back of the building whilst my attention was focused on her supposed pursuer was by far the most obvious answer.
“I went into the scullery, where Jarrow was enjoying his mid-morning tea accompanied by a large slice of fruit cake. He stood up, scraping his chair back upon seeing me, so I signalled for him to be seated. I must say that I was finding the way the couple were treating me quite uncomfortable, in respect of the fact that they insisted on acting as if they were my servants. Naturally I realised that to all intents and purposes I was their landlord and, I suppose, employer, of sorts. But it made me feel very uneasy to be treated as someone else’s superior, especially by people who were older than me, as I had always been brought up to respect my elders.
“Jarrow was obviously uncomfortable with the prospect of having his mid-morning break in front of me, so I encouraged him to continue. His wife opened a large round tin which had been sitting on the table, and offered me slice of the same cake. I respectfully declined as I was so full after her magnificent breakfast, but I made a point of commentating on how delicious it looked as I suspected that it was home-baked.
“I mentioned that I was about to drive into town and Jarrow immediately jumped up once more and offered to go for me, to save me the drive. I thanked him for his kind offer, but explained that I needed to see Peterson concerning some paperwork I needed to sign. I thought it best on the spur of the moment to embellish the truth, as I did not want to seem ungrateful for Jarrow’s kind offer.
“As there was no way of phoning ahead I anticipated a frosty reception from Peterson’s secretary, as I did not have an appointment. So I resigned myself to the possibility that, upon arrival, I may well have to make one if the solicitor was already in conference. Given the choice I would rather not have to spend any more time in his waiting room under the disapproving gaze of his secretary than was absolutely necessary.
“By the time I set off from the manor it was already early afternoon, and the autumn sun was at its apex; bringing with it much-appreciated warmth. As I neared the steep bank of the Widow-Maker I adhered to the procedure I had been taught, and this time there was no incident to speak of. I made fairly good time, and even managed to find a parking space a short distance from Peterson’s office.
“As luck would have it his secretary was nowhere to be seen when I entered through the main door. I could hear the sound of Peterson’s voice coming from his office, so I walked over and stood just outside the door while he finished his phone call. I knocked as he replaced the receiver on its cradle. Peterson stood up and welcomed me in as he had done previously.”
“Come in please, Mr Ward, how are you getting on at the manor? Are the Jarrows looking after you?”
“I was happy to confirm that the couple were indeed catering for my every need, and, once we had the pleasantries out of the way, I came straight to the point of asking him if he knew of any other family members, or anyone at all, for that matter, who might think that they had some claim to my inheritance. I could tell immediately from the puzzled expression on his face that my question had thrown him.”
“I’m not sure that I understand you, Mr Ward, has someone said something to you?”
“I had already decided that I did not wish to mention my visitor to the solicitor; at least not for the time being. So, I made a casual remark that as I had never met my distant cousin, I was unaware of any residual relatives or close acquaintances who might be about to spring out of the proverbial woodwork to make a claim on the manor. I was not altogether convinced that Peterson believed my explanation, but even so he assured me that as far as he was concerned no such individual existed.
“Yet again he took the opportunity to press home the fact that he had an interested party who was willing to pay me a good price for the manor and the acreage it came with. But I explained to him once more that I was not willing to make any firm decisions without consulting my wife first.
“When I left Peterson’s office I took myself down the high street and found an ironmonger, from which I purchased a good stout torch and some replacement batteries in anticipation of the generator back at the manor failing me again. I walked around the town for a while, enjoying
the unusually warm weather. Along the main road I discovered several restaurants which I imagined that Jenifer might want to visit when she came down. The thought of her reading the menus from outside and excitedly deciding what she was going to try made me miss her even more, and I wished that it was time for me to call her already.
“I decided to pass the time by enjoying a leisurely pint in one of the local pubs. I found one which was a little off the beaten track, but not so far away that I could not still hear the passing traffic from the main road. The bar was particularly small, and would have appeared far too claustrophobic for a London crowd. But somehow, in this rural setting, it seemed to fit quite snuggly.
“I noticed that they served the same local brew I had chanced upon at the hotel on my first night, so I ordered a pint of that and picked up a free copy of the local paper from the pile on a table near the door. I sat myself at a corner table right by a window, so that I could gaze out at the passers-by while I enjoyed my drink.
“As small as it was, the pub still offered hot food for lunch and dinner. But I barely glanced at the menu as I was still full of Mrs Jarrow’s breakfast. I flicked through the paper only half-reading a couple of articles as I sipped my ale. The view out of the window, I decided, was far more interesting. The pub backed onto what appeared to be a medieval church and, from where I was sitting, it was possible to see the incredibly beautiful structure in all its glory. The sun was just starting its decline, and the sunlight was reflecting against the stained-glass windows.
“It was at that moment that I remembered Peterson mentioning that my late benefactor was buried in the graveyard of a local church, and I wondered if I was looking at the exact one now. It occurred to me that I should at least pay my respects at his grave. After all, even though we had never met, he still bequeathed all his worldly goods to me. But in the waning daylight I did not wish to appear like some ogre with a morbid curiosity, shuffling around the tombstones with my torch trying to locate the correct grave.
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