Haunted Happenings

by Lucrezia Black

  The towns people banded around her for almost a year. They sent food and support. They didn’t question that she was a spinster living in a big house by herself. They didn’t question what she would do next.

  They whispered behind closed doors, but they left her to her grief over her lost love. And no one ever saw her husband again. No one ever saw his family again. And the people of the town hated them for their disappearance, but they eventually forgot.

  Everyone will always forget a tragedy, especially if they are not the ones who suffered from it. And the rest of the town went on with their lives.

  Margaret was not so quick to forget. She would forever be Margaret Trowbridge. She would never be Margaret Simmons. And she was happy about that.

  Jeremy hadn’t been a bad person. His parents had been irritating but they had been good people. They had always been kind to her and they had ensured that she had this lovely house to live in. They ensured that she had money and comfort. And she had all of those things even now.

  She had the support and trust of the town She had the house. She had her name. And she’d never have to marry. No one expected her to. They just expected her to grieve. They expected her to play the spinster. And she was more than happy to oblige. They would never find any evidence to support otherwise.

  She spent almost five years in the house alone. She entertained when it suited her. She kept people shut out when it suited her. She maintained the property and she maintained her image as the grieving spinster when in public.

  When in private she had a completely different face, one that would shock the members of the local church. She didn’t grieve in private. She celebrated her freedom. She celebrated the magic that she had discovered in her solitude. She loved the power that it gave her.

  But it always asked for more. It always demanded more.

  And Margaret was more than willing to provide it with what it needed. Others wouldn’t have been. The requests were too much, the demands required a great deal of effort, but Margaret had nothing to lose and everything to gain from doing what she was asked.

  It was important that she stayed unnoticed. It was important that she kept her image in the town. It was important that none of them suspected that she was involved in what was happening. It was important that they could never connect the dots.

  Another six months passed before anyone began to connect the lines. It was months before anyone began to suspect that things were going on at the Trowbridge House. Margaret may have been more reclusive than she intended to be. She may have missed a church meeting. She may have missed a luncheon. But she had other things to pull at her attention.

  The town began to talk. The townspeople began to warn the children to avoid Trowbridge House, to give Margaret a wide birth if they saw her in public, and they slowly began to distance themselves from her.

  She couldn’t blame them. In the little part of her mind she actually devoted to worrying about such things she could understand their suspicion. She was a lonely spinster. She lived in this big house all by herself. It had been years since anyone had come to call on her.

  And now children were going missing.

  It took less than a month longer before the torches in town were lit and the men gathered to march on her house. They’d had enough. The mayor’s son was gone and that was the final straw. They would drag her out of her brick safe haven if they had to and they would string her up for the entire town to see.

  She was a witch, they were certain of it. And they would hang her and burn her for her dark ways. And they would rescue their children…if they could.

  It took three grown men to break down the front door. Whether it was because of the thick wood frame or some spell holding it in place they couldn’t say for certain. But when it crashed to the ground they were overwhelmed by the eerie stillness within.

  The house was dark. There wasn’t even a candle lit to light the entranceway. Their torches were the only source of light as they made their way into the building, spreading out and keeping their eyes keen for any movement.

  It was the smell that brought their attention to the closet under the stairs. With a shaky hand the butcher, who was leading the witch-hunt, lifted the latch and swung the door open. They staggered back at the sight inside.

  The bodies of the children lay piled within, one stacked atop the other, ceremonially tossed into the closet without a thought. A choked sob came from the back of the group as members recognized faces of their children among the dead.

  But there was no time to grieve. They needed to find the woman responsible. They needed to find the monster that could have done this to innocent children.

  They continued their search through the house, running from room to room, frantic in their need to find the one responsible for this tragedy. It wasn’t until they reached parlor that they found her, sitting peacefully in an armchair, a telephone receiver in one hand and a knife in the other.

  The butcher called to the rest of the group to join him and they approached her carefully, cautiously. They feared her now for what she had done. They feared her for what she might still do.

  It wasn’t until they rounded the chair that the butcher smelled it, the fresh blood that pooled on the floor at her feet. He took a step backwards and the rest mimicked his motion.

  She was dead.

  They burned her nonetheless, just to be safe. They gave the children a proper burial and grieved the loss as a whole. There was no one in the town who hadn’t lost someone at the hands of Margaret Trowbridge.

  As for the Trowbridge House, it sat as it had been left. And it was over half a century before anyone stepped for in it again.

  Chapter 1

  Moving Day

  * * *

  July 2017

  Richmond House

  Birchwood, Cheshire

  * * *

  The news came with mixed emotions as Ellen re-read the letter her Aunt Jenna had attached to her will. Ellen Gillingham had wanted nothing more, all her life, than to own her own café, and now she had the chance to. If someone had told her that in order to get that chance her favourite aunt would have to die she wasn’t certain she’d have taken that option.

  But she’d had no say in the matter. Aunt Jenna had died of natural causes and left her little café in Birchwood to Ellen, the only niece that had ever given her the time of day, as she so aptly put in her will. So now the family was packing up their life in London and moving out to the country.

  John was thrilled about it. He’d always preferred country living to the hustle and bustle of the city. He’d been trying to convince her for years, ever since their daughter had been born, that they should consider relocating.

  It was easy for him to say. He worked from home. He could move anywhere. It wasn’t so easy for Ellen to pick up and go. She’d been working at a rather prestigious restaurant, managing it in fact, when she’d gotten the news. She’d had to give her notice, find a replacement, and apologise at least a hundred times to her boss. After five years of working there they were all like family, and everyone was reluctant to see her leave. But she wasn’t going to pass up on the opportunity to finally achieve her dream.

  Getting out of their house in London had been easier than she’d anticipated. It had barely been on the market a week before someone had snatched it up, and at above the asking price to boot. Ellen took it as a sign that they were meant to be leaving the city and set diligently to work packing up what they owned.

  Since it was summer time, they didn’t have to worry about Julie’s schooling. They would enroll her in school in Birchwood, or whatever was closest. Ellen would ask around once she got there and figure out what was best. But that was a later problem. There was still at least a month until school started back up. All they needed to worry about now was leaving the city and moving out to Birchwood.

  It had been easy enough to find a place in the country. With the extra money from their house sale they hadn’t been limited to their options so
they’d indulged for the first time in their lives.

  The real estate agent had called it the Trowbridge House. Ellen always thought it was just the greatest thing when houses had names. It meant they had history, and usually a prestigious one.

  They’d gotten it for what John had said was a ridiculously low price considering the area and what it had to offer, but Ellen wasn’t going to question that. She was set on believing this was all meant to be. Her cards were finally lining up. Fate was finally on her side and things were finally going her way.

  John let her enjoy the moment. It had been years since he’d seen her this happy about anything, this excited. He hated to ruin the moment for her with logic and practicalities. She had always been the dreamer and he’d been the practical one. It made for an interesting pairing, but they made it work.

  Julie was excited about the move. She was sad to be leaving her friends and the only house she had ever known, but she was looking forward to the change. It would be a grand adventure and she liked adventures.

  She could make new friends. Her mom had assured her of that. And there would be a new school and a new park to play in. And she would be able to decorate her bedroom however she liked. Her mother had promised that if wanted rainbows on the walls they would make it so.

  Within two weeks after finalizing the sale of their London home they were packed up and on their way to their new house in Birchwood. The back of their station wagon was packed with boxes and the moving truck followed lazily behind them.

  The trip was filled with singing along with the radio and telling stories. John paid attention to driving while Ellen focused on entertaining Julie. She was easily distracted when it came to car rides. Full of energy, she hated sitting in one place for such a long period of time so Ellen devoted all of her attention to trying to keep her occupied until they made it to the house.

  The four-hour drive was more than any of them were used to, but they made do with it. They stopped frequently and by late afternoon they reached their destination. The station wagon pulled in front of the brick house and the moving truck pulled in behind it.

  The drivers jumped out of the truck and closed the doors behind them. John and Ellen joined them in the driveway.

  “You want us to unload now, or in the morning?” Tim, the driver asked.

  John glanced up at the big house. “I want to say no, after the drive we’ve all had, but I also want to sleep on something tonight,” he chuckled.

  “I can understand that.” Tim sent his co-worker a nod and watched him round to the back of the truck. “Well we’ll get started on it then. If you want to direct us where things are going?”

  “Not a problem.” John headed towards the front door to unlock it and prop it open for the movers.

  He had no clue where they were going to put everything. They had more house than they’d had before and he was uncertain if they had enough furniture to fill it all. The previous owner had left a few items but the house was still rather sparse.

  John waved for Ellen and Julie to join him in the house. He was eager to explore it in person. They made the purchase based solely on the Estate agent’s images and a virtual tour of the place. It had been enough to win them over. But he wanted to see the rooms, to touch the wood banisters, and embrace the history of the place. Photos could only do so much.

  Ellen and Julie hurried towards him, smiles on their faces and laughter still ringing in the air around them.

  “Daddy, I saw a butterfly,” Julie announced as she hopped from one foot to the other in excitement.

  “A butterfly!” he echoed her excitement. “Already?” He watched her nod, sending her short brown hair bouncing. “Well how about we explore our new house and see what else we can find.”

  “Will there be more butterflies?” she asked as he swung her into his arms.

  “Well I don’t know, darling. But we can certainly look.” He watched her nod soberly and could see Ellen smile from her place beside them.

  “It’s nice to finally be here,” she commented taking in the high ceiling in the entrance hall and the lovely, dark hardwood floors. The staircase curved up just off the doorway and the parlor sat just beyond it. “The pictures didn’t do it justice.”

  “It is quite the place,” John agreed as they wandered into the living room and back into the dinning room. They were shells of rooms right now, their wallpaper and paneling offering hints of the elegance they could offer. But John could see what it could look like, what it might have looked like in its glory.

  “Our furniture isn’t going to do this place justice,” Ellen observed as they made their way into the kitchen. Some things had been updated with the times, redone to suit the individual owner’s wants and needs. The kitchen was where she saw this the most, but she figured it would also be present in the bathrooms when they got to them.

  “It’ll do well enough for now,” John assured her as they continued their tour. “We have plenty left from the sale if you feel ambitious and want to decorate.”

  She smiled. He’d let her do whatever she wanted and she knew it. “I’d like to see what state Aunt Jenna’s café is in before I dump all our extra cash on furniture that we don’t really need.”

  “Now who is being logical,” he teased.

  “Oh bugger off,” she said with a grin.

  “Where is my room?” Julie piped into conversation, clearly bored with looking around herself at the intricate wall paper.

  “And who says you get a bedroom, little one?” John teased. “Maybe we’ll just tuck you under the stairs and forget about you.”

  “No!” She squirmed in his arms in protest. “Mommy said I get a room and that I can decorate it however I want to.”

  “Did she now?” He sent his wife a raised brow look that had their daughter giggling. “Well I suppose we shouldn’t argue with mum now, should we?”

  “Uh uh, mommy is always right.” Julie grinned at her father’s wide-eyed look.

  “How long have you been teaching her that one for?” He looked at his wife and watched her shrug.

  “I have no clue what you’re talking about.” But she sent him a wink before rounding the corner and beginning up the stairs. “Come on, let’s go see what your room looks like, darling.”

  Julie clapped her hands all the way up the stairs.

  Chapter 2

  Settling In

  * * *

  The first week in Birchwood was a hectic one. It took several days to settle into the house, to unpack boxes and to arrange furniture in a manner that made everyone happy.

  They agreed that it was extremely important to get Julie’s room done before they moved onto the café. They needed her to be settled in as much as possible before the work really started.

  She’d been not quite herself since they had moved in. Ellen wasn’t panicking about it just yet, but she wanted to ensure that her daughter settled in a little bit before she poured herself into getting the café ready. She couldn’t justify running away from home to work in the café while her daughter was still not quite comfortable.

  They painted her room purple. That was what she wanted, demanded even. They spent a day, layering the paint on the wall, getting it on each other, and getting a fair amount on the floor. Ellen was happy she’d put a drop cloth down to protect the hardwood.

  John had stayed out of the fun. He’d wanted to join, but he’d had work to do. As much as he wanted to spend time with his family, one of them needed to be working right now. The extra money from the sale of the house would only last so long and he had a feeling that the start up costs for the café would be more than either of them had anticipated.

  If he remembered, from the Christmas visits, Aunt Jenna had run a rather quaint little café in Birchwood. If he knew his wife, and he hoped he did after ten years, she would be reluctant to keep it as quaint as she found it. She had dreams. She had always had dreams about running her own place and now she was finally getting it.

  It was a shame
about Aunt Jenna. There had been no funeral that they could attend. There had been no final goodbye. They’d simply had a lawyer show up at their door to read them the will. Ellen had been devastated, but after a day or two she’d let the excitement settle in.

  She respected her Aunt Jenna and knew that he energy was better devoted to work than to grief. Now here they were in Birchwood, a place he’d never expected finding himself, and he hoped to stay for several years if they were lucky.

  It was Monday before they stepped foot outside of the house for anything other than food. Ellen left Julie at home with John and headed in to see what the café was like. She’d only ever seen pictures and heard stories. This, like the house, would be the first time she’d seen it in person.

  “I’ll try not to take forever,” she promised John as she grabbed her purse and the keys.

  “I don’t believe you for a second.” John grinned at her glare but his eyes drifted past her to where Julie was playing in the yard. She was kicking around a football at the moment and it was holding her attention fully, but he knew that would only last for so long.

  Ellen followed his gaze. “You think she’ll be fine while I’m gone?”

  Her brows furrowed in concern as she considered her daughter. The girl had been acting strangely since they’d arrived. She’d been reserved. She’d been solitary. Perhaps it was just the transition, but she was worried that it was something more.

  “I’ll manage to keep her occupied if she gets bored of playing out here,” John assured her. “We got the TV hooked up today, so that’s always an option if the great outdoors become displeasing.”

  “I don’t want her spending the whole day in front of the TV, John,” she chastised.