by Bella Benz
I opened a few doors until I found a small bathroom tucked under the stairs. There was a mirror over the sink and I could see that Shelley had left a deep scratch running down the back of my arm.
“Stupid cat,” I muttered again, poking about in the cupboard under the sink until I found a tube of antiseptic cream. It looked like it had been there for a while, but I figured it was better than nothing. As I stood up to use the mirror to see what I was doing, I thought I saw someone running across the hallway behind me.
“Hello?” I turned round. “Anyone there?”
Silence. Although I supposed that if there was a burglar, they weren’t exactly going to announce their presence.
I stood there for a moment, ears strained to listen out for any sign I wasn’t alone.
Nothing.
At last I went back to rubbing cream into my arm. It was sore, but it could have been worse. I just wondered what it was that had spooked Shelley so much. He was usually such a chilled-out cat, spending most of the day asleep on my bed. I’d never seen him behave like this.
When I was done, I went upstairs to check out my bed for the night. Opening the second door on the right, I gasped when I saw what was waiting for me. It looked like something out of a four-star hotel.
A four-poster bed was tastefully made up with a deep red throw and lots of scatter cushions over the pillows. An open fire blazed opposite the end of the bed, a large rug laid out in front of it so I could lounge about in front of the fire if I wanted. Over to the side, I could see a door leading to an en suite bathroom, and when I went to check it out, I discovered a bathroom which was a gazillion times nicer than the one I was used to in my apartment.
A girl could seriously get used to this. If I had to stay here for the rest of my life, I was okay with that.
I decided to have a bath to wash off the stench of goat before I went to bed. I found an impressive selection of bubble bath and salts in a cupboard and poured a generous dose of a lavender oil into the water before getting in.
As I relaxed into the tub, I could feel all my stresses and strains easing away. Why on earth wouldn’t I want to live like this? And what could have happened between my dad and uncle to make them cut ties?
Lying there, I thought about my dad. He’d worked hard all his life as a painter and decorator, but we were never what you’d call rich. When my mum died from cancer, it was like she took a piece of him with her. Although I was only ten, I was pretty much left to fend for myself after that. It taught me resilience, but I always wished we were closer. And then when Dad started drinking, it pretty much meant the end of our relationship.
For a long time, I blamed him for the choices I made. Before he died and made me an orphan, I had big plans. My grades were good and I was hoping to go to university to study medicine. I wanted to be a forensic pathologist with the police. I know that sounds really morbid, but there was something about working with the dead which really appealed to me. Maybe it was because that way I could give them a voice, be their advocate when they were no longer able to communicate.
But after Dad died, all that went out the window. I was put into a foster home for the next couple of years, and although my foster family were decent people, it wasn’t the same. I started hanging out with a bad crowd and my grades took a nose dive. Medicine was soon off the table, and although I managed to get accepted to do a forensics degree, I was too interested in partying to study, so I dropped out before I was thrown out.
“Where were you then, Uncle Gregory?” I muttered, before sinking under the water to get my hair wet enough to wash.
THUD!
I sat up at the sudden sound, water sloshing out of the bath and over the floor.
There was definitely someone in the house with me. And I was in the middle of nowhere, all alone.
Climbing out of the bath, I grabbed a robe hanging off the back of the door and put it on. Padding through the bedroom, I picked up a heavy statue from a sideboard, wanting something to protect myself against an intruder.
Quietly, I opened the door a little bit to see if I could see who was in my house.
Suddenly, something pushed it open...
...and Shelley trotted through, wrapping himself around my legs.
“Shelley! You nearly gave me a heart attack!” I scolded, putting the statue down so I could pick him up and give him a big cuddle. “Are you in a better mood now? Found any mice yet?”
Shelley simply purred, nudging his head against my chin, his signal that he wanted me to pay more attention to him.
So this was my mystery intruder. Shelley must have knocked something over while he was exploring the house.
I gently dropped my cat onto the bed and went back to the bathroom to finish washing my hair. Although it was good to know there wasn’t someone coming to murder me in my bed, I wasn’t in the mood to bathe any longer, so I quickly washed up, brushed my teeth, and got into my PJs before climbing into bed, tossing most of the cushions onto the floor.
“Come on, Shelley.” I patted the pillow next to me. “Let’s snuggle.”
I held up the blankets so he could get underneath, Shelley curled up in his usual place by my side, and the pair of us were soon fast asleep.
***
All the excitement must have worn me out because I didn’t wake up until gone ten the next morning. Shelley had already left the bed, and he was bound to be grumpy with me when he couldn’t find an easy supply of food. I hadn’t put out his bowls for him yet, so I braced myself for a barrage of incessant mewing when I went downstairs.
Throwing on some jeans and my favourite soft pink sweater, I went downstairs to the kitchen to make myself breakfast and sort out Shelley’s food. But as I pushed open the door, I was greeted by the sight of Rose bustling about and one very happy cat sitting on the kitchen table, watching her work.
“Good morning, Ms. Fortune,” Rose smiled when she saw me come in. “I hope you don’t mind – I took the liberty of feeding your cat. The poor thing looked hungry.”
“Yes, he does a very good impression of a cat who hasn’t been fed for days,” I said, scratching Shelley on the top of his head. I could swear that he looked incredibly smug with himself. Probably realized he’d just found his latest fan. “Thanks, Rose. And please. Call me Libby.”
“As you wish.” Rose nodded. “Now how does blueberry pancakes sound for breakfast? I can whip you something up, no trouble.”
“Thank you, but I can take care of myself.” There was something very weird about letting someone else cook for me when I’d been looking after myself ever since Mum died.
“It’s all part of the service,” Rose reassured me. “It’s what I’m here for. Unless...”
Her face paled.
“Unless what?”
“Well, your uncle told me I would always have a job here,” Rose said. “But that was before his accident. It was presumptuous of me to assume you’d want to keep me on. I’m so sorry.”
She dashed a tear away. Great. Now I felt like the world’s worst heiress.
“Of course I want you to stay,” I told her. “There’s no way I could take care of a house like this by myself. I’m just not used to having someone helping me around the place, that’s all. If it makes you happy to cook my breakfast, then I’d love some blueberry pancakes. Thank you.”
In an instant, Rose was back to her regular cheerful self, as she quickly put together some batter and started frying pancakes.
“Could you tell me more about my uncle?” I asked as she cooked. “I never knew him. Heck, I didn’t even know he existed until the lawyer contacted me about his will.”
“Oh, your uncle was a wonderful man,” Rose gushed. “So kind, so caring, so generous. Your family have looked after our little town for generations. The Fortunes used to be the lords of the manor, and even after things changed and they lost their titles, they still looked out for all of us. If someone lost their job, the Fortunes would magically find something for them to do about the pl
ace until something better came along. When the crops failed, the Fortunes would pay to ship in food for everyone. Your uncle continued that tradition. I’ll always be grateful for him taking me on after my Bill died. He gave me a job to keep me occupied and take my mind off raising five sons on my own.”
“Five sons?” My eyes widened. “That must have been a handful.”
Rose shrugged as she placed a plate stacked high with pancakes in front of me. “Boys are easy. You make sure they’ve got plenty of fresh air and exercise and they keep themselves out of mischief. Mostly.”
I heard the sound of a door opening behind me.
“And here’s one of them now,” beamed Rose. “Libby, meet my Matthew.”
I turned to see the man I’d met driving to the house yesterday.
“We’ve already met,” I said. “Although maybe I wouldn’t have recognized him now he’s not knee deep in goats...”
Rose laughed. “Ah yes. We call Matthew the goat whisperer round here because he’s the only one who can keep the wild goats under control. Those things can be a real nuisance. They eat anything they can get hold of, but the mayor won’t let us do anything about them. Says they’re essential to the ecosystem. I say what’s wrong with a good goat stew?”
“Goat stew?” I felt sick.
“Oh, no. Don’t worry. I didn’t feed you goat last night,” chuckled Rose when she saw my face. “That was good old organic free-range beef sourced from a local farmer. But if you were interested in trying some goat...”
“No thanks.” I vehemently shook my head.
“Stop teasing the poor girl, Ma,” said Matthew. “Now where do you want this?” He lifted up the large box of groceries he was carrying.
“Just pop it over there by the pantry,” replied Rose. “I hope you don’t mind, Ms. Fortune – Libby. I asked Matthew to bring up some supplies until we’d had a chance to sit down and plan out your meals.”
“I’ll be honest, Rose,” I said. “I’m not exactly a meal planning kind of person. I’ll eat pretty much anything.”
“Unless it’s goat,” put in Matthew.
“Okay, you got me there,” I conceded. “I’m more than happy to let you cook whatever you like, Rose. I’m sure it’ll be delicious.”
“Excellent. I have a lovely braised pork recipe I’ve been wanting to try out. Now, did Matthew bring enough honey...”
She picked up the box of supplies and carried it into the pantry, chatting away to herself about all the ingredients she was going to need, leaving Matthew and me on our own.
Seeing him without the stress of goats bleating around us, I noticed he was even better looking than I first realized. The shirt he was wearing hugged his body enough to give a hint of seriously defined muscles underneath and his hair was that perfect amount of thickness that made me want to run my hands through it and...
“So how was your first night in Lashire Bluff’s most haunted house?” Matthew’s question totally ruined the moment.
“Haunted? You must be joking.”
“I never joke about something as serious as ghosts,” Matthew said. “Didn’t anyone tell you? This place is riddled with them. Why do you think Ma won’t live here, even though Gregory offered her a whole suite of rooms to stay?”
“Ghosts don’t exist,” I said, although the slight crack in my voice took away the edge from my attempt at acting confident.
“So you didn’t hear any strange noises last night?” Matthew raised an eyebrow as the blood drained from my face.
“N-no. Just my cat being his usual grumpy self,” I lied.
“No spectres rattling chains, skeletons dancing at the foot of your bed?”
“Oh, hush now, Matthew,” chided Rose, coming out of the pantry. “Stop scaring the poor girl. She’s got enough to think about right now, although I’m hoping my cooking has already been enough to persuade her to stay. But if it isn’t... why don’t you take her on a tour of the town?”
“Yes, Matthew. Why don’t you show me what you do for fun around here?” I asked.
“If you insist.” There was a twinkle in his eye as Matthew extended his arm for me to take. “Come with me, milady.”
***
I studied Matthew’s profile as he drove us away from my new home and down into the town. There was just enough of a smudge of stubble to give him that bad boy look. Rose might be all homely, but there was no doubting she had a good-looking son.
“So this is the road into town,” he said. “There’s only one way in and out, so you can’t really get lost. Over there, you’ll see the river. In the summer the local kids swim in it and there’s some good fishing to be had if you’re patient. The bridge we just drove over is centuries old. Bridge nerds come to admire it because it has a mosaic on it designed by some obscure artist. That same artist painted a lot of the paintings hanging in your house – rumour has it there are all sorts of strange occult symbols woven into the pictures, but the meaning has long since been lost. That there’s the town hall. It’s even older than the bridge, and if you love paintings of dead guys, you really must go inside where you’ll get more than you could ever imagine. There’s also a little museum about the history of the town, although there’s a reason it’s little. There’s not an awful lot to say about the place. We don’t have a large supermarket – the mayor’s done a good job of keeping out all the big chains, so most people shop in the market, which runs every day in that building over there. Out back there’s a huge outdoor area with plenty of stalls and you can buy pretty much everything you’ll ever need from local farmers and artisans. There’s an Italian restaurant, a diner and one pub which does a great Sunday roast, although don’t tell Ma I said that. And that’s about it for all the local attractions.”
“What do you mean, that’s it?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Don’t you have a cinema or a leisure centre?”
“Cinema? What’s that?” Matthew deadpanned.
“You can’t be serious. This place is like something out of the Dark Ages!”
“It’s not so bad once you get used to it. We don’t need a leisure centre when we’ve got the river for swimming, and most of us work in the farms so we get plenty of fresh air and exercise that way. Anyway, you’ve got nothing to worry about. Your uncle had a top of the range home cinema installed as well as a gym, and I’m guessing you haven’t discovered the indoor swimming pool you’ve got as well.”
“I have a pool?” My mind was whirling. It was all too much to take in – or rather, it was too little. How was I supposed to stay somewhere as backward as this? I might have an amazing house, but I was going to go nuts with boredom if I didn’t get out of this town.
“Your uncle was a bit of a recluse,” Matthew explained. “The older he got, the less he wanted to leave home for any reason, so he spent all his money on creating the perfect hideaway with everything he needed. Ma always says that he saved her after Dad died, but I think she was the one who saved him. If she didn’t take care of him, I don’t think he’d have seen another human being for months and she knew it. That’s why she continued to go to the mansion, even though she’s terrified of the place.”
“Rose? Terrified?” I found it hard to believe that the outgoing, confident housekeeper could be afraid of anything, let alone my house.
“I meant it when I said the place was haunted.” Matthew’s tone was matter of fact, making me think he believed what he was saying, even though it was clearly nonsense. “Lashire Bluff has a bit of a reputation for ghosts. Goats and ancient bridges aside, the main reason the town’s been able to stay as it has for centuries is because of the roaring tourist trade in ghost tours. There’re so many stories about spirits and spectres in the town that people come from all over the world hoping to catch a sighting of one of them. Gregory would never let anyone go into the mansion, which is a shame – that place could feature in an entire season of True Life Hauntings all on its own. Ma will never talk about the things she’s seen, but she’ll never spend t
he night there and she always tries to get her work done before the sun sets, which is why you’ll usually find your dinner waiting in the oven for when you want it.”
“You’re crazy,” I scoffed.
Matthew shrugged. “Suit yourself. You can think what you like, but I know I wouldn’t want to spend the night there.”
“Well, I slept like a baby,” I said.
“What – you mean you woke up screaming every couple hours?” Matthew joked.
“Ha ha. Very funny.”
“Anyway, that concludes the tour of Lashire Bluff,” said Matthew as we bumped back over the bridge and headed up the road towards the mansion. “Any questions?”
“Why have you stayed here? Surely someone like you would be better off in a big city somewhere?”
“What – and deprive the town of my goat whispering skills? They’d be overrun in no time!”
“Come on, Matthew,” I said. “There’s got to be a reason why you haven’t left. Is there maybe a girl keeping you here?”
I bit my lip, cringing as I hoped Matthew didn’t see through my thinly veiled attempt at finding out if he was single.
“No, there’s no girl,” Matthew laughed. “Not unless you count Ma. I wouldn’t want to abandon her.”
“I thought you had four brothers?”
“I do,” said Matthew. “But three of them did exactly what you said and moved out of town, and Jake’s not exactly reliable. I like knowing for myself that Ma’s doing okay. Anyway, why would I want to leave this paradise? It’s where I grew up. I’m sure for a fancy city type like you it must seem boring, but I’ve always preferred a simpler life. There’s a lot to be said for long walks in the country, hanging out with the goats, listening to them bleating about how tough life is...”
I laughed despite myself. “I suppose it does sound nice. I just don’t know if I could spend the rest of my life with goats. They are rather smelly.”
“You get used to it after a while,” shrugged Matthew. “Anyway, this concludes the tour of Lashire Bluff. But if you want to see more of the town, I can get us a reservation at Caravaggio’s for this evening. I happen to know the manager personally.”