Whilst I put my coat on to protect myself from the chill of the night I walked in the direction where I thought I had seen the figure. When I got there I started looking upon the ground, but my search revealed nothing but some flattened grass. I glanced around this part of the garden and decided to have a walk around.
As I was checking around under the bushes and flower beds I heard the door open and saw the silhouette of Mrs King standing there. She said nothing, but continued as a silent observer.
The only thing I noticed amiss was that the side gate was unlatched. But of my mysterious onlooker there was no sign.
I trudged back to the house and Mrs King stood aside to let me pass.
“A bit cold to be out in the garden, Master James,” she said in her Scottish accent. “Did you find what it was you were looking for?”
“No Mrs King, I’m afraid not,” I replied brusquely. I was in no mood to offer explanations of my antics.
Mrs King seemed to sense this and pressed me no further. I went through to the sitting room and poured myself a large brandy, more out of annoyance than for fright. I stood there in my coat and drank it in two mouthfuls, feeling its warmth travel down into my stomach.
The house seemed very silent, I guessed that apart from myself and Mrs King everybody else had retired for the night, feeling tired after the long day.
I shrugged off my coat and laid it over the back of a chair. I took in the room around me. This was a curiously shaped house, sitting all by itself by the side of a Loch. I was never sure of its origins, just that it had been passed down. What would I do with it once it was mine? Maybe I could leave Mrs King to look after it and return to China? I could just use it for my holidays. But she was getting on now, having been the housekeeper as far back as I could remember. Even though there was no upstairs it would make a delightful family home, with its acres of large gardens surrounding it and many rooms. Maybe Louise would like to live here; there would be plenty of room for the girls. There was even a gate house large enough for one or two people to reside in.
I decided to turn in for the night; I retrieved my coat from the chair so I could replace it on the hook in the hallway and left the room.
As I walked past the study I could hear two people talking in angry whispers. I could not make out a word that was being said but I thought it to be my sister and my father. As I came level with the door the whispering stopped and my sister burst from the room, tears streaming down her face.
Louise flung herself into my arms and sobbed upon my shoulder in a most undignified way, I felt most embarrassed. But she is my sister and all things aside I care greatly for her and we were close, once. I gently removed this sniffling form from my chest and looked down at her.
“Louise!” I scolded. “Calm yourself, do tell me what has happened to bring on such an outburst” I gave her my handkerchief and she mopped at her tears. She adjusted her clothing and took a great shuddering breath. “I was just upset about Mother,” my sister replied, not quite meeting my eye.
Father came and stood in the doorway of the room. “What has happened to upset my sister so?” I enquired. Louise still stood close to me; I could feel her trembling slightly from the tears.
My father almost looked puzzled to see me, as if he had forgotten I was there in the house. “Well?” I implored again. He blinked a couple of times and said, “She’s just upset about your mother.” It was almost as though they had been practising what to say.
I held my sister firmly by the shoulders and pushed her away from me so to see her clearly. “Louise, you need to tell me what is going on here, I’ve had enough of this charade,” I pleaded. She glanced towards our father, and then said in a small whisper, “I was just upset about Mother.”
I felt defeated. My shoulders sagged and I let go of my sister’s shoulders. “Yes, right, if that’s how you want it.” I said in a hushed tone.
I turned from them and went back to my room. I had almost forgotten that I had thought the room looked different when I saw it earlier until I sat on the edge of my bed in the dark. I leant over and lit the lamp beside my bed, and in the new light, I noticed on the floor some scuff marks, as though my tallboy had been moved by pushing or dragging it. The movement was only slight but it was enough to leave a small scuff visible on the wooden floor.
I was confused; everything in my old room was exactly the same as it was when I left it earlier that evening. The fine layer of dust on my childhood things showed nothing else had been touched. I decided to investigate. The tallboy wasn’t so big that I would not be able to move it. I braced myself and pushed with both hands.
At first I thought it was not going to move but after a moment it slid almost easily away from the wall. I could not believe my eyes! Behind it was a door, only about three feet high and two feet across. It had no handle but the hinges were visible on one side. I ran my fingers around the edge until I gained purchase and pulled hard. It opened with a creak onto a cramped corridor. I could only see a few feet in, so I snatched up my lamp and held it aloft, illuminating the space before me.
I could feel a damp chill coming from the depths of this place as I ducked under the door and took a step forward. I started to make my way along the confined passage, which smelt musty and earthy. After a very short time I came to a set of steps leading downwards. I could just about see the entrance from my room behind me in the dark. A dreadful sense of foreboding overcame me and I had second thoughts about descending into the darkness below. I gave myself a talking to and told myself I was just being ridiculous.
I could feel the chill of the floor through the bottom of my shoes as I took the stairs down. There were not very many, about ten I would guess and they came out into another, very short passageway with a wooden door at the end of it. I walked tentatively up to the door and pressed my ear against it to hear if there was anything behind it. As far as I could tell, there was nothing moving. I clasped the cold metal of the latch in my hand and gave it a gentle tug upwards. It came undone easily. I applied my weight to the door and gave it a careful push. It opened. A waft of frosty air hit my face and felt damp on my skin.
The room in front of me was dark. I held my lamp above my head, the flame flickering in the slight breeze that emanated from this place and I feared it may be extinguished. I could make out a sconce on the wall not far into the room with a torch on it. I lit this from my lamp and it filled a corner of the room with light.
This room before me was carved from stone. It was no more than twenty feet square and its domed ceiling could not have been more than seven feet at its highest point. In the centre was what appeared to be an altar. What was this dreadful place? I saw another torch on the wall further along and lit that too. The room was dimly illuminated now and I could make out strange writings upon the altar and walls. I was also aware of another door set into a small alcove opposite the door I came in. I carefully walked around the altar and over to it. I tried this door and found it to be locked, but there was scuffing on the floor which showed it had been opened inwards fairly recently. I left the door alone and did a circuit of the room. I could see more of the baffling writing on the walls and altar as my eyes adjusted more and more to the dim light.
I went up to the altar and examined it more closely. I could see where candles had been burnt in places over and over leaving small mountains of melted wax. There was a sloped part in the centre of this stone slab which looked as if it had been made to support a book. As I went around the altar I felt something crunch underfoot. I looked down to see that there was some kind of dried plants under my shoes. I did not recognise them as any kind of plant I knew. The edges of the stone were worn, as if it had been used a lot at one time. I pulled my pocket watch from the front of my waistcoat and squinted at it in the weak light. It was gone 10 o’clock; had I really been down here all that time?
I was now uncertain of what to do with my new-found knowledge. Surely my father must be aware of this place?
I decided that
no matter what the time, no matter how frail he appeared to be, I had to find out now. I took one last quick look around the room and left. I latched the door behind me and returned the way I had come to my room. I did not bother to restore the tallboy to its former position but I did close the small door, as I knew that my sister’s children were in the house. Asleep at the moment, they could wake up and roam.
I marched along to my father’s bedroom, as I could see a soft light under the door I did not concern myself with knocking and went straight in.
He was propped up in bed against many white pillows; the door to my mother’s room that adjoined his was closed tight. At first I thought he was dead, until he slowly raised his head.
“James,” he whispered. He looked sad. “What on earth is the problem that causes you to burst into my chamber at this time of the night?”
I took a moment to gather myself. My father beckoned me closer. I walked to the side of the bed.
“Sit, sit,” he said and patted the bed beside him. He had never done this before. I sat on the soft eiderdown and faced him.
“Father, I am sorry to disturb you, but I have discovered something in my bedroom.”
My father looked straight at me; at last his eyes seemed brighter, though afraid.
“When I went to my bedroom tonight to sleep, I noticed that my tallboy had been moved, so I moved it too and discovered a door”
He leaned back again on his pillows and closed his eyes. “Ah,” he sighed.
“You know about this?” I inquired.
He replied without opening his eyes. “Yes my son, I do. I have been waiting years for you to discover it. Your mother wanted you to be put in another room in case this should ever happen, but I did not. I knew that it was just a door put there in case of an emergency and that the tallboy should be enough to keep you safe.”
“I went in there, I found the strange room,” I told him.
He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. A deep sigh racked his body; I thought he was going to weep. “Ah, so you found our curse.”
“That is the curse? But I thought it was a curse like you hear in a fairy story,” I replied, puzzled by this information.
“I know you did, James. But you are wrong. It is not a curse put upon us by some gypsy for a wrong doing. It is a curse as in a cause of misery”.
“Please, Father,” I begged. “Share with me this curse, so that I may understand.”
My father fumbled beside him for his water. I put the glass into his slightly shaking hand. He took a sip and a little dribbled down his chin, but he did not seem to notice. How old was my father now? I had never thought of this; I simply knew he was much older than my mother. But then I realised there was little I could tell about this man. I suddenly had an unexpected need to know everything I could about him.
“Your great-great-great grandfather was a greedy man,” my father began. “He wanted everything. He wanted riches and wealth. Everything we didn’t have back then. One night when he had been trying hard to make some money all that day, he was visited by a tall man. The tall man made a deal with him: ‘protect our religion and people for us and you can have the land and riches you require.’ He didn’t think twice and made the pact with the tall man. The man then told him that he would never be able to escape this pact; that his children and his children’s children would have to continue with it forever. My great-great grandfather did not find this a nuisance; he was just pleased he would get what he wanted.
“He was given this large piece of land by the loch and the means to build this house, but he was told he would have to build it above the shrine to protect it for all time. Even though he knew evil things and ungodly rituals happened down there, he turned a blind eye and carried on enjoying his new found life.”
My father stopped for a moment to catch his breath and drink from his glass. I was dumbfounded by all he had just told me. Was there really such selfish blood running through my veins? He started to talk again.
“Your great-great-great grandfather went on to marry a girl from the village. She was pretty and cunning, and she did not see a problem with what they had to uphold to live this life. She bore him four children, of which all were sons. So it began. The house was passed down in exchange for the keeping of this secret and protection. Every so often over the years, a young woman would go missing from one of the surrounding villages and would never be heard of again. It was always around the time of a full moon.
“I have heard chanting from down beneath this house at these times, but have chosen to ignore it. I tried to make good by building the factory with some of the money, by employing the local people and paying them a good wage. But I carry the guilt of knowing this like a rock around my neck. I’m afraid it is what may have killed your mother. I do not think she was made to keep this awful secret.”
I had so many questions to ask. I could not take in all that he had told me. Who was the tall man? Was he related to the tall man that I met today? I wanted to ask all these things and more, but did not want to bombard my poor father after this outpouring. He looked very tired now.
“Thank you for telling me, Father. I have a lot of other questions, but they can wait until the morning. I want you to rest and get some sleep”. I pulled the covers up over my father’s chest, turned and left the room.
X
My father died that night. He went peacefully in his sleep. Part of me believes that the relief of unburdening himself gave him the release he needed.
X
That evening, I had a visitor: Mr Abnett. How he knew my father was dead, I did not know. I met with him, as before, in the drawing room.
“James.” He rose and shook my hand. “I am so sorry to hear of the death of your father”
I took his clammy hand in mine again and shook it. “How did you hear of my father’s death, Mr Abnett?” I enquired.
“He hesitated for a moment, before claiming that “news travels fast in a small place”.
I knew he that was lying to me, but I did not pursue it, I just wanted this horrible meeting to be over and this man gone from my house.
“Whatever you say, Mr Abnett; now let us get on with this.”
“Well, as your father told you, this house and its contents are now yours. All the paperwork has been drawn up and the deeds will be put in your name. Just has always been the way.”
“Where are you from Mr Abnett?” I asked him
“I am from Scotland. I have lived here all my life.” He rummaged around in his large briefcase whilst he was talking and did not look up. He withdrew a sheath of papers. “I need you to sign these please.”
He laid out an ancient, important looking document. I could see four signatures on it with previous dates. There was a space for me to sign and beneath that another and another.
“May I hold onto this to read it first before I sign it?” I was feeling defiant.
He looked straight at me with those cold dark eyes. “Do you not trust your father and your grandfathers before him?” he whispered at me.
“I just want to know what I am signing. I think I have that right,” I snapped back.
“If your father is dead, then you should know what you are signing for.” He continued to hold me with his gaze. I felt drained and defeated, but I finally overcame the exhaustion that had been threatening me.
“I must not,” I said.
“Well done, Mr Fraser.” He left the papers on the table before me. “Do not take too much time for I will return this evening.”
I became so angry at this man’s attitude that I had to hold my hands by my sides to prevent myself from striking him.
Mr Abnett clicked his case closed and walked to the drawing room door.
“There is no need to see me out, Mr Fraser, I know the way only too well.” With that parting jibe he left and I heard the front door shut.
Again I reached for the brandy; this was fast becoming a habit. But I needed to calm my nerves. My sister entered the room
, her face streaked with tears.
“Has he gone now?” she asked.
“Yes Louise, he has. What do you know of him?” I gently pressed her.
“He is an evil man, I never liked him and neither did Mother. But there is something you need to know.”
“If it is about this house and the entire goings on, father told me last night. I had so many questions for him.”
“I always knew, James. Mother told me when I was younger. I’m sorry that I never told you. But there is something that you should know. You are not the first born son.”
I stood for a moment and absorbed this piece of information. I could not believe my ears.
“I’m not the first born son? But how could this be? I know not of an older brother.”
“Why do you think there is such a large gap in our ages? Why do you think it is that they only ever had the two of us? Mother had a son after me and thought after that tragedy to never have another child. But she so wanted another baby so much that she risked her health and maybe her life to have you.”
I did not know what to do. I lowered myself into the chair and let her continue.
“For some reason we have never found out why Mr Abnett never knew about this. Maybe it was because Mother was so ill with carrying our brother that she retired to her family in Stirling. I have vague memories of that time; Father hardly smiled at all. No one for miles around knew. Your brother was born frightfully early and only lived for a week or so. He was buried with Mother’s family and when she returned she told everybody, including Father, that he was stillborn. She only told me after you had left on your journeys.”
I sat for a moment in silence and let this revelation sink in. “But Louise, I knew nothing of this.”
“And that is the way Mother wanted it. But do you not see? This changes everything. You do not have to stay here in this house forever and pass it on to your sons; you are free.”
New Tales of the Old Ones Page 4