“Mummy?” Evelyn turned at the voice. Her four-year-old daughter, Sarah, was stood in the doorway watching her. In her hand was her favourite doll Rebecca. She was carrying her by her patchy hair. The doll’s face was painted with rosy cheeks and lips curved into a grotesque smile. Its blue glass eyes were looking in different directions. Evelyn hated that doll. In Sarah’s other hand was a ball. “Mummy, I want to play.” She threw the ball towards her mum. It hit the floor and slowly rolled towards her. Evelyn bent down to pick up the ball and held it out for Sarah. She noticed Sarah had a wet trail coming from her nose.
“No darling, Mummy is getting ready to go out. Go downstairs and play.” Evelyn stood up, keen to not get her silk underwear dirty. She picked up the ball and threw it out of the room and down the hallway. She turned her back on Sarah, who walked away. Evelyn turned back to the mirror. She decided on the mustard dress and slipped it on. She sat at her dressing table and started to apply her make up. Downstairs she could hear Sarah singing baa baa black sheep. Evelyn got up and put on a record. Diana Ross always helped to get her in the mood to go out. She selected a peach lipstick and carefully applied it. She then styled her hair, and selected some shoes to wear. She was ready. She turned off her record. It was quiet downstairs.
“Are you alright Sarah?” She called. There was no answer. Evelyn went to the hallway and called down again. There was no response. She went downstairs and into the kitchen. The hatch to their cellar was open. Evelyn approached the cellar and looked down the stairs. It was dark, the light to the cellar not working. She took a couple of steps down and her eyes started to adjust to the light. She looked at the bottom of the staircase. She could see Sarah’s doll, Rebecca lying on the floor, her face still in that unnatural smirk.
Magnolia House
20th May 2017
Magnolia House
London
4:42 PM
“Be careful with that one, it has fragile on it for a reason,” Jess said to the delivery man in reaction to hearing the sound of glass jangling from the rain sodden cardboard box he was carrying. She turned to her partner Mickey and rolled her eyes. But Mickey hadn’t seen, he was too busy staring at his phone.
“So Jess, how does it feel to be a homeowner?” Mickey approached, shoving his phone camera towards her. “Come on, I want to make a vlog about today.” Jess rolled her eyes and pushed the camera away.
“Maybe later then? Hey, at least I’ve found this box,” Mikey said, as he pointed at a box labelled ‘kettle’. He went inside the house, camera in one hand and the box in the other. Mickey was excited. Ever since they had met two years ago, Jess had known Mickey’s dream was to buy an old house to renovate. He would have loved to have bought a former Victorian orphanage or a converted church, but this 1970’s terraced house would have to do. He had decided to make a video log of the moving in and renovation process. Jess watched him tilting his phone around, looking at every wall and ceiling, whilst talking to the camera.
Sarah tilted her umbrella back and looked at their new home. The name ‘Magnolia House’ was ironic for a house which was surrounded by weeds and gnarled branches. The crazy paving of the driveway was uneven and damaged, with weeds sprouting up within the cracks. It led to an integral garage with an avocado green painted door which was covered in years of dirt. The two-storey high 1970’s house situated on a street of near identical terraced houses. Their most prominent feature was their angular sloped roofs which looked like a row of shark fins. The house had plastic white cladding which was covered in green grime. The white painted front door was peeling, revealing the bare wood underneath. At clouded windows hung yellowed net curtains. In the grey February rain the house looked even less appealing. But Mickey had fallen in love with it. It had been empty since the seventies and nothing had been changed inside. Jess was just pleased they had got a good deal on it. As Jess was looking, she noticed the net at next doors window twitching. She was being watched. She raised her hand and gave a friendly wave. The curtain stopped moving.
“Where do you want this one?” One of the removal men broke her thoughts. They were carrying her antique desk, her most treasured possession and the only piece of furniture they owned which hadn’t been a flat pack.
“Upstairs in the second bedroom,” she said, following them in and watching tentatively in case they damaged it.
Jess had forgotten just how much work the house needed. The walls were covered in textured wallpaper that felt like sandpaper when you touched it. The light bulb in the hallway was covered in a lampshade with more tassels then a cabaret show, and the carpet was a pattern that could bring on a hallucination. The air smelt damp like an old church. The living room was wallpapered in a circular orange and yellow pattern. There was a gas fire on one wall. Although there was no furniture in the house, there were still paintings on the walls and a trio of wooden ducks on the wall, as if in flight. There was a large mirror above the fireplace that had a large crack in one corner and rust around the edges.
“Hey, nothing that we can’t change. This place will feel like our own soon enough,” Mickey said guessing her thoughts. He slipped an arm around her waist and passed her a mug of coffee. He could always sense what she was feeling. Jess turned to him and smiled.
“You’re right. We can make this our home,” Jess said. She realised the removal men were hovering in the hallway waiting. Jess went and paid them.
“Shall we bring Bella in?” Mickey said. Bella was their tortoiseshell house cat, and Jess’s baby. Mickey went to get her cat carrier from the car. The stress of moving had caused her to cry for the whole journey. Jess went into the kitchen and checked they had everything ready. It was the first time since moving she had been into the kitchen. It was bright with double doors to the garden. The units were avocado in colour. On the floor was a large red rug which looked as out of place as it was unhygienic. Her litter tray was near the back door, the basket was in the living room and so was her cat climbing frame. Jess ignored all of these dated remains and looked at the cat climbing frame. Jess was pleased that her Bella would have more room to roam. That was about the only positive she could think of about the house. The front door shut with a bang.
“It’s ok Bella, you crazy mog. Calm down.” It was Mickey brining Bella inside. He was carrying her in her cat carrier which was covered with a blanket. Inside she wailed and scratched. “I think you need to take her.” He passed the carrier to Jess.
“Hey Bella, are you ok?” Jess set her carrier down on the sofa and knelt next to her. She lifted up the blanket and looked inside. Bella was stood up, back arched and hair on end. “Maybe I should leave her in here a bit longer until she calms down?” Jess took the blanket off but left the carrier shut. Mickey had walked off, his patience with Bella growing thin. He was stood at the back door. “Are you ok?” Jess said.
“I’m just working out what all these keys are for,” Mickey said. Jess looked at the large keyring full of keys that the estate agent had given them. Mickey identified the one which opened the back door. It creaked open. The rain had subsided, the ground left covered in muddy puddles. Outside the small patio was covered in weeds. There were a few discarded plastic plant pots in the corner. Behind the garden they could see the London skyline in the distance. Jess went and joined Mickey and looked past the garden to the grey tower blocks and tall cranes in the distance. It comforted her and made her feel lonely all at once. As ugly as their house was, it was a sensible purchase. A run-down house in the suburbs which one day would be worth a lot more. As they looked she heard a noise next door. It was someone in the garden. Jess raised her finger to her lips to signify Mickey to not talk. She crept over to the wooden fence and looked through a small hole into next doors garden. This garden was full of plants and flowers. In fact, they had taken over the small garden making it a forest. She looked through the foliage and could make out a petite, hunched over woman with patchy grey hair. She was wearing a moth-eaten cardigan. She was bent over, she
ars in hand. As Jess watched the woman stood up and turned around, looking at the fence exactly where Jess was peeking through. Jess jumped back. She knew that the hole was too small for the woman to see through, but that didn’t stop her feeling tense.
“Let’s go back inside,” Jess said. They went back into the kitchen and Jess went into the adjoining living room. She peeked into the cat carrier, Bella was now still. Mickey was busying himself in the kitchen, so Jess decided to go and explore upstairs. She went up the staircase, which creaked with every step, and into the main bedroom. Their bed was in the middle, surrounded by boxes arranged haphazardly by the removal men. She inspected the brown floral wallpaper that was peeling from the corners. The air was thick with dust. Jess went over to the window and pulled back the dirty net. She opened the window as wide as it would go. Fresh post rain air gushed into the room. She looked out across the street. Staring back was a row of identical houses. The street below was full of parked people carriers. An old man walked past pushing a trolley that creaked with each slow shuffle he took. They were in suburbia. Jess sighed. She already missed their old flat. It was a small one bedroom flat in Camden which had cost them a small fortune to rent. But she loved the hustle of being in the middle of everything and two minutes away from the tube. The smell of street food cooking, the sound of the market traders, and how the flat shook sometimes when a train went past. But they couldn’t afford to buy anywhere in Camden, it was only by moving further afield that they could afford it. And this area was supposed to be up and coming. Whatever that meant.
Jess stepped away from the window and went to the second bedroom. This room was covered in ugly wooden cladding. Up against the wall was her desk. She ran her hands over the aged wood. Jess was a writer and this desk was where she had always worked. As she was looking around she heard a noise above her head. She looked up at the ceiling. It was a creaking sound coming from the attic. Jess reached up on tip toes and touched the ceiling. She thought she could sense something move up there.
“Jess?” Mickey called her. “Come here.” She turned around and headed to the door.
“Yes Mickey?” She called down.
“Come and let the cat out so we can put the dinner on,” he called. Mickey wasn’t asking out of concern for her, he was only thinking of his own stomach. Bella was always fed first so she didn’t try to eat their food when they were eating. Jess glanced up at the celling then headed downstairs and into the living room. She looked in the cat carrier. Bella was asleep. She opened the door and put an arm in, scooping the sleeping Bella up into her arms. She was a warm mass of fuzz, and Jess felt instantly relaxed holding her.
“Come on, let’s get you some food,” Jess said as she carried her into the kitchen. Mickey was chopping vegetables and adding them into a pot. It smelt like bolognaise. Jess shut the door behind her to keep the smell out. He had laid her bowl of food and water out on the floor ready for Bella. She scratched Bella behind her ear until she started to stir. “Come on girl, time to wake up,” Jess said. Bella woke and dug her claws hard into Jess’s arm. Jess yelped and dropped Bella onto the floor. Bella ran around the small kitchen in circles.
“Pick that bloody cat up!” Mickey shouted.
“I’m trying,” Jess shouted back. She opened the door to the living room to retrieve Bella’s carrier, then headed back into the kitchen. Bella was standing in a corner, back arched, hair on end and hissing. Jess crept closer and closer with the box.
“Here give it to me,” Mickey snatched it out of her hand. “You distract her.”
“Come on Bella, calm down,” Jess said as she held her hand under her chin at her. Bella hissed at her and tried to swipe her hand. Jess jumped to one side and tripped over the ghastly rug, causing it to slip out from underneath her feet.
“I’ve got her, stupid cat,” Mickey said as he shut the cat carrier on her. “You’re going back in the living room to calm down. Are you ok?” He said to Jess, finally noticing her on the floor, where she had fallen.
“Yeah, I’m ok,” Jess said, sitting up. She looked at her elbow, it was sore from knocking it on the floor. Her hand also hurt from where Bella had scratched her. It was not like Bella to be so aggressive, but then again, she had never moved house. “That’s it, I want to get rid of this stupid rug now,” Jess said. It was easier to blame the rug than to discuss Bella’s aggression. “Who would put a rug in a kitchen anyway? It’s most unsanitary. I don’t care if the floor is bare underneath.”
Jess started to roll up the rug, causing a cloud of dust to rise up over the room. She coughed as she worked. Mickey helped her roll it up. They then opened the back door and put it in the back garden.
“I think I had better sweep this up before dinner,” Jess said. She got a brush and dustpan out and started to sweep the floor. It wasn’t concrete like she had expected from a relatively modern house, it was wooden. She was pleased, this meant they might be able to polish up the floor rather than lay a whole new one. As she swept she noticed a gap in the floor, she followed it along, it was a straight line that went into a right angle. She followed it around and saw it made a square. Then she found a metal handle in the middle.
“You won’t believe this,” Jess said to Mickey who was cooking dinner with his back turned to her. “-But I think I’ve found a door or a cupboard or… something.” Mickey turned to look. He took out his phone, held it up and filmed Jess as she examined the floor. It was a door of about two feet wide each way. Jess lifted up the handle and pulled it. It was locked.
“What do you think it is?” Jess said.
“It must be a cellar, of some kind of underground storage at the very least. I can’t believe this wasn’t picked up by the surveyors, what on earth did we pay them for?” Mickey said. “Here, let me try.” He grabbed hold of the handle and tried to pull it up, but to no avail.
“But this is good, isn’t it?” Jess said. “Whatever it is could add value to the home?”
“That set of keys, have you got them?” Mickey said. Jess handed them to him. He tried each one in turn. “It’s no good, there isn’t one which fits.” Jess was secretly glad. She looked down at the trap door. She really didn’t like the idea that there could be a secret room beneath their feet.
The story continues…
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Paternal Instincts
22nd April, 1964
London Bridge Hospital
London, England
09:27 AM
They were ready to conquer the world; to travel together, to live together, to grow old together, to die together. As the years went by, they’ve learned that many things between them no longer seemed so sacred. Discussions erupted into arguments and yelling contests, couple outings turned into embarrassing physical struggles to take leave, family functions were destroyed by their lack of punctuality, and communication, slowly but surely, began to wither and die. A new calling brings them together, though, or so Frances believes and looks forward to. But her husband, Hugh feels as though things couldn’t get any worse.
“Toutes nos felicitations. Congratulations,” the doctor says as he leans back into his chair. “You’re having twins.”
Frances’ smile stretches from ear to ear and her eyes gloss with happiness and surprise. She sits up on the hospital bed and examines the monitor. “Twins?” she repeats.
“Yes,” the doctor answers. “One boy and one girl.”
“Hugh, you hear that?” Frances says as she gleams and smiles at the monitor. “We’re having twins.”
“I’m—“ he begins to say, and forces himself to smile. “I’m very happy, dear.” He nods and takes a seat, and glances out of the window of the hospital room, lost in thought as his eyes cling to the rain drenched streets of London.
Hugh’s displeasure at the news wasn’t because he didn’t want children, albeit two at once, but rather he recognized that the issues be
tween them make it difficult to form the bond that he wishes they had before. He knows that things have deteriorated between them, and although he had become physical with Frances, he feels he loves her and has told her, “it was for your own good.” After all, Hugh grew up in a household where no woman was allowed to back-talk her husband.
A short time after the beatings began, before the pregnancy, Hugh noticed a slight change in Frances’ behaviour. He was led to believe that she was beginning to “respect” him, to stay on his good side as “a wife should be,” but Hugh began to let go of the belief when he notices how secretive Frances was starting to make him feel. Hugh would work his long hours at the office, while Frances stayed home taking care of the house. He’d come home from work, and Frances would quite often be on the phone. It wasn’t the phone calls that bothered him though, it was how she would quiet her voice, almost to a whisper, and take the phone with her to another room and shut herself away for hours at a time. Frances would then come out, make dinner without saying much to Hugh, and give him a pecky kiss on the cheek before she turned herself in for the night.
Hugh cannot recall Frances having any close friends, so seeing her on the phone this often, laughing as hard as she did, was out of the ordinary. He asked her once, though, “Who’s that you talkin’ to, Frances?” Frances placed her hand over the speaker of the phone and answered, “a friend, Hugh. Just a friend. I’ll be off shortly.”
There have been times when Hugh felt he needed to put his foot down, to tell Frances that her wifely duties weren’t pleasuring him, that he needed much more. But he couldn’t. The stress and exhaustion from work and the extra hours were taking a toll on him, and so he let Frances be, until something brought back the energy he needed to look into Frances’ change in behaviour.
The Haunting of Westmore Hospital - Behold the Doctor of Death Page 6