The Observations

by Jane Harris

  Tuesday 8th December

  Sunday night both me and missus was alert in our beds for noises in the attic but neither one of us heard a sound. I thought that might be the end of it. However. Last night something happened that gave me the quivers again I am sure there is a rational explanation only I have not yet been able to think of it. What happened was this, I was the last to bed and had gone through the rooms checking that the fire screens were in place and the candles and lamps all out. It so happened that one candle was still burning on the side table in the parlour and so I snuffed it and left the room. A while later as I went back through the hall on my way to bed I seen a flicker of light under the parlour door. That is strange, I thunk to myself. And when I went in was greatly surprised and not a little worried to see the same candle on the side table. Burning brightly as before!

  The only thing I can think of is that I had not snuffed the wick well enough first time and that the flame had rekindled without my noticing the more I think about it now, the more I am convinced that this is surely what happened.

  Wednesday 9th December

  Now something else strange has happened. Earlier today when the missus came back from church she called me to her room and when I went in she was stood by the bed. I seen straight away that she was desperate pale in the face and worried looking. Have you been in this room while I was out? she says and I tellt her no marm I had been down in the kitchen ever since she had left, washing the walls as she had commanded me. Then missus stepped to one side and showed me a pair of pale yellow gloves laid out on the bed. Did you put these out for me? she says. Tell the truth Bessy and shame the devil I promise I will not be angry with you, she says. Well I wish I could have said otherwise but I had to tell her that hand on heart I had not touched the gloves. We both stood there staring at them, the missus transfixed and trembling like she might run from the room or scream at any moment. After a few seconds, I pulled myself together. I stepped forward very matter of fact picked up the gloves and put them back in her glove drawer. There, I says. You probably put them out yourself marm and changed your mind at the last minute (for she had wore her grey gloves to church). And indeed this is probably what happened. But missus just shook her head at me and then she turned and went downstairs. When I followed her down I seen her out in the yard sweeping (in her good frock!) and it was an hour before I could persuade her to come back in, she was foundered and shivering and I had to warm her up at the kitchen fire. She made me promise that from that moment on I would report to her anything out the ordinary no matter how small or inconsequential it might seem and I agreed. Even though I dare say she is letting her imagination run away with her like what master James says.

  Sunday 13th December

  Well the strangest thing this morning. I was not witness to it myself so can only report 2nd hand. It seems that missus had another restless night she has been troubled by further noises either that or she can’t get to sleep for wondering whether or not she is going to hear things. Anyway. Apparently she gave up trying to sleep after some hours and went downstairs to start the day around ½ past 4 o’clock. Everyone myself included was of course still abed. Imagine the surprise of the missus upon entering the parlour to find that the fire had already been cleared, laid and not only that but lit! A little blaze burning merrily in the grate. (Almost like as if the room had been made ready for her!—that is what I says after missus tellt me about it when I got up a few hours later.) The minute I appeared downstairs Missus pulled me into the parlour and pointed at the hearth. And what is your rational explanation for that? she says to me. I have to admit I didn’t have one. My only thought was that perhaps master James had stoked up the fire and whaled on more coals before he went to bed and that somehow these coals had lasted all night. But when master James got up he claimed he had done no such thing. And when missus and me exchanged a startled look he put up his hands and waggled them and made a scary wailing noise. Then strolled away laughing to himself about women. Master James does not believe this balderdash about ghosts and is too busy to give it consideration he is up to his oxters with plans and preparations for his fountain in Snatter. Only a few days ago I might have been as sceptical myself but even I am beginning to wonder. Poor missus is quite beyond herself I think the fire this morning gave her a fright. She will not thank me for this but despite all evidence to the contrary I still hope that we might find a rational explanation.

  Thursday 17th December

  The last few nights have been quiet neither missus nor I have heard any noises. However, a few more strange things have happened in the daytime. The first might simply be due to my forgetfulness. I swear that when I came down on Tuesday morning I have no memory of filling the kettle and putting it on the fire, but when I turned around next minute there it was full of water. Steaming away, for all the world like someone knew my job and was doing it for me! I did not want to worry missus by telling her this but after some consideration I decided it was better to do so as she had asked me to report anything unusual. I did stress to missus that I may well have filled the kettle ½ asleep and put it on the fire without even remarking upon it, as we often do habitual things in a mechanical way. But she did not seem too convinced by my explanation. One thing should be borne in mind. As I said to missus. If it is a ghost that is doing these things it is a very helpful and considerate ghost, you might almost say an eminently practical ghost (so far at any rate). You would almost think it wanted to give service.

  One further strange occurrence. Missus called me to her room this afternoon, she was sat in her chair and when I came in she pointed at a pair of shoes on the floor. Missus has several pairs of shoes and I recognised these as one of her everyday pair she wears around the place. She continued pointing at them while looking at me and saying not a word. There appeared to be nothing out the ordinary about the shoes and so I wondered why she was drawing my attention to them. Eventually she spoke. Did you clean these Bessy, in the last day or two? she says. Think carefully, she says. I looked at the shoes. They were very clean right enough, the shine would have reflected your threepenny bit. Much as I would have liked to lay claim to such expertise in shoe polishing, I could not. No marm, I says. Take your time, says missus. You might have cleaned them and forgotten about it. No marm, says I again. Sure I would have remembered giving them such a polish as that. Missus seemed strangely satisfied at that and yet somehow panicstruck. And then she tellt me I could go. I am a little worried about her. There was a faint smile on her lips when I left the room but her eyes was blazing like she had a fever. I do hope she is getting enough rest.

  Tuesday 22nd December

  A few nights ago master James near ate the head off missus because she was yattering on about her shoes being mysteriously polished, like as if the ghost had done it. He shouted at her that she was being foolish and that he didn’t want to hear another word on the subject OR ELSE! And so she has not talked about it in front of him ever since.

  Having said that, these past few days have been very quiet and once more I was beginning to believe that we were returning to normal at Castle Haivers when something happened today to make me think otherwise. The morning started ordinary enough with me going about my chores as usual and missus sorting through the linen upstairs. About ½ past 10 down she came to the parlour to get on with her sewing and I took her in some tea at about 11, it was as I was setting down the tea tray that I noticed something under the bureau. Look, marm, I says. Something has fell here. I reached down beneath the bureau and pulled out the object it turned out to be a metal hair clasp painted with blue flowers like daisies. How did that get here? I says and turned to look at missus. Well I have never seen the colour drain from a face so quickly. Whatever is the matter, marm? I says. Is it your clasp? And I held it towards her. She shrank back moaning and covering her eyes. Take it away take it away, get it out my sight! she goes. But what shall I do with it? I cried. I don’t care, wails missus. Just get rid of it. So I ran out the room with the clasp and mad
e sure to put it in a place that missus will not see. It is a mystery to me why a hair clasp should cause anyone to be so upset but it is none of my business. In any case I trust that missus has good reason as she is not one to get upset over nothing. We were not to have a special bird for Christmas as master James does not want too much fuss on the day. But lucky enough a fox ripped the wing right off a goose over on the farm and it has been killt and will go on the festive table, I do hope there is some left for me.

  Friday 25th December

  Christmas Day is here and we have had a quiet time of it as missus has not been feeling quite her usual self. She hardly ate one pick of her goose at dinner. It is not a good meat to serve cold because of the fat but we will have to make do with it for the next while or give it to the cat. Missus smelt lovely of honeysuckle perfume, it must be a Christmas gift from the master. Tomorrow is Saint Stephens, I am hopeful.

  Saturday 26th December

  Missus gave me a book for my gift it is about a servant girl what is kidnapped by her master because he has took a fancy to her, I do be thinking the girl is feeble, she keeps writing letters to everybody about her predicament which is as much use as a sick headache what she should do is beat the lard out him. Master James told me that they do not really believe in giving gifts just for the sake of it but that after some consideration he had decided to give me a handkerchief (plain). I cannot express how grateful I am at his generosity. Such a useful present! For everyone always needs a snoot cloot. From now on every time I blow my nose I will think of him.

  I was also surprised to receive a gift from Hector a bag of Parma violets, he said he remembered I was eating them the first day he met me walking along the Great Road and so he knew I liked them. It was a kind thought and I felt bad I had not got him anything. He has been better behaved of late, he is only young what can you expect.

  Later in the day, missus called me into the parlour and asked me if I had took to wearing scent. No marm, I tellt her. For it is a fact I do not have any perfumes, only my natural odour! Missus came up and sniffed my neck and wrist, but she did not smell anything she seemed most perturbed. Then she started walking about the room, sniffing the air. Can you not smell it? she goes to me. I did as I was bid and sniffed but could smell nought. No marm, I says. What is it you can smell?

  Honeysuckle, she says. I looked at her. Marm, I says. Did master James not give you a honeysuckle perfume for Christmas. No, she says. He gave me no perfume. Well that is strange, I says. For I thought I smelt you wearing honeysuckle perfume yesterday and I noted it. Because normally you wear your Roses. Yes, she goes, my Attar of Roses. I do not wear honeysuckle. And then she looked very strange and says, But I know someone who did.

  Who was that, marm? I asked her, but she just shook her head.

  Let me know if you ever smell honeysuckle about the place, she says. And fetch me immediately. Then she left the room sniffing the air like a hound dog, I note it down here so that I am sure to remember to tell her if I ever smell the honeysuckle again.

  Thursday 31st December

  After more unexplained noises last night I ventured to make a suggestion to missus this morning. My suggestion was this. That we should in the daylight hours go up to the attic and make an inspection of it from top to bottom. To put our minds at rest that there is nothing up there. At night you imagine all sorts of horrors because of the dark. But who knows in daylight we might even find the nest of whatever vermin is causing these disturbances or perhaps the hole where they are getting in. Master James would only pour scorn on our activities he says he will not countenance any more claptrap about ghosts and so we waited until he had left for the day before arming ourselves with two lamps to illuminate dark corners and then we climbed the stairs. Missus began at one end of the attic and I took the other and we scoured the place from top to bottom. Neither one of us discovered anything out the ordinary. Though I did find an old canvas trunk that seemed to merit further investigation but when I drew missus attention to it she told me just to leave it be. After about ten minutes or so we met in the middle of the attic beneath the skylight and confirmed to each other that we had found nothing.

  It was then that I happened to glance upwards towards the light and noticed that some person had traced something in the dirt on the window pane. Look here, I says to missus. Someone has wrote on the window. We both strained upwards on tiptoe to see more clearly. What does it say? says missus. I can’t see, she says. I peered hard and read it out to her. It says, something something My Lady. Wait a moment, yes I see now, it says Help Me My Lady.

  And that was when missus fell to the floor in a dead faint she just crumpled at the knees and dropped like a flower scythed at the stem. I tried to revive her and shouted for help but nobody came and so it was on my own that I had to carry her downstairs and put her to bed. Which is where she has been ever since.

  PART THREE

  12

  I Get Another Shock

  AND THAT WAS when missus fell to the floor in a dead faint. Well that is what I wrote in my journal. Because I thought she would probably read it later as she always did and there were certain things I did not want her to know.

  But wait till I tell you, what really happened that morning was a flip sight worse, even now remembering it all these years later, the skin on me crawls. I can shut my eyes and in a moment put myself right back there in the attic with her along side of me.

  There she is. Flushed from the exertions of our search, her head tilted back as she peers upwards. A strand of hair is come adrift, it hangs at the side of her face next her dimple. My hair is also falling down—for what am I after doing but walking slap bang into a flipping cobweb. I just about leapt out my skin and then had to spend ten minutes shaking out my hair in case the spider was on me. I am still a little breathless from this encounter. Both me and missus have put down our lamps. Rain pitter-patters against the glass as we strain on tiptoe to see the window more clearly. The light is not good and missus leans against me to get a better view.

  ‘What does it say?’ she goes. ‘I can’t see.’

  I let on I can’t make it out. ‘It says something something, My Lady,’ I tell her. ‘Wait a moment. Yes, I see now. It says Help Me My Lady.’

  At this point, missus gasps so she does and clutches my arm, just above the elbow. ‘Thus do lambs nuzzle the slaughtermans hands.’ (Nobody said that, it was more of a thought in my head). Clutch away, madam, is what I am also thinking, for I suppose she has simply took fright and caught a hold of me for support. As for me, I am still acting my arse off pretending to peer at the ‘ghostly’ writing. Then the noises start to bubble up in her throat. The first no more than a cough, a clearing of the passages. But then she begins to gag. Much as if she has swallowed a spider or fly and is trying to hawk it back up. I turn to look at her and the sight that greets me draws chills down my back. She is staring at the skylight, but her phiz shows not the mild alarm that I have been expecting, instead it is as though something has took ahold of her, as though she is in some kind of horrific Trance.

  ‘Missus?’ I says.

  Her mouth flaps but not a word emerges. Then as I watch, her head hangs to one side. Her tongue juts out and moves in spasms, the gagging sound in her throat now has the threat of boke behind it Jesus Murphy she is in convulsions. Her fingers grip my arm but she no longer seems aware of my presence. Her shoulders jerk back and forth as the low gargle begins to rise in pitch and volume higher and higher until she is screaming, screaming at the top of her lungs, it makes my ears buzz. Her mouth froths, her eyeballs roll back in their sockets and at the highest note of the scream her eyes snap wide open. She stares straight at me her mouth agape, her wild gaze locked onto my horrified one. And still she screams. The sound travels right through me, my whole body prickles, it is as though she is Electrified. Yet can I prise her fingers off my arm, can I buckie. If only I could break away from her grasp then she might stop. Yet how? I consider giving her a skelp but this does not seem force
ful enough and so instead (may God forgive me) I punch her as hard as I can, a good old biff square in the jaw.

  Her head snaps back, her fingers lose their grip, she staggers away from me. Then she crumples at the knees and drops, drops like a flower scythed at the stem. She tumbles sideways, there is a thud as her head hits the floor. Dust rises, floating to the rafters, and all around her spread the soft petals of her skirts. For a minute I stand there petrified, my fist still raised. Missus has landed on her side, one arm outstretched the fingers curled. Blood trickles from her lips. Apart from that her face is drained of colour. Her eyes are shut her mouth sags, tugged down at the corner like somebody dead. She looks completely lifeless.

  I do be thinking that I might be in a spot of bother.

  Not least, I might lose my job. Either for punching her or if it is discovered that the haunting has been my doing.