by Helen Phifer
The chilling new horror from bestselling author Helen Phifer.
1933, Mother Superior Agnes offers sanctuary to a desperate young woman fleeing for her life. Only to wake in the morning to discover a terrible fate has befallen one of the sisters – in a room locked from the inside. Agnes can’t help but fear that she has allowed a great evil to enter the convent, but she has no idea how far-reaching the consequences of that one fateful night will be…
Over eighty years later, Kate Parker – divorced, alcoholic and broke – moves into the dilapidated old convent she dreams of turning into a bed and breakfast, whilst changing her life. Although the locals refuse to go near the place at night, Kate is determined to stay while the renovations take place. But when she starts to hear strange noises at night, and the crucifixes she had removed reappear on the walls, Kate starts to suspect she is not entirely alone in her new home.
A chilling and disturbing new novel from the bestselling author of The Ghost House.
Praise for HELEN PHIFER’s Annie Graham series
‘If you haven’t read any of the books in this series yet, you don’t know what you’re missing!’ – Splashes into Books
‘The Ghost House is the most exciting book I have read in a very long time, and would make an absolutely perfect Halloween read! Amazing début from Helen Phifer and I eagerly await more from her!’ – Judging Covers
‘It was an atmospheric, spooky read, ideal for the season.’ – I Heart Reading
‘The story constantly kept me on the edge of my seat. The Ghost House is a magnificent read and it's perfect for those who have a strong stomach and nerves of steel!’ – Librarian Lavender
‘I really found my heart thumping through some of the passages, and I blame Helen for sleepless nights when I was wondering what would happen next!’ – Amy (Amazon reviewer)
‘I was really impressed by this book. … I was amazed how the author got inside of the mind of the serial killer and really showed you his psychotic thought processes.’ – Elder Park Book Reviews
‘The twists and turns are fascinating.’ – A J Book Review Club
‘If you love paranormal and crime novels, then this series is the one for you! But not only that, Helen also manages to grip you from the start, with romance thrown in and a lot of suspense. The stories jump from past to present throughout which shows incredible storytelling as you do not get confused by this once, it really adds to the storyline.’ – Nikki xoxo (Amazon reviewer)
Also by Helen Phifer
The Annie Graham Series
The Ghost House
The Secrets of the Shadows
The Forgotten Cottage
The Lake House
The Girls in the Woods
The Good Sisters
Helen Phifer
HELEN PHIFER
lives in a small town called Barrow-in-Furness with her husband and five children. She has lived in the same town since she was born. It gets some bad press but really is a lovely place to live, surrounded by coastline and not far from the Lake District, where she likes to spend at least one of her days off from work. She has always loved writing and reading and loves reading books that make the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Unable to find enough scary stories to read, she decided to write her own.
You can contact or follow Helen on her blog at helenphiferblog.wordpress.com, her website at www.helenphifer.com and on Twitter: @helenphifer1.
I dedicate this book to all my amazing readers; you are what makes this all worthwhile and I’m eternally grateful for your support. Helen xx
I would like to thank my fabulous editor Victoria Oundjian for her patience and guidance; also huge thanks to the rest of the team for making this book what it is. A big thank you to the lovely Jan Johnson for answering my strange questions without raising an eyebrow. I’d like to thank my husband Steve for making me write on the days I didn’t want to. My kids for cooking their own meals – trust me it’s much safer that you feed yourselves. I’d like to thank Jerusha for looking after Jaimea so that I can escape to my office and work. You’re a little star. I’d also like to say a big thank you to all my writing friends, who are always there with support and guidance. Thank you to Sam and Tina who are always there when I’m in need of coffee and to talk about real life. I don’t know what I’d do without you. Finally a huge thank you to my gorgeous Mam and Dad for being the best, most supportive parents a girl could ever wish for. I love you both for ever and always.
Contents
Cover
Blurb
Praise
Book List
Title Page
Author Bio
Dedication
Acknowledgements
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Excerpt
Copyright
Chapter One
Kate Parker pushed her sunglasses on top of her head and stood with her hands on her slender hips, admiring the building in front of her. It was huge, old, a complete wreck – and all hers. This was going to be her home for the foreseeable future, hopefully for ever. The acre of land surrounding the building was overgrown and neglected, but there was a lot of potential. The one thing that Kate had always had since she was a child was vision. She knew that this sad, unloved building – once the work had been completed – would make an amazing, boutique bed and breakfast, as well as the perfect home for her daughters.
‘What do you think, Amy? Does it meet with your approval? I hope so because I’m going to be investing everything that you left to me, and every penny I get from the prick when the divorce is finalised, and turning it into our dream.’
Her voice echoed, then fell flat in the clearing and she had to blink back the tears. Amy – her best friend, who had been the sister she’d never had – had also shared this dream with her. Ever since they’d met fifteen years ago this had been their plan. She would have loved it. They had spent the last two years before Amy had been diagnosed with terminal cancer looking for the perfect property to renovate, but had never found one that quite ticked all the boxes or was within their price range.
The pain in her heart always took her by surprise, the grief a sharp sting that would take her breath away. It was so ironic that now Amy was no longer here, and Kate was on her own, she now had enough money to buy this property. She’d heard about it from one of the girls at the estate agents where she used to work before her perfect life had been washed away from under her feet.
Sam had phoned her up the same day that she’d been asked to visit and make a valuation ready to put it on the market. Luckily for her Sam hated Kate’s ex-husband Martin – who owned the estate agents – almost as much as Kate did. She had come and picked Kate up, driving her to view the property. They hadn’t been able to go inside because it was boarded up at every door and window, but Kate had fallen in love with its Gothic structure, large arched windows and overgrown, neglected grounds.
Sam had handed the owners’ details to Kate and told her she would give it a few days before she rang them back to double check they wanted Parker’s Estate Agents to go ahead and market it. Kate had phoned the owners the minute she got back to her cramped, one-bedroomed flat and told them she was prepared to make them a cash o
ffer, saving them the extortionate estate agents’ fees, if they agreed on a private sale.
Not only did the owners agree there and then that she could buy it, they told her they would accept her offer, which was a substantial amount lower than the three hundred thousand they had told Sam they were looking for. Now six weeks later she was the proud owner of the house and not only had she got it for a bargain but she had also managed to swipe it from under her greedy, soon to be ex-husband’s feet. She didn’t know what was more fulfilling: getting the property before he did or the fact that she was about to make her lifelong dream come true.
The sound of tyres crunching along the gravel broke her trance and she turned to see the battered grey van that belonged to the cowboy heading towards her. Amy had nicknamed him the cowboy because of his love of checked shirts, faded jeans and rigger boots. Oliver Nealee worked for Martin at the estate agents doing all his property maintenance, and Kate was hoping she could convince him to take over the project management for the renovations on the house. She didn’t know any other builders, he was always such a polite, funny, hard-working man and she knew she could trust him. It was probably the meanest nickname anyone could call him – the cowboy – but it just suited him.
He parked behind her, narrowly missing her pushbike, which she’d left discarded in the long grass, and she had to grab it and drag it away from the front tyres. He swung his legs out of the van and for the first time ever she caught a glimpse of his tanned, muscled calves. The denim shorts he had on were faded just like his jeans always were.
‘Sorry, Kate, I didn’t see your bike there.’
‘My fault, I just dumped it when I got here.’
He looked at her and she hoped he wasn’t thinking what a mess she was. Her blonde cropped hair was badly in need of a cut. She wasn’t wearing any make-up and since she’d left Martin she hadn’t bothered to keep up with the Botox and fillers – all the money she’d spent the last three years trying to look much younger than her forty-five years and he’d still had an affair with the office junior who was twenty-three.
‘It’s been a while. How are you? You look great.’
She began to laugh and felt her cheeks burn. ‘Always such a gentleman. I’m okay, thanks. I know I’ve looked better, but I have no one to please now so I don’t bother.’
‘Well you look lovely. I think you look better than you have in a while.’
There was a pause. She hoped he wasn’t going to mention her drinking. She didn’t drink as much as she used to when she was with Martin. She knew one day she would be brave enough to try and stop. In fact she was so excited at the thought of getting her life back on track she had decided to try and cut it down once she moved into her new house. It wasn’t something she was proud of and until now she hadn’t had much reason to stop. Martin had taken her job, home, children and life away from her, leaving her with nothing. Who could blame her for drowning her sorrows in a bottle or two of wine every night?
‘So what’s all this about then? Dragging me away from unblocking a toilet for Martin?’
‘I see he still has you doing all his glamorous jobs then? I wanted to know if you would help me – well not help me, I mean work for me. I’ll pay you more than what he pays you. I need someone to sort this out for me and I’d like it to be you.’
He looked around the building and the grounds then whistled. ‘That’s some restoration project you have there, Kate. It’s going to be a big, messy job and it won’t be cheap. I can tell you that without going inside and taking a look. Are you sure you want to do this?’
Kate stared at the house – her house – then turned and glanced at the gardens before looking him straight in the eye.
‘I can live without modern conveniences. I already have been in the crappy flat that I’m living in now. What I can’t live without is this house. I can’t explain how it makes me feel. I actually tingle inside when I look at it. I’ve never really believed in fate, but I truly believe that this house is supposed to belong to me. I knew it the very first moment I set eyes on it. And if not driving a fancy car or having my nails manicured or my hair cut and coloured every month means that I can afford to renovate it, then those are just a few of the sacrifices that I’m willing to make. So yes, I’m sure I want to do this. Do you think it’s really bad? I haven’t even been inside, but I got it for a complete bargain after I fell in love with it. It’s the only time I’ve ever felt love at first sight. Would you be able to take the board off so we can get in the front door and take a look around it?’
‘If I take the board off the door the house is going to be open and insecure for anyone to get in, unless the door actually works and it’s just been boarded up to keep it secure.’
‘Please can you take it off – and then can you fix the door for me if it needs it? Because I need to move in, today, and I don’t want it to be insecure.’
He looked at her as if she’d gone mad. ‘You want to live here, on your own, when you haven’t seen the inside? It might not be in a fit state to live in. How long has it been empty?’
‘Twenty, maybe forty-odd years, I think. I’m not too sure, but yes I hate it where I live at the moment. It’s a cramped council flat. Last night the flat opposite mine was broken into and set on fire. The drug dealer above me had his door kicked in and seven bells of shit kicked out of him the day before, so yes living here has got to be a better option than living there.’
***
Unable to speak, Oliver shook his head – thinking that she was either insane or plain stupid for buying this house without even looking inside it, but he’d always had a soft spot for her and if he was honest with himself a bit of a schoolboy crush. He used to watch Martin treating her like a second-class citizen, openly flirting with anything in a skirt and generally being a bastard to her. If he hadn’t had enough problems in his own life he would have liked to take him to one side and teach him a thing or two about how to treat a lady, but Martin paid his wages. So until the day he didn’t need the money, he’d been stuck and unable to have his own opinion.
Oliver grabbed his tool box from out of the back of the van. Opening it up and taking out his cordless drill, he began to unscrew the board off the front door. He wondered if she was still drinking as much. He wondered if the purchase of this house had been when she was in an alcohol-fuelled haze or whether she had it more under control now. She was such an attractive woman; it would be a shame to watch her lose her sparkle as the alcohol dulled it until she looked like all the other alcoholics her age. It made him so angry inside to see her drowning her life away inside a bottle, when Ellen – his wife – had fought for every minute of hers.
***
Kate stood watching him with her fingers crossed behind her back. This was going to be amazing. She had such a good feeling about it and just knew that it was. As he took the last screw out and prised the board from the door frame, she let out a small whoop of delight. Behind the faded board was a big, arched stained-glass door that would have looked at home in a church. It was beautiful. The dark oak looked in good condition and pretty solid. The brass lock was rusted and he held his hands out for the keys. Kate passed them to him and watched him fiddle around with them for a few minutes. It wouldn’t turn. He looked at her over his shoulder and must have seen the disappointment that was etched onto her face.
‘I’ve got some WD-40 in the van.’ He walked over to retrieve it and returned a minute later with a can of spray-on grease and two huge torches. He handed them to her then sprayed the grease in and around the lock. He tried once more and this time with a bit of twisting the key gave in and turned. He shoved his shoulder against the door, which was stuck, pushing it open to reveal the darkness inside. It smelt damp, foisty and it was very black inside.
For a fleeting moment Kate felt an overwhelming sense of despair wash over her, but no sooner had she questioned what was going on and it had gone, leaving her feeling excited once more. They switched on the torches and stepped inside, sweeping
the beams around the entrance hall that was now covered in a thick layer of dust. It had obviously once been very grand. The walls, which were all oak panelled, were covered in thick, grey dust. The staircase was huge and from what Kate could see underneath the dirt and debris, the floor was made up of ornately tiled mosaics.
What stood out the most was the huge crucifix draped in thick cobwebs hanging on the wall directly opposite the front door. She shivered. Church and religion had been her worst nightmare when she’d been a kid. Her mother used to make her go every Sunday without fail. She’d have to listen to Father Joe deliver the longest, most boring sermons. She looked across at Oliver’s face, trying to work out if he was impressed or not.
‘Well what do you think?’
‘I think that you have taken on a huge task and you’re a braver person than I am, but it doesn’t seem as bad in here as I thought it would. I’m surprised to be honest, although for all we know the floors could be dangerous and full of dry rot.’
He picked up a piece of discarded wood spindling, which was lying on the floor, and banged it down hard on the tiles to make sure they were safe to stand on.
‘Follow me, Kate, I mean it: don’t walk off on your own. This place could be a death trap for all you know.’
She squealed and grabbed his arm. ‘It’s beautiful though, isn’t it? I mean it has so much potential. I can’t wait to get it cleaned up and started.’
***
He couldn’t help smiling to himself in the darkness. Her enthusiasm was catching. It did seem to be a pretty remarkable building.
They were so busy looking down at the floor, making sure it was safe to walk on, that neither of them saw the faceless, black, hooded figure hovering at the top of the stairs watching them. Kate’s torchlight caught the corner of the thick, silver crucifix that hung around its neck, making the light reflect a little. It disappeared back to where it had come from. Back into the shadows where it had dwelled for far too long.