by Helen Phifer
The girls whooped with delight and Kate followed him to the counter at the back of the shop.
‘Birthdays, is it?’
‘No, we live quite a long way from civilisation and I promised them a bike each if only to stop them driving me mad.’
‘Well that’s as good an excuse as any.’
He began to ring up the sale and she took out her debit card. Her girls deserved a treat. She hadn’t been able to buy them anything for months. If it meant she had to buy cheaper taps for the bathrooms it was a trade she was willing to make.
***
Ethan and Jack stood back to let Ollie go up into the attic first. He could feel his palms begin to sweat and his heart was racing at the thought of going up there. He couldn’t let them see how scared he was because they’d never let him live it down. Sliding the bolts back on the door he pulled it towards him. When he turned around he couldn’t help but see the looks of fear that passed between the two twenty-year-olds standing behind him.
There was a light switch on the inside wall, and he leant forward and flicked it down. The watery light wasn’t very bright. He needed to see if Kate wanted the fitments all replacing with either fluorescents or spotlights. It was far too dark for such a big space and if you needed to see in all the corners this crappy lighting was never going to do. He began to climb the creaking stairs. That was a plus sign. He’d never heard them creaking at all last night so there definitely hadn’t been anyone of the human variety walking up or down them.
Then he realised that meant only one thing and he didn’t want to even contemplate what else it could have been that could move silently. The fear that was taking over him was completely irrational, but his feet didn’t want to get any further to the top than they were now. He thought about Kate yesterday when she’d got to the top of the stairs on the first floor and felt something rush through her. He’d brushed it off. What if it happened to him – what would he do then? He stepped into the darkness at the top and gave his eyes a couple of seconds to adjust to the gloom. The light up here was a simple pull-string one, but he wanted to see if there was anyone hiding in the shadows before he turned it on. The attic space was too big and too gloomy.
‘Turn the fucking light on, boss. How the hell are we supposed to see where we’re going?’
He lifted his hand to pull the string and didn’t realise just how much they were shaking until it took him three attempts to grab hold of it. Tugging the light as hard as he could, the single bulb came into life. It wasn’t much brighter than when it had been off. He stepped forward, scanning everywhere as fast as he could. He couldn’t see anything and he felt Ethan standing behind him. Jack lost his footing and managed to trip and fall into the back of Ethan, who then fell forwards and knocked into Ollie.
‘Jack, you stupid fucker, watch what you’re doing.’
‘Sorry, I could have sworn someone pushed me and made me lose my balance.’
Ollie felt his blood run cold. Hadn’t someone or something tried to push him over the banister not long ago? He turned around to see if there was anyone standing behind Jack. There wasn’t.
‘Come on, you two, let’s do a quick search and then we can get the hell out of here. I hate it up here and I have no idea why.’
Ethan muttered something in agreement. Ollie went in one direction where there was a pile of boxes and the other two, who wouldn’t leave each other’s sides, went in the other. Normally they would have been laughing and joking, taking the piss out of each other. Ollie had never heard the pair of them so quiet. The atmosphere up here was so heavy. It made him feel tired just thinking about all the work that needed to be done up here. Maybe he could convince Kate to leave the attic alone for the time being.
The roof was sound and didn’t leak because the first thing they’d done had been to repair all the holes – in the early days before things started to get weird. If she wanted to renovate up here she could get another team of builders in because he didn’t think for one moment that he would be able to work up here without being scared of his own shadow the whole time. Changing his mind about checking the boxes, he walked back towards the stairs.
‘Come on, thanks for coming up with me. We’ve wasted enough time. Let’s get on with what we’re getting paid to do.’ He reached the bottom step and let out a huge breath. He hadn’t realised he’d been holding it in. Ethan was behind him and Jack thundered down the narrow staircase. He shot out of the door and slammed it shut.
‘I bloody hate it up there. Don’t make me go back up again, Ollie. Let’s just bolt it, put a padlock on it and forget about it.’
Ethan began to laugh. ‘Woohooo you’re such a wuss. You’d never survive on Scooby Doo. That red-haired girl had more bottle than you’ll ever have.’
‘Scooby fucking Doo is cartoon and that red-haired bint wasn’t real.’
Ollie couldn’t help grinning, but he agreed with Jack that putting a padlock on was a good idea. As far as he knew none of them had any reason to be going back up there. He had a new one in the van, a heavy-duty one he’d bought a while ago for the garage at his house and never got around to using.
‘You two get cracking on that last bedroom. I’m going to stick a padlock on here then I’ll come and help you.’
Both lads walked off to the opposite end of the hallway, relieved to be working well away from the attic space. Before long The Bay radio was blaring out and it almost felt like any other normal working day. He ran down to the van, got what he needed then ran straight back up. He’d never fit a hasp so fast in his entire life. The sense of relief as he snapped the lock shut was huge.
There was no denying there was something wrong with this house. How could a grown man be pushed by nothing? How on earth do you deal with a problem that you know is there, hovering in the background, yet not showing itself enough so you know what it actually is?
The girls would be going home at teatime. He would try and convince Kate to go home with him for a couple of nights. He didn’t know if she would because she was so stubborn and independent. It made him a little uneasy – the thought of letting another woman sleep in his marital bed – although once Ellen had become too ill to get around he’d made her a bed downstairs, converting the front room into everything she could need. She’d died in his arms in that room and he no longer went in there. At first he’d slept in her bed, wanting to be close to her, until the local authority had turned up out of the blue one day to remove it and every other piece of medical equipment that they had loaned them.
He was sure that Ellen would want him to be happy again. Hadn’t she spoken to him and told him to help Kate? Or had that been wishful thinking on his part? He didn’t know, but Ellen had been such a kind, amazing woman she would want Ollie to help Kate. In fact he thought that Ellen and Kate would have made great friends had circumstances allowed. He shook himself from his daydream and began to lose himself in his work, concentrating on the job in front of him so much that he didn’t have time to think about anything else.
***
When Summer’s bike was given the good to go she screeched in delight. Autumn was already riding up and down the quiet main street, having a practice. Kate thanked the man once more and stepped outside to watch her daughters wobble along on the bumpy road and try not to crash into each other. They were grinning and seemed so much happier than they had when Martin had dropped them off two days ago. She didn’t want them to go. The house would feel so empty without them. She would feel empty without them, but surely he would let her start to have regular contact with them now she was trying to sort her life out.
She wondered what Ollie was doing and her heart skipped a beat. It had been a long time since she’d felt so much as a flutter of excitement. Amy would approve one hundred per cent. She knew that she would be so happy to see her in a relationship with the cowboy and being able to see her girls again. At one point after the court case Kate had gone back to that crappy council flat and drunk so much vodka that she’d passed o
ut in the tiny bathroom without even making it to the bed. She never wanted to be like that ever again.
No matter what was wrong with the house, she would sort it out. She wanted to go and see this Beatrice woman as Joe had suggested. If they made their way back to the village, they should be there in half an hour. It was going to be painful having to walk and try to keep up with the girls on their bikes. Her phone vibrated in her pocket and she took it out, smiling at Ollie’s message.
‘Hey pretty lady, I hope you’re having fun? Xxx’
She began typing then gave up and rang him instead. He answered on the fourth ring.
‘Hello, handsome, I was wondering if you could do me a massive favour?’
‘For you, anything.’
‘I’ve ended up buying the most horrendous mountain bikes I’ve ever seen for the girls, but they love them. I thought it might keep them out of trouble and out of our hair for a bit; however, I didn’t factor in how we would get them home.’
‘I’ll be there in fifteen mins. Where are you?’
‘Ulverston, on the main street near the bike shop.’
‘See you soon.’
He ended the call and she smiled to herself – just enough time to get something from the butcher’s for tea and get an ice cream for the girls.
27 June 1940
Sister Isabella waited outside the vicarage for the priest to come outside. She knew he was inside because she’d followed him here, from a distance of course, from the church. As the other sisters and volunteers had ushered the children back through the woods to the convent, she had told Sister Maria that she needed to speak with the priest urgently; then she had turned and followed him. She had tried to knock on the door, but for some reason her shaking hand had been unable to actually touch the wood of the door. She felt as if she wasn’t good enough to be knocking on a priest’s front door, which was completely ridiculous. It was ever since she’d moved into that house that she felt like this. It may have been built for the purpose of being a convent, but never in her life had she been somewhere that seemed to be a mockery of the word ‘religion’ in such a way that the house made her feel.
It scared her; the nightmares came every single night. Always the same, always of her causing harm to one of the children. She would wake up just as she’d looked down at her bloodstained fingers. Her eyes would fly open and she’d feel her heart racing and the cold sweat pouring down the back of her neck. What was wrong with her? She loved children – loved God even more. She could no more hurt a child than she could abandon the sweet Lord.
She knew she was ill. She felt so tired all the time, her skin felt clammy and she had lost her appetite. All she wanted to do was to sleep; yet when she did she had the same dream and it scared her because what if it was a premonition of something that was about to happen? Was she losing her mind enough that she’d hurt an innocent child? She knew the answer to this was no. She’d kill herself before taking the life of someone else. She was going to go insane if someone didn’t help her. She stopped and tried to knock on the front door once more. This time it opened before her hand reached it.
‘Hello, Sister, can I help you?’
She wanted to say yes; instead she began to cry. Not just a few tears. Oh no she began to sob so loud her whole body shook with the intensity.
***
Father Patrick was taken aback; he had no idea what to do with a hysterical nun. He had no idea what to do with a hysterical woman full stop. Reaching out he patted her back, trying his best to comfort her. He stepped out of the house and into the bright sunlight. The young woman, who wasn’t older than twenty-five, seemed to lose the ability to stand upright and she slid to the floor in a heap of tears. He sat down next to her and began to pat her head as if she was a dog. He felt in his pockets and passed her his handkerchief; she took it from him and gave him the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen. It lit up her whole face. She was a very pretty woman and he wondered why she had chosen to become a nun when she could probably have the whole world at her fingertips. She was so beautiful she could have become one of those Hollywood actresses or a model.
‘Thank you, Father; I’m so sorry,’ she said in between sniffles and blowing her nose.
‘You’re welcome, Sister. Now would you like to tell me what on earth it is that has upset you so?’
She nodded her head. Her face was full of misery. ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m staying in the convent helping to look after the evacuees and I love it, I really do. I love looking after children. They are so innocent and beautiful.’
Patrick felt as if cold fingers had reached out and grabbed hold of his neck. He shivered, trying to shake the feeling, but instead he felt as if the cold was seeping through his skin and into his bloodstream, replacing the warm blood with iced water. The sun, which had been shining brightly, was now obscured by a huge dark cloud. He stood up. Leaning down he grabbed hold of her arm and pulled her up.
‘Let us go and talk in the church; I was on my way there. We can talk inside.’
She nodded as if she knew that he was thinking – about how scared he was and how much he didn’t want to hear what she was about to tell him. They walked together, the elderly priest and the pretty young nun. They made a compelling picture of grace and beauty. Patrick’s heart was racing and it wasn’t until he opened the church door that he realised just how out of breath he was.
Isabella followed him inside, immediately bowing her head in prayer. Once more he was struck by what a beauty she was. If they needed a picture of the perfect woman then she was definitely the most beautiful specimen he’d ever seen. She lifted her head, her dark brown fringe covering the huge, chocolate brown eyes that were hidden behind thick, black lashes. She smiled at him. ‘Thank you, Father, I love being inside church. It makes me feel so much nearer to God.’
‘Me too, Sister. I didn’t catch your name before.’
‘Isabella – my mother is Italian.’
‘What a beautiful name; it’s perfect for you.’ Patrick wanted to kick himself. He sounded like some creepy old man. ‘How can I help you, Isabella? I’m not used to seeing anyone so upset. You gave me quite a shock back there. Are you feeling better?’
She nodded. ‘I always feel better in the house of God, thank you. I’m so very sorry; I didn’t mean to scare you. I just don’t know what to do or what’s wrong with me.’
‘Why don’t you tell me and let me be the judge of that. Does it have anything to do with the convent?’ Patrick didn’t want her to answer him; he wanted her to laugh, shake her head and tell him she was in love with someone or pregnant. He could cope with either of those problems. He couldn’t cope if she was about to tell him some horror tale about that godforsaken house in which there were lots of children living.
‘Before I went to that house I never used to have bad dreams, well only on the rare occasion and not enough that I’d remember them when I’d wake up.’ She sobbed as tears filled her eyes and threatened to fall once more.
‘You’re having bad dreams all the time now, every night?’
She nodded.
‘It’s been a big upheaval for the children and yourselves, not to mention the worry of the war. You must be under a lot of stress, having to take care of so many youngsters.’
‘I’m not worried about the war – well no more than I was before I moved here. I keep dreaming the same dream every night. I’m not an angry or violent person, Father. In fact I’m the opposite. I’d get teased at school because of my looks and name all the time. I never retaliated or got too upset by it all because I knew that God was watching out for me and he would make sure the teasing would stop before it got too bad – and it did.’
Patrick imagined how jealous the girls in her class would have been of the girl in front of him. He nodded.
‘Well the very first night we moved into that house I had this dream. I woke up in a cold sweat with tears falling down my face and I was so scared because it felt so real. I’ve had
the same dream every single night since. I’m so tired. I wake up feeling exhausted and I have to go and check on all the children to make sure that I haven’t hurt any of them in the night. What if I started to sleepwalk and did something unforgivable?’
‘I know what it’s like to have bad dreams, Sister, but a dream is exactly that. It’s nothing more than your overactive imagination not being able to switch off when the rest of your body is resting.’
‘Father, every night I dream I kill a child. I wake up and can feel the warm, sticky blood on my fingers. I can smell the awful, metallic smell that blood leaves. It feels as if my fingers are coated in so much blood that the smell has seeped into my skin and I can’t wash it away.’
‘Is it the same child or different children?’
‘I don’t know, I think it’s the same one – a little boy who is as cute as a button and has the biggest blue eyes and gives the best hugs. He is a very special boy and I’m terrified that I’m going to wake up one day and actually have his blood on my hands. What if I hurt him in my sleep? I could never forgive myself and neither would God. I think I need to leave the house and get away from there before I do something bad.’
‘Sister, you would no more harm a child than you would forsake God. That house has a history to it and I think when bad things have happened somewhere the memories can imprint themselves into the surroundings, which is probably all that is happening.’
A voice inside his mind whispered, What a load of rubbish you’re talking, Patrick. Tell her about the house then tell her to get the hell out of there before something bad happens. You know it’s going to; give the girl a fighting chance while you can. He wanted to tell her, tried to, but the words wouldn’t come out of his mouth. What came out was a load of slurred, jumbled-up rubbish. He felt as if his mouth wasn’t connected to his brain. Sister Isabella looked at him. The last thing he saw before everything went black was her concerned face coming closer to him.
He collapsed to the floor with a loud thud and she let out such a piercing scream the passing family who had come to lay flowers on their recently departed grandfather’s grave came running into the church to see what was happening. The man who also happened to be the local doctor took over, issuing orders to his shocked wife and to Isabella. He sent his son to find Crosby and to get an ambulance to the church as soon as possible.