The House on Widows Hill

by Simon R. Green

  ‘At last,’ I said, ‘someone sensible I can talk to.’

  ‘Ghosts are just a natural phenomenon we don’t understand yet,’ said Tom. ‘They’ll probably turn out to be something along the lines of electromagnetic energy, like ball lightning.’

  ‘Ah,’ I said. ‘And you were doing so well …’

  ‘I think I’d feel a lot easier if I could believe in such straightforward theories,’ Freddie said loudly. ‘But given all the varieties of weird stuff I’ve encountered in my time, I need magic to make sense of them.’

  ‘You’d be better off putting your faith in science!’ said Tom.

  ‘Magic is just science seen from the other direction,’ said Freddie.

  Tom looked at her. ‘That makes no sense at all.’

  ‘I like it,’ said Arthur.

  ‘You would,’ said Tom.

  Penny looked steadily at Freddie. ‘If you ever did meet an actual ghost, what would you do?’

  ‘Talk to it, of course!’ said Freddie. ‘Ask it questions.’

  ‘What kind of questions?’ I said.

  She laughed, a little self-consciously. ‘Oh, the usual ones, I suppose. What comes next? What’s waiting for us? I used to be so sure I knew all the answers, going to church with the family every Sunday … But as I grew older, and saw more of the world, and followed my instincts into some pretty strange places, the more I learned, the less sure I became. About anything. It would be good to be able to go straight to the horse’s mouth and get some clear answers.’

  ‘But could you trust them?’ I said. ‘If ghosts are just people – well, people lie all the time.’

  ‘What reasons could the dead have to lie to the living?’ said Freddie.

  ‘That’s one of the first things I’d want to find out,’ I said.

  There was a pause, as everyone thought about that.

  ‘I think I’d know the truth when I heard it,’ Freddie said finally.

  ‘Aren’t ghosts at least proof of life after death?’ said Penny.

  ‘Only if they’re what they seem to be,’ I said.

  Penny gave me a hard look. ‘For someone who doesn’t believe in ghosts, you do seem to have given the matter a lot of thought.’

  ‘Know thy enemy,’ I said.

  ‘Before we begin the seance, I have a few things to say,’ said Tom.

  ‘Never knew a scientist who didn’t,’ said Freddie.

  Tom cleared his throat meaningfully, and we all dutifully paid attention. Apart from Lynn, who was still lost in her own thoughts.

  ‘If anything should happen during the seance, it will be recorded,’ said Tom. ‘So stay where the cameras can see you, and speak as clearly as you can, for the mikes. And, please, watch your language. I shall be showing this recording to the scientific community – if we actually produce something worth watching.’

  And then he broke off, as something on his screen caught his eye. The feeds from all four cameras were breaking up and being replaced by darkness or static. One just shut down completely, as though the camera was broken.

  ‘This shouldn’t be happening,’ Tom said tightly. ‘Something must be interfering with the signal. Something unusually powerful.’

  ‘Have you tried turning it off and turning it back on again?’ I said.

  Tom actually growled at me, without taking his eyes off the screen. He put his laptop down and slapped the side of the screen, and when that didn’t work, he picked the laptop up with both hands and shook it. All four feeds immediately stabilized. Tom quickly put the laptop down again.

  ‘Are you sure you’re not an engineer?’ said Freddie. ‘That was only just short of “We’re going to need a bigger hammer”.’

  ‘Oh, shit …’ said Tom.

  ‘What?’ Arthur said quickly. ‘What’s gone wrong now?’

  Tom scowled at the readings scrolling down the side of his screen. ‘The room temperature has dropped again. Another four degrees … How could we not have noticed that?’

  ‘Because it might not be the room,’ I said. ‘It might just be the readings. I don’t think we can trust anything in this house.’

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with my readings!’ said Tom. ‘It can’t be something in the house affecting us, because we’re sealed off in here. The door is closed—’

  ‘And the only window is nailed shut,’ said Penny.

  ‘What?’ said Arthur. ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘Because we looked,’ Penny said crushingly.

  Arthur peered at the window and appeared to be genuinely upset for the first time.

  ‘Why would anyone want to nail up the window? It’s not like anyone wants to get in.’

  ‘Maybe to keep something from getting out,’ I said.

  There was another long pause as everyone considered the implications of that, and decided they really didn’t like them.

  Freddie rubbed her hands together. ‘It does feel colder in here.’

  ‘There is a theory that ghosts soak up energy from their surroundings, to fuel their manifestations,’ said Tom.

  ‘Or maybe it’s just cold for the time of year!’ said Arthur.

  I moved in beside Tom. ‘Are your motion-trackers picking up anything?’

  He checked his readings. ‘Nothing moving anywhere else in the house. Why do you ask?’

  ‘I just wondered whether all of this might be a distraction, to keep us from noticing that something more important was happening somewhere else. Can you expand their range at all?’

  ‘I didn’t exactly buy them off the shelf,’ Tom said reluctantly. ‘I had to teach myself how to work them, through trial and error.’

  ‘Hold it; go back,’ said Penny. ‘Just how reliable is all this scientific equipment of yours?’

  ‘It’s the best I could get for the money!’ said Tom. ‘Specialist ghost-hunting tech doesn’t come cheap, you know.’

  ‘Have you ever recorded anything that you could actually show to people?’ said Arthur.

  Tom kept his gaze fixed on the screen. Possibly because that made it easier for him to lecture us.

  ‘I have had some strange experiences, but never anything I could be sure of. The problem is, the human mind is hardwired to find patterns in things. That’s why people see shapes in clouds or inkblots. But cameras only record what’s actually in front of them. If I see something, and then see it on the screen, and then see it again on the recording afterwards, then I can believe in it. And present it as proof to other people.’

  ‘Seeing a recording is believing?’ said Penny.

  ‘If you like,’ said Tom.

  ‘I think I’ve been very patient,’ Lynn said loudly, ‘but it really is time we got this seance under way. All of you want answers, and this is the best way to get them.’

  ‘All right!’ said Freddie. ‘Let’s get this show on the road!’

  Arthur glowered about him. ‘I am not holding anyone’s hand. I do not do the touchy-feely thing with strangers.’

  ‘I’m not a stranger,’ said Freddie.

  ‘You’re just strange,’ said Arthur.

  ‘And you love it,’ said Freddie.

  Arthur smiled in spite of himself and then looked reluctantly at Lynn. ‘If we must, we must … All right, then, house-cleanser, how do we get this started? Do you need to summon up an Indian spirit guide?’

  Lynn surprised us all with a brief bark of laughter. ‘I’m sorry, Arthur, but that is so last century. And anyway, I’m a psychic, not a medium. I don’t do trances, and I don’t pass on messages from the great beyond. I merely function as a contact point between this world and the next. I’m going to try to reach out to whatever is in the house with us, and ask it to make itself known to us. Come and sit next to me, Arthur. Your family connections will help me make contact.’

  Arthur didn’t look at all happy about that, but he shrugged quickly and dropped down on the floor beside her. Lynn patted his arm comfortingly, and while she was busy doing that, I sat down on her other side, s
ettling myself firmly into position before she could object. If she was going to do anything, I wanted to be right there watching it happen. Lynn smiled at me coolly.

  ‘Thank you, Ishmael. Your disbelief will help balance me. Just don’t be alarmed by anything you see or hear.’

  ‘I’ll try not to be,’ I said.

  Penny sat down next to me, and Freddie started to sit down by Arthur, but Tom got there first, because that way he was in the best position to keep a close watch on his screen. Freddie reluctantly sat down between Tom and Penny, closing the circle. She’d barely settled herself before Tom made a quiet but distinctly upset sound.

  ‘What is it, Tom?’ said Lynn, showing great patience under the circumstances.

  He shot her an uncomfortable look. ‘It just occurred to me that if I ever do present these recordings to my peers, they’ll all be able to see me taking part in a seance. I’ll never live it down.’

  ‘You could always edit yourself out,’ I said. ‘Pixilate your face or something.’

  ‘No,’ he said immediately. ‘I couldn’t compromise the evidence.’

  ‘No one will laugh at you if you’re in a position to provide hard evidence of ghostly phenomena,’ said Lynn.

  Tom nodded reluctantly.

  Once Lynn had assured herself that we were all sitting comfortably, she started speaking quite calmly and casually, with none of her usual practised theatrics – as though she was putting the showbusiness routine to one side, so she could concentrate on what mattered. Her heavy Goth makeup suddenly made her seem that much more solemn and determined.

  ‘Every haunted house is really all about death. Loss and grief, heightened emotions and broken hearts. A need to know what comes after, along with an understandable fear of what the answers might be. Strong emotional states allow the human mind to experience far more than it is normally capable of. We have to open our minds to what this house has to show us. So just sit quietly, breathe steadily and let me do all the heavy lifting.’

  We sat very still, our shoulders touching. We weren’t holding hands, but we might as well have been. I could feel agitation in Penny’s shoulder, and a surprising amount of tension in Lynn’s. There was a definite feeling of connection between everyone in the circle.

  ‘I don’t read minds,’ said Lynn. ‘I read places. I place myself in tune with my surroundings, through practised mental disciplines, so I can see what lies beneath the surface of the world. I am going to try to persuade whatever is here to talk to us, but if it can’t or won’t, or if it proves hostile, I will perform a cleansing. Either by opening a door, so the inhabiting presence can move on, or by compelling it to leave, with an exorcism. Not through commands and abuse, as in the Roman ritual, but by dispersing any dark emotions through positive reinforcement.’

  ‘How can anyone who looks like such a Goth sound so much like a hippy?’ said Arthur.

  ‘Practice,’ said Lynn. ‘Don’t worry, Arthur. Once the presence is gone, this house will be just a house again.’

  ‘I should be able to help you with that,’ said Freddie.

  ‘Hush, Freddie, please,’ said Lynn, not even looking at her. This was Lynn’s moment, and she had no intention of sharing the spotlight with anyone. ‘I can’t allow anything that might interfere with my concentration.’

  ‘I’m here if you need me,’ said Freddie, entirely unmoved. ‘Don’t be afraid to ask for backup if you need it.’

  ‘Have you had much success, Lynn, in cleansing haunted houses?’ said Penny.

  ‘I prefer to call them spiritually troubled locations,’ said Lynn. ‘The other term carries too much emotional baggage.’

  ‘Oh, hell,’ said Arthur. ‘Political correctness in a haunted house. Where will it end?’

  ‘I have enjoyed a number of successes,’ said Lynn. ‘Many of which I have discussed with the local media, who have always been very supportive.’

  ‘Only because you always provide the editors with suitably sexy photos and a good sound bite,’ said Arthur. ‘And yet somehow you’re always very evasive in your interviews, when it comes to providing actual names and places.’

  ‘The privacy of the people involved has to come first,’ said Lynn. ‘They’ve been through enough, without being persecuted by an overbearing media.’

  ‘Even when I was able to track people down,’ said Arthur, refusing to be stopped or sidetracked, ‘I couldn’t find anyone prepared to go on the record and confirm you actually did anything to help them.’

  Lynn looked at him directly for the first time. ‘Why are you so fascinated by my career, Arthur?’

  ‘I became interested after I discovered you only gave my paper stories as long as the editor agreed to use the promotional information you provided,’ said Arthur. ‘You were just using the Herald for free advertising.’

  ‘People need to know how to find me,’ Lynn said calmly. ‘And, Arthur, people often don’t like to talk about their encounters with the hidden world. They just want to move on and forget the bad things ever happened. Particularly when they’re being ambushed by an unsympathetic journalist with an agenda.’

  ‘What qualifications do you have, to do what you do?’ Arthur shot back.

  ‘I do my best to help, when no one else can,’ said Lynn. ‘What else is there?’

  I shared a glance with Penny. Lynn might be a confidence trickster, only in it for the money, or she could be well-meaning but deluded. Either way, I wasn’t sure what she hoped to achieve with a seance.

  Arthur glowered at Lynn, and she stared calmly back at him, refusing to be browbeaten.

  ‘I don’t believe in ghosts or haunted houses, or anything spiritual,’ Arthur said flatly.

  ‘That’s all right,’ said Lynn. ‘They believe in you.’

  ‘And I don’t believe there’s anything supernatural inhabiting this house!’ Arthur said forcefully. ‘The weird stories didn’t start appearing until long after my ancestors had left the country and weren’t around to defend themselves. It was all just malicious gossip, which Malcolm Welles may or may not have deserved. The legend about this house only started because people like ghost stories!’

  ‘But no one has ever claimed to have seen a ghost here,’ I said. ‘And the locals don’t seem at all fond of the stories. They sound traumatized, just from having to live so close to Harrow House.’

  ‘And what about all the things we’ve experienced since we entered this house?’ said Tom.

  ‘Nothing but mass hysteria,’ said Arthur.

  ‘I think you need more than six people to qualify as a mass,’ Tom said mildly.

  ‘He’s got you there, Arthur,’ said Freddie.

  He sniffed loudly. Freddie reached across to pat his arm comfortingly, but he wouldn’t look at her. Freddie shrugged and turned away to address the circle.

  ‘Before we begin the seance, I think we should all tell a ghost story! It’ll help put us in the proper frame of mind. And I don’t mean stories you’ve heard; I mean your own personal experiences with ghosts.’

  ‘How can you be sure we’ve all had one?’ I said.

  ‘Because everyone has,’ said Freddie. ‘Lynn, I know you’re eager to get the seance started – so am I – but I really think we need to do this first.’

  Lynn sighed quietly. ‘Very well, if you think it will help.’

  ‘Who wants to go first?’ said Freddie.

  Surprisingly, Tom leaned forward. ‘I can tell you about something that happened to me, a few years ago. I woke up in the early hours of the morning. I was lying alone in bed, but I wasn’t the only one there. An invisible figure was leaning over me, holding me down. I couldn’t see it, but I could feel its weight. Feel its hands on my arms, holding me in place. Feel the individual fingers, as they dug into my flesh.

  ‘But I wasn’t scared; I was furious. I fought the invisible presence, throwing all my weight against it, determined to break free. After a few moments I was able to throw it off and sit bolt upright. The sense of an invisible presence
was gone, just like that. And I thought, I know what that was! That was sleep paralysis!’

  He smiled triumphantly around the circle. ‘I’d read an article on the subject, not long before. While we’re sleeping, a part of our brain paralyses us, so we won’t physically act out what we do in dreams. But sometimes we wake up too quickly, and the paralysis lingers on for a moment. And in that half-awake state, our brain manufactures an explanation; like an invisible presence, holding us down.

  ‘But if I hadn’t read that particular article, I might be telling you a very different story.’

  He smiled around the circle as we all applauded politely. It had been a pretty good effort.

  ‘My account is rather different,’ said Freddie. ‘I’d been called in to investigate a problem with a small shop, in an old country town. The owner had reported strange happenings that he was beginning to find disturbing. The shop itself turned out to be very old, with parts of it dating all the way back to the thirteenth century, and the interior was fairly basic – stone walls, a ground floor for the shop, and a second floor that the owner used as a stock room. He told me that sometimes, when he was in the place on his own, he would hear footsteps moving about upstairs. But when he went up to check, there was never anyone there. He didn’t want to believe in ghosts, but what other explanation could there be?

  ‘I asked the owner to leave me alone in the shop, and he did. I walked back and forth, getting a feel for the place, and sure enough, I heard footsteps on the floor above. Someone walking about very quietly, as though they didn’t want to be noticed. But it didn’t take me long to work out what was going on. The shop consisted of a wooden floor, connected by a set of wooden stairs to a second wooden floor. I was hearing my own footsteps, which had travelled up the stairs and reverberated in the upper floor! It was nothing but a delayed echo. Not a ghost at all.’

  She smiled as we applauded, and looked to me to continue, but I shook my head steadily.