Henderson Manor

by Emma L. Clapperton

  “Thank you Mrs Prowse. I can’t imagine how hard that must have been for you to do,” Preston said.

  Linda stood up and the officers rose with her. “Find the bastard that murdered my daughter before I do.”

  26

  Sam had managed to cover up his real feelings about the things that had been happening in his flat over the past year or so. Deborah and Jenny had been scared at first but seeing Sam calm about the situation made the girls calm and so things seemed relatively normal for them. But deep down, Sam knew that these things were happening for a reason, even if he didn’t want to admit it out loud. He had never really considered life after death until he started to experience the things which were happening right under his nose. The slamming of doors, the windows opening, the kitchen appliances turning themselves on and off … how can that be explained rationally? He had managed to hide most of it from the girls although they would occasionally witness small things, like tapping sounds and the temperature dramatically dropping.

  Standing outside the main entrance to the church, he found himself clutching at the small cutting from the advert in the paper about the West End Spiritualist Church and all its offerings. Sam had never given the ‘afterlife’ a second thought until recent events made him question what was really going on in his and Jenny’s flat. All he knew now was that he was standing outside the church, ready to go inside and try to figure out what was going on.

  “You ok there, son?”

  Sam turned to find a little old lady looking up at him and smiling kindly. She was half Sam’s size and was clutching at her handbag.

  “Yes, I’m fine thank you. Is this the West End Spiritualist Church?” Sam already knew that it was; he didn’t know why he was asking.

  “Aye it is, son. This here is the best place to come if you’re looking for comfort after the death of a loved one, or if you’re looking to find peace. Is that why you’re here?” Her voice was soft but with a broad Glaswegian twang behind it.

  “You could say that.” Sam returned the smile.

  He followed the old lady inside and found that there was already a building audience. Sam didn’t know entirely what he was going to say, if he were going to say anything at all. He felt slightly ridiculous that he had come to someone who claimed to speak to the dead about some bumps in the night in his flat. However, he had no other ideas and had hoped that this medium could shed some light on the subject.

  “It’s your first time, is it?” The old lady asked as she sat down beside him.

  Sam nodded.

  “You’ll like it here; Patrick is spot on almost every time he gives a reading.”

  “Patrick?”

  “Aye, Patrick is the medium for tonight. There are others but he and his wife, Jodie, are the best of the bunch, although since Jodie had the baby, she doesn’t really do readings anymore. Shame really — she was always great at making you feel better about a loved one’s passing.”

  Sam tried to concentrate on the stage at the front of the room. For some reason he felt terrified and he didn’t understand why.

  “Don’t look so scared, son. You’ll be fine.”

  The bustle of the room distracted Sam for a little while before the demonstration began. He watched the people that poured into the room and wondered why they were here, who they were here for and if it would make them feel better. Sam watched a man approach the stage and realised that he had picked a seat in the front row.

  Nice one, Sam, he thought to himself.

  The bustle of the room lessened until there was silence and everyone turned their eyes to the man who was now standing two feet above them on the small stage.

  “Good evening everyone and thank you all for attending tonight’s demonstration. As many of you are already aware, my name is Patrick McLaughlin and I am the head medium at this church. Are there any newcomers in the audience this evening?”

  Sam reluctantly raised his hand, wishing he had sat at the back to get a look at who else was new.

  “A few tonight. Well I will welcome you all and give you my quick spiel before I move onto the readings. My aim is to provide you with as accurate a reading as possible from whoever may come to me tonight. If I come to you and offer you information, all I need for you to do is say yes if you understand or no if you don’t.”

  Sam felt his palms begin to sweat. Why am I so bloody nervous?

  “I do not aim to scare, upset or give anyone negative information during the readings and so if you feel any of these things I need you to tell me that you do not wish to continue and I will move onto someone else.”

  The little old lady nudged Sam and when he turned to her, she winked at him. “That never happens. He is always fantastic,” she whispered.

  “Let’s begin.”

  Patrick fell silent along with the audience and his eyes scanned the room. A few moments passed and he nodded a few times, as if agreeing with something. Sam almost got up and left, but froze in his seat when Patrick’s eyes fell on his.

  “Sam?”

  Sam’s eyes widened and his throat almost seized up. He nodded.

  “You’ve come here for help this evening.”

  Patrick moved along the stage slowly, back and forth, saying nothing for a few moments.

  “It seems you have had a visitor and you wish for them to leave?” Patrick enhanced the last word to make it sound like a question, even though he and Sam both knew that it was not a question but a confirmation.

  “Yes, that is correct; I think.”

  Patrick nodded, “I do not wish to continue this reading in the public gallery. We will meet at the end of my demonstrations tonight, if that is ok with you.”

  Sam was shocked and before he knew it, Patrick had moved onto someone else entirely.

  What the hell does he know?

  ***

  Patrick closed the door of the church when the last person left and turned to face Sam. He was surprised that Sam had stayed at all; he had fully expected to see him leave as soon as he had said they would speak after the demonstration.

  “So, you have something to say that can’t be said in front of an audience?” Sam asked. It sounded like an interrogation, although it wasn’t meant that way.

  “I didn’t say it couldn’t be said in front of the audience. I just thought that out of courtesy for you that it would be better if we spoke in private.”

  “And I suppose that you’ll charge me a fee for that?” Sam asked.

  Patrick shook his head. “No, I offered for you to stay.”

  Sam nodded in defeat. He had expected to have to pay an up-front fee before any words were exchanged. Patrick led Sam to a small room in another part of the building and offered for him to sit down.

  “So, you seem to have a lot on your mind,” Patrick said.

  “You know?” Sam asked.

  “I have been made aware of your visitor.”

  “Visitor?”

  “The bumps in the night, the photo frames falling off the walls, the items going missing and turning up somewhere else?”

  Sam couldn’t help but smile. “You think I have a ghost?”

  Patrick returned the smile which slowly turned to a grin. “Why else would you be here?”

  Sam couldn’t believe what he was hearing; come to think of it, he couldn’t believe that he was considering it to be a possibility.

  “No way, ghosts don’t exist. This is ridiculous.”

  Patrick nodded. “So why are you here then?”

  Sam couldn’t reply. In all honesty he didn’t know why he had come to the church.

  “Desperation I suppose.”

  Patrick sighed. “I’m not one to force my ability on anyone, so if you’re not sure that you believe in what I do then you’re free to leave. I’m not going to waste your time and I certainly don’t want to waste my own.”

  Patrick left the small room and made his way into the main hall. He began stacking chairs and was shocked to see that Sam was helping.

 
“I didn’t say I don’t believe in what you do. I’m just saying that I am not sure what to believe.”

  Sam had thought of multiple ways to explain what had been going on in his and Jenny’s flat. But nothing seemed reasonable, not when he had seen things with his own eyes on more than one occasion. Yes, photo frames fall down all of the time, loose hooks or bad hanging to blame for that. But how do you explain the frames not just falling down but flying across the room?

  “If you want my help, I’ll gladly oblige. However if you don’t then I wouldn’t be offended. Many people have come here before out of sheer curiosity and found that it is just not their cup of tea. But you’ve come here for a specific reason, am I right?”

  Sam cleared his throat as he stacked the last chair. “Yes there is a specific reason but in my head it’s not logical.”

  Patrick was not surprised to hear that. “It never is logical in my line of work. If you really do want me to help you, then you have to let me help you. If not, then that’s fine. Good luck with sorting it out.”

  “How much do I pay?” Sam asked.

  Patrick laughed. “I’m not going to charge you anything. It’s only a few moments of my time to find out what’s going on.”

  Sam shook his head. “I don’t know if it will be just a few moments.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, that whatever is in my flat has steadily got worse as time has gone on.”

  Patrick frowned. “Well then, for me to really understand it, I’m going to have to come to your house.”

  27

  As the bulb flickered for the umpteenth time that evening, Jenny decided to go out. Jenny was not at all one for believing in ghost stories, however being in the flat alone when the bulbs in most of the rooms were flickering and doors were seemingly closing on their own made her skin prickle. She made her way through to her bedroom to collect her handbag when a sound from the kitchen stopped her in her tracks. Being frozen with fear prevented Jenny from going to the kitchen to investigate and so instead of turning around she kept moving toward her bedroom door.

  Jenny.

  Not only did she hear it but she felt it to. An ice cold breeze on the back of her neck and she swung on her heel to where she had heard it. Nothing or no one stood behind her but she knew that something was not right. Jenny wanted to call out but what good would it do? If she got a reply she would probably die from a heart attack and if she didn’t get a reply then she would probably die from fear of waiting for one. Instead she decided to grab her handbag and leave as quickly as she could. Jenny rushed into her bedroom and hooked her arm through the straps. She then reached for her coat and didn’t dare look in the mirror. Reaching for the handle of her bedroom door, she stopped.

  “I didn’t close the door,” she whispered to herself.

  A gentle rush of air brushed the side of her face and her body convulsed with fear. Jenny grabbed the handle and pulled the door open. Stood on the other side of the door was Sam and she screamed with fright.

  “What?” Sam jumped back.

  Jenny dropped her bag and coat and slumped down onto the bed, covering her face with her hands.

  “Are you trying to send me to an early grave?”

  “What is it?” Sam asked as he entered the room.

  Jenny looked up. Her hands were shaking so much that she had to place them on the bed at either side of her to keep them steady.

  “It happened again.”

  Jenny stopped talking when she saw another man come into her view.

  “Who’s this?”

  Sam looked behind him and saw Patrick standing in the doorway.

  “Oh, this is Patrick McLaughlin.”

  Jenny smiled gently, looking for more information.

  “He’s a medium.”

  “A medium?”

  Patrick entered the room and held out his hand.

  “Nice to meet you; you must be Jenny?”

  Jenny shook Patrick’s hand and tried to control the involuntary jittery movements.

  “Are you ok, Jenny?” Patrick asked.

  Jenny shook her head.

  “I gather that from you being here, Sam has told you what has been going on?”

  “He mentioned a few things.”

  Sam interrupted.

  “I told Patrick that I wasn’t sure how to explain things, so he offered to come and have a look around.”

  Jenny stood up from the bed.

  “For what price? Surely your kind doesn’t come cheap?”

  Patrick smiled.

  “Actually, this is not usually in my job description. So I am not charging anything.”

  “What were you so frightened of when we first came in?” Sam asked.

  Jenny told him about hearing her name and the bang from the kitchen. Patrick listened as he took in his new surroundings. Something definitely didn’t feel right. There was a heavy presence in the flat and it wasn’t a happy one.

  “Can I have a look around?” Patrick asked.

  “Of course; it’s not a big flat so you can’t get lost,” Sam replied.

  Patrick disappeared from their sight and Jenny fell into Sam’s arms.

  “You looked terrified when you opened the door.”

  “I was. I am. What the hell is going on in here?”

  Sam shook his head.

  “I have absolutely no idea.”

  Jenny pulled away and ran her hands through her hair, not knowing what to do or where Patrick’s visit would lead them.

  “Should we go with him?” Jenny said.

  The pair left Jenny’s room and went into the kitchen where they found Patrick, who was stood by the breakfast bar and staring out of the window.

  “Anything?” Sam asked.

  “Has this been happening the whole time you’ve lived in this flat?” Patrick replied.

  Jenny shook her head.

  “No, only in the last year or so. It has become progressively worse though and to be honest it is scaring the shit out of me.”

  Patrick nodded as he gazed around the kitchen.

  “Ok. And how long have you lived here?”

  “About two and a half years,” Sam replied. “These flats have been up for about three. And I own the property.”

  “Why do you ask?” Jenny prompted.

  “Just trying to establish all the facts.”

  Patrick left the kitchen area and made his way into the living area. He stopped suddenly and Sam almost walked into the back of him.

  “What is it?” Sam asked warily.

  “Who’s Sarah?”

  Jenny gasped at the sound of her name.

  “She’s my ex. And yes, before you ask, she’s dead. And no, I didn’t kill her.”

  Sam’s attempts at comedy failed him miserably when neither Patrick nor Jenny even cracked a smile.

  “Why do you mention Sarah?” Jenny asked.

  Patrick turned to face them both.

  “Your relationship with her didn’t end well, did it?”

  Sam’s head began to ache. This can’t be happening. He knew what Patrick was about to say next and suddenly wished that he hadn’t gone to the church at all. He would rather not know.

  “No, it didn’t end well. But there were many reasons for that and the police have proven that my reasons were factual.”

  “Police?” Patrick asked.

  Sam nodded and Jenny sat down on the sofa.

  “Sarah kind of lost the plot when we were together, hated the fact that I was living with Jenny. She became jealous, so jealous that she started to send hate mail to Jenny. And I would receive photographs of Sarah and me together and Jenny and me together. On the back of them she’s written, he’s mine and she’s dead. She did a lot of really sick stuff and tried to make it look like someone was stalking me when it turned out to be her all along.”

  Patrick frowned. “How did you know it was her that was sending you those things?”

  “When she died the police turned up asking me que
stions about her and the how things were between us the last time I had saw her. Anyway, they found a bunch of photos, letters and other stuff in a box in Sarah’s house. They confirmed to me that it was most likely her who was stalking us.” Sam stopped talking for a few moments. “I didn’t want to have to go through all of this again.”

  “I’m sorry. But if you want me to help you I have to know everything.”

  Jenny sniggered. “If you’re so psychic, then how come you don’t know it all already?”

  Patrick didn’t retaliate. He smiled gently and considered his answer before he spoke.

  “Because, Jenny I’m not a mind reader. I’m a spiritualist medium and I don’t always have the full background.”

  Jenny opened her mouth to reply when music began playing. It was coming from the other end of the flat and it was getting louder by the second.

  Sam raced through towards the music to find it was coming from his bedroom. It wasn’t the fact that music had begun randomly playing that was giving him chills but in fact it was the song. Elvis Presley, The Wonder of You.

  “No way,” was all that Sam could say.

  Patrick turned the music off and turned to Sam.

  “She used to sing it all the time, didn’t she?”

  Sam’s face was drained of colour. What was normally a fresh rosy face was now the look of death.

  “All the time.”

  Sam didn’t want to believe it. However he knew what Patrick was about to say next.

  “Sam?” Jenny placed her hand on his shoulder.

  Patrick looked at the terrified faces of the people standing in front of him and knew that they understood.

  “When Sarah died, I don’t think that she went very far. I think that she is here, in this flat.”

  Jenny shuddered.

  “Oh my god, this is ridiculous.” Her faked confidence failed her; she couldn’t hide the fear in her voice.

  “It explains a lot though, doesn’t it?” Sam looked down at her. “Question is, why is this happening?”

  Patrick hadn’t anticipated this at all.

  “I think she has some unfinished business. But not with you.”

  They all jumped at the sound of Sam’s mobile ringing loudly in his pocket. He took the phone in his hand and looked down at the screen.