The Ghost House

by Helen Phifer

  As I opened the book a single sheet of folded paper fluttered to the floor. I unfolded it to read the first line of the letter: ‘Dear Boss’. I squirmed in horror and dropped it to the floor. I knew the only explanation for my husband to have a handwritten copy of a letter that had been sent to the newspaper was if he had written it himself: he wanted to taunt the police and the newspapers. Afraid now, I tucked it into the book and fastened it back where I had found it.

  I still do not want to believe it to be true and I dare not tell anyone of my findings until I have firm proof of my beliefs. It could be a huge coincidence but in my heart I do not believe it. I made my decision that I would need to go down into the cellar and see exactly what it is he does down there for hours on end. If Edward is the monster all the newspapers are referring to as ‘Jack the Ripper’ then he must be stopped. I will need to make sure none of the staff are in when I go down there for I do not want them to be involved in this matter in any way. Oh how I am terrified of that cellar and how I wish that Alfie was here to help me to be courageous and face whatever it is that I fear down there. I now realise that it is Edward who I have feared all along.

  I went back to look at the grainy photographs of each woman. Polly Nichols drew my eye the most. When I look closely I can see the slightest resemblance between the two of us. Would I be so different if I did not have the luxury of beautiful clothes and a maid to dress my hair each day? If I were dressed in my old maid’s uniform I think there would be a striking comparison. Does Edward truly hate me with so much passion that he would go out and take another woman’s life because she reminded him of his wife? I fear the answer is yes and if that is found to be true then those women have suffered the most awful fate imaginable because of me.

  I could no longer look at the pictures my hands were shaking so much. I went into the hall to telephone the police and lifted the receiver but then I put it back down. What if it is all my overactive imagination? Edward would be arrested and publicly humiliated and then hanged and I could not live with myself if it was not true no matter how much I dislike him. I felt so ill that I had to go and lie down for a while so I could gather my thoughts: my head was in a spin with it all. I went up the servant’s stairs to my attic room. I did not want to look at the bedroom I shared with him. I took the cuttings with me in case any of the staff found them and, once inside, I pushed a chair against the handle just like I used to and cried myself to sleep.

  11th November 1888

  In my dreams I was chased through the dark cobbled streets of London by a man dressed in a black cloak and a deerstalker hat. He carried a long thin knife, which was dripping with blood. In the distance I could hear a telephone ring and knew I should answer it in case it was Edward but I could not awaken from my nightmare. Instead I was running with bare feet as fast as I could. My pursuer was much faster and the gap between us was closing. I could feel the heat from his eyes burning through to the depths of my soul. I tripped and fell to the ground where I found myself entangled with the rotting corpse of Mary Kelly. My hands were warm and when I lifted them to my face they were stained bright red from her blood.

  I must have screamed so loudly that I woke myself up. I blinked hard, feeling disorientated: it was daytime. The winter sun was shining through my tiny window and I was bathed in sweat. I felt exhausted, as if I had truly been running for my life through the streets of London. I got out of bed and stared at my dishevelled reflection in the cracked mirror above the washstand. My long dark hair was tangled and stuck to my face, my cheeks were flushed and the circles under my eyes were darker. I washed, dressed and went downstairs to a silent and empty house. Cook nor Harold or any of the others were anywhere to be seen. I remembered that Edward had given them all the day off. In a moment of rare kindness he had offered to pay for them all to go off on the steam train to Blackpool for the day. I remembered how excited Cook was and how I had laughed when she said how kind the master was – if only they knew the truth.

  Today was the perfect day to go down into the cellar and find anything to prove that Edward is this fearful ‘Jack’. My stomach ached just thinking about the cellar but I have little choice. I need to see what it is he does down there for hours. I hunted around in the pantry to find a candle and some matches. Then I went to the cellar door and stood in front of it. With trembling hands I reached out to touch the door, which was rough against my fingers. I had not been down there for a long time but I thought about those poor women and realised that I had no choice. I slid the bolt across and pulled it but it wouldn’t open, it had been locked. Frustrated, I knew that he would have the key with him: it was pointless searching for it and I did not know if there was a spare one. The only way I could gain entry was through one of the small windows at the back of the house. I would have to break one and get it repaired before Edward comes home.

  I opened the scullery door and went outside into the biting cold. I looked at the row of small windows: all of them were latched shut. I am small enough to climb through them, I just did not want to. Looking around for something to break the glass I spied the rockery which his Lordship had built before he died. I prised one of the sandstone rocks away from the rest of them grazing my fingers but I was determined that I had to do this. It was heavy enough so I launched it at the window and shut my eyes. The noise of the glass shattering was so loud it echoed around the woods. Thankful was I there was only the birds to hear it. I wrapped my shawl around my hand and cleared the remaining pieces of jagged glass from the frame. I climbed through and found myself balancing on a rickety bookcase. It was so dark inside that I wanted to climb straight back out and go to the police but the image of Mary Kelly in my dream last night would not let me. I owed it to her and the others to find out the truth about Edward and, if it was as bad as I expected, to put an end to it before he caused any more pain and suffering. I bent my legs and jumped down onto the floor. What little light came through the broken window gave me a small square of space to see. I took the candle and a match from my pocket and lit it. Standing there I looked around. The vast cellar was full of boxes and unused furniture. With the candle to light my way I cautiously made my way one step at a time through the cluttered dark space.

  What was it that appealed so much to him down here? There must be something more than junk. As I got near the far wall the flame illuminated a small wooden door. A number of boxes were stacked against it along with two broken chairs. Intrigued, I set the candle down on one of the chairs and set about dragging the boxes away from the door. The only sound I could hear was the blood pounding in my brain. It masked the sound of the horse’s heavy hooves trotting along the long drive through the woods to the front of the house. Breathing heavily I felt tired for I had not eaten since yesterday. When I had moved the boxes far enough away that I could open the door I was so focused on what this room contained that I never heard the front door open nor Edward call my name. I was scared of what may greet me on the other side. I tried the handle; not daring to believe it would turn and open so freely. Picking up the candle I stepped through the doorway into hell.

  The walls were covered in the very same pictures and newspaper cuttings as the ones I had become obsessed with upstairs. In the far corner was a rocking chair. Next to that was a small table with Edward’s deerstalker hat, which he wore to go hunting. I shivered at the thought. I turned away from the wall of horror and let out a small scream. There was a shelf on which a row of glass jars was placed. The jars were filled with a clear liquid but it was what was floating inside them that made me feel faint. I do not know much about human anatomy but I know enough to see that the things floating inside them belonged inside a person’s body. My head began to feel muzzy and I had to tell myself that this was not the time or place to faint.

  A loud noise as the cellar door opened cleared my head and my body became rigid. I could hear someone coming down the stairs into the darkness and there was only one person I knew who had the key. I looked around for something to use to protect
myself and saw one of Thomas’s old garden spades leaning against the wall. I stepped towards it and then I heard his voice.

  ‘Come out, come out wherever you are. I win because you are all alone.’

  I knew this to be the absolute truth. This time there was no one around to hear me scream for help. The footsteps came closer until he was outside the door. My whole body trembled. I knew he was going to kill me and I did not want to die in this horrid room in the savage way that those other women had. I stepped closer to the spade, I had no idea what to do with it but it was something.

  ‘Alice, I told you, no, I actually forbade you from coming down here and look what I have found: you in my room.’

  I was so scared I could not find my voice to answer him back. Then he stepped into the doorway and blocked the only exit with his body. I knew that he would never let me leave and at that moment I realised that to protect the child inside of me I would fight to the death. I would not be left down here where no person would ever find me. I was not about to become a memento of a sick and twisted man. I forced myself to take another step closer to the spade. As I made my decision the fear that I had felt moments ago left and was replaced by a feeling of peace and calm. I thought about dear sweet Alfie and my baby: Edward was not taking me away from them. If the monster killed me then he would be free to continue killing innocent women and who would stop him? No other person in the whole of England knew of his dark secret, that Edward Heaton was the vilest man to ever walk the streets.

  The voice that came from within me was strong and I did not recognise it. ‘Edward, or would you prefer that I call you Jack? How could you? How could you murder those women? They never did anything to you.’

  His laughter filled the room. ‘Alice, that was the easy part. All I had to do was imagine they were you. My own mother preferred you, a servant, to her own flesh and blood. I loved the attention my mother would lavish on me until the day you turned up and stole her heart. All I ever wanted was her all to myself. Do you think I felt guilty when I pushed her down the stairs? A little but then the feeling passed and I liked the fact that I was in control of who could live and die and that, Alice, is what started the fire within my soul. The first prostitute I killed cooled that fire for a little while but then it came back. Burning brighter and hotter than before. It is like a physical pain and it has taken me a while to finally realise that as long as you are alive I will never be able to extinguish it. I will tell you a little secret though: I like the killing far more than I ever anticipated. In fact, one could say that murder is becoming a bit of a bad habit.’

  I watched his lips part and he smiled at me like a man gone mad. My hand was within reach of the spade but I had to be sure that I could move quick enough to hit him over the head with it. My palms were sticky with perspiration so I wiped them along my skirts. I had to stop him, he was insane.

  ‘I thought you loved me, Edward. Am I so awful that you want me dead? Have you wanted nothing but to kill me for all the years I have known you? I never did anything to upset you and I loved your mother with all my heart. It is unfair for you to blame me for your own mistakes. You were the one who was so awful to me. She would never have noticed what a horrid person her son was if you had left me alone.’

  He glared at me and I let out a loud sob and pretended to cry. I wanted him to think that I was weak and unable to fend for myself. Like a predator he stepped closer and brought the hand out he had been hiding behind his back. The knife from my dream this morning glinted in the candlelight. I turned as if to try and run to the corner but my hands wrapped around the handle of the spade. I was terrified for I knew that my life depended upon this moment. If I died down here my soul would be doomed to wander this dark cellar for all eternity.

  I screamed with fury and injustice and tightened my grip on the handle. Lifting it as high as I could I smashed it against the side of his head. Edward looked at me with surprise, he staggered to one side, dazed, so I drew back my arms and hit him again and again before he could lift that knife anywhere near to cut me. He fell to his knees and I hit him once more. I was not taking the chance he would get up. Finally he closed his eyes and collapsed onto the dirt floor, a steady flow of blood pouring from the wounds I had inflicted. I watched his chest rise and fall, praying that it would stop. I wanted his evil heart to stop pumping the blood around his body for ever. It slowed down and I did not dare to take my eyes away from him, the spade was poised in my hands ready to strike him should the need be. The knife had fallen from his grasp and was lying on the floor next to him. He didn’t appear to be moving so I bent to pick it up.

  His hand shot out and I screamed as he gripped my arm tight. I tried to pull away from him but he had such a tight hold on me it was impossible. His leg kicked my feet from underneath me and I fell onto the cold damp earth. He sat astride me, his bodyweight making it difficult to breathe. Straddling me he took a handful of my hair and he pulled my hair back so harshly that I could not see for the tears, which began to stream from my eyes. The pain was immense and I tensed as I waited for him to draw the knife along my throat. The very same knife which had killed so many women before me.

  He bent close to my ear and whispered, ‘Nice try.’ His breath was hot against my cheek as he continued whispering what he was about to do to me into my ear.

  It was then that I realised he did not have hold of the knife for he was pulling my head back with one hand and the other was pressed hard into my ribcage. He continued to talk and I began to feel for the blade. He shifted his weight and my fingers stretched out a little more and found the cold hard handle of the knife. I gripped it hard. Edward bent down to kiss my forehead and say his goodbye and that was when I made my move. I lifted the knife and thrust it into his thigh, pushing with all my might until it was buried deep into his flesh. The grip on my hair released and he fell backwards, trying to free the blade, which was now embedded into his leg. As his weight lifted from my chest I crawled from underneath him.

  Edward’s hands were slick with the blood, which was flowing from the wound, and he was unable to grasp the handle. I stood and watched as the colour drained from his face. He finally pulled the blade free and blood began to spurt from the wound in his leg. I stepped away so he could not reach out and grab me again.

  He gasped. ‘Alice.’

  I stood my ground. He looked away from me and over to his wall of horror. A small smile played on his lips, his eyes began to glaze over and that was how he died: lying on a cold earthen floor in a room he had made to house the memories of the murders he had committed. I stayed in the same place for what felt like hours unable to move. I had to make sure he was dead. He had got what he deserved and yet I still cried and my heart filled with sorrow as I sank to the floor. When he had been still for a very long time and the pool of blood around him was huge I crawled over and shook his shoulder. He did not move but his body was still warm. I watched his chest to see if moved but it was still: he was dead. I had killed my husband and put an end to his reign of terror.

  I stood on legs that did not want to hold my weight. I needed to go upstairs and call the police but something stopped me. My life would be finished. What would become of my baby? I would most likely hang for his murder and I would never know what it would be like to be with Alfie. Both of our lives would be ruined forever because of Edward.

  It was then that the anger set in. I had never done anything to deserve this. I looked at the spade and decided I would bury him down here in his room full of trophies. He would be contained in this room for ever and I would be free to live the rest of my life, free to take care of those who I love and try to make amends for the evil deeds Edward has committed.

  So I began to dig. I moved the rocking chair and table and started to do the hardest work I’ve ever done in my life. I was scared to turn my back on Edward, convinced that he may still wake up. By the time I had dug a hole big enough to drag his body into I was filthy, hot and smelt dreadful. It took what felt like forever. I l
ooked at him and I did not want to touch his body so I had to summon up every ounce of strength that I possessed for I had no other choice. I put my hands underneath his armpits and dragged him slowly to the edge of the hole. My arms were aching from the digging and Edward was so heavy I felt as if I wanted to lie down and never wake up. But I would not let him win. With one final attempt I reached the edge of the shallow grave I had dug and with a loud grunt I pushed with all my might and watched him tumble down into it. I kicked the wretched knife into the grave and it landed on his corpse. His black eyes were open, accusing me. I had to work quickly to cover his face so I would not have to look at it. He looked so handsome. Too young to be dead and I was overtaken by the pain of grief so immense I could not explain it.

  When his body was covered in soil I pulled the chair and table back onto the uneven mound. I took one last look at the gallery of horror; no one would ever see this place or what it contained as long as I shall live. I did not want to touch the jars nor had I anywhere I could put them so I left them there. My body weary, I had suffered enough for one day, I walked from the room and shut the door. Dragging a bookcase over it I covered the doorway to the room that would haunt my dreams for the rest of my life. I then dragged the chairs and boxes over to make sure it was hidden from view if anyone should come down here snooping. I walked through the cellar and was no longer afraid. I knew it truly had been Edward all along who had scared me so. I made my way to the stairs. The door was open and the light which filtered through illuminated my way. With one final push I slammed the cellar door shut and smiled with relief to see he had left the key in the lock for there was no way I could get it now if he had had it on him. I turned the key and pocketed it. I will hide it in a place that only I will ever know about.