Nodding his head in agreement Richard made some more notes on the kitchen. Lisa sighed inwardly. She was on edge in case her mum decided to go off on one again in front of the estate agent. She didn’t know how he would feel about selling a house that was owned by a crazy woman. God, what a bitch she was for thinking like that. Her mum wasn’t crazy. She was just having a hard time. It was probably because she had just lost her father. Lisa was saddened when it dawned on her that her mum was now an orphan. She supposed it came to everyone eventually but still, it wasn’t a nice thought. And for her to be labelling her as crazy was horrible. She needed to start trying to understand her and help her as much as she could.
While Lisa was lost in her thoughts Mr. Matlock continued gazing around him in child-like wonder. The old stone inglenook was exquisite. So too was the enormous built-in aga range that Debbie stood in front of. He could imagine how cosy the room would be in winter when the aga was on and the fire was burning in the inglenook. Perfect. He was amazed to see a walk-in larder with the old marble shelves that were used in the days before fridge-freezers were invented to keep fresh meat and eggs and such cool. Even the butlers’ kitchen sink looked original; it wasn’t made from steel like the modern sinks were. This was made from clay. Of course, it was not to be confused with a Belfast sink which in essence is also a butlers’ sink but one made in Belfast. Belfast sinks have a Weir overflow built in. Richard didn’t think he would ever be able to remember the difference as it was so very long ago he learned about the types of sinks and the differences between them so he was feeling very pleased with himself. He almost wanted to tell the family just so that he could explain some of the original features to them but he didn’t think they would be interested, not a young family like this. Plus it would be quite tactless of him to blabber on about something they will probably find so trivial when their worlds had been turned upside down by such loss. So he kept his mouth shut and got on with his job. Everything in this house pointed to early or even pre-Victorian-times and this just pleased him even more. He knew how hard it was to come across houses with such fine Victorian details these days. It didn’t matter to him that the wallpaper was peeling from the walls or that the carpets were frayed and thread-bare in places or that the parquet floor was a little scuffed in parts. If a buyer came along with a love for original detail, they would snap this house up straight away. They could change the carpets and wallpaper, they could re-varnish the floors; they couldn’t find original features like these no matter where they looked or how hard. There just wasn’t much call for them anymore.
Mr. Matlock tailed Lisa and Aiden back out of the kitchen through the hallway to the downstairs bathroom. Again this room consisted of an old-fashioned enamel bath on wrought iron feet, a basic toilet and wash basin, and also an old-fashioned bidet. Following on from the bathroom they entered the morning room. Floral prints and bright late afternoon sunshine streaming in made it seem like summer inside. He imagined taking tea in here. How marvellous that would be. Much better than having a cup of earl grey in his pokey, over stuffed sitting room while his wife watched her tacky morning television. After making notes they came back into the hall and moved onto the next room.
Lisa opened the door to an unusual looking room. At first glance it appeared to be some sort of chapel with wooden pews on either side of a wide aisle. Frowning, Mr. Matlock took in the rest of the room, the wooden panelled walls, the long table at the far end, the lone chair in its own wooden surround.
“Oh, my!” he exclaimed in a mixture of excitement and awe. “I cannot believe I’m seeing this!” He turned towards Lisa, his bright red cheeks puffed into a huge, delighted smile. “It is a genuine nineteenth century courthouse! Just look at the details here. Nothing has been removed or modernised. Oh, it is just positively fantastic!” as he grinned at them his ruddy cheeks were being pushed higher up into his eyes so that he appeared to only have tiny slits. He scribbled frantically in his notebook with his chubby fingers curled around his biro, only hesitating to look around him once more before commencing his notes.
He strode ahead, leaning over the solid wood seats and desks at the front of the long room to get a better view, running his fingers along the carving of the woodwork. He walked around to the back of the huge table that lay right in the very centre of the back wall and heaved himself up - which was no easy task - onto the platform and then, squeezing his large bulk into the chair he looked out over the room from a view he had never had the honour to see before. For a few short seconds he imagined all the prisoners being sentenced right there in the room by a judge who would have been sat where he was sat right this very minute. To say he felt humbled by this was an understatement. Pulling himself with difficulty out of the chair he walked behind the smaller raised platform where the condemned would have sat and to the door in the far corner of the room.
Looking at Lisa, Aiden shook his head slightly and whispered “I’m not going back in there Lis, I can’t.” He looked to his big sister with pleading eyes.
“I know. You wait with mum, we won’t be long.” She returned his smile and reassuringly rubbed his arm before walking over to the plump estate agent who looked as though he could very easily have a heart attack at any moment.
Smiling at the pretty young lady, Mr. Matlock nodded over to Aiden “Isn’t your brother joining us?”
“No, we don’t want to venture too far where mum can’t find us. She’s not coping with things very well.” As she said this, a flicker of sheer sadness flitted through her eyes and Mr. Matlock was almost overwhelmed by the girl’s grief. He thought he understood her anguish, after all, he knew what it was like to lose someone dear to you, but what he didn’t know was she wasn’t grieving for her grandfather at all, but for her mother who she could feel was slipping away from them. It was like she had fallen through an iced over pond and they had her by the sleeve of her coat, but as they were trying to pull her out, so was the undercurrent of the icy cold waters trying to tug her under. It’s freezing waves being its hands grappling with her, removing her strength, stripping her of her will to survive. She didn’t realise until it was too late that a tear had escaped her eye and was making its way down her cheek to the soft curve of her chin. Brushing it away with the sleeve of her top she cast an apologetic glance at Mr. Matlock who, although a little uncomfortable, returned her glance with one of compassion.
Putting a stumpy, but warm and gentle arm around her shoulders he asked gently “Would you like me to continue looking on my own dear? You could go and sit with your family until I’m done. Really I don’t mind.”
Regaining her composure she said she would do just that, but if he needed anything to just shout. He assured her he would.
Lisa had really taken an instant liking to the friendly father-figure Mr. Matlock seemed to be.
53
With a deep but quiet sigh, he turned his attention back to the door. He was intrigued as to what lay at the bottom of the dark steps and walked down them with none of the trepidation that Aiden had walking down those very same stairs only the night before. The only thing he was concerned about was losing his footing. The last thing he needed was to be laid up in bed with a broken leg. He didn’t need to be putting on any more weight, so his darling wife always kept reminding him. It wasn’t his fault he had a slow metabolism. She was the one who cooked his food. If she wanted him to lose weight then she shouldn’t put on huge roast dinners and stews followed by sickly sweet desserts. No, he wasn’t the only one to blame for his size. But then, he couldn’t blame his wife. She looked after him very well indeed. He smiled contently to himself as he thought of her bustling about in their cluttered but clean home.
Once at the bottom he squinted for some sort of lighting. Finding none he fumbled in his pocket for his lighter. Flicking it on he saw on the wall next to him a lantern so he put his feeble flame to the paraffin source and was rewarded with light. Pondering which way to go first he chose the left arched doorway and followed it. Looking a
round him he could not believe where he was. He was where they used to keep the prisoners in cells while their trials were going on! There were small, cramped cells to either side of him that Aiden had not noticed. Bare brick walls and bare floors with hardly enough room to lie down in. No beds, no toilets, nothing. When he was just a boy, his school used to go on visits to places like this and see how different things were in the olden days. It was just like being back at school now.
His thoughts were interrupted by a vibrating sensation in his pocket that ran down the length of his leg. At first he was startled by it, wondering if this was the start of some inevitable illness, then realising it was just his phone he let out a small laugh as he reached to answer it. It was his partner Malcolm asking where he was. As the men spoke about the wonders of the old house, Mr. Matlock continued to look around, exclaiming his admiration down the phone every time he saw something else. Malcolm was used to his partner’s jolly enthusiasm and he took joy from it as he described to him what he saw. They were wonderful friends and had been for many years. Malcolm would always invite the slightly older man and his lovely wife to his home for the Christmas period, knowing they had no children of their own to share it with and that was the way it had been almost all of their long friendship. Malcolm’s wife and children looked at them as part of their family. Malcolm listened intently as his partner described the apparatus he saw before him and the size of the cells he stood in the middle of.
After their chat and once he had completed his tour of the cellar he scribbled some more notes and started to make his way back to the stairs. Reaching the bottom step he suddenly felt a gust of wind rush by him and the wall lantern beside him flickered to and fro for a moment as though trying to cling on to its strength, then it when out, leaving behind a small puff of smoke. Breathing heavily in the darkness he began feeling around for his lighter again to guide him up the stairs when he heard footsteps on the stairs above. They were slow and shambling and heading down towards him. Straining his ears he listened carefully to the footfalls sluggishly coming down, down, down, getting nearer and nearer. Leaning his hand against the wall to see if he could see around the swooping corner of the stairs he held his breath. Nothing! He couldn’t see a thing! Pushing his weakening body away from the wall he unconsciously wiped away the fragments of dry limestone from his sweaty palm. Swallowing hard he took a deep breath and called “Hello?” With his heart in his mouth he waited for the reply, of which he was certain there would be none, then, out of the black void came a small voice.
“Mr. Matlock? It’s me, Lisa.”
Letting out a huge sigh of relief he called back up “Just coming dear.” Who or what was he expecting to be ambling down the stairs towards him? A monster? A ghost? Maybe a serial killer. He had been listening too much to the nonsense his wife watched on TV constantly. Silly old fool he thought to himself as he made his way slowly and arduously back up the stone stairs.
Back in the courtroom he shut the door on the deep darkness that waited there and turned to Lisa who had backed up from the top step when she had heard his reply. She had gone to see if he was okay, he had been down there for almost thirty minutes, and she was so glad he had answered her straight away. She certainly didn’t want to venture down there to find him. Apologising for taking so long he followed her out of the room, rationalising with himself that it was the draught from the door being opened which he had felt and what had caused the light to go out too.
Stepping into the kitchen where the family sat, he immediately felt better. Lisa and her mother offered to show him the garden and he was quite taken aback by the breath-taking scenery. Making a rough sketch of the garden’s lay-out on his pad, noting the separate little secret garden at the back of the main garden and he also noted the surrounding forest area that loomed in the backdrop, he then followed mother and daughter back into the house.
“Just one more place to look at now.” He said motioning to the door that stood in the back wall of the kitchen.
They stood and watched with unexplained fear and trepidation in their hearts as he turned the key that was always left in the lock - because if a key is left in a locked door, then whatever is behind it wouldn’t be able to pick the lock to get out, at least that’s why Debbie thought the key was there - unlocked the door that led from the kitchen into the back part of the house.
“What is this part of the house?” asked Mr. Matlock curiously over his shoulder as he stared through the door.
“My father used to run a psychiatric hospital from here when he first moved here. He lived in this part and the hospital was through that door. Do you mind if I stay here? It’s just that I’ve never liked that part. Lisa, would you stay with me love?” Debbie’s eye’s pleaded with her daughter.
Lisa didn’t want to go anyway and was more than happy to oblige her mother. Aiden and Mr. Matlock disappeared through the doors leaving Lisa and Debbie in the kitchen to wash up the pots from dinner.
54
They stood in a very long, strange smelling corridor that was very plain and bland. The walls were painted white and there were no windows; the linoleum on the floor was an ugly mustard colour. The long strip lights over-head were bare and powerful and cast a bright glow on the floor so it looked like it was a sea of urine. Very distasteful thought Mr. Matlock, but then it wasn’t supposed to look nice was it? He thought it was a very interesting prospect for a potential buyer, especially if they were themselves a doctor looking to set up a new practice. Even if a doctor didn’t want it he was sure something could be done with it, maybe refurbish it and open it as a hotel. Yes that was a very good point he could put across to perspective viewers of the house. Their shoes squeaked loudly on the linoleum floor as they walked and the echoes bounced from the bare walls, which rather irritated Aiden. He just wanted to get out of this never-ending corridor and back into the warmth of the kitchen. Looking down it, it seemed just that; never-ending. It was very cold in the corridor, so cold in fact that they could see their breath. It just added to the eeriness of it all. Mr. Matlock had noticed the strange atmosphere too, but he just put it down to the fact that it had been at one time a hospital for the insane. That in itself was quite eerie, plus he had to remember it had been empty for goodness knew how long. The look and smell of things made him feel like he was ill. He felt very strange indeed and wanted to hurry back to the warmth and cosiness of the kitchen. Dust webs hung from the lights and all along the bottom of the walls dust had collected along with dead insects.
After passing a large open space with numerous chairs and a work station in it, they finally came to the first door in the corridor and Mr. Matlock enquired with Aiden whether it was okay if he opened the door. Aiden was relieved by this and told him to go ahead. He pushed on the old white door with a small square window at eye level that had bars covering it and found it wouldn’t open at first. He gave it a hard shove and it flew open, banging on the wall the other side of it leaving them staring at a small room with a very basic bed in it; a thin, scrawny mattress on a hard metal frame which was screwed into the floor and a small metal toilet. There was nothing else in the room so it made it feel very clinical which was probably how it was meant to feel. The walls were bare brick that had been painted white and the dirty yellow linoleum that was covering the floor in the corridor ran through into the room as well. The light on the ceiling was again a strip light but it was covered with metal mesh so it seemed to be in a cage. Aiden imagined that it looked like a prison cell would look. Mr. Matlock was glad it didn’t look like the cells he had seen in the basement room. That’s what he imagined prison cells to look like, just not so bare. They continued on down the corridor after Richard had made some more notes and they found that all the rooms down the corridor - twenty-three in all, all lining one side of the corridor - were all the same as the first.
Just as they were coming out of the last room along the stretch of corridor, Mr. Matlock thought he saw someone pass along the end of the corridor up ahead of the
m where they had not yet been. He was quite startled by this and Aiden noticed his slight step back and small gasp.
“What’s wrong?” Aiden asked.
He was about to tell him when he thought better of it. How stupid would it sound? “Nothing. Nothing at all. I just had a slight cramp in my leg, that’s all. Nothing to worry about. Shall we?” he asked as he started down the corridor again.
Aiden wasn’t buying it but what could he say? That he had felt things too? Things he could not explain? The estate agent would think he was a nut-job spouting out a load of bullshit. He kept his mouth closed and followed along behind.
Richard really didn’t want to go any further now but knew he must, so he forced his legs to move and his heart to slow down. It was beating so hard and so fast that he was sure the young man behind him would be able to hear it. He told himself over and over that he was being ridiculous, there was nothing there. He didn’t see anyone, he just thought he did. His mind was playing tricks on him, or it could have been the light. Yes! The light was extremely bright and it rebounded from the floor.
That’s what it must have been, you doddering old idiot! He thought to himself and felt slightly better about having found a few possibilities for explaining what it was that he saw, or in fact, didn’t see.
55
They turned left at the end of the corridor and spotted two doors exactly the same as the others at the end of this much wider corridor. There were windows here overlooking a much smaller garden. They peered out but couldn’t see much as the windows were filthy with years of neglect. There was a drinking fountain underneath one of the windows that a spider had used for its home. It had spun its web from the handle of the fountain to the drinking spout and it seemed like it had been here for quite a while judging by the thickness of the web. Mr. Matlock briefly wondered how a spider could have gotten in this closed off part of the house, let alone survived and as he walked past the next window he found his answer. He could feel a faint breeze coming through the window and on closer inspection saw a small hole in the wooden frame. He settled on the fact that the spider must have gotten in through there and also go through there to go hunting in the garden for its meals. He knew it must have another web in the garden somewhere because there was no evidence of his food in that web. He thought it rather odd though that a spider would build a web outside for the sole reason of catching food and have another indoors to live in. He heard a little cough from Aiden behind him and realised he had been stood contemplating the spider and its web’s for too long and he gave it no more thought as he moved on towards the two doors waiting for them at the end of this aisle.
The Haunting Within Page 15