by Pat Herbert
When I got to London, I went straight to an employment bureau who fixed me up ’ere with the Lomaxes. Okay, I know. You’re probably wondering ’ow I got the job without any references. Well, easy, I forged them. Before I left the Lessways’, I took some of their ’eaded notepaper. I didn’t like being dishonest – well, not then, anyway – but a girl ’ad to survive, didn’t she? The reference I forged weren’t bad, I do say so myself, and it did the trick.
I was with the Lomaxes for two years before what ’appened. It was the day I was proposed to by Giles Fortescue. I was so ’appy. Then Mrs Lomax came ’ome and ruined it. Giles was ever so ’andsome. Coo, not ’arf, ’e was. ’E was rich, too. ’E was gonna make me into a proper lady, and girls would be waiting on me in future. But I would’ve been kind to them, knowing what I used to ’ave to put up with when I was a maid. I could afford to be generous and kind, now that I was gonna marry into a wealthy family.
Edith Lomax was jealous of me, though she wouldn’t ’ave admitted it. I was just as beautiful as she was, and I knew she couldn’t stand that. Circumstances ’ad made me subservient to ’er, but it could just as easily ’ave been the other way round. And, as for the kids. She never wanted to look after them. Always foisting them off onto me, she was. I ’ad no time to myself. I liked the girls well enough, but when did a single woman get the opportunity to go courting if she’s always got tiny tots in tow? Look at it from my point of view, like.
But Giles singled me out. ’E saw me one day in the butcher’s queue and started taking me for walks in the park and giving me tea at the bakery. We were very much in love, you know. And ’e wanted to marry me. Okay, so ’e did keep picking my brains about Edith. I didn’t twig then why ’e wanted to know all them things. I should’ve realised ’e was up to no good but when you’re in love, you don’t think, do you?
So you could ’ave knocked me down with a feather when Edith told me that ’e ’ad been courting ’er, as well. And she said ’e was called something different – Abraham somebody or other. It was a stupid name, that’s all I remember.
So, back to that day when the murders took place. As I said, Giles ’ad just proposed to me and was bending down to kiss me when Edith came in and whacked ’im over the ’ead with the poker, with not so much as a by-your-leave. ’E just fell to the floor and didn’t move. There was blood coming from ’is ’ead and we both could see ’e was dead. Edith then told me why she’d done it. Said that ’e was wanted by the police for strangling young women. Dr Lomax ’ad read something out to us from the paper only that morning about a man the police were looking for in connection with the murders. I thought she was mad. My Giles weren’t no killer. She’d got the wrong man, I told ’er. But she was positive.
I was so upset at what she’d done to my Giles, but she didn’t care. All she cared about was ’erself. Said she ’ad to run away as she would be hung, sure as eggs. She ran upstairs and five minutes later I ’eard ’er come down the stairs and go out the front door. I then ’eard the kids calling and running after ’er. I let them go, I weren’t in no fit state to stop them, even if I’d wanted to. And I didn’t want to.
As I sat there with Giles’s body, I ’eard the children come back. They came to the parlour door and looked in and screamed when they saw it. Edith came in just be’ind them. But, when she saw that ’er brats ’ad seen what she’d done, she turned and ran out of the ’ouse again. This time she didn’t come back. The brats still stood there screaming, though.
I told them to be quiet or else they’d get their mama into trouble. They seemed to take notice of what I said then, ’cos they quietened down a bit. It was then that Giles regained consciousness. ’E weren’t dead, after all. ’E smiled at me and ’e looked ’orrible. ’Is teeth ’ad been knocked out of ’is ’ead and ’e looked like ’e was gurning at me. ’E laughed, and then said that Edith always ’ad ’ad a bit of a temper. That’s when I was convinced. ’E did know ’er – she ’adn’t been lying. ’E knew ’er name and all that, ’cos I’d told ’im when ’e asked. But the way ’e said she’d always ’ad a temper on ’er, then it was clear ’e knew ’er like ’e knew me. The swine!
I challenged ’im, then. I asked ’im if’ e’d strangled them women, and ’e didn’t deny it. Proud of ’isself, ’e was. Edith was to be next on his list, ’e said. ’E said ’e was serious about marrying me, though. ’Course I didn’t believe ’im and I was so furious I just grabbed the poker and ’it him with it again and again. This time ’e weren’t gonna come round, not if I ’ad anything to do with it. I’d finish the job Edith ’ad started. But that’s when Edith’s kiddies started off screaming again. This time there was no bleedin’ stopping them.
I grabbed them and told them I’d give them what for if they didn’t put a sock in it. But it did no good. They just kept on struggling and screaming the place down. I still ’ad the poker in my ’and, ’Eaven ’elp me, and I just lashed out at them. Before I knew what I’d done, the two little ones were laying dead at my feet. I swear I didn’t know what I was doing – except I ’ad to keep them quiet. I couldn’t let them tell what they’d just seen, could I? I ’ad to silence them for good. It was ’orrid, all that blood, and they were so small.
Yeah, I can see you’re shocked, Mrs whatever-your-name-is. Plunkett? Dorothy? Okay, Dorothy. But what else could I do? I swear it weren’t in my ’ead to kill them. Killing kiddies weren’t in my nature. Still ain’t. But they’d ’ave been sure to tell the doctor that it was me that’d killed Giles, not Edith. She’d gone off anyway, and she’d never know that she ’adn’t killed ’im. She’d keep right away now, I was sure. Everything would be all right if I just kept me ’ead.
Anyway, I got my come-uppance later on, didn’t I? When I found I was going to ’ave a baby, I thought ’Erbert would look after me, but ’e denied ’e was the father. ’E could ’ave been, though, if I ’adn’t been so far gone. ’E weren’t no angel. So ’e said I’d ’ave to leave ’cos I’d bring disrepute on ’im. That was all ’e was concerned about. You soon find out who your friends are in this world, don’t yer?
So, what was I to do now? You may well ask. I was beginning to show, so getting another situation was out of the question. Even if I managed to get one, I would ’ave soon been out on my ear when the lump got bigger. Corsets would ’ave ’elped for a while, I suppose. But, even if I managed to keep my secret up ’til the birth, what would ’ave ‘appened then? The work’ouse – that’s all I ’ad to look forward to. My mum and dad would disown me if I went back ’ome, I knew that. My mum ’ad enough kids of ’er own to contend with without me adding to ’er brood. She’d got rid of me once, she’d ’ardly welcome me back with open arms, bringing ’er another mouth to feed. Two, if you count the baby.
I was desperate. My life was over. There was only one way out. So I wrote a note to ’Erbert – that’d show ’im – and then I put my ’ead in the gas oven. What a way to go! Yeah, I know I deserved it, but I wasn’t always bad. It was just circumstances...
Taking my own life like that was the last straw, though. Far from ending my troubles, it was just the start of them. I thought once the gas’d done its job, I’d be free forever. But, what with the killings – the kids, mainly – that was unforgiveable. Giles, or whatever ’is name was, was one thing. But innocent children. There weren’t no way back from that.
So I woke up, not in ’Eaven, though I suppose I was lucky not to end up in the other place, but ’ere in this bleedin’ fireplace. In limbo. For ages, I was ’ere on my own. Except for all the others, of course, but I don’t count them. They ’ad it in for me, naturally. Can’t say I blame them, but if them kids pinched me once, they pinched me a thousand times. I was miserable, I can tell you.
Then things looked up a bit when Edith Lomax come back. Gawd knows why she did that. I don’t know ’ow long after I was supposed to ’ave died that would ’ave been. You lose all sense of time being in limbo, like. Anyway, there she was, large as life and twice as nasty, as the
saying goes. Looked good, though, I ’ave to say that for ’er. Older, but still pretty. You know what? I saw red. I just took up the poker and gave ’er a dose of what I give Giles and ’er brats. It felt good.
I don’t know ’ow long before the couple moved in with their little boy. Nice little thing ’e was. Edith’s brats often played with ’im, but she didn’t like it. Don’t know why. So, the poor little boy got upset. Didn’t really bother me, though. I didn’t want anyone to be ’appy ’ere. Especially not the men. I ’ate all men after what they done to me. The little boy was no different. ’E’d grow up to be a man one day. Anyway, I wanted to get ’is father to murder ’is mother so that ’e’d get ’ung and she’d be dead, anyway. I kept trying to put the idea in ’is ’ead, but ’e was resistant. So I finally killed ’er myself, then I ’ad to do ’im in, too. I could’ve let justice take its course, I suppose, but I was all fired up and let ’im ’ave the poker treatment too. It gave me a thrill, I can tell you. Doin’ them in and knowin’ I couldn’t get done for it. Better’n sex. Much better.
Then I ’ad to wait a bit for the next mugs to come through the door. They were a gift when they did. A youngish couple and their three boys. Tiny little things, they were. I almost felt sorry for them. But, again, they’d grow up to be men, so I tried not to think of what I intended to do to ruin their ’appy ’ome. I just got on with it. Again, the man proved difficult, although I managed to make ’im cross with ’is wife a lot. But not enough to kill ’er. Then I got fed up with playing a cat and mouse game, and killed ’er myself while ’e was at the pub. This time I let the police take over. I knew no one’d believe ’e didn’t do it and ’e’d suffer in prison while waiting for the ’angman. ’Course, I didn’t know then that ’anging ’ad just been abolished, more’s the pity. Still, ’e copped it in prison, anyway, and ’is boys would grow up thinking their dad was a murderer. So I was more than satisfied with that.
Then there was that older couple with the potty daughter. They moved in next. I ’ad a bit of fun with ’er. Nutty as a fruitcake, she was. I could easily tune into ’er brain, or what passed for it. Kept taunting ’er, I did. She weren’t ’arf easy to wind up. She thought it were voices in ’er ’ead. Which I suppose it was. Only one voice, though. Mine. Then I told ’er to jump off the roof. She nearly did but was saved in the nick of time. That’s what made the family move out. That stopped my fun, I quite missed ’er. I never bothered with ’er mum and dad, though. I would’ve got round to them in time. If they’d stayed. I tell you one thing, though. That barmy woman should’ve stayed away. She didn’t know when she was well off, that one. Well, it weren’t surprising, when you think she didn’t even know the time of day most of the time. But I can’t tell you ’ow glad I was to see ’er back. Life was getting a bit samey, if you know what I mean,
Anyway, it was just before she came back that the young man got tricked into buying the gaff by that slimy estate agent. I remember watching from my vantage point ’ere in the fireplace as the daft bugger came over and examined it. It was what made ’im buy it, ’cos, up till then, I was sure ’e ’ated the place. Who’d ’ave thought a fireplace could make you buy a whole ’ouse? Seems daft to me. I mean, a fireplace ’ardly constitutes a whole ’ouse, does it? You’d ’ave to like some other aspects of a place, surely? But no, it was just this fireplace. I suppose it could’ve been the way I kept it clean all the time. Made it look kind of nice and inviting, like. This feather duster ’as seen some service, I can tell you.
I thought ’e wasn’t going to be much fun, though. ’E didn’t seem to ’ave a family for me to mess about with. All the pleasure I got was watching ’im undress. ’Ad a nice body, I give ’im that. Then ’is girlfriend turned up. So I ’ad my bit of fun once more. Ain’t so good now there’s no ’anging, of course. I was looking forward to doing ’is new bit of stuff in as well, but I suppose I’m stymied now, ain’t I?
Oh, yeah. I forgot. Potty Cathy ’ad come back. The new owner’ad gone off somewhere. ’E’d only been gone overnight when she turned up. Let ’erself in with a key, she did. And, well, what was I gonna do? Sit ’er down and give ’er a cup of tea? You know by now, Dorothy, that’s not my style.
EPILOGUE
London, March 2010
Bernard snuggled down into his warm bed. He was tired, dog tired. Dorothy had left nothing out in her verbatim accounts of the trapped spirits in 57 Bockhampton Road. Perhaps he wished she had. The violence and pure evil that she had uncovered surpassed even his own vivid imaginings. But it had to be the truth; he had never doubted Dorothy’s psychic powers in the past, and he saw no reason to doubt them now.
He yawned and nestled deeper into his pillow. At least he could sleep more easily now everything had been explained at last. He would combine Dorothy’s information into what he had already compiled and try to make some sense of it all. Then people would know that Bert Allardyce had been innocent which, he hoped, would be a comfort to his family. The other murders would be accounted for, too. The police, who had long since given up trying to find the perpetrators, would surely be convinced that they were right to suspend their enquiries. It was still a lot to swallow, but Bernard was sure, once he had written his definitive history of the house in Bockhampton Road, people would, at the very least, be prepared to accept the possibility that such things happen.
But, for tonight, he was much too tired to think any more about it. It would only be a few moments before blessed oblivion overcame him and he nestled deeper into his pillow. Then the vision of the evil Martha Finch wreaking her revenge on all those innocent victims came to him. His own daughter had been bludgeoned to death, apparently, just for a lark. The sad thing was, he couldn’t feel her loss the way any normal father would. He had never even seen her, let alone met or talked to her. Once again, he tried to understand why Sophie had never told him, but he couldn’t. He just couldn’t.
But there were so many things he had always failed to understand. How people could do such awful things to each other, like Martha Finch. She hadn’t been dealt the best hand of cards in life, and he could understand that suicide had been her only option in the end. But he couldn’t comprehend her blood lust ever afterwards. He shivered in his warm bed as he turned over.
Jerry and Eve were sleeping in the next room. He could hear the bed springs and knew what they were up to. Had he missed out on that side of things? he wondered. He realised that young love in such close proximity made him feel desperately lonely all of a sudden. It wasn’t sex he missed, though. It was companionship.
Jerry had asked him if it was all right for Eve to stay occasionally while he was under his roof, and Bernard had said by all means. But had he really meant it? Now that Jerry’s house had been cleansed of its evil, the young man would be returning there soon, only staying until the decorators and plasterers had finished making the place habitable. Bernard hoped it wouldn’t be too long. As much as he liked him, it wasn’t his company he craved now. He thought of dear Robbie MacTavish. Their evenings together had been special. No woman could have filled the place that Robbie had had in his life.
Still wide awake, the bed springs had stopped now. His thoughts turned once more to Martha. Where was she now? he wondered. Dorothy had been worried about her. Although the fireplace had been demolished, it had only served to dislodge her spirit, not destroy it. She was out there – somewhere. He shivered again.
Downstairs in the parlour, there was a glow from the fireplace. But the coal effect gas fire had been turned off an hour ago.
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