The Forgotten Cottage

by Helen Phifer

  Alex took hold of Annie’s hand and got her to lead him around the rest of the house while Jake stood by the kitchen window watching the builders, who were now in a deep discussion and kept pointing at the house. He took out his phone and typed a message to Will: Don’t bother with the diamonds. Annie wants a pale pink range cooker but is too scared to ask. He might be unable to stop himself from saying what he was thinking but at least it got him what he wanted most of the time, and he knew that Will would order some brochures and then be the one to approach Annie about it so she wouldn’t feel bad. After everything his friend had been through she deserved to be happy and so did Will.

  Jake was mid-text when he stopped as a high-pitched scraping sound sent a shiver down his spine. It came from directly behind him. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end and he flinched when an icy-cold blast of air caressed the back of his neck, bringing him out in goose bumps and making him shudder. Afraid to turn around and look but even more scared not to, he slowly began to turn, his legs feeling as if they were too wobbly to hold his own weight. He hadn’t heard Annie or Alex come back down the stairs and if he strained he could hear their muffled voices somewhere above him. It took a lot to make Jake scared but the fear which gripped his heart was suffocating. He could hear someone breathing and he knew it wasn’t him. He turned the last bit and was so relieved there was no one standing in front of him that he laughed, but then directly behind him he heard the sound of long nails being drawn across the glass window pane and another blast of cold air on the back of his neck. He forced himself to move forward and ran to the stairs to find Alex and Annie, who were just about to come down. Annie took one look at his face and knew something was wrong.

  ‘What’s the matter, Jake—why do you look as if you’ve seen a ghost?’

  He shook his head, not quite knowing whether to tell her or not. She was supposed to be the psychic one, not him. Should he tell there was something scary in the house, or let her go on unaware? He didn’t want to be the one to break it to her that her dream house was haunted.

  ‘Nothing—I just scared myself and thought I’d come and see what you two are doing.’

  Alex walked forward and grabbed his arm. ‘Is there something we should know, Jake, because right now you look like you’re about to pass out from fright? I think Annie has a right to know if you’ve seen something that most of us can’t.’

  ‘No, honestly, I heard a scratching sound and then I got a cold shiver and scared myself. I hate to be the one to break it to you, Annie, but this house might have mice.’

  She laughed. ‘Mice I can live with, ghosts I’d rather not. Are you sure you don’t want to tell me anything?’

  He shook his head once more, feeling like a total wimp for not being his usual self and blurting it right out but if he spoke about it that might mean it was true.

  He led Alex towards the front door. ‘Come on, let’s go to the pub for a drink and something to eat, my treat.’

  Annie watched her friend, who was acting very strange—much stranger than usual.

  ‘I’m okay, thanks; I’ll wait here. I want to finish painting the master bedroom. Will said if he gets finished early enough he’ll drive up and help.’

  Jake nodded and stepped out of the front door and into the garden to feel the warmth of the sun on his face and he immediately felt better as it didn’t feel so oppressive outside. The builders were now standing outside the van and they nodded at Annie. Jake didn’t know if he should leave her alone but the builders were still here and surely they would be finishing their tea break any minute and going back to work. He leant down, kissing her on the cheek.

  ‘Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?’

  ‘No, thank you; I’ve got too much to do here.’

  Alex kissed her cheek and whispered in her ear, ‘I think he’s finally freaked. I’ll ring you later if I need to get him sectioned.’

  ***

  She watched them get into Alex’s car and waved then turned to face the builders, who were still hovering by their van.

  ‘Is everything okay, guys?’

  The older of the two of them looked at her. ‘Erm…sort of. We’ve only a bit of plastering to do around the patio doors and the new electrics so we should be finished in the kitchen by tonight. Are you stopping here on your own, Annie?’

  ‘I am for a bit; I wanted to finish painting the bedroom. Is there something wrong?’

  For a minute it looked as if Callum, the younger of the two, was going to say something but then he thought better of it. She shrugged her shoulders, wondering why all the men were turning into total freaks, and walked back into the house, leaving the front door open so they might get the hint and follow her back in.

  The air was much cooler inside, which was a welcome relief. She went upstairs to what was going to be her and Will’s bedroom and began to take the lid off the paint. Before she could dip the paintbrush into the tin, the picture that she’d taken off the wall and placed on the chair toppled over with a loud bang, making her drop her paintbrush. She turned to look at it and wondered how on earth it had fallen. She walked across to pick it up and lifted it to see if it was damaged. She almost dropped it again, seeing the woman who had been barely visible a few weeks ago now in the centre of the painting, hanging from the front porch of the house, her head bent forward and hands dangling loosely at her sides.

  Annie blinked and lifted it nearer. How had that happened? Could a painting move of its own accord? She knew that in reality it couldn’t but still it chilled her to the bone because this one had and the woman was all too familiar: she looked like the one from her dream. She studied it. The paint didn’t look as if it had just been done; in fact it looked the same age as the rest of the painting. Annie put the picture down on the chair, puzzled as to how the woman had appeared and why she had been hanged from the front porch.

  She walked back to pick up the paintbrush she’d dropped. Annie needed to find out the history of this house and pretty quick, before they moved in, so she could make sense of it all. She pulled her headphones from her pocket and plugged them into her phone, scrolling through until she found her favourite playlist. Soon she was painting away, her head nodding in time to the music. She couldn’t hear the breathing that filled the room or the sound of long fingernails on the small panes of glass in the window.

  The builders, who were downstairs, on the other hand, were working faster than ever to finish the plastering because they could hear the breathing. Neither of them spoke until the older one, Eric, let out a grunt as an invisible pair of hands curled themselves around his neck and began pressing hard onto his windpipe. He stumbled backwards and ran towards the front door, his face pale and gasping for breath.

  Callum quickly followed. ‘What’s the matter—why are you choking?’

  Eric threw his head from side to side and ran out into the front garden. Suddenly able to breathe once more, he bent double, taking in huge gulps of air. ‘I’m not going back in there—something just tried to bloody choke me to death!’

  Callum, who was watching his friend, shook his head. ‘You’re having me on; it’s not even funny now.’

  They had left Annie alone in the house, oblivious to whatever was going on.

  ‘What are we going to do, Callum? We can’t just leave that woman alone upstairs in that house. What the fuck is going on? Someone was choking me! I couldn’t breathe… I swear I could feel bony fingers wrapped around my throat.’

  Callum shrugged. ‘I’m not going back inside; that’s it. First of all the tools kept moving on their own and a couple of times I heard voices telling me to leave, which I just put down to you lot messing around. But that scratching sound and the breathing is just too much… I’ve never had so many bad dreams in my life as I have while I’ve been on this job.’

  Eric nodded. ‘Phone Paul and tell him to get here pronto and then we better go back inside and tell Annie she needs to leave; it’s too dangerous in there.’
>
  Callum phoned their boss and began relaying the events of the last ten minutes to him. He ended the call and turned to look at Eric, whose face was still white.

  ‘Well, is he coming?’

  ‘He called us a pair of fucking fannies, said we were winding him up and if we thought it was a good excuse to knock off early we can think again.’

  ‘Cheeky bastard—is he coming or not?’

  ‘Yes, said he was already on his way here and only a few minutes away.’

  They sat in the van in silence, both watching the upstairs bedroom window, where Annie was busy painting away, too scared to go back inside unless she started screaming for help. Five minutes later the sound of tyres crunching on gravel made them both turn their heads to see Paul park his van up behind them. They jumped out and walked towards him, ready for an argument, but he took one look at Eric,, who had been working for him for the last ten years, and changed his mind.

  ‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost; are you winding me up or is it for real?’

  ‘I’m telling you now, Paul, there’s something in that house and, whatever it is, it tried to choke me. I’ve never been so scared. I’m not going back inside but the woman who owns it is still in there; someone needs to tell her it’s not safe in that house, not on her own.’

  Paul nodded. ‘And do you think she’s going to pay us for not finishing the job because you got spooked over something? I promised her the kitchen would be finished today, ready for the units to be fitted, and if it isn’t I’ll lose money because I gave her a set price. What if I come in with you and all three of us get the job done—is there much to do?’

  Callum looked across at Eric, who was shaking his head. ‘Not really, boss, just a couple of bits. I’ll go back in with you to finish off and Eric can wait out here. Whatever it was, it didn’t touch me, just him. It was probably your aftershave; I told you it stunk.’

  Eric gave him the finger then stuck his hands in his pockets and watched them walk back into the house. He realised that he didn’t really want to be stuck out here on his own either. Safety in numbers and all that, so he followed them in and they began to finish off what it was they were doing. The house was quiet now; there was no raspy breathing coming from out of nowhere and the house didn’t feel quite as cold as it had before. Eric stayed close to Paul, who mucked in and pretty soon the last bits of plaster were smeared on the wall. Paul told Callum to start cleaning up and gathering the tools together; he went to the staircase and shouted to Annie. There was no reply and Eric looked at him with panic across his face.

  Paul began to climb the stairs with Eric close behind. Callum took the tools out to the van and began loading it up, not wanting to be inside any longer. The two men reached the master bedroom, where Annie was so engrossed in her painting with her headphones firmly in place that she hadn’t heard any of the commotion. Paul stepped in and touched her arm to catch her attention. She jumped off the floor and both Eric and Paul jumped back, scaring themselves.

  ‘Jesus Christ—you gave me a heart attack.’ Annie pulled the headphones out and started to laugh.

  ‘Oh, my God… Sorry—I never heard you; did you shout me?’

  ‘Yes, and I think you’ve almost killed me off—bloody hell, my heart’s racing. We just wanted to tell you the kitchen is finished, the plaster’s going to need a while to dry out but this weather should speed it up.’

  ‘Eek, I can’t believe it! Thank you, guys. You’ve been great.’ She grinned at them and Eric smiled back at her.

  It was Paul who spoke. ‘You’re very welcome. There’s something the lads have asked me to talk to you about; have you got a minute?’

  ‘Of course. It sounds serious; what’s the matter?’

  The two men looked at each other and Paul gave Eric the chance to speak, but he didn’t.

  ‘Well, they’ve told me that there’s been some strange things happening in the house while they’ve been working—tools keep getting moved and all sorts. This afternoon Eric felt as if someone was choking him and he couldn’t breathe.’

  Both men held their breath and waited for the backlash from Annie. Instead, she put the paintbrush down and nodded.

  ‘What else? Have you heard anything like the sound of nails scraping against a chalkboard or glass?’

  Eric nodded frantically. ‘Yes, all the time, and breathing, heavy breathing, and it filled the room; even Callum heard it. At first I thought I was going mad but when he heard it I guess it sort of made me think it had to be real.’

  Paul looked at her. ‘You don’t seem too surprised or shocked.’

  ‘I am, but not too much, and I don’t want you to think I’m nuts because this isn’t common knowledge and I’d appreciate it if you kept it to yourselves…but I have a bit of a psychic streak and I’m used to seeing and hearing things. A couple of times I’ve had a cold shiver and heard the nails being scraped but not much else. Nothing has ever made itself known to me. Shit, I don’t want a house that’s haunted by something that wants to hurt people. I’m sorry and I hope you’re okay.’

  He nodded once more. ‘What are you going to do? We need to get going now. Are you going to be okay here on your own?’

  Annie looked around; she loved this house and wouldn’t let some unhappy spirit chase her from it, especially one that was scared to show itself.

  ‘Thank you, yes, I’ll be fine. I’m not scared and I have a friend who is a priest; he’ll come and bless it for me.’

  The men looked at her as if she was completely insane and shrugged. She thought about the painting and the woman who was hanging from the front porch. They turned to leave and she walked to the window to watch them get into their vans. Callum waved at her from the front seat and she waved back. A shiver ran down her spine but she crossed her arms over herself. They left and Annie was truly alone in the house for the first time since they’d bought it. She looked over at the picture on the chair and wondered if she should take it out of the house—maybe show it to Father John and see what he said—but could she drag him into something again? Although last time it had been him who had dragged her into a fight with a Shadow Man, who had terrified her. Still, she had managed to defeat the thing that collected souls for pleasure and save Father John, so technically he owed her.

  She put the lid back on the paint and picked up the painting and the paintbrush, then she ran downstairs to the sink in the utility room to wash the brush. She placed the painting on the side and washed it and her hands; she dried them on an old towel then turned to pick the painting up. She walked around the house, checking the doors were locked and the windows were shut. The last thing she wanted now the house was almost done was someone getting inside through an insecure door or window. As she reached the front door she heard the scrape of nails against glass and turned around.

  ‘I don’t know who you are or what you want, but this is my house now. It hasn’t been your home for a very long time and you shouldn’t be here; it’s time for you to leave. I want you to get out of this house and go to wherever you should be. Why are you haunting my dreams? You won’t stop me from living here and if you don’t leave of your own accord then I’m bringing in a priest to bless this house and have you removed.’

  There was nothing more so she walked out of the front door and shut it, locking it, and trying her best not to look above her head at the beams, where the woman was hanging in the painting, just in case she was hanging there now and she was about to walk straight though her. She walked across to her car and opened the door, putting the painting on the back seat; she needed to show it to Will, John, Jake or anyone really.

  She drove off and as she began to make her way along the winding road she wondered if Jake and Alex were still in the village, though it was Will she really wanted to talk to. She passed a dense wooded area and thought she saw a flash of white darting through the trees. Slowing down, she looked again. The woods looked awfully familiar and she saw the flash of white again. It was a woman and she was runn
ing, holding onto her side as if she had a stitch. Annie gasped and wondered if she was dreaming, pinching herself to make sure that she wasn’t. She remembered that she was driving and brought her attention back to the road in front of her, grateful she hadn’t wandered across the single white line into the oncoming path of a tractor.

  She rounded a steep bend and saw the same woman, who was now standing in the middle of her side of the road. She was wearing the familiar white cotton gown, her head was bent forward and her long dark hair hung around her face, covering it. Annie slammed the brakes on, afraid it was too late and she was going to hit her. She turned her wheel sharply to the left and screamed as her car ploughed straight through a hedge and down a steep hill. She tried to put her brakes on but there was no traction and the car spun around on the damp grass. The oak tree which loomed in front of her car was enormous and her last thought before she hit it head-on was, I’m going to die. There was a crunch as the metal hit the trunk and a loud squeal. Her head slammed forward against the steering wheel and she saw the woman out of the corner of her eye, with her head held high and her piercing blue eyes staring straight at her, and then the world went black.

  1782

  Betsy woke up late the next day; she had fallen asleep after her little angry outburst and not moved an inch all night. The sun was shining through the window and she stretched out. She had a headache from all the ale she had drunk but it wasn’t as bad as she’d feared. How perfect would it have been to wake up next to Joss? She had never been in love but he was so kind to her that she thought that she was falling in love with him. The only thing which spoilt her chances of being with him were his children, but she knew that they could be taken care of. She would continue to work on him; it was only a matter of time before he gave in. He was a man and they had needs, or so her mother always used to tell her. She wanted to be out of this cramped house, the sooner the better, and the only way that was going to happen was if Joss asked her to stay with him. She would offer her services as a maid to his brats if she had to—anything to escape. She had been told she didn’t need to go in to work today but if she didn’t she might miss seeing Joss and that would serve no purpose at all. It was all about the timing; she wanted to be a lady of a house, his house, and not have to work in a smoke-filled, stinking pub for ever.