by Peppi Hilton
But she was being over-imaginative and paranoid.
She had only travelled a short distance when the pesky bird appeared again. Kelly jumped out of the car fuming, but she miscalculated the slimy ground, worsened by months of rotting leaves. It was so slippery that she almost lost her footing, making her angrier than ever. She tried to shoo the bird away by waving her arms at it frantically, whilst the wind and rain heaved at her already-soaked clothes. But the bird remained defiant.
She spotted a large branch on the ground which she picked up and started to wave at the obstinate creature. But to no avail. She tried to shove it off its perch, using the branch again, but it was having none of it. It simply hopped into a new position, staring at her resolutely.
Alarmed and annoyed as she was, Kelly didn’t want to hurt the bird, so she got back into her car and pressed the horn firmly and continuously. Finally it retreated and flew up to the trees, cawing loudly from its lookout. She breathed a sigh of relief and set off again.
Kelly was shaking as she carried on, which she brushed off as anger, no doubt aided by the penetrating dampness of her clothes causing her to shiver with cold. After all, what else could it be – not fear surely? Not from some stubborn old bird!
She had travelled quite some distance up when she had to stop her car again, due to a large branch which had fallen across her pathway. She thumped her fists down onto the steering wheel in frustration. By now she was fifteen minutes late for her appointment and what’s more - she was past caring.
She tried to open the door but the force of the wind kept it firmly shut, so she had to heave herself mightily against it from her seat, half falling out in the process. She clung onto the door as she struggled to climb out, and as she edged herself round to the outer side it slammed shut, with little aid from her. She leaned against the door in an attempt to steady herself as she was almost blown off balance. And then, alarmingly, she felt two heavy hands on her back, pushing her determinedly against the car and holding her firmly into position.
Fighting through her fear and panic, she tried in vain to look over her shoulder, but as she did she was distracted by the drenched figure of a young girl wearing a white dress, who was standing at the other side of the fallen branch. She was waving her arms in desperation and looking clearly petrified, and she seemed to be calling to Kelly. But her voice was being drowned by the noise of the storm.
The terrifying seconds that followed seemed to pass in slow motion, until the words ‘go back, go back’ reached her ears as if being carried along by a gust of wind. At the same time the hands released their grip, the wind began to pull back, and as Kelly turned to look closer the girl and the branch were gone. It was as if none of it had ever happened.
Reeling from shock, Kelly scrambled back into her car. Her heart was pounding furiously and her hands were trembling. Her whole body was shaking from the aftermath, and she searched her mind for an explanation. The looming forest, the storm, the solitude, and the height she had climbed along the route, must have heightened her senses and caused her to hallucinate. There was no other answer.
She took long, slow, deep breaths to try to calm herself down before starting her car and setting off again, determined not to let her thoughts take her to anywhere but The Grange. She was already very late for her appointment, as well as her appearance being in total disarray. There was no point worrying about it now, it was simply too late – Mr Midgley would have to take her as he found her.
3
There were no more disturbances or interruptions as she continued along the remaining trek. The storm had died as suddenly as it had begun, although the skies remained dark and heavily burdened.
There was still an unearthly silence pervading the atmosphere, which had inexplicably prevailed throughout the storm, and the feeling of seclusion which had accompanied her along the rest of the journey, continued to make her feel vulnerable.
As the road began to straighten out ahead of her, she knew instinctively that she was nearing her destination. She drove along until she finally arrived at a clearing in the forest to her left. An old and barely visible thorny-tangled track veered off the road and led her to a high stone wall linked together with a pair of ancient, gothic style, oak gates. They were tall and solid with heavily studded rusty ironmongery, and had been opened for her arrival.
She hesitated as she surveyed the surroundings. This was total isolation and she wasn’t comfortable. It felt eerie, and a shudder rippled through her body as she was overcome by a strong conviction that she was entering a long-lost, forbidden place. She put her car into reverse and began to go back, back along the thorny track - and back onto the woodland road, until she hesitated once more.
Never in her life had she succumbed to such feelings. She didn’t understand. This was all so foreign to her nature. She remained where she was for several minutes, until her better judgement took control and she could pull herself together. She was a professional, this was her job, and she wasn’t prone to paranoia. She turned her car into the track once more and drove straight in through the gates and into the grounds. But after a second or two, her nerve failed again. She pulled up and wound down the window. Apart from the sound of the engine, there was a spine-chilling silence. There was neither a rustling of the trees, or the cawing of a raven. It was as if she had been abandoned on an alien planet. It felt unreal. When Evelyn suggested she bring Charlene along – she should have agreed. The sight of another human being at this very moment was a comforting thought.
She turned the engine off and listened and watched. The weather was strangely calm and still, but with an inexplicable deadness.
The Grange, looking as sombre as a mausoleum, could be seen in the distance ahead where it had remained hidden from the world for so long. There it was, a forlorn, grey, relic of the past, standing alone against the backdrop of the forest. The masses of fir trees, which could be seen from the road below, were set well back from the house to its rear, as well as keeping vigil at a distance to either side of the grounds.
For anyone who believed in the Supernatural, it was a place where the dead walk. She felt a shiver travel down her spine at the thought.
She couldn’t see a car in the distance, or any sign of life, so she could only presume that she must have arrived before Mr Midgely after all, which did nothing to calm her nerves. She felt uneasy, so decided to remain where she was - her car silent and stationery. She didn’t want to venture any closer to the building until he arrived, and so she waited - seconds turning into long dreary minutes, which stretched out to feel like hours.
And still there was no sign of life.
Low dark clouds floated in the skies above, casting ever more sinister shadows across the gloomy façade of the austere mansion. The minutes ticked away and the silence penetrated even more. And then some bizarre force caused her to turn and look behind her, and to her horror she saw that the gates which she had entered were now closed – she felt trapped.
It didn’t make sense. Who, or what, could possibly have closed the gates? There was no-one in sight. And even more baffling, she hadn’t heard a sound - from gates so ancient that by now they would be creaking on their rusty old hinges?
She immediately started her car engine again and activated the central locking. She felt safer in the knowledge that she could drive off if need be. But drive off to where? She wasn’t thinking straight - did she think she could ram the sturdy old gates if she felt a need to? She didn’t know - all she knew was that she felt a strong compulsion to leave.
She checked her mobile phone - and just as she expected, there was no reception. Where on earth is he, surely he should have been here by now? She was feeling restless.
There was only one option - to drive down towards the building and see if there was another way out. Perhaps there was an exit to its rear. Large mansions such as The Grange would have more than one entrance. Before the invention of cars, they would have had to have coach houses and stables, so there was b
ound to be parking to the rear and another way in. Yes, of course, she wasn’t thinking straight - Mr Midgely must have parked at the rear. The fear must have muddled her brain.
She decided to take a closer look and drove down towards the house.
Suddenly she slammed on the brakes which jolted her forward, as she remembered that she had an aerial view in the file which showed the grounds in their entirety. Why didn’t she think of that before? It wasn’t like her to let it slip her mind. She leaned over to the rear seat and retrieved the folder containing the information.
As she withdrew the photograph, she instinctively looked up towards The Grange and to her surprise saw that the front door was open - she was certain it was closed a moment ago. She tossed the paperwork back onto the seat and breathed a deep sigh of relief as she set off again. Thank God for that, at last Mr Midgely has opened up!
The Grange looked even more unapproachable as she drew nearer. She could see its crumbling façade and its Grey austere walls, which had visibly suffered the harsh elements of the steadfast Yorkshire moors over the years. Weather-beaten and ugly, it had long since lost its allure. It was menacing and uninviting, its seclusion morbid and unfriendly, its moss-covered, shuttered windows hiding whatever secrets lay within its walls. She was unimpressed.
Several crumbling, wide stone steps, led to its colonnaded entrance. And years of unruly ivy had taken control of at least two of the castellated towers. Immediately in front of the entrance, at the centre of a turning circle, a disused fountain was giving refuge to an overabundance of weeds. Neglect and decay were strangling the remains of this once proud mansion. The house which had eluded her and fascinated her for all those years whilst it remained shrouded in mystery, was now standing in front of her. All that remained was a forlorn, forgotten and unwanted shadow of its former glory.
She parked up, stopped the engine, and reached over into the back for the canvas bag which contained her camera and torch. She climbed out of the car, locked it, and hurried towards the door, concerned about her dishevelled appearance but unable to do a thing about it. She ran up the steps, wondering how long Mr Midgley had been there. Always proud of her time-keeping record, she felt gutted that she was so late for this appointment.
But he could have had the common decency to show his face - after all, he must have seen her waiting!
She was quite miffed at the thought.
She walked through the open door and into the porch, and as she did so she was greeted by a smell of staleness. It was a large room with another open door which led into the main hall. But all was in darkness. There was no sign of anyone and not a sound. She felt increasingly frustrated at the overall way in which the proposed meeting had been conducted so far, and she certainly didn’t feel like venturing into the decaying building alone.
Reaching into her bag for the torch, she aimed it through the opening and surveyed the surroundings as the beam lit up the grand entrance. Everything was as still as a graveyard. Her first thoughts were to call out for Mr Midgley - but that wouldn’t be very professional. So she turned the beam back towards the porch, and shone it around to see if there was a bell.
She reeled back in shock as the outline of a man standing back in the shadow of the doorway, was suddenly revealed. Her heart lurched into her throat and she almost dropped the torch - and for a split second the image had gone from the flash of light. She quickly tried to restore her balance and self-control and she aimed the beam back into the shadows.
“Mr Midgley?” she asked in a voice barely above a whisper, her speech trembling in harmony with her body. She had suddenly gone very cold. She steeled herself, whilst gritting her teeth to stop them from chattering. She extended her arm cautiously to shake his hand, but withdrew it swiftly as she intuitively knew it wasn’t him. There was no acknowledgement – and for a few horrible moments time stood still.
She stared in disbelief and horror. His face in the flashlight resembled a Venetian carnival mask, stark-white, gaunt and with hollow eyes. In fact his eyes were so deeply sunk into their sockets, that they were hardly visible at all. He didn’t look human. He was motionless - not a quiver, or flicker of anything. He could be a tailor’s dummy lurking there in the gloominess of the doorway, impassive and without features of any kind. Black hair was greased back from his expressionless face.
As Kelly’s eyes accustomed themselves to the dimness of the room, aided by the limited visibility from the flashlight, she could see that he was dressed in an old fashioned and faded butler’s outfit, which looked too large for the fleshless frame that it clung to - and was certainly not of this era.
She didn’t intend to linger long enough to take a better look, and she turned her torch face-down to the floor – she couldn’t bear to look at him any longer.
He gave her the creeps!
Her instincts warned her to get out of there and back to the safety of her car. But her common sense told her that Mr Midgley must be somewhere inside the house, waiting for her. After all, it was massive and he could be anywhere.
She retreated inside, moving in sideways as she watched out of the corner of her eye for his shadow behind her, hoping against hope that he would not follow.
He didn’t – thank God!
Standing in the hall, she listened carefully for any sound which would lead her to the man she was supposed to meet. But it was still deadly silent. She called out his name. Her voice echoed through the emptiness, until it finally faded into the distance. But nothing followed in return. It was spooky – words that were foreign to her thoughts, but somehow expressed the atmosphere in the only way she knew.
She beamed the light around her and gazed in wonderment at the stunning double storey reception hall, with its splendid sweeping return staircase and galleried landing. Its ornate carved balustrading oozed with quality and elegance and remnants of a distant past. She marvelled at the large stone mullioned window with its multiple panes of coloured leaded lights, sitting proudly at the half-return. But everything was faded and crumbling with years of neglect.
And for just a brief moment she had forgotten about the sinister man in the doorway.
She crossed the impressive marble floor, as she went in search of Mr Midgely. The light from her torch bounced from one corner to another, revealing more and more secrets of its ancient past.
But it was all suffering from the same dreadful decline.
There was no doubt in her mind that important people would have once gathered here to enjoy the opulence and grandeur and hospitality of its owners, at a time when the gap between rich and poor flourished. The once glittering chandeliers, now adorned with cobwebs and dulled by years of decay, were still a testament to what would have once been.
Elegant ladies would have dressed in all their finery, corseted bodies sporting beautiful crinoline gowns and satin shoes, and gloved arms with ornate fans linked to the wrist to cool their porcelain faces. It would have all been happening here, when the mansion enjoyed a more prosperous era.
But though she was lost in her thoughts for a few moments, she soon returned to reality and the job in hand, as she began to wonder where Mr Midgley could be and why he still hadn’t come looking for her. She was beginning to feel edgy at venturing any further into the unknown.
The thud of the front door closing behind her sent a cold shiver down her spine and she spun round, aiming her torch at the entrance.
But the strange man - who she presumed could only be the caretaker - had gone, and she felt an overwhelming sense of relief as she guessed he must have left. And then her thoughts turned to panic, as she suddenly realised that she could be alone in this god-forsaken place – and what if she had been locked in? She tried to drum some sense into her out-of-control imagination, and asked herself why anyone should choose to lock the door, knowing full well she wouldn’t be able to get out! How foolish a thought was that? What had come over her to cause such irrational thinking? She had no idea.
Shafts of light were trying to b
reak through gaps in the window shutters, so Kelly decided to see if she could get some of them open in an effort to brighten up the place and allay her fears. She struggled to move them because they were tall and heavy, and rusty old hinges had locked them firmly in place. They’d obviously been closed for a very long time.
She persevered until she finally managed to drag some apart. Light poured into the darkened areas, exposing the full extent of the dilapidations. She put her torch back in the bag and continued to open as many shutters as possible, as she walked from one room to another.
She stumbled across a short hallway, accessed through a stone arched entrance. There was a flickering light gently bouncing off the wall, as it reflected from one of the open doors. She moved closer to investigate, calling Mr Midgley’s name hesitantly. But there was no response.
Another door was open, leading into a room on the opposite side. Kelly turned towards it and could see a long formal dining table, elaborately dressed to entertain guests. She walked in to take a closer look. A full height, stone inglenook fireplace took pride of place in the heavily panelled room, its hefty metal grate set as if waiting to be lit. Tall shutters were open, allowing daylight to filter through, whilst heavy drapes decorated the windows.
It was like stepping back in time.
She pulled her camera out of the canvas bag, eager to take advantage of the unusual setting, though somewhat baffled by its comparison to the rest of the building which she’d seen so far.
Speculating that someone must have rejuvenated the room to show interested purchasers what it might have once been, was a bizarre thought – but it was the only explanation she had. She took as many shots as she could, and her earlier anxieties were soon forgotten.
Moving on to explore the room with the flickering light, she was even more overawed by what she saw. If someone had been working on this section of the house, solely for the benefit of impressing prospective interested purchasers, they had certainly gone overboard and the thought mystified her. The room was atmospheric and inviting, and exuded a cosy ambience through its elegant façade. A beautiful ornate marble fireplace was its focal point, with a fire burning warmly in the grate. The flickering light which had first caught her attention was coming from one of the several lighted oil lamps, which gave the room its warm, friendly glow. A copious amount of pictures adorned the walls, and several occasional tables were decorated with framed family photographs. Heavy drapes decorated the windows, and large comfy-looking sofas with tasselled cushions tempted her towards them. Anyone could be forgiven for sinking into them, lured by the sheer pleasure which they invited. But Kelly was distracted by a fine china tea set which was on a small table. The teapot was gently simmering steam through its graceful spout, and there were two cups and saucers, a cream jug and a sugar dish. Tea for two had been served - but for whom?