2.0 - What Lies Below

by Helen Phifer

  Glenys sighed. ‘They say it’s haunted and knows nothing but tragedy and sadness. Sir John Rowland built it for his wife and daughter in the 1800s. As far as I know, he only had one child and she was found drowned in the lake on her wedding morning. From what I can gather, she was wearing her wedding dress, her hair was loose around her shoulders, and she looked as if she was sleeping. They dragged her out of the lake, but it was too late, she was dead. Her fiancé never got over it, neither did her parents. There were rumours that she’d been killed by a jealous servant who’d fallen in love with her and couldn’t bear to see her marry another man.’

  Maddy hadn’t realised she’d been sitting open-mouthed until she let out a gasp. She felt as if she’d stumbled into some kind of déjà vu.

  ‘No way!’ she said. ‘I can’t believe that. It’s just like my dream. I found myself in the house and it was full of servants and people bustling around. There were girls being dressed by servants in the bedroom I use, and they were all getting ready for a wedding. Then one of them screamed and I saw a man running towards the lake. There was a group of men standing around and they fished the most beautiful, dead woman, in a wedding dress, out onto the bank. It was heartbreaking and so real.’

  It was Glenys’s turn to stare open-mouthed. ‘You’re winding me up?’

  Maddy shook her head. ‘I swear, I’m not.’

  ‘Shit, that’s a bit too freaky. Are you psychic?’

  ‘No, definitely not. I’ve never experienced anything like that in my life. I felt as if I was there with them, only they couldn’t see me. I could even smell the food in the kitchen.’

  Glenys frowned. ‘It must be a residual haunting, it’s the only explanation.’

  ‘What’s one of those?’

  ‘When something tragic happens in life, it can imprint itself in its surroundings. Lake House, like many of the houses around here, is built from local limestone, which is known to be a conduit for storing such memories.’

  Maddy studied Glenys carefully; no wonder the villagers thought she was kooky. She sipped her coffee and wondered what to do about the whole living-in-a-haunted-house situation. She didn’t believe it, but what about the sodden wedding dress and the confetti?

  ‘There’s something else,’ she told Glenys eventually. ‘I’ve heard loud noises, and the other morning I found a sopping wet wedding dress on the front steps outside the entrance. When I went back inside, there was confetti strewn all over the kitchen floor. Seth thinks it was someone playing a trick on me, maybe one of the locals trying to scare me away. He wasn’t sure if it was Alfie. Did he mention it to you?’

  Glenys nodded. ‘He did. In fact, I saw my arse with him over that. There’s no way Alfie would know about the history of the house, and even if he did, he isn’t bright enough to leave a wet wedding dress and sprinkle confetti around without getting caught. It’s just not him. And if someone put him up to it, he’d be so proud that he’d managed to do it right, he’d have come home and told me or Seth all about it.’

  ‘Then who do you think did?’

  Glenys shrugged. ‘I don’t know, but we need to find out who and why pretty quick. That’s a real lowlife thing to do to someone living there alone. Don’t tell anyone about it,’ she advised. ‘I’ll ask around and see if I can find anything out.’

  ‘What should I do?’

  ‘Keep doing what you’ve been doing. Are you scared to stay there? I have a sofa you can sleep on, or Seth has plenty of rooms in the pub.’

  Maddy thought for a few moments. She didn’t believe in ghosts, although in the past few days she had begun to think there could be something to the phenomena. She did, however, think someone was trying to scare her off. The dream was probably just one of life’s odd occurrences. They happened, for some reason, without any sense to them.

  She wasn’t about to be scared away so easily, despite her reservations. She’d survived living in London her entire life, and Connor’s abusive relationship. No, she was staying put, but she resolved to be a lot more vigilant.

  ‘I’m okay,’ she assured Glenys. ‘I don’t feel scared of the house. I kind of feel as if I’ve been there before, even though I know for sure I haven’t. In fact, I’m more annoyed that someone thinks they can play such mean tricks on a single woman trying to get on with her life. I’ll stay at the house, unless it gets too much. But I really want to know more about the woman who drowned. I feel as if she has a story that needs to be told.’

  ‘Maybe you lived there in a past life. Leave it with me. I’ll do some research and speak to some of the oldies who love to gossip. If you do get a bit freaked out, you can come here anytime. You’re always welcome.’

  ‘Thank you, that’s very kind but I’m not leaving without a fight. Besides, if I don’t finish this book, my agent when she hunts me down will be scarier than any ghost that might be living in Lake House.’

  Glenys laughed. ‘Good. You’re tough, I like that. Don’t take any bullshit.’

  Maddy stood up and was shocked when Glenys rushed towards her and pulled her close, hugging her tight.

  ‘We’re like Thelma and Daphne from Scooby Doo,’ she said with a chuckle. ‘We’ll find out what the mystery is all about.’

  Maddy hugged her back, smiling. ‘I always did love that dog.’

  As she walked out of the shop, her mind was a whirl of possibilities as she tried to make sense of what the hell was going on.

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  M addy had a lot to think about: murdered brides, haunted houses, bitter locals…and Seth. Walking towards the pub, she was relieved to see the front door wedged open and she paused before stepping out of the glorious sunshine into the dark, gloomy pub.

  Inside, it took her eyes a few seconds to adjust to the darkness. Her stomach was churning with nerves at the prospect of facing Seth. It was difficult to know what to say to someone in the throes of grief without sounding like a fool.

  She spotted Alfie perched on a bar stool, one elbow propping his head up while his other hand dipped in and out of a bag of crisps. Seth wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

  Crossing the room, she perched on the stool next to the boy. ‘Give us a crisp, I’m starving.’

  He turned to stare at her. ‘They’re salt and vinegar.’

  ‘I know, my favourite.’

  Reluctantly, he passed the bag to her, watching as she took a couple of crisps out and shoved them in her mouth. She winced; they were very vinegary but tasted divine. When Alfie snatched the bag back, she laughed. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll buy my own. I’m not going to eat them all.’

  ‘No, you won’t,’ said a deep voice. ‘They’re short-dated and you’ll be saving Alfie from severe dehydration. He’s on his fifth packet.’ Seth smiled at her, passing her an unopened packet of crisps.

  As his hand brushed against hers, she felt as though an electric current had run through her body.

  ‘Thank you. Seth…I’m so sorry to hear about your dad.’

  He smiled at her, but this time it didn’t reach his eyes, and she noticed him blink several times as though to stop unshed tears from falling.

  ‘It’s what he would have wanted. It was sudden. I suppose if you’re going to go, that’s the way.’

  ‘It is,’ she agreed. ‘Is there anything I can do for you? I could man the pub for a few hours if you need a break, you know, a bit of breathing space.’

  ‘No thanks. To be honest, it takes my mind off it. Glenys has offered to come and help out at teatime when she’s shut up shop.’

  Maddy smiled. ‘Oh, she’s very kind and nice.’

  ‘You’ve met her then?’

  ‘Yesterday, and I’ve just had coffee with her.’ Maddy left out how rude her new friend had been yesterday. It had been a bad day for them all, so it was understandable.

  ‘Coffee? She must like you. It took me three months to get invited over for coffee, didn’t it, Alfie?’

  The boy, who’d just crammed a handful of crisps in his mouth, nodded.<
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  ‘I wanted to thank you for the other day,’ Maddy went on. ‘You were so kind spending all afternoon searching the house, and then I shoved you out with no explanation. I’m afraid I had to start writing; when I get an idea and it hits, I have to do it there and then, otherwise it goes and I’ve lost it again. But rudeness is inexcusable, especially when you’ve been so kind.’ She paused for a minute. ‘I was wondering if you’d like to come to the house for some supper? Nothing too fancy. Maybe a picnic by the lake and a bottle of wine, as a thank you.’

  She held her breath, scared he was about to say no.

  ‘I’d love to,’ he said, smiling. ‘It sounds like my kind of supper, and I love picnics. I love wine as well.’ He winked at her, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

  ‘Great, that’s amazing. I’ll see you around six then.’

  Alfie looked at her. ‘I like picnics. Hate wine, though. It tastes funny.’

  She laughed. ‘You can come another day, Alfie, is that okay?’

  He nodded. ‘Yep, tomorrow is good for me.’

  Seth winked at her again. ‘You’ll be feeding the entire village at this rate. Can I get you a drink?’

  ‘No thank you. I’m full of coffee and will be in bed before you arrive if I start drinking now.’

  ‘Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing.’

  Shaking her head, she got off the stool. ‘It wouldn’t be very ladylike, though, would it? See you later, Seth. Alfie, I’ll see you tomorrow.’

  She walked back out into the warmth and sighed. It didn’t matter what was happening at the house, she was going to go back and prepare a picnic fit for a king. She wanted Seth to be able to relax and talk to her. No, what she really wanted was for Seth to take her to bed and spend all night with her, their bodies entwined around each other.

  She didn’t think she’d ever wanted a man the way she wanted him, and for once she didn’t care. She was going to do what made her happy, not what she should do.

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  H e stared down the side of the mountain at Lake House. The jetty, his jetty, was lit up with a hundred flickering candles. His hands were clenching into tight fists then unclenching; angry was an understatement. Who the hell was that woman to move into the house and take over his lake? No one had used that jetty for years, except for him. Yet here she was, after a couple of days, acting as if she owned the place. Well, he had a surprise for her, because she didn’t. The jetty and this part of the lake was his.

  It was his dumping ground, but he couldn’t exactly dispose of the body from last night now, could he? Not when she was lighting it up like a gaudy, fairground ride. What if she took a moment and stared down into the water when it was calm? He knew she’d see his bodies, all standing upright in a row, swaying against the swell of the water, weighted so they stayed in that position. Their hands were pressed together in prayer, secured with fishing line to keep them that way.

  The first time he’d thrown one in, it had sunk to the bottom. But for some reason, because of the rocks he’d used to weigh it down, it had righted itself by the next time he came to visit. That had both terrified and thrilled him at the same time. And he’d followed the same process with the others.

  If anyone was to stare into the depths of the lake for more than a moment, they might see the bodies, so it was risky. But it was also wonderful, because he could still see them clearly any time he wished to look and relive those last, special moments again.

  The locals never came near the lake, anyway. The only one who ventured into the overgrown grounds of Lake House was that dopey kid. He wasn’t a problem, though. No one listened to him, and if the lad became too inquisitive, he would quite happily add him to his collection.

  However, he hadn’t bargained on the woman turning up and staying around this long. She was becoming a problem.

  He turned away, walking towards the summer house. The breeze carried the underlying smell of rotting decomposition his way. It was mild now, but with this heat it wouldn’t take many hours before it was a tangible, distinguishable scent. He might have to kill a sheep and drag its body nearby to rot, in case any passing walkers got too near.

  For some reason, he didn’t like killing animals. Apparently, most serial killers either hated their parents or killed the family pets, but he had done neither. His parents had been wonderful, caring, supportive, loving, and kind, and he’d loved them deeply. He was also really fond of animals. Their innocence and loyalty were much better traits than those most humans possessed.

  It turned his stomach and made his hands tremble at the thought of hurting an innocent animal, but for some reason he didn’t feel that way about humans. Surely it should be the other way around? Shouldn’t he have an aversion to taking away an innocent human life? He knew he wasn’t normal; he didn’t feel what most people felt. He lived his life under a disguise and hid his true self well.

  Reaching the broken window, he climbed through and lifted his hand to his nose. The smell was much stronger in here, but at least it answered one question. The guy was definitely dead and hadn’t managed to escape. But now what was he going to do? The longer he left the body in here, the less chance there was of him being preserved by the cold water, because the flies and mice would eat away his best features.

  He realised he should have brought a sleeping bag with him. He shook his head angrily; he wasn’t thinking straight. That bloody woman had thrown his mind into a jumbled mess, and his rational thoughts were slipping. He knew that meant he was more likely to be slipping in every other aspect. He needed to be careful that his mask didn’t fall and expose him. He didn’t want to get caught, but he was putting everything on the line.

  He kicked the body on the floor. You, my friend, have fucked this up big time. Why did you turn up last night and think I was a Good Samaritan? If you’d have said no, I wouldn’t be in this mess now, would I? You might have to be buried on the fell if I can’t get you to the lake soon. And that is hard work. Do you realise how stony the ground is up here? No, you don’t, you bloody arsehole. Why didn’t you stay in a hotel, or better still why didn’t you stay in London? I bet you wished you had after that rock hit the side of your head.

  Unable to stop himself, he began to laugh so loud the sound echoed around the crumbling, stone walls and out onto the fells.

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  M addy had found a box filled with dusty, glass jars in the pantry, and she washed them all in the cracked, white Belfast sink, leaving them to dry on the draining board. She had a bag of tea lights so decided to pop one in each jar and light up the whole length of the wooden jetty.

  In the empty library, she’d found an ancient radio which she also dusted off, plugged into the mains, and prayed it wouldn’t blow up. Normally she’d play music on her phone, but with no Internet connection that was a definite no. The radio crackled to life in a blast of static, making her jump; the sound was so loud in the empty kitchen, it echoed around the walls.

  Turning the volume down, she slowly turned the dial, not really expecting to get anything, and was surprised when music began to play. She vaguely recognised the sweet, ageless voice of Ella Fitzgerald singing ‘Night and Day’, one of her gran’s all-time favourite songs. Maddy immediately felt her heart strings tug at the thought of her gran. She hadn’t spoken to her since she’d arrived. Tomorrow, she vowed to make a call her top priority.

  Humming along, she began to prepare the food, her hips swaying in time to the music. She smiled. That was what this whole house needed, something to lift the oppressive atmosphere and lighten the feeling of loneliness that was seeping from the walls in waves.

  Satisfied with her various dishes that she’d carefully wrapped in foil and placed in a box, she looked at her watch. It was quarter to six. By the time she’d set the candles up and spread the blanket out, hopefully Seth would have arrived. Leaving the radio playing an assortment of jazz and swing music, she carefully packed the jars into another box, along with some matches,
and headed out to the lake.

  By the time she’d reached the jetty and lit the candles, she was breathing a little too heavy; she hadn’t done this much exercise in years. Her back aching, she stood on the bank of the lake, her hands on her hips, and smiled. It looked magical. Even though it wasn’t yet dusk, the flickering lights looked so romantic that she pulled out her phone and snapped some photos. This would go on her blog, although she wouldn’t mention who she’d gone to all the effort for. Seth might not be the least bit interested in her, but the dramatic backdrop of the jetty over the lake against the mountains was stunning.

  A vision of the dead bride being dragged out of the freezing cold water broke her trance, and she shivered. Stop it, Maddy, that was over a hundred years ago. Don’t let your imagination ruin this.

  Shaking her head firmly to wipe the vision of her dream from her mind, she headed back to the house to collect the box of food. The music from the kitchen filtered through and she smiled. The pleasant sound was a real game-changer.

  Suddenly the loud rumble of Seth’s Land Rover as it crunched along the drive made her heart skip a beat. She felt like some lovesick teenager, but she didn’t care. By the time she emerged from the kitchen carrying the box, Seth was standing at the open front door.

  ‘Evening.’

  ‘I wasn’t sure if you’d come,’ she told him.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Well, you know. You have a lot on at the moment.’

  He stepped inside the gloomy entrance, his smile making her hormones race. ‘I definitely wouldn’t miss this for the world. It’s very kind of you and exactly what I need to take my mind off my dad. He’d go mad if he thought I was moping around when I could be on a date with a beautiful woman.’

  Maddy felt heat explode from her chest and up her cheeks, leaving her speechless.

  He rushed towards her, taking the box from her hands. ‘What’s in this?’

  ‘Cake and wine. You know, life’s essentials. I hope you’re hungry.’