The Haunting of Henderson Close

by Cavendish

  “Oh, it’s far too late for that. It’s out now. Nothing can stop it. I certainly can’t. I haven’t the strength remaining in me.” She put out her hand to turn the key in the door.

  Hannah barred her way. “But it was captured once, surely it can be captured again?”

  “Good luck with that.”

  “Cerys, you can’t just leave us like this,” George said.

  “Watch me. Now please, Hannah, let me out of here. I can’t help you.”

  Hannah stayed where she was. “Then what are we going to do?”

  Cerys sighed. “Try praying. To any and all deities in the universe.” She shoved Hannah out of the way, opened the door and slammed it behind her.

  George watched her race down the street. “So what do we do now?”

  Hannah shrugged. “I’d take her advice and try praying, but I pretty much gave up on that years ago.”

  “I’d like to say she was a fake but Megan insisted she was the most genuine she had ever met. Uncannily so, it seems. She doesn’t make a penny out of her mediumship and has been accurate so many times, telling total strangers things she couldn’t possibly know. She’s also cleansed a lot of houses and Megan never came across anyone who wasn’t full of praise for her. We won’t find better.”

  “Well, I wasn’t particularly impressed,” Hannah said. “So she needn’t think she can add me to her fan club. I thought her attitude was appalling. I thought mediums and such like had some code of conduct. They’re not supposed to go around frightening people. As if we didn’t have enough of that already.”

  “Look, I’ll speak to Megan again. Tell her what happened this evening and see if she has any other suggestions. Meanwhile, I don’t think any of us should go down there alone. No point in frightening the others, so let’s keep it between ourselves, but if it looks like any member of staff is going down there, one of us had better make some excuse and go with them.”

  “Agreed.” She stared at the entrance to the Close and shivered. “When I first got this job, I was so happy. I never thought I’d say this, but unless we can stop this happening – unless Cerys is wrong – I don’t think I can stay here.”

  “Me neither.”

  “But before I came here, you didn’t experience anything like this, did you?”

  “Not to this extent, admittedly, but this is a strange place. It does have a checkered history and inexplicable things have always happened. Objects moving, shadows I can’t explain—”

  “But nothing like this. Nothing like last night or what happened at the séance?”

  George avoided her eyes and shook his head.

  “So you think it’s all down to me too?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You didn’t have to.”

  “Hannah. It’s probably coincidence. Maybe this was meant to happen at this time. They would have knocked down the wall to Farquhars Close anyway, whether you had joined us or not. I think it’s far more to do with that than anything you might have done or any influence you may have been. And what about Mairead’s disappearance? You’re not responsible for that and it’s all linked up. It has to be.”

  “Where is Mairead?” Hannah said it half to herself. George didn’t reply.

  * * *

  Back in her flat, Hannah sat on her sofa in the soft lamplight, a glass of smooth red wine within easy reach. Again and again she replayed the events at the kirkyard, the séance and then Cerys’s extraordinary outburst. From nowhere, an old memory stirred. Probably nothing. Unrelated. But.… The nagging thought wouldn’t go away. She glanced at her watch. Eleven fifteen. It would be quarter past nine in the morning in Brisbane. Sunday morning, so Jenna could be home. It was spring over there. She might be out and about with that new boyfriend of hers. Or enjoying a lie in.

  Oh, what the hell. It was worth a try, wasn’t it?

  Hannah booted up her laptop, preferring the larger screen to her mobile phone. She went onto Skype and called Jenna.

  Her daughter seemed slightly breathless as if she had scurried to answer the call. Her sleep-head hair was mussed and her face makeup free. She looked golden skinned, healthy and happy. Hannah almost changed her mind about what she was calling about.

  “Mum, what a lovely surprise! I thought we weren’t Skyping till next week.”

  Hannah forced a smile and hoped Jenna was fooled. “Oh well, you know me. I like to be spontaneous.” Who was she kidding? She could never fool her daughter.

  “OK, Mum now you are officially worrying me. What is it? Are you ill? You look exhausted. Is the job going all right? Has something happened?”

  “Nothing to worry about, Jenna. I’m fine. The job’s fine. I’m working hard but I’m perfectly well. Honestly.” Stop insisting, she told herself. She definitely won’t buy that.

  “Then…what? Come on, Mum, don’t keep anything from me. You know you can’t.”

  “It’s something and nothing really. I was sitting here, having a few quiet minutes chilling by myself and I got to thinking about when you were little and you had that friend. You remember. What was her name? Her mother was supposedly psychic or something.”

  Jenna frowned as she thought. “Oh, you mean Jacquetta? Jacquetta Hidalgo Lister. Yes, her mother was a real oddball. She developed some sort of fixation with you. Weird.”

  “That’s right. Can you remember the details?”

  “Oh God, that was years ago.”

  Hannah caught a movement behind her daughter. “How’s Sean?”

  “He’s well. Come and say ‘hi’ to Mum, Sean.”

  A deeply tanned, dark-haired man with a friendly smile and expensive-looking teeth leaned over Jenna’s shoulder. “G’day, Mrs. Lockwood.”

  “Hello, Sean. Nice to see you again.” Hannah meant it. Sean seemed a decent man, who worked hard as a doctor and obviously cared deeply for her daughter. Jenna could do a lot worse for herself.

  Jenna squeezed Sean’s hand. “I’m going to chat to Mum for a little while. Catch you on the patio later?”

  “You got it.”

  He moved out of shot and Jenna watched him go. She turned back to the screen.

  “Looks like it’s going well for you too,” Hannah said.

  Jenna smiled. “It is. He’s moved in with me, Mum.”

  “I’m happy for you.”

  “I was going to tell you next week. It only happened a few days ago.”

  “As long as you’re happy, I’m happy.”

  “We are. And before you ask, no, I’m not pregnant. We’re not ready for all that yet.”

  “All in good time. No rush. You’re both young.”

  “Where were we? Oh, Jacquetta and that strange mother of hers. She was supposed to be Romany I think. I remember Jacquetta and I were playing at our house one day and her mother came to collect her. It was the first time she met you and she went…well…peculiar. Started swaying and putting her head in her hands. I remember she pointed at you and—”

  As if someone had opened a gate, the memory flooded back. Hannah exclaimed, “That’s right. Only she didn’t point at me, she pointed behind me.”

  “That’s it. She said she saw someone standing at your shoulder. She described it like an ugly hunched creature with red eyes, scales, claws, a hideous mouth and teeth. Like a…a—”

  “Gargoyle.”

  “Yes.” Jenna’s initial expression of triumph quickly faded. “Mum, what aren’t you telling me? Why rake this up after all these years?”

  “Oh, it’s nothing really. You know I work in this spooky place. It’s great fun. People come to us with all sorts of stories. Strange encounters and experiences they’ve had and it was something someone said. For some reason it put me in mind of Jacquetta’s mother and I was racking my brains. I knew you’d remember.”

  “I should do. I don’t think I saw too mu
ch of Jacquetta after that. Well, it was a bit embarrassing, especially in front of my other friends, when this woman broke into hysterics every time she saw you. And she started calling you another name. Christine, I think.”

  In a shockwave, Hannah remembered. “Kirsten. She called me Kirsten.”

  “That’s right.”

  “And she said she wanted to conduct a séance and contact the creature. I refused but she kept on asking.”

  “I seem to remember you steering me away from her and suggesting I spend more time with my other friends.”

  “Sorry, but.…”

  “Oh, that’s OK. We didn’t have that much in common anyway. Something tells me Jacquetta was destined to follow in her mother’s footsteps.”

  “Do you know what happened to her in the end?”

  “They moved away. I think they went to somewhere in Spain. They had relatives there and after Jacquetta’s father’s business folded, there were financial problems. I haven’t heard anything of her for…oh, must be ten years or more.”

  It had only been a half-thought anyway. With Cerys’s departure, contacting Jacquetta’s mother might have been a possibility but even if she had done so, Hannah couldn’t see herself being able to tolerate more than a few minutes in the infuriating woman’s company. Jenna’s memories had brought back images of awkward encounters. Rosanna was an overly emotional sort who could be guaranteed to wring the most drama out of any situation and made a great song and dance about her heritage. No, it wouldn’t have been a good idea to contact her and rake up the past all over again. It had all seemed too far-fetched back then anyway. Even now. The gargoyle thing. Coincidence surely. Kirsten.…

  “Mum, are you sure that’s all there is to it? You look worried.”

  “Worried? No, don’t be daft. I’m fine. Now you go and get some of that spring sunshine and enjoy your weekend.”

  “If you’re sure.…”

  “I’m certain. Thanks for filling in the gaps. You know how it is when you get something on your mind and you can’t sort it out? You’ve done that for me so I can put it to bed now.”

  Jenna smiled. “Glad I could help. Love you, Mum, chat next week. I’ll call you this time.”

  “Love you too, Jenna. Chat soon.”

  Jenna’s face flashed off the screen as the call terminated. Hannah switched off her computer and sat back down on the sofa. Rosanna Hidalgo Lister. She stored the name away in her mind.

  * * *

  George listened as he sipped his pint of Guinness the following day after work. He set his glass down. “What you described is pretty much how I would have described it. The creature, I mean. And we do need professional help. It’s a bit of a coincidence about the Kirsten thing as well. Especially from so many years ago.”

  Hannah frowned. “She is an absolute pain, unless she’s had a personality transplant. And she probably still lives in Spain.”

  “You said Jenna thought her daughter was probably destined to follow in her mother’s footsteps?”

  Hannah nodded. “That’s what Jenna said, yes. But as far as we know she still lives in Spain too.”

  “Facebook. You’ve got an account, haven’t you?”

  “Yes. I suppose I could at least search for her. It depends whether she’s changed her name or not.”

  “I did some Spanish at school. Can’t remember any of it now but I do know that Spanish surnames tend to be double-barreled. So her mother’s patronym was Hidalgo and her husband’s name is Lister?”

  Hannah nodded. “Technically Jacquetta should have been Lister Hidalgo – father’s surname first, followed by mother’s maiden name – but they decided that was too complicated for living in the UK so they all kept their surnames the same. Jacquetta may have changed it back when they moved to Spain. And, of course she may be married now, so her surname will probably have changed again. Complicated or what?” She put her head in her hands.

  “Try looking for Rosanna first. Then, if you really can’t bear the thought of communicating with her, see if her daughter is among her friends.”

  “George, you’re a genius.”

  He winked at her. “It has been said.”

  * * *

  “Gotcha!” There was only one Rosanna Hidalgo Lister on Facebook and a half-remembered face beamed out at her. “Either you’ve had work or that’s an old photo,” Hannah muttered to herself. She clicked onto Rosanna’s list of friends. Infuriatingly, her list of friends would only be available to her if Hannah sent her a friend request.

  “Dammit.”

  Hannah searched for various permutations of Jacquetta’s name but came up with no one who even marginally matched Jenna’s former friend. She went back to Rosanna’s page, hesitated, then clicked on the friend request button. After all, it wasn’t as if she’d actually have to meet up with her again, was it?

  * * *

  Ailsa tapped her fingers on her desk. The staff sat in a semicircle in front of her. “The builders have quit.”

  Hannah spoke, “Just like that?”

  “Just like that. A couple of them had a nasty experience, or so they said. They reported being attacked by some black shadow with claws. I mean, honestly.” She laughed. A couple of the others snickered. George and Hannah remained stony-faced.

  “The upshot of it is that, until we can appoint another contractor, work on Farquhars Close has been temporarily suspended.”

  “Will it be bricked up again?” George asked.

  “Not unless you want to do the job yourself, George,” Ailsa said. “It will remain as it is. The boards and the sheeting will stay in place and you need to make sure that your groups don’t go wandering into hard-hat areas.”

  Hannah said nothing. Her mind swam with thoughts of the evil entity Cerys had warned them of. It remained down there, free and unfettered and if it could indeed travel, how far could it go?

  George cornered Hannah in the staff room. “I’ve spoken to Megan. The first thing she did was ask what on earth we’d done to Cerys. Apparently the woman rang her in floods of tears, mumbled something about never going back there and made Megan promise she would never call on her professional advice ever again.”

  “I knew she was upset when she left here.”

  “Upset doesn’t begin to cover it anymore. The result is that Megan is refusing to suggest anyone else. She said she has few enough friends as it is without losing any more. Then she told me to find another job and leave Henderson Close well alone.”

  “That might be a good idea if only that thing wasn’t on the loose. Do you think that’s what grabbed me in the graveyard?”

  George poured a coffee and handed it to Hannah before pouring his own. “I think it’s highly likely and it’s probably what frightened the builders.”

  “We’ll see if Rosanna responds to my friend request, but meanwhile, there has to be something we can do. Is there any information on Farquhars Close around? I mean, someone in the latter half of the nineteenth century managed to wall that thing up, so surely we can do the same now?”

  “You know what Cerys said. She clearly didn’t think that was going to happen anytime soon.” George drained his coffee mug.

  “Yes, well, she didn’t see fit to hang around, did she? She obviously doesn’t have all the answers.”

  “We don’t have any.”

  Hannah sighed. Did George seriously plan to do nothing? That was the one thing they couldn’t afford. “We’d better find some. And fast. I’m going to have a word with Ailsa.”

  George did a double-take. “You don’t mean you’re going to tell her about Cerys?”

  “How crazy do you think I am? Of course not. I’m going to ask her if she has any information on the history of Farquhars Close. Especially at the time it was decided to wall it up. I’ll just tell her I want to add a bit of spice to my presentation.”

&nbs
p; “Fair enough. Good idea.”

  * * *

  Hannah stood in front of Ailsa. She took in the dark circles under her boss’s eyes, the way her mouth drooped at the corners. If she had known her better, she would have asked her what was wrong, but Ailsa was difficult to get close to. Instead, Hannah told her what she planned, and Ailsa managed a genuine smile.

  “Excellent idea, Hannah. I’ve got an old book here somewhere.” She stood and reached up to the top shelf of her bookcase. “If you’d like to put something together and let me have it, we can share it around the other members of the team. Might as well get their appetites going for another visit when I can find a new building contractor.”

  “It’s a big job. You’d think they’d be lining up.” Hannah watched as Ailsa located what she was looking for. An old leather-bound volume. Ailsa blew on the spine and a small cloud of dust scattered itself.

  “Yes, you would indeed, but I’m sure we’ll find someone before long. Here you are. McKinley’s Tales of the Edinburgh Closes.”

  Hannah took the dusty book, opened it, and the familiar fusty smell of old paper wafted up.

  “It was my grandmother’s,” Ailsa said. “Long out of print now of course, but it used to fascinate me when I was growing up. It’s probably why I do my job now, if I’m honest.”

  “I’ll take great care of it.”

  “I know you will. I should have told you this sooner, but I’m glad you came to join us, Hannah. I know we had a bit of a rocky start but you’ve fitted right in and your enthusiasm for your work is infectious. I’m not surprised we get such excellent feedback from your tours.”

  Hannah hadn’t been expecting such fulsome praise. “Thank you, Ailsa. I really appreciate that.” She was tempted to tell the manager the real reason she wanted to borrow the book. She got as far as opening her mouth, but then shut it again. Best to quit while she was winning.

  That evening, she opened the old book. Its hand-cut, thick pages were interspersed with tissue-covered pictures of the Old Town at the turn of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. The front page of the volume showed the date of publication as 1910 and the slightly florid, yet chatty style of the author – George McKinley – made his subject easy to absorb. Each chapter was headed by the name of the Close concerned and Hannah skipped past Mary King’s Close, Anchor Close and a host of others until she came across Farquhars Close.