by T M Creedy
‘OK. Geoff. Thank you.’
‘Are we still on for a walkabout the old Crowlands house then? Only I’d much rather we do it sooner than later. Got the feeling things are a little unsettled up there, so if I can be of assistance to you I’d very much like to pop up today if it’s convenient.’ I think for a minute but really, there’s no reason not to invite him up.
‘Um, sure. Today’s fine with me. What time were you thinking of?’ Not that it matters, it’s not like I have anywhere I need to be.
‘Superb! I’ll leave my place shortly. Should be with you in about half an hour!’ He rings off without saying goodbye. I scan the lounge area quickly, plumping up cushions and tidying away old newspapers, readying the place for my guest. I’ll put the kettle on, make a proper cup of tea and find some biscuits. Geoff is true to his word and half an hour after our phone call he’s trundling up the driveway in an old VW campervan. This is so not what I expected. I had him down as a small hatchback kind of man, not this hippy seventies’ throwback! I walk down the steps to greet him and he waves excitedly from the steering wheel, pulling up close to the newly planted gardens.
‘Hello, my dear!’ He busses both my cheeks with his whiskery ones. ‘Wonderful to see you again.’ As if we were old friends who haven’t seen each other in years.
‘Love the wheels!’ The campervan looks all original, from its hideous burnt orange paint job to the brown checked fabric on the cushions.
‘Ha! Me and this old gal are inseparable. Been together forty years now, longer than my marriage to Mrs Woods lasted anyway. Traversed the length and breadth of this fine country many a time, we have.’ He takes his walking stick from the van and gazes steadily up at the frontage of the house. ‘Not changed at bit.’ He murmurs, lost in his memories.
‘Come inside.’ I urge, taking his arm. ‘I’ve got a cup of tea waiting in the pot for us.’
It takes him a bit of time to get up the concrete steps to the verandah. I have no idea how he’s going to manage the stairs up to the second floor. I settle him at one of the dining table chairs and pour us a cup each. He’s twitchy, fidgeting about in his chair and looking this way and that.
‘Yes. I can feel them here. They’re close, the children.’ He cranes his neck to get a glimpse of the bottom of the staircase. ‘And there’s another presence too. Strong. Particularly in this area.’ He takes a slurping mouthful of tea. ‘I’ve brought some sage with me. It’s good for cleansing the atmosphere, and will also protect us from any spirits who mean us harm.’ He’s talking about the doctor.
‘Can you see any of them, now?’ I can feel the presence in the laundry room gaining in strength and before he can answer me the door slams shut in its frame, hard enough to shake the floor. Geoff jumps and his cup clatters on its saucer, spilling hot brown tea over the table. ‘Don’t worry. It’s fine. I’ll get a cloth.’ I hurry to the kitchen sink.
Geoff is looking increasingly uncomfortable.
‘I didn’t realise just how strong the forces are in this house. It really is quite overpowering.’ He takes a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and dabs at the sweat beading on his scalp.
‘Look, Geoff.’ I say gently. ‘It’s OK if you don’t want to do this. I’ll understand.’
‘No, no! I promised you I would try and contact the children for you. It’s not them I’m worried about. The spirit of the doctor isn’t happy I’m here. Actually, he’s quite insistent that I leave.’
I look around the room but see nothing out of the ordinary. Geoff hasn’t picked up on the unhappy shade of the nurse yet, despite the laundry room door remaining firmly closed.
‘Perhaps we should have a walk around outside in the gardens first?’ I suggest. He’s looking dreadfully pale and unwell, his skin the colour of putty.
‘Yes. That’s a good idea. I just need to gather my strength, that’s all, before I make contact.’ I take his arm again and help him up, both of us walking out of the lounge doors onto the verandah. Instantly some of Geoff’s colour returns and his walk becomes a little less stooped. I lead him round the side of the house to where the sheds are, knowing that this area is not inhabited by any of the ghosts from the house.
‘I am sorry, Sara. I don’t know what came over me. I felt most unwell and have a splitting headache.’ He’s so apologetic.
‘Never mind.’ I say brightly. ‘It doesn’t matter. I’m pleased you came over anyway, if only for the moral support.’
‘I don’t think I can go back in there.’ Geoff admits to me. ‘The children are one thing; they’re not threatening in the least. I think my headache is from the nurse, the one who shot herself. I’ve a feeling she lingers close to where she died. Was it in the kitchen, by any chance?’
‘Yes, close to it. In the laundry room just off to the side. The one with the slamming door.’
Geoff nods reluctantly.
‘I thought so. You’ve nothing to fear from her either, although she is one of the most desperately unhappy spirits I’ve ever encountered.’ He looks back towards the house, to where the gumtree stands. Although it’s a relatively still day there is a swirl of dust and leaves spinning wildly just below the branches. Geoff fixes his mouth in a grim line. ‘It’s him. The doctor. He’s not going to let them go.’ The dust devil under the tree whirls violently, taking on a vaguely human shape until it looks like the figure of a tall man is standing there. Geoff breaks his gaze. ‘Did you have some children here at the house recently? Real ones I mean?’ His voice has gained some of its former confidence.
‘Er, yes. I hosted a school visit yesterday.’ I don’t see the relevance of his question. ‘Why?’
‘That’s what’s brought him out from wherever he’s been hiding himself. The energy from the school children – it’s like a drug to him.’ Geoff grips my arm in a surprisingly strong grasp. ‘I’m sorry to tell you this, dear, but I think it’s time you thought about calling in the experts.’
‘You mean, like a priest?’
‘Yes. One who has experience of these things. Not that namby-pamby fellow from down the road – he wouldn’t know his arse from his cassock.’
‘Do you know of someone?’ I remember suggesting this to Drew. He didn’t seem to think it was a good idea.
‘Let me make some enquiries. I’m afraid it’s beyond my capabilities now. Something has caused the doctor to stir again and I feel he’s gaining his strength from your own youth and vitality. You mustn’t let him in, dear. You must be strong!’ Geoff gasps. I promise him faithfully I will do whatever I can to keep myself safe and help him back to the campervan.
‘Remember!’ He calls as he fires up the old engine. ‘There’s power in prayer! I’ll be in touch!’ I nod, raising a hand to wave him off.
Well, that was a fucking waste of time.
I’m shocked out of sleep the next morning by my phone shouting at me. Glancing at the clock it’s past ten o’clock already. I never sleep this late usually and I’ve woken up feeling like I’ve spent the night licking a pub carpet, even though I had nothing to drink last night. I let whoever’s ringing go to voicemail. I can’t get my vocal chords to function just yet. I’m just towelling my hair when my phone flashes up again and picking it up, I have seven voice mail messages, all from Belle. They all run along the same lines but the last message contains an urgency which has me worried. Belle sounds out of her mind with fear.
She picks up on the first ring.
‘Holy flippin’ fuck mate. You’ve got to get here, like, right now!’
‘Belle? What’s the matter?’
‘You’ve got a fuckin’ ghost problem, mate. That’s the matter. What the hell is happening up there?’
‘I don’t understand. Belle, what’s going on?’
‘You need to get here, come to the school, and we’ll show you. Just get here as soon as you can.’ Belle hangs up, leaving me clutching the dead phone. I throw food at the cats and leave the house within five minutes, not even bothering to comb my hair through a
nd it’s drying in knotted rats’ tails. It takes me fifteen minutes to reach Ararat Primary School and another ten to find Belle. She’s in the school’s library office, where she and Mr Hunt, the other teacher from yesterday’s visit, are huddled over a computer screen. Belle sees me through the office window and makes an impatient ‘come here’ gesture with her arm.
‘Jeez, Sara. You won’t believe this.’
She moves aside to let me in so I can get closer to the screen. Mr Hunt has uploaded the photos he took yesterday and used the sepia tint filter to give that added authenticity.
‘We took twenty kids up to yours yesterday.’ Belle points to the screen with a mixture of triumph and fear. ‘So how come in the photo there are TWENTY-THREE?’
I stare at the image on the screen. In it the kids are larking about, pulling faces or waving, but they are still in two loose rows. I count each child, looking for familiar faces. There’s the tall girl with the plaits, unsmiling and frowning at the boy next to her. There’s Glory, on the end, beaming her big beautiful smile. Except it’s not. There’s Glory, on the other side, looking upset. I look from one to face to the other. There weren’t two little girls with Downs at the picnic yesterday, I’m sure. I turn to Belle.
‘Glory’s the only Downs kid in the class, isn’t she?’ Belle nods.
‘She’s the only Down’s kid in the whole damn school!’
Yet there is clearly another girl in the photo. Belle points to another face, peeking shyly out from behind the end boy on the right. ‘There’s another one. No one in the class fits her description. That’s for sure!’ The girl is dark haired, and dark skinned. You can just see the bulge of her rounded belly poking out from beneath her white pinafore.
‘Malinda!’ I gasp. I’m sure it’s her. She’s just as Dolly described in her diary. Young, of Aboriginal descent, and heavily pregnant. Belle points at another slight figure, sitting in-between two girls at the front. She’s tiny, looking no older than ten years old, and has fine blonde hair hanging in ringlets around her face. She cradles what, at first, I assume to be a doll. A small bundle, wrapped in a white blanket. But there’s something about the set of her face, there’s a stiff solemnness to her, a feeling of pain, sadness and loss. Suddenly I realise I’m looking at Alice. Poor, dead Alice who died giving birth to her poor, dead baby.
‘And that’s not all! Show her, Hunty.’ There’s a tremor to Belle’s usually strong voice. Mr Hunt taps a few keys on the keyboard and brings up the other photo he took yesterday, the one where I’m sitting in the middle of the children and we’re doing our best to look suitably formal and Victorian. ‘Right number of kids in this one.’ Belle taps the screen. ‘But who, in the name of all that’s holy, who the FUCK is that?’ I look to where she’s pointing. Glory stands on the end of the first row, her face a picture of misery and fear. Behind her, standing tall and upright, one proprietary hand on Glory’s shoulder, is Doctor Silas Baldwin.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
I recognise him from the photos in the book on local history. There’s a slightly blurry quality to the image on the screen, like he’s shrouded in a grey mist, but it’s him alright. He wears his usual dark suit and behind his beard and moustache his eyes glitter like stones of jet. He has his hand clamped down on Glory and you can see in her face that she knows he’s there.
‘Have you shown these photos to anyone else?’ Both Belle and Mr Hunt shake their heads.
‘There’s no way we can let the kids have these. Their parents will fuckin’ freak! We’ll just have to say they didn’t come out right.’ Belle leans against the desk, looking at me curiously. ‘Do you know who they are? You said a name before. You said Miranda?’
‘Malinda.’ I correct her. ‘And yes, I do know who they are. They’re children who lived in the house over a hundred years ago.’
‘You’re shitting me! And what about the scary dude? Where does he fit in to all this?’
‘Look. I can’t explain it either.’ I can’t take my eyes off the doctor. His arrogance and cruel nature creeps out from the photograph and wraps around me like a chill wind. ‘Can you print off a copy for me?’ I ask. When I get the diary back from Drew I can take it, and these photos to the police, prove I’m not making it up. Mr Hunt obliges and soon I have A4 printouts of each picture. The images are sharp but by contrast, the ghost children look grainy, insubstantial compared to their living, breathing peers. ‘Not a word, Belle. I mean it!’ I don’t need the whole town turning up at Crowlands House on some kind of mass ghost hunt. She nods seriously.
‘Promise. But Sara, how can you stand it? Aren’t you scared being up there on your own?’
‘I’m not on my own. I’ve got help, so don’t worry. Besides, they’re just kids. Lost, lonely kids. What is there to be afraid of?’ My words are too light but I can’t tell her that seeing Silas Baldwin has shocked me to the core. Old Geoff was right – he is still there too. ‘Is there…. can I see Glory? Please. I want to make sure she’s alright.’ Belle gives me a long, searching look then huffs out a deep sigh of resignation.
‘She’s in class. I’ll go get her.’
When she comes back she has a hold of Glory’s hand, and the little girl looks puzzled and slightly apprehensive at being taken out of class, but when she catches sight of me her face lights up and she runs up to give me a hug.
‘Hello Miss!’
I return her hug.
‘Hello Glory! How are you? Are you OK?’
Glory slides her eyes sideways to where the two teachers are standing watching us.
‘I have to tell you a secret Miss!’ She whispers loudly. ‘But only you.’
‘OK. It’s alright. You can tell me.’ But she buttons her lip firmly and shakes her head, adamant that her secret is for me and only me. I look at Belle apologetically.
‘Sorry. Do you mind….. ?
Belle shakes her head no.
‘I can’t leave her alone with you. Sorry. School rules. You have to be a member of the faculty or someone with the permission from Glory’s parents for you to be with her unsupervised.’
I understand the rules, really I do, Glory is far too trusting and vulnerable and needs guidelines like these to help keep her safe but it’s frustrating at the same time.
‘OK Glory. You and me will go over to the corner and you can whisper your secret to me. They won’t hear us, I promise, and they’ll keep their backs turned the whole time. It’s the best I can do, kiddo.’ Glory considers it for a moment and makes up her mind, grabbing my hand and leading me over to the far corner next to a filing cabinet, and tugging me down so I’m squatting on my knees. Glory puts her hand over her mouth. She tries her best to whisper but she hasn’t yet learned to speak quietly and her words leave her mouth almost as loud as a shout.
‘I saw a man, Miss! At your house.’
‘You did? What man? Did you know who he was?’ She shakes her head.
‘No. But he wasn’t really there. He was….’ She searches for the right words. ‘He was from another time. He used to live there in the house but it was a really long time ago. He was scary!’
‘Where did you see him, Glory? Was it inside or outside?’ She’s trying her best to be brave but I can see she’s visibly upset and I pull her onto my knee, cuddling her close.
‘Both.’ She gulps, trying not to cry. ‘He followed me from when we were upstairs into the garden and was standing under the big tree when I was doing my drawing.’
‘Did he touch you, Glory?’ I ask quietly. God help me, if he’s laid a hand on her I’ll kill him all over again. She shakes her head again.
‘He talked to me. He said I was abom…. bomination.’ Her tongue struggles over the unfamiliar word. ‘He said he could fix me, make me normal. He said he was waiting for more people like me to be delivered to him so he could carry on his work. That’s what he said, Miss.’ She starts to cry in earnest. ‘I don’t want him to fix me, Miss! I don’t want to go back there!’ She wails. I rock her on my lap, shushing
her gently.
‘No one’s going to make you go back there, I promise. He’s a naughty man for scaring you, isn’t he?’ Her tears ease off and she snuffles into my t-shirt. ‘Don’t worry, sweetheart. You don’t ever have to see that man again. I’m going straight back to that house and I’m going to tell him to go away and leave us all alone.’
‘He said you were going to help him, Miss. He said you were the one who would bring the children back to him. It isn’t true, is it Miss?’ She stares up at me so trustingly. I feel sick at the thought of the doctor even thinking I’d have any part to play in his grotesque games.
‘No. Of course it isn’t true. He’s a bad man, Glory, and he needs to be sent away. And that’s exactly what I’m going to do.’
‘That’s what the other children said, Miss. The ones who live in the house with you.’ She nestles back into my arms. ‘They said you were going to help them get away.’ I close my eyes, head pounding.
‘I will, Glory. I will.’
I drive back to the farm in a daze, thinking over everything I’ve learned in the last day. I thought the children were trapped in the house because their bodies were still there. It never occurred to me that the doctor was the one responsible for keeping their souls from flying free. The crows scream abuse at me when I pass under the gumtree on the way back inside. They’ve been waiting so long to carry the dead to their rest, and they can’t leave the tree until their work is done. I stare up into the boughs, trying to picture the doctor’s lifeless body, hanging and swaying in the breeze.
‘I don’t know what you’re up, Doctor Silas Baldwin, but I swear to you, I’ll never let you hurt those children again.’ There’s no answering whisper on the wind, no manifestation of the doctors’ evil silhouette under the tree, but the feeling of being watched is magnified tenfold. I take the stairs two at a time and pull down the plastic tarpaulin which seals off the second floor, trampling it down into a crumpled heap on the floor. The doors are all closed again, even though I made sure they were all open for yesterday’s tours. I storm down the length of the hallway, throwing open all the doors wide, hearing them crash against the walls of the bedrooms.