The Chapel

by S. T. Boston

  “I knew we should have taken the three-o-three and not pushed further south to the thirty-one,” he muttered absently, as if unaware of the family conflict developing in the car. He expelled a long weary breath of air through clenched teeth before adjusting his weight on the car seat, arching his back as if to rid it of a niggling pain.

  “Ass-hat is not exactly a swear word,” Ellie protested.

  “Ass-hat,” Hand-Me-Down-Henry giggled his face beaming with a wide smile at having used the word three times with virtually no reprimanding. Still chuckling to himself he went back to the screen of his tablet and started the current episode of Peppa Pig all over again. She was certain that if she had to listen to the theme tune once more, she’d be about ready to maim someone.

  The last two years of Ellie’s life, since leaving school, had been spent studying psychology in college, graduating with a good enough pass mark at A Level standard to carry on her passion at University. She often thought that she could easily write a paper on underlying messages in children’s television shows, and if the chance came up during her fast encroaching time at Warwick, she fully planned on doing it.

  “You know only too well, Hun, why we can’t go somewhere cool as you put it,” Carol said, her eyes still fixed on her daughter. “Your grandfather is not in the best of health and if the home calls we - well I, need to be able to get back. As it is five days away are the most I feel happy about leaving him for.”

  Ellie’s grandfather, or gramps as she’d called him since being Henry’s age, a name that had stuck and she still used to this day, had been in Whispering Pines Retirement & Assisted Living Home for the past three years. He’d suffered a stroke six months after Ellie’s grandmother had died after a brief and futile battle with the Big C. After the stroke and being discharged from hospital it was soon clear that he could no longer care for himself. As a result of two falls and plenty of soiled trousers poor old gramps had been lodged in what Ellie thought of as God’s Waiting Room ever since. Ellie hated the place, the air seemed to be laced with the constant stench of incontinence, often mixed with whatever culinary delight the kitchen staff were working on. Usually something that had the unappealing smell of overly boiled cabbage. Almost every time she visited, one of the rooms had been taken on by the next guest, its previous owner's number with the Grim Reaper having come up. In a nutshell, the place was depressing and just being there for a few hours made Ellie feel as if the life were being sucked out of her, and it depressed her that the only way to buy a ticket out of the place came with a casket.

  Ellie had been very close to her gramps growing up, unlike her grandparents on her father’s side who lived in New Zealand and she’d only seen twice in her life. Sure, she got the obligatory birthday and Christmas card, but she didn’t feel any real connection with them. Sadly, and now at the age of eighty-five, it was looking increasingly like this year was going to be gramps’ last. Deep down Ellie knew why they weren’t heading further afield, and she felt momentarily bad for sounding selfish.

  “And besides, Ells,” her father cut in, deciding to join the conversation, “I don’t really fancy coming home to find that you’ve wrecked the place after a big party.” He winked at her in the rear-view and fired her a small but encouraging smile.

  “Really, Dad?” she said, sounding a little exasperated. “I had a party to go to, tomorrow night, it’s like the biggest event of the year. You do realise that just by missing it I’m practically going to be a social pariah when I get back next week.”

  The party was one, and largely the main reason why Ellie was so reluctant to come on this merry little family holiday to Cornwall. That, and at eighteen, holidays with your parents were not the matter of excitement they’d been when she’d been a child, and not exactly a cool reason to give your best friend as to why you couldn’t attend her party. It was also the start of the summer break and even if one of her best friends, Suzie, wasn’t holding a massive party that Saturday to celebrate her nineteenth, there were still plenty of places she’d rather be than here, stuck in a car in a seemingly never-ending line of traffic on her way to a place she doubted had even heard of the internet. Henry, on the other hand, had practically been bouncing off the walls of the house for the last few weeks asking every day, some days more than once, how much longer it was until they were leaving. Now they were on their way the question had switched to the obligatory, are we there yet? that seemed to come pre-programmed into every child under the age of ten when on a car journey that stretched out longer than a trip to the local shops, school or soft play area.

  Ellie broke her father’s gaze and peered around the front seat taking in the perpetual line of cars that stretched out for as far as she could see, which looked like a good mile or more. The line of halted traffic ran down the long gradual slope of the rise they were on and all the way to the top of the next. To either side the slightly brownish sun-scorched, heather-clad flats of the New Forest stretched out as far as she could see, meeting tree-lined woods on each horizon.

  Occasionally a horn sounded from some impatient motorist nearby and she could see a few cars further up switching lanes as if they held some secret knowledge that the one they were jostling for was about to flow freely. Whilst undoubtedly frustrating, Ellie enjoyed people watching and was fascinated by the futile lane switching and horn beeping. Human behaviour in certain situations intrigued her; it always had and was one of the main reasons she'd chosen an educational route in psychology, something she hoped to extend to employment when she was older and eventually had to leave the snug, comfortable blanket of education.

  “Just try to enjoy yourself,” her mother encouraged. “If we ever manage to get there that is.”

  “How much further is it?” Henry asked, “I need wee-wee!”

  “We’re not even close,” Ellie answered, discouragingly. “Lucky for you, you can go by the side of the car, I’ve got to hold it in until the next service station.” She grinned at him, enjoying his cheeky, angelic smile.

  “If I remember correctly,” her father said trying to sound upbeat. “There’s a Golden Arches in a couple of miles, just before Ringwood. I think we could all use a break from the car, and a burger.”

  “And milkshake,” chimed in Henry.

  “Sounds like a good deal,” Ellie agreed managing a forced smile. Like it or not she was stuck with the situation for the next five days and no amount of complaining was going to change it. Grinning at Henry she held her hand up and just as she’d taught him, he smacked his tiny palm against hers in a high-five. “Good one,” she chuckled, shaking her hand as if he’d hurt it.

  It took them another forty minutes to cover the two miles to the next service station, and they had indeed needed to pull to the side of the road to let Henry relieve himself. Much to Ellie’s amusement, he always insisted on going on one of the wheels when caught short.

  Finally pulled over at the small service station, they found McDonald's carpark was rammed with likeminded travellers, taking the first opportunity since Southampton to escape the queuing traffic, pull over and hope whatever was causing the jam remedied itself whilst they were stopped.

  The dry July air hit Ellie like the opening of an oven door as she left the car and she felt instantly thankful that they had a fairly modern Peugeot with good air-conditioning. Even dressed in her skirt and strap top the outside air felt too hot, the smell of fumes from the gridlocked traffic hung chokingly in the air and she felt a thin sheen of sweat on her brow by the time she reached the main doors.

  From what basic geographic knowledge, she had on the area she knew they were not a million miles from Bournemouth. The vibrant seaside town appealed to her much more than the converted old chapel they were heading to. She made her mind up that when she’d passed her driving test in August, she’d bring Suzie down to Bournemouth and they could have a proper weekend away. A last girls’ break before they said their goodbyes and went off to find new lives at university. The fact she might fail her test did
n’t even feature on Ellie's scope; failing was not an option. Ellie had already purchased a car, a slightly tatty red Mini One. One of the first of the new shape to be made by BMW. She'd worked tirelessly for the past eighteen months at one of the local hair salons sweeping hair and making tea. Once she’d shown her father she could save and had half the money she’d need to buy and insure the small car, he’d put in the other half to the pot. Ellie had taken a few lessons with her dad in the family Peugeot, but he was far too stressy for her liking, yelling at her to watch out for this and look out for that. Her driving instructor was much more relaxed, and in the end, she decided paying for lessons was more favourable than learning with your father, even if it was for free.

  Leaving Hand-Me-Down-Henry and her mum on the small landscaped area of greenery, where Henry was already giggling and shrieking with delight as he chased a small Minion-decorated yellow ball around, his slightly too long floppy blonde hair catching the light breeze, she headed inside with her father. Ellie left her dad at the counter, which was five deep with customers eager to eat their fill of junk-food, and headed to the toilet. The small lavatory, whilst refreshingly air-conditioned, held a smell almost akin to that at Whispering Pines Care Home. Holding her breath for as long as she could to cut out the stench of one too many toilet desperate travellers, mixed with the pungent, artificial floral scent of industrial detergent, Ellie splashed some cool water over her face. Looking at her reflection, she fixed a few wayward strands of auburn hair that had worked free of her latest hairstyle, a retro, yet modern looking bob that came just past her jawline. The sound of the next eager toilet goer rattling the door stole her from a temporary daydream, and after blasting her wet face with the dryer, she joined her father who was now at the front of the queue almost shouting his order over the cacophony of background noise.

  Half an hour later and all full of stomach bloating junk food, (that although plenty tasty at the time had a habit of making you feel like shit after), they were back on the road. Traffic had eased a little and a few miles on they found the cause of the delay. A lorry had shed its load, blocking the road and causing all the traffic to use a slip lane to get around it. Police and recovery had the stricken vehicle upright and hooked to a monstrous looking recovery truck, its orange hazard lights flashing brightly despite the sunlight. Just as they’d reached the small diversion a police officer had re-opened the road fully and waved them past.

  Ellie spent the next two hours of the tedious journey trying to ignore the Peppa Pig theme tune, which was proving to be a real earworm. Even whilst trying to concentrate on the level of Candy Crush that had been proving all but impossible to defeat for the best part of a week, she could still hear it in her head playing over and over.

  Well behind on the time they’d planned to arrive in Trellen, thanks to the traffic mayhem in the New Forest, Ellie’s father pulled them into the large tourist carpark of The Jamaica Inn. According to the map they were only around twenty miles from The Old Chapel, but with it being almost five PM and dinner time, and with neither of Ellie’s parents wanting to cook with the meagre supplies they’d packed at the family home back in Reading, a stop for a pub meal was unanimously decided upon.

  Henry, brimming with un-spent energy, made a clumsy beeline for the wooden play area the moment he’d been released from his booster, almost tripping over his eager feet as he ran pell-mell across the gravel car park, followed at a distance by their mother who kept screaming at him to be careful. The evening sun was still strong and looking down toward the main A30 Ellie could see a heat mirage shimmering in the air, just above the sun-scorched tarmac.

  The well-built timber play area was full of other children, some on swings, some queuing for the slide whilst other less patient and slightly older kids pushed in front of them. A large coach was hauled up in the corner of the car park and it looked as if the pub's museum was enjoying a few last-minute visitors.

  Despite the sunny evening, Ellie was keen to head inside and check the place out. She’d seen the notorious pub on two paranormal shows over the last couple of years and it supposedly held the title of one of the most haunted Inns in the country. One of the shows, filmed a good few years ago by the Haunted Happenings team, the UK’s most renown paranormal show, (yet at the same time the least creditworthy), allegedly turned up a whole host of unexplained phenomenon. From items being thrown at the crew, (conveniently always off camera), to doors shutting on their own. Ellie had half watched the investigation whilst trying to concentrate on some college work and found it almost farcical and far beyond believable. The presenter, a well-known TV celebrity named Chrissy Meadows, seemed to have the ability to lose her shit at the slightest noise. Acted or not Ellie found her borderline annoying at times. The second televised investigation she’d seen had been more recent, filmed earlier that year. The lead investigator was a guy named Mike Cross, in a show called Unexplained UK. Mike Cross wasn't a TV celebrity, according to the show his back-story was police and private investigation. Ellie wasn't sure how much truth there was in that but his small team found no paranormal activity at all, concluding that whilst the ancient Inn was a fascinating building, partly from the fame it drew by being the title of a Daphne du Maurier novel, and partly from the history of smuggling in the area, he could find no evidence of a haunting. Ellie preferred the no-nonsense style of Unexplained UK but if you were after scares against cold hard facts you were better off with the borderline comical antics of Haunted Happenings. One of the Unexplained UK team, an attractive woman called Tara Gibb, or Tig as she was usually called on camera, had supposedly heard a growl in room four. According to local legend it was the most haunted part of the building, but as they’d not managed to record it the event had been discounted.

  The various paranormal investigation shows, all of differing quality and credibility, were one of Ellie’s guilty pleasures and a little personal thing she indulged in a few times a week whilst squirreled away in her room. Her passion for the paranormal stemmed from when she’d been fifteen. The night that her grandmother had passed away in her sleep having finally lost her battel with cancer, Ellie had awoken suddenly in her room, or she thought she had. Truth be told she wasn’t totally sure now if it had been a dream, but it had felt real, very real. Unaware at the time of her death, Ellie had seen her gran at the end of her bed. She’d looked different than normal, as if she was half there. It seemed almost clichéd, but her appearance was what Ellie considered to be holographic, there and yet not there all at the same time. Puzzled, more than afraid, Ellie watched as her gran smiled at her warmly. She’d then felt a sudden chill on her cheek followed by the overwhelming smell of her sweet lavender perfume. It hung in the air for a few brief moments like an invisible mist before the vision and the smell vanished. The next morning before breakfast, Ellie learned of her passing. To be fair she had no idea if she’d been asleep or awake when she’d seen the vision, and she was sure Mike Cross and the Unexplained UK team would debunk it as no more than a dream and a fanciful coincidence, but it had felt real to her, so very real, and Ellie was sure that her gran had stopped in on her to say goodbye.

  In the days and weeks following her passing Ellie had taken a lot of solace from what she’d seen, or thought she’d seen, that night in her room. As if her gran had known she’d needed a little confirmation that she’d passed on to a better place after those months of pain. Maybe her spirit had visited in order to help her cope with what had been the first big family loss in her young life, she didn’t know, but it had sparked her interest in the afterlife.

  Enjoying the day for the first time since leaving home, Ellie followed her father around the side of the building and out onto the front cobbled courtyard. This had been the opening shot for both Haunted Happenings and Unexplained UK, the team leaders filming the opening link at night with the pub lit ominously behind and tendrils of mist from the moors wrapping themselves like long fingers around the building. Reaching the main door, she went inside, smiling at the idea of
being stood in the exact bar she’d watched on TV not so long ago. Then and there she decided that this was bound to be the coolest part of the entire trip. From watching the shows, Ellie knew the rooms on the first floor were accessed by a small half-glazed door to the side of the bar. Whilst her father ran an eye over the menu she ventured through and took in the narrow and off-kilter looking stairs, which one of the Haunted Happenings team had allegedly been pushed down, again conveniently off camera. Not wanting to push her luck, as the door had a sign on saying, STRICTLY RESIDENTIAL GUESTS ONLY, Ellie joined her father back at the bar. Much to her annoyance, he took the drinks and menus outside and she was forced to spend most of her time at the inn perched on a rickety picnic bench in front of the play area, where Hand-Me-Down-Henry had two little girls chasing him relentlessly around the wooden climbing frame. She wasn’t sure just how many times they pursued him around that timber structure but watching the running and shrieking almost made her feel dizzy.

  Following a gut-busting meal of locally made pies with mash, and just about the finest beef gravy Ellie had ever tasted, she stole herself away to the gift shop and purchased a one size too big red hoody. The front was decorated with a skull and crossbones logo, as well as the pub's name. It wasn't the kind of attire she'd wear out, but Ellie knew Uni life could be hard and there was no way her dorm room was going to be as lusciously heated as the family home was in the depths of winter. The hoody would be perfect for keeping warm on those cold nights. She was hoping to find a onesie, but it appeared that particular fashion faux pas had been missed by the gift shop's head purchaser.

  All too soon Ellie found herself back at the car. Opening the back door, she felt a wall of superheated air hit her, with it was unpleasant smell of uneaten fast food. Stooping down she found half of Henry's Happy Meal burger in the footwell, she tossed it into the car park and helped him into his booster. Like most kids his age he’d not managed to eat the Happy Meal in the time they’d stopped for, choosing instead to run-amok in the small park area, stopping every few minutes for a chip or bite of sorry looking burger that in no way resembled the plump looking fat drenched delicacy portrayed on the menu board.