The Chapel

by S. T. Boston

  Twenty minutes later, as they reached the small Cornish town of Lostwithiel, Ellie watched her mother fish the booking sheets from her bag. “I’d better call the lady who has the key,” she said scanning the papers. “I’m sure Mrs. Reed said to call when we got to Lostwithiel.”

  “Sounds about right,” her father agreed, looking down at the forms in her mother’s lap as they waited at a red traffic light. She found the part of the booking sheet she wanted and punched a number into her aging LG phone. Ellie listened to the one-sided conversation with a lady called Lucinda who apparently had the key and would let them in. After a number of apologies for how late they were, with a brief story of the accident in the New Forest threaded through for good measure the, call ended.

  “She said we should be arriving in around ten minutes from here and that she’ll be there waiting for us.” Her mother turned around in the front seat. “Try to enjoy it, Ells,” she encouraged. “It has a hot tub in one of the bathrooms, we can have a girlie pampering session.”

  “Sounds good,” Ellie smiled, resigned to the fact that fighting it would just make the time until she could get home and start enjoying her last summer before university go all the slower.

  As Lucinda had promised, ten minutes later her father swung the Peugeot into the pea-shingled driveway of The Old Chapel. At the end of the long drive she could see an Essex white, new looking Range Rover parked up. The driver, who she assumed was Lucinda with the key, was stood leaned back against the side of the car, sunning her face in the last of the day’s rays. As they crept up the drive Ellie was surprised to see that Lucinda was a well turned out lady who looked to be in her early forties. She had deep red hair a shade redder than her own, that flowed to her shoulders and a waist and jawline that most women would pay top dollar to a surgeon for. Her clothes looked expensive. She donned smart fitted black trousers with a gold chain belt that looked too formal and hot for the heat of the day, finished with a lace lined white top that plunged at the front to the point of riskiness, the lace theme ran down the front and over the shoulder straps. For some reason, Ellie had assumed that anyone living this far out in the countryside would be driving a beat-up old Defender and looking like they’d just rolled in from milking the cows.

  The moment the car stopped, Hand-Me-Down-Henry was struggling the belt clip of his booster off, eager to get out and explore. Ellie helped him, leaning over to open the door. As soon as it swung open, he was off. Climbing out herself she felt surprisingly impressed by the building. It was big, easily big enough for two or three families to share. Ellie didn’t know how much it had cost to rent but the idea of coming back with a good few friends and having one hell of a party did cross her mind. With the right people and enough booze, it wouldn’t matter a jot that they were miles from anywhere, it might even prove to be a bonus.

  Ellie wasn’t good on periodical architecture, but she knew from what her mother had said that the building was seventeenth century. The old Cornish stone looked clean and bright, juxtaposed against a few newer wooden double-glazed windows, and a couple of more authentic looking stained-glass ones. The roof pitched quite steeply and at the far end an old bell tower stood century over the building. Within the tower a bell was held in place on a long steel pole. The brass of the bell gleamed warmly in the lowering sun. Ellie wondered if it actually worked or if it was just for show, she suspected it was the latter.

  “Harrison family,” smiled Lucinda as she stepped forward and shook Ellie’s dad’s hand softly.

  “That’s us,” he replied, sounding a little flustered, obviously her striking beauty hadn’t been lost on him. Ellie allowed herself a little inward smile and wondered if her mum would give him some shit later for it. She thought she probably would.

  “Here is the key,” Lucinda continued formally, holding out a single silver key on a large plastic fob. “When you guys leave just pop it under the mat,” Lucinda pointed a well-manicured finger at the generic doormat just inside the entrance arch, just in case there was any confusion. “You have my number, there is a landline phone inside, you won’t get a mobile signal out here.”

  Ellie took a cursory look at the S8 which she had clutched in her hand only to be met with the NO SERVICE message.

  “None of the networks have coverage here,” Lucinda confirmed. “They’ve tried to put masts up, sure they have, but this is a close-knit community and so far we have vetoed every effort.” She turned her attention to Henry who was now clinging to his mother’s leg, peeking around it then ducking back when he saw Lucinda had noticed him. “Well aren’t you just a cutie-pie!” She exclaimed, firing him a wink. Henry flushed the crimson red of Lucinda’s hair and ducked behind his mother’s leg again, pulling at her faded denim jeans. “So, you guys have any questions?” she concluded, turning her attention back to her mother.

  “I think it’s all in the pack,” Carol said as she wrestled Henry off her leg. Ellie watched her force a smile and she knew instantly that her father’s moment of fluster had been duly noted. Ellie was pretty good at reading body language and there was a definite defensive stance on her mother’s part.

  “There aren’t any pubs here in Trellen, the nearest decent sized village is Charlestown,” Lucinda continued as if she’d actually been asked. Ellie guessed she was used to the tourist guide patter. “In all, there are twelve original homes that make up the village, the recently converted chapel is number thirteen. There are no shops, no post office, just us yokels.”

  “Have you lived in the village long?” Ellie’s father asked.

  “All my life, all the families here have a long lineage to Trellen. Since Sue and Tom opened The Old Chapel up for business, we have seen the first new faces to stay here for a long time.”

  “Well I hope us holidaymakers don’t impose too much,” her mother said, still sounding a little frosty.

  “Not at all,” Lucinda answered obliviously. “Sure, at first we weren’t too keen, but sometimes change is good. And besides it’s nice to have some fresh blood around, it’s breathed a little life back into the place.” Lucinda paused, taking each of them in, in turn. “I’m holding a little get-together tomorrow, nothing big, just the yokels, a barbeque. Feel free to drop by if the mood takes you.”

  “We’d love to,” Ellie’s father answered before her mother had a chance to interject with an excuse that given a few more seconds she would have no doubt cooked up. “Of course, we can’t stay too late, but we will come for the start, say ‘til eight-ish.”

  “Fantastic,” Lucinda beamed. “My house is next one down, you can’t miss it.” She pointed left. “About a quarter to a half mile that-a way, look for the stone gate posts.”

  “Will there be any other children there?” asked Henry, finding his voice for the first time.

  “Oh, I’m afraid not, sweetie,” Lucinda replied, crouching down to his level. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t have fun.” She gave his messy blonde hair a rub and stood back up, straightening out the fabric of her well fitted black trousers. “I don’t think there is much else you need to know. If you’re after an internet connection, then the router and code are in the hall. We are remote but we have been dragged kicking and screaming into the modern world.” Ellie watched as Lucinda turned her hauntingly green eyes to her and smiled. “Don’t expect fast speeds, though. It’s kinda the end of the line down her, ya know.”

  “You’re telling me,” replied Ellie. She wasn’t sure why but she instantly liked Lucinda, there was something magnetic about her personality. Ellie wasn’t so sure her mother felt the same way, but she knew women had tendencies to be a bit catty, especially when a better-looking model was around. Ellie loved her mum but even she could see that Lucinda, although a similar age, had it knocked out the park in the looks department, whilst her dear old mum was still on the bench, or as her American friend, Zack called them, the bleachers.

  “Well,” Lucinda said, rubbing her hands on her thighs. Ellie caught her father’s eyes wandering momenta
rily to the risky plunging neckline of Lucinda’s white top where his gaze hung for a split second before looking away. “I best make a move, plans to plan and bits to sort. I look forward to meeting you all again tomorrow, we can have a proper chat then.”

  “Shall we bring anything?” Ellie’s father asked as Lucinda climbed into her Range Rover.

  “Just yourselves,” she beamed. The door closed and Ellie watched as she carried out a tight three-point turn, before spinning her wheels on the shingle drive and disappearing.

  “Why the hell did you agree to that?” Ellie’s mother asked, frowning at her husband. “We don’t know anyone, it’ll be – awkward.”

  “I just thought it was rude to say no,” his face flushed a little and Ellie knew for sure her poor old dad was in for much more shit later when Henry had gone to bed and she’d retired to her room. “Anyway, let’s get in and unpacked, it feels like that car is a part of me,” he added, taking her away from the subject as swiftly as he could.”

  Ellie walked to the back of the Peugeot, lifted her pack out the boot and took a moment to survey her surroundings. The grounds were impeccably finished with small privet hedges and well-tended flower beds. Here and there narrow paths of shingle cut through the lawn. At the edges of the garden the neatly cut grass gave way to dense forest, it bordered The Old Chapel on all sides apart from the front. The building itself actually looked kind of cool, almost gothic. Maybe it won’t be so bad, she thought to herself, now fully accepting that like it or not she was here to stay.

  Ellie hauled the pack onto her shoulder and dragged her cabin-style bag behind her, the wheels jamming in protest at being used on the small stones. Reaching the heavy looking oak doors her father unlocked the left side and pulled it open. Cool air rushed out from inside, carrying with it a cocktail of smells, the old stone mixed with that of fresh paint and recent renovations.

  Ellie followed her dad into the large entrance lobby. Looking up she saw the impressive beamed roof looming over her, some thirty feet above. To her front was an internal balcony, the start of the mezzanine level, and she could make out the backs of grey velour sofas and the top of a large wall mounted TV. That part of the second floor was open plan and could be accessed by stairs on either side of the entrance hall. Shaking a few stones from her wheels Ellie pulled her case further inside. Her feet were soon met by plush deep grey carpet, spanning the hall and running up both stairs. The stone walls were bare, but here and there they were decorated with large paintings or hanging tapestry style works of art.

  “Wow!” Ellie’s mother exclaimed following her in. “This place looks even better in real life.” She joined her husband and slipped her arm around his waist, her momentary anger for accepting Lucinda’s party invite, and glancing at her rather obvious cleavage, gone.

  “What’s that on the floor?” Henry asked, pushing past them. Ellie followed him to the bottom of the left-hand staircase, on the thick carpet laid a large wooden crucifix. Ellie crouched down and picked it up, the thing was heavy, it had to weigh a good two kilos. On the top was a decent sized iron loop and on the wall just above where it’d been laid, was a sturdy looking hook. Ellie was in no doubt that the crucifix belonged on the hook, but she couldn’t for the life of her figure out how it had ended up on the floor.

  “Did it fall?” Henry asked her.

  “I don’t know, kiddo,” she replied, trying to figure out how it had managed to move off the hook. Eventually guessing someone, likely Lucinda, or whoever cleaned the place, had taken it down to dust it then forgotten to hang it again. Ellie lifted the weighty cross into position, where it sat firmly in place with a satisfying clunk.

  Looking up the stairs toward the lounge area Ellie felt a little unease grow in the pit of her stomach. She had a natural inbuilt ability to get a feel for a place or situation and often prompted her mother or father to do things like getting a certain scratch card on a whim when at the shops, and nine times out of ten she won. Not big amounts, a tenner here, twenty there but they often joked she’d hit the big score one day. She was good with lost things, too. If her father lost his keys, which he often did, just visualising them often led her to where they’d been mislaid. Now, stood in the entrance lobby she had a bad feeling, like food that hours after being eaten refused to be digested. Despite the warmth of the sun that came in through the high stained-glass windows she shuddered and wondered how this place would feel when the day was spent, and the night took over.

  Chapter 5

  “Mummmmyyyyyyy……”

  Ellie awoke with a start, her eyes meeting the darkened room, only partially illuminated by a meagre amount of moonlight which managed to leak in from behind the heavy drapes. She lay, listening for long seconds with just the sound of her own breathing, unsure if the cry she’d heard was a product of a dream or the real world.

  “Mummmmyyyyyyyyyyyy……”

  “Henry,” Ellie muttered to herself, throwing back the sheet. The bed was dressed in a luxurious heavy quilt. No doubt it would have been amazing in the winter, but the night had proven too warm to even try it out. Instead, Ellie had found a light under-sheet in the linen closet and chosen to sleep under that and on top of the heavy bedding.

  “Muuuummmmyyyyyyyyyyyyy………”

  Henry’s cry was more desperate this time, almost frantic with definite panic woven through it. He would wake and cry for their mother in the night on the rare occasion he had a little accident and wet his shorts, but those occasions were getting rarer by the month, and this sounded different. Ellie could tell from the tone of his voice that he was scared. Likely a bad dream, then waking up in a strange room had done it. Reaching her door, she opened it and slipped out into the hall of the first floor, her feet almost sinking into the ample pile of the cream carpet as she walked. The oak beams, which held up the roof, loomed above her, partially hidden in the soot-black shadow cast by the same moon that had teased its light into her room. Her parents had opted for the over-indulgent Altar Room on the ground floor at the back of the building, so-called as in its days as a chapel that would have been where the altar stood. The Alter Room was the most lavish in the house, although none of them were too shabby. It boasted the largest and by far most corpulent of the ensuite bathrooms with a rainfall shower, that if the user wanted also doubled as a steam room. As well as the amazing shower it had a jacuzzi bath, the thing was big and raised on its own plinth at the far end of the room. Surrounding the bath and dotted around the spacious bedroom were candlesticks as tall as Ellie. At five feet each and made of heavy black iron they fitted in well with the modern yet gothic look and feel of the building. Even the curtain poles matched the décor, they were heavy looking black iron, too. Each end looked like a spearhead and seemed to be as much an item of medieval weaponry as it did a furnishing.

  Ellie’s room also had an ensuite, as did every one of the six bedrooms in The Old Chapel. Hers, however, was less than half the size of the one in her parents’ room. Ellie's ensuite room’s unique feature was another jacuzzi-bath, not as big as the one in The Altar room, that one looked big enough to swim in, but it was a cool feature, nonetheless. Ellie had taken a good hour sampling it before heading to bed, a much-needed relaxant after spending the day shoe-horned into the back of the family car with all the bags. She’d smiled with amusement at the polite notice above the bath that read, “IF USING JACUZZI PLEASE DO NOT USE BUBBLE BATH.”

  Covering the short distance to Henry’s room she could hear him crying, the sound getting louder with each step. Henry had been reluctant enough to sleep alone in a strange room and they'd had to bribe him with the promise of a gift during a planned visit to The Eden Project tomorrow, if he showed what a big boy he was and slept on his own. It wasn't a total shock to her that he'd had a freak out in the middle of the night. There was no way either of their parents would hear him from the ground floor, the place was too large. Reaching his door Ellie wondered what the hell had woken him. Despite his reluctance at staying on his own in a
new place, Henry was generally a good sleeper and had no issues getting in a straight ten hours without waking when at home, apart from the occasional bed wetting. Normally Henry had to be woken by their mother at half seven every morning just to get ready for school. His ability to sleep like the proverbial log was one of the reasons they’d had no reservations about him being on a different floor, that and Ellie was seen as plenty old and capable enough to care for him if there was an issue. She highly suspected that they’d been segregated to the mezzanine level for the sole purpose of allowing their parents some much needed private time. The truth behind certain situations, and what that private time would entail was not always something you wanted to think about, especially when it involved your mother and father.

  “Mummmmyyyyy….pleeeease……..”

  Ellie grabbed the handle and threw the door open. As it swung freely on low friction hinges an icy blast of air rushed out of the room and chilled her skin to goosebumps, the cold air wrapping itself around her skin like tendrils against the warmer air of the hall. None of the rooms at The Old Chapel had air-conditioning, the natural stone kept the temperature cooler than outside during the day, and the stone then seemed to retain the heat and keep it to a pleasant temperature at night. The temperature inside Henry’s room was somewhere between air-con set at its coldest and the trailer of a refrigerated truck. Instinctively, Ellie ran her hand against the wall just inside the door frame, she located the light switch and flicked it on, chasing the darkness away in an instant. Her little brother was sat bolt upright in bed, his covers were drawn up defensively over his chest and reached just below his chin, where his tiny hands clutched the thick edge of the quilt so tightly his little fingers were white. His cheeks were flushed red and tears streaked his face, Ellie wasn’t sure, but she thought for the briefest of moments his rapid, panicked breathing had produced water vapour in the air, the likes of which you only usually see when outside on a cold day.